This is [not] Poetry

[The Dark Knight]

They said I could be anything
when I was a young man;
am I a young man?
and if so,
when will I know that I am not?

they said I could be an artist
when I started writing poetry
even though it was bad
(it was really bad)

they said it was alright,
okay,
just fine,
and at least I got better
eventually

but it turns out that there is nothing artistic
[or interesting]
about frayed nerves
and cold hands
and slowly, quietly
getting what you want, one way
or the other

no, I'm not an artist
I'm just angry
[a kind of cold, quiet
over-gritted-teeth rage]

and I talk about it,
sometimes;

I guess this is the part
where you fuckers decide
if this is poetry
[while I pretend to care
about what you think.]

[The Dark Knight]

If my father was alive,
he would probably tell me
"Son, I'm proud of you
for getting off that hamster wheel."

Maybe we'd share a bottle of beer
as we reminiscence about times
when families aren't strangers
sharing the same roof
when people aren't
r u n n i n g
in a hopeless race
that never existed

and maybe we'd sit
silent
in this steel and asphalt jungle
and watch the lights go out
one by one
while the one above us remains
f l i c k e r i n g

[The Dark Knight]

Some days
I lock myself up
and retreat to the dark, dusty
corners of my mind

A place filled with cobwebs
and shadows
and faded images
and a voice
that I'm slowly forgetting the sound of

[did I ever tell you that your eyes
are like the sky on a summer day?]

[The Dark Knight]

I get so tired
of seeing people
get so excited
about changing a generation
that does not want to change
and never did.

A generation of
unthinking, unfeeling, uncaring
humanoids
who only know how to utter,
"Anything,
but please don't take away
my tv, my radio
my brand name clothing
my fancy sports car."

Because who needs television
when you can watch in slow motion
every new generation
sell itself short
and walk a path paved in pyrite
rather than build a passageway
in gold.

[The Dark Knight]

I’m listless yet awake,
every night until dawn breaks.
My eyes confess exhaustion in dark droops
and my skin sparks to life through shiver fits.
My brain stumble and reel.
[This isn't real.]

I'd sooner surrender my eyes to flames
and be soothed by their burning lullaby.
[Please
let me sleep.]
I'd rather chew my tongue and swallow
than continue crying out
in the night
because I can't sleep
without you.
[I can't sleep
without a future.]
And I can't bear
such desperation
because the sound of defeat
pronounced in thunder claps
across the sky
is too much to bear.
Everyday, I try to unlearn you
while falling asleep to silence.
Trying to unlearn whispering into your neck,
your arms, and writing on your shoulder blades:
I miss you.
And I'm trying
to unlearn the way you'd whisper:
I'm right here.

[The Dark Knight]

Don't shield your eyes,
there are things you should know.
I'm insane.
And teetering on the edge of
okay
and
not okay.

[Aren't swords sharpest
before the breaking point?]

[The Dark Knight]

I stand shivering
in a glimmering sea of
broken things.
Mirrors ripped from walls
cabinets emptied
covers sifted through
for a body
that's no longer there.

[This is not the way I saw us, baby.]

[The Dark Knight]

I still remember those evenings
devoted to passionate touches and whispers,
mornings of muted coffee slurps
paper wrinkling
and being one trembling breath away
from being dressed in each other's arms.

[Why must you be so beautiful
that you make me doubt myself?]

I hear you breathe
and study the way your chest rises and
f
a
l
l
s
Oh god, oh god, oh god...
I reach out to touch you
and electricity dances from my fingers
to your body
while I plead to
Melt
and d i s s o l v e
into you.

[The Dark Knight]

It's April Fools in December
only nobody laughs anymore

like how it never really rains in the city:
water just falls out of the sky,
without ceremony
or anything resembling commitment

And I see the oaks,
all ranged along the roads
stripped down,
and still clutching drifts of snow

like how we always clutch at memories
long after their comforts
have abandoned us.

[The Dark Knight]

I feel sleep
dancing elusively on my eyelids
and plucking at my lashes
as if playing a lullaby
on a poorly tuned harp.
Blame it on the mid-winter flu strain
and Cherry Nyquil not having its intended effect.

Excitability may occur,
especially in children.
Perhaps I am still a child at heart.

[The Dark Knight]

I wanted to be a firefighter,
when I was very, very young.
No older than six.
I saw little clips of broad, rugged men
charging into the jaws of death
and pulling people from it.
I thought to myself:
“Now that; that is worth doing.
That is what we were made for…
I can do that.”

And in a better world
or perhaps just a simpler world
I would have grown up to do it.
But we do not live in a simple world.

But I will not bemoan circumstance.
The moments come heaped up upon each other,
stretching out toward us like an absurd,
imperceptible tidal wave.
And they crash down.
And sometimes they crush us.
And sometimes we are simply swept along.

No, I won’t pity myself for the whims of probability.
In a simpler world we would love each other.
Not all of the time
not even half of the time.
But we would when it mattered.

Instead I find myself waking with the taste of iron in my teeth
and fire in my blood.
I wake to find myself in a cold city,
with cold people
and dry air that smells of burning paper
and thin ice,
or patience
or both.
And I find myself with a dull ache just below my chest
and a subtle dislike of everything.

Instead of pulling people out of the fire,
I am gritting my teeth over the nausea.
Clawing at my hair and curling up to hyperventilate
while the lead-coated walls march in to crush me.

In a simpler world I would not be angry
all the time.

But we do not live in a simpler world.

I find myself here
on the hardwood floor
with a half-empty bottle
and a half-sincere smile.
And instead of pulling people out of the fire,
I am doing my best not to throw them into it.

And I fought the compulsion for twenty years,
one day,
nine hours,
and seventeen minutes.
And I did not hurt anyone today.
And I won’t tomorrow,
or the day after that.

And I am still a god damn hero.
In the quiet way,
that history will never know about.

[Tiger Lily]

Wow....this last poem or piece here is really deep and really good, Solemn.

[The Dark Knight]

Thanks, babe. <3
Also, <3 for Sorano for posting my link up on Notice of Excellence.

[Sorano]

I wanted to posrep you, but couldn't. x__x SO I did the next best thing. xD

[The Dark Knight]

Am I the ship
or the pilot?
The passenger?
Or the cargo?
Consciousness is a freight container
in a transport made from
strung carbon molecules
and hydrogen
the whole monstrosity
stitched together
by strang laws
and whimsy
[mostly whimsy]

I don't feel like cargo...
but does a box feel like a box?

Everything
[I think]
I know about
[what I think is]
reality
suggests that I have as much free will
as your average carry-on.
[Carrion?]
If evolution does not own us,
the deterministic efficiency of the cosmos
most certainly does.

A clever little British girl once told me
that you can never answer any questions
you can only raise more questions.
If I had the luxury
I would tell her now:
I am inclined to agree..
but I would add that you can have a lot of fun
driving yourself mad
with the possibilities.