Aliens Have Landed... Jack O' Lantern

 

Anomaly

And from these spectral shards, these phantom ashes

We are presented with a post-world of churned possibilities.

Fleeting whispers of a past that sharpened its blade

Until it thinned out into a dejected sigh, a poorly timed joke. 

Shall the new green scintillate its way out of fading sludge?

Can human engineer its way out of impending loneliness?

If the sun, bloated orb of stubbornness, can still rise daintily,

Can’t us criminals follow suit? Allow us to be selfish once again.

If goodbye can only be executed through the big way out,

How can we gather courage to salute once more?

How can we crawl towards a forced outcome, beyond failed circuits,

If the merry-go-round already has oxidized its final twirl?

And yet, like flags that once waved in their gluttonous pride,

We shall keep on sucking vitality out of the gas mask,

Keep on borrowing chemical life out of its obsolete entrails,

Until the days stop abandoning us in a boundless prison

Of bleach rays and graying horizons, and we rise once more

To conjecture our way onto the next dream, accurate this time. 

Context Mystified, The Fashionable Shut-In

Curl and curl the cursive written loops that imbue anonymity 

With grandiose meaning. The self-imposed poet deity shines

Caustic light of revelation upon all that goes against its lines,

That render clarity out of candy reverie, the gumdrop hermit 

Carved out of starry allegories, equipped with a filmic mind.

Through elliptic figure eights the elusive laureate skates away

And beyond the already-trodden constellations of a word’s world

To enter the outlandish, make sense by mastering its very lack

Rephrase the straight-forward, revise what has been known.

A flushed face caused by smooth creation, make-believe at play

The fashionable shut-in wields the diamond pen, stanzaic violence

On speed-dial, on the front lines against the dreary grayscales. 

To etch dazzling verses onto opalescent jewels, made for was I

Convoluting the context you so desperately hanker for, believe me

I shall keep doing until my incantations run their glinting banks dry

If the rational treasure is what you seek, my numerical wanderer 

Afraid I am that here you will find, not the riches of structure 

But a most hallowed thing: the eclipsed scribbler’s candy cane heart.

 

Ribboned Beast

 

As a scarecrow of unnaturally rouged cheeks I moved 

Through a stilted, actorly life. Heavy-coarse ribbon in head

My eyes, for tenderness of any kind, willing to sacrifice. 

What an odd thing, already dejected before a premature peak, 

My worldly arrival. Flesh of strained polyester tirelessly mimicking 

The doll’s cupid’s bow, her silk-soft grace, the serene expression

Of porcelain doves. But alas, with elbows acute in their pointiness, 

And limbs far too long, my prettiness-for-the-taking dropped

Lower than the accepted amount, leaving me unnoticed, forlorn.

Broads and ghouls, illogical virgins tighten their purity 

Around necks that beg to be axed by the ruling sprite’s hand. 

Their willingness, pinkish souvenirs for the vampyr onlookers,

What a masterly jest. Presently unaffected, mocking all restrictions

I might as well be a jack o’ lantern, flickering my derisive light

Casting a leer at such a preposterous correlation, a world’s crime.

But don’t get my verses annihilated just yet, there’s more to this 

Taunting, wordy unraveling than just the scorching of the effigy’s head. 

Truth be told, secret to be no more, I have shifted from my original

Tango’s steps, the darling denialist now bears the skull-tipped cane

That strikes the lovely prisoner down to her flowery end. 

I am no creature of redemption, I have axed lilies in my head-quarters

As well, and these sparkling rituals might be a prison for some birdies 

Until you see yourself hitting the crouching princess from the other end.

Atmospheric Optical Phenomena

Many-hued sparkles, crystals gleam

Haloed sun and icicles sprung from beneath

A glittering ground, magic soil

Rays of milky bleach light beaming

From the diamond-clear up above

Angel sightings on interstices 

Of a cotton clouded sky

These are days of white and baby blue

Xylo melodies reverberating

From the gem caverns of my frosted mind.