love

what to call this murderous game

this poetry of a moth flying to flame

like a fanatic’s hunger in his book

fed by faith and hook or crook

like a suicide seeking a glistening vein

a bathtub brimming with bright red stain

like an echo in a mountainous range

at once familiar, at once strange

like booze, cocaine or any such drug

imbibed easily with barely a shrug

like a child showing off a new big word

something he’s sure you’ve never heard

like a recurrent old forever nightmare

that delights as much as it does scare

like birds to flight and fish to water

and sometimes also like goats to slaughter

we rush to each other broken and bruised

ready for using, ready to be used.

ram cobain

(Pic courtesy https://theunknownleftover.wordpress.com/2018/03/11/moth-to-a-flame/ )

the repartee

frown looked at Smile and said

what’s that growing on your head?

bleak may be my sense of humor

isn’t that bump a malignant tumor

smile laughed aloud a hearty reply

gosh yes, true now that I could die

but long as I show the world my face

isn’t a grin better than a grimace?

ram cobain

sssh

this loud silence it grows like a wall

watered with pain, lonely and tall

it sits between us snug and close

so near you could poke it with your toes

it grins and laughs but doesn’t smile

like an old joke that’s guffawed a while

it speaks for us and says the wrong things

like an angel soaring on monster wings

this loud silence it grows like disease

chomping spitting as it does please

while we sit dead and dying to speak

it grins and laughs and makes us weak

it makes bad worse and worse more grim

like the last burnt match in a night so dim

gleefully it makes us want to be quiet

lest stupid good intent spark a riot

but at the big beautiful cost of being brave

or blind or desperate or even a knave

let me write you here these wistful words

not destined to be spoken or ever heard

that of all the things I ever wanted to do

was most to scream aloud: I love you

ram cobain

heavy

heavier than the iron in a gym

or a whale out for morning swim

heavier than a fat man on your toe

or a stalled car that must uphill go

heavier than a poor country’s debt

or its rich politician’s wallet

heavier than a trophy wife’s ring

or a black man’s big thick thing

Heavier than Joe Frazier’s glove

Or an imbecile slowly going “how?”

the heaviest heavy thing in town

is yes – the weight of your frown.

ram cobain

oh my god!

oh how ominous this warning sign

to say your god is better than mine

to ask a man to mend his ways

merely based on how he prays

to ask him to come back home

by the implore of broken bones

to decide for him what he can eat

and sharpen knives against holy meat

oh how ominous this warning sign

it faces you and you’re the one blind

to see your faith comes not from Him

but from an abyss more dark and dim

your faith comes from a faith in muscle

from violent victory in melee and tussle

now god may exist or exist he may not

but if he were to ever look at this rot

this cruel, unfair, pagan game

played out in his undefended name

this roll of death, rape, pain and plunder

of words and worlds ripped asunder

Would he smile, would be applaud

or would he shriek out, “Oh my god!”

ram cobain

naked

what words ought leave these lips

such that they feel like rain

like hungry happy honey sips

that drink away your pain

eager compliments I’ve tried

that gush like a river in spate

and also the odd surprise
and gestures that carry weight

next I’ve spoken with sense

the sense of a man who’s fair

but quite like a neighbor’s fence

it’s but only cut off our air

and I’ve even also kept mum

through repartees that jump and bay

but that’s made matters more glum

like I’d said all I had to say

but say I will here and now

and this here is my plea

I love you so much, my love

why don’t you, won’t you just see?

ram cobain