It must have been like this:
I was sewn so tight to your shadow
that my own reflection abandoned me.
At night my chest was wildfire
and in our bed which was once so alive
my soul was being leached out
by your neutral spine.
Your heart is OK the Doctors said
throwing pills at me like stones
similar to the ones they used
to murder their feelings long ago.
Four years was a journey of love and hate
until we finally transcended both.
And in that empty moment things were
so terribly quiet but so terribly loud.
Imagine how it felt
to arrive in that foreign place
where the promise of everything that was once
so good in your eyes
had become an unrecognizable inferno where
we could only fail to avoid the daggers.
I carried the love that became our disease
in my arms like a baby
unable to stop feeding it because it cried out for more...
How do you kill a living part of you?
It was in letting us go low to the ground
on that unmarked day
that I spread my arms wide again
and reclaimed my shadow
piece by scrambled piece
even if all I had left to assemble it
were my poor and trembling hands.
copyright (c) 2010 by Vincent John Ancona
Thursday, October 28, 2010
Disconnect
People die faster
than time takes the body.
If you don't understand
Watch us...
speed trepidly into the future--
souls trapped within the carcass
of the roadkill we call memories.
Watch us go...
unwillingly into our plastic cells
free as the words that briefly danced
on the tongues of our persecuted.
Watch us go in...
to homes where the beating heart
ebbs and flows and
must also adhere to gravity.
Watch us go in flames...
Ash, bone and ego
rising up in such trivial smoke
you'd barely know we happened.
copyright (c) 2010 by Vincent John Ancona
than time takes the body.
If you don't understand
Watch us...
speed trepidly into the future--
souls trapped within the carcass
of the roadkill we call memories.
Watch us go...
unwillingly into our plastic cells
free as the words that briefly danced
on the tongues of our persecuted.
Watch us go in...
to homes where the beating heart
ebbs and flows and
must also adhere to gravity.
Watch us go in flames...
Ash, bone and ego
rising up in such trivial smoke
you'd barely know we happened.
copyright (c) 2010 by Vincent John Ancona
Ode To Silence
I don’t mean to single you out
nor do I mean to draw attention to myself.
As you know, I exist in you
as we all exist in you.
My nights pour soundless like dark molasses
and my days, clenched tight by your deafening fists...
are stronger than any force I’ve known.
This beating heart, this throbbing universe
needs more than vibrations to sustain itself.
Perhaps everything exists to avoid you.
You embody empty rooms and shadows and
things that can’t breathe.
You are the heartbeat in my couch
and the pulse in my blinds.
Though even inanimate objects will eventually defy you...
you will outlast galaxies.
There is something inside you louder
than any noise.
You do not need me to make room for you.
All of empty space is where you
soundlessly stomp us out.
I make empty promises to myself each night:
Not to name the cracks on my ceiling...
Silence.
To be both gay and happy..
Silence.
Not to plea with God...
Silence.
To hold more than myself...
Silence.
Not to see answers through chilled light...
Silence.
To seek out the great sound
that was lost in your
bottomless echo...
Silence.
Copyright (c) 2010 by Vincent John Ancona
nor do I mean to draw attention to myself.
As you know, I exist in you
as we all exist in you.
My nights pour soundless like dark molasses
and my days, clenched tight by your deafening fists...
are stronger than any force I’ve known.
This beating heart, this throbbing universe
needs more than vibrations to sustain itself.
Perhaps everything exists to avoid you.
You embody empty rooms and shadows and
things that can’t breathe.
You are the heartbeat in my couch
and the pulse in my blinds.
Though even inanimate objects will eventually defy you...
you will outlast galaxies.
There is something inside you louder
than any noise.
You do not need me to make room for you.
All of empty space is where you
soundlessly stomp us out.
I make empty promises to myself each night:
Not to name the cracks on my ceiling...
Silence.
To be both gay and happy..
Silence.
Not to plea with God...
Silence.
To hold more than myself...
Silence.
Not to see answers through chilled light...
Silence.
To seek out the great sound
that was lost in your
bottomless echo...
Silence.
Copyright (c) 2010 by Vincent John Ancona
Wednesday, July 7, 2010
Revelation 2:16
"Therefore, repent. If not, I will come to you soon and war against them with the sword of my mouth."
Revelation 2:16
It might take a lifetime
to learn the secrets of an empty moment.
That we could look at the clock and be Ok with 2:16 AM.
That we could battle depression without pills.
That we could bet on happiness and win.
That personal identity would not be over-rated.
That we could escape our thoughts and be intact.
That we could feel truly sorry for someone.
That we could feel truly sorry.
That we could survive without Liquid Crystal Display.
That we could see the world by seeing the world.
That we could learn to forgive fully without forgetting.
That we could understand perfection as self defeating.
That we could understand which drugs we need to give up.
That we could acknowledge the need for at least one drug.
That we could live our dreams and pay our bills.
That we could pay our bills using only money.
That progress did not always mean technology.
That the heart was beating analog not digital.
That we could love completely on one leg.
That we could love completely.
Copyright (c) 2010 by Vincent John Ancona
Revelation 2:16
It might take a lifetime
to learn the secrets of an empty moment.
That we could look at the clock and be Ok with 2:16 AM.
That we could battle depression without pills.
That we could bet on happiness and win.
That personal identity would not be over-rated.
That we could escape our thoughts and be intact.
That we could feel truly sorry for someone.
That we could feel truly sorry.
That we could survive without Liquid Crystal Display.
That we could see the world by seeing the world.
That we could learn to forgive fully without forgetting.
That we could understand perfection as self defeating.
That we could understand which drugs we need to give up.
That we could acknowledge the need for at least one drug.
That we could live our dreams and pay our bills.
That we could pay our bills using only money.
That progress did not always mean technology.
That the heart was beating analog not digital.
That we could love completely on one leg.
That we could love completely.
Copyright (c) 2010 by Vincent John Ancona
Wednesday, June 2, 2010
Aphorism
Close your eyes and start with black
Now, strip away the barriers, the dead zones
and catalogue each layer of humanity
Let your hands become outrageous flashbulbs--
isolating, capturing each psychic apparatus
every brilliant action or devastating effect
Look for dialogue in silence
Think short thoughts
Disappear with a trace
And by all means seek the meaning
behind every atom
Copyright (c) 2010 by Vincent John Ancona
Now, strip away the barriers, the dead zones
and catalogue each layer of humanity
Let your hands become outrageous flashbulbs--
isolating, capturing each psychic apparatus
every brilliant action or devastating effect
Look for dialogue in silence
Think short thoughts
Disappear with a trace
And by all means seek the meaning
behind every atom
Copyright (c) 2010 by Vincent John Ancona
Untitled Copyright (c) 2010 by Vincent John Ancona
you want
disease without suffering
cows without disease
milk without cows
trust us.
trust us.
you want
grey fabric walls
memos on stationary
carpal tunnel vision
trust us.
trust us.
you want
food grown in labs
people born in tubes
wars waged with casualties
trust us.
trust us.
you want
his heart to beat diamonds
her face to go down
it to be what’s in movies
trust us.
trust us.
you want
a president who cares about you
who worships your God
who lies but won't swear
trust us.
trust us.
you want
a mental bunk-bed
one for you
one for You.
trust us.
trust us.
Copyright © 2010 by Vincent John Ancona
disease without suffering
cows without disease
milk without cows
trust us.
trust us.
you want
grey fabric walls
memos on stationary
carpal tunnel vision
trust us.
trust us.
you want
food grown in labs
people born in tubes
wars waged with casualties
trust us.
trust us.
you want
his heart to beat diamonds
her face to go down
it to be what’s in movies
trust us.
trust us.
you want
a president who cares about you
who worships your God
who lies but won't swear
trust us.
trust us.
you want
a mental bunk-bed
one for you
one for You.
trust us.
trust us.
Copyright © 2010 by Vincent John Ancona
Thursday, June 25, 2009
Maybe If I Keep Reading
Maybe if I keep reading
I’ll become more and more like THEM!
I could use words such as
floccinaucinihilipilification
and feel like I’m really (no really!)
contributing something important to the world.
Maybe if I keep reading long enough
my brain will feel like an egg
that unwillingly erupts its yolk.
giving way to creative birth pangs
which sting like a wasp in fall
and cover my ivory skin
with that special slime only ugly truths
(and eggs) can leave behind.
Maybe if I keep reading
I can learn time management
so I can eat, drink, piss, shit
write and sleep all at the same time.
Maybe if I keep reading
I can learn to pray the gay away…
or maybe, just maybe, if I keep reading,
I’ll stop feeling like living is dying
like working is sleeping
and loving is lying.
Maybe if I keep reading
I’ll believe in Jesus or Buddha
Or maybe I can stop wondering why
I can’t covet my neighbor’s wife--
But what about her husband?
Maybe if I keep reading
I can quit smoking, quit drinking--
perhaps even stop feeling.
Maybe if I keep reading I can master
cunnilingus, fellatio and abstinence.
Maybe I can learn how to self help myself
or cook 30 minute meals
or do chemical peels…
Maybe if I keep reading I can
let poetry course through my fingers.
Maybe I can stop connecting
with bone and blood
and make contact instead with
heart and soul.
Maybe if I keep reading
I’ll see what it means to be empty
so that I can be whole.
Copyright © 2008 by Vincent John Ancona
I’ll become more and more like THEM!
I could use words such as
floccinaucinihilipilification
and feel like I’m really (no really!)
contributing something important to the world.
Maybe if I keep reading long enough
my brain will feel like an egg
that unwillingly erupts its yolk.
giving way to creative birth pangs
which sting like a wasp in fall
and cover my ivory skin
with that special slime only ugly truths
(and eggs) can leave behind.
Maybe if I keep reading
I can learn time management
so I can eat, drink, piss, shit
write and sleep all at the same time.
Maybe if I keep reading
I can learn to pray the gay away…
or maybe, just maybe, if I keep reading,
I’ll stop feeling like living is dying
like working is sleeping
and loving is lying.
Maybe if I keep reading
I’ll believe in Jesus or Buddha
Or maybe I can stop wondering why
I can’t covet my neighbor’s wife--
But what about her husband?
Maybe if I keep reading
I can quit smoking, quit drinking--
perhaps even stop feeling.
Maybe if I keep reading I can master
cunnilingus, fellatio and abstinence.
Maybe I can learn how to self help myself
or cook 30 minute meals
or do chemical peels…
Maybe if I keep reading I can
let poetry course through my fingers.
Maybe I can stop connecting
with bone and blood
and make contact instead with
heart and soul.
Maybe if I keep reading
I’ll see what it means to be empty
so that I can be whole.
Copyright © 2008 by Vincent John Ancona
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