These are poems mostly written between 1999 and 2000.
Poems are individual works and collaborations between SarahSmiles and Spazzmodius.
They are © 1999-2001 Sarahsmiles.com, and cannot be printed or
copied without written permission.
(Five poems, arranged)
Arms by my side hang motionless,
as the beat of your heart weighs
thoughtless feeling, the enemy of your smile.
Painless, the spring rhythm of my heart
that beat last in anothers breast.
Ripped by my voice torturous,
and placed bleeding in my soundless mouth,
I pass a silent careless crossroad,
closer to the hopeless eternity of your song.
My breasts lay heavily on
One heart beating for us both.
Our tongues, entwined red and liquid, bleed memories.
Your body cool, mine warming, vibrate to one song.
One sex, shared on sheets of passion and regret, speaks within me.
Soul released, soul restless, stilled by a siren kiss of unending night.
The casual scream that locks my soul from eternity stands alone,
behind a distant smile of tortured regret.
The blood offered to supplicate my rage
drips like tears from my lips, an afterthought of anger.
Your body hangs motionless, twisting on the breeze of fancy.
My will falls lost among the memories that drip forgotten,
like rain from your eyes.
A chance misfortune falling at your feet
brings you to my lost embrace again.
An evenings mourning blankets your star,
like hopes dashing on a shore of lost remembering.
Broken, your sex cries forth from a passionless embrace.
A soul shattered senseless writhes in my warming fire,
stolen as lips parting company smile in cruel disregard.
I track you motionless across the winding streets,
among tables of lost cafes, along the coast of this vacant city,
describing an arc across the heavens of neglected dreams.
The fabric of crimes drapes a faded figure as a cloth of shrouded despair,
seeking a final ablution to cleanse and absolve a nocturne of unredeemed regret.
You flow, spectral, among the living and prey to the lust of your thirst.
And I wait hovering at the fringe of your soul,
patient for a dark embrace to join us in loves tomb.
Resurrecting the Garden
To my garden,
artful world of creation,
I go to forget.
Artefact of my nocturne;
construct of day dreams.
where my thirst is slaked on beauty,
Rock Blood Ochre
Valleys of Roussillon paint my body red;
night dusted skin with rock blood ochre.
The valleys rusting bauxite earth in my hair,
and on my bare feet, paints my body red.
Living blood dyes my soul with life:
Abandoned bodies alone in random patterns.
Forgotten red drips thoughtless from my lips.
"The Vampiric Metaphor, " said she,
transcendent and sublime, requires
an external referent, a story lost in time.
A thought that tingles on the tongue,
or image that tricks the eye with light."
"Keep thinking in this vein," purred I,
"as my teeth sink in and I drink tonight."
Chromium alloy hips mark
the breadth of my desire.
Iron oxide lips leave me
breathless and on fire.
Screaming cobalt tears burn
my soul upon your pyre.
Titanium oxide fears
edge my longing to expire. ss/spaz.
Sighs sweep silent over the midnight city,
sentient of the million summers gone.
The sea suffers my hollow gaze, softly,
as my eyes search the solemn beach
slowly for your solitary smile.
The blinding memory of your weary blood
bleaching my broken lips black.
Baleful, my barren soul breaks,
beached and battered on the moon-beaten sand.
Waves crash white at my weary feet,
waking me from my watchful slumber.
I walk, idle, and wend my way,
watching for your return, and waiting.
Nice, my midnight sun, orange and brilliant below.
The city glows warm my soul, perched a top my hillside home
huddled in my nocturnal thirst. The silent city at my feet
I watch, and wonder who awaits me.
Each building a reflected oasis boiling with life.
Each window blazing a silent testament.
My body shaking with muted tears
of the finite gulf I cannot cross.
My shoulders sagging from the isolated
tremors of regret.
My brain boils and soul gives way
as the iron scent of your veins
drags me slumbering forth:
broken body, cloven with thirst,
dragged by claws clogged with flesh
towards the pale beauty of your youth.
Thunderous bleeding soul,
mourning wails of a depleted heart,
crashing teeth smiling in hunger,
sobbing silent terror
hold you close to me.
Eyes closing, breath ragged,
you speak a silent prayer,
and keeping your soul,
surrender your life.
I sing to the singing of your blood.
You fucking bitch, why did you leave me?
The anthem of my nightmares,
my mantra to my mother,
tender words of regret
spoken with love and remembrance
veiled in tears and washed with loss.
You left me with pictures and my name,
dimming memories and half invented stories;
broken verses in a song,
the music forgotten.
Stolen from me in broken glass and shattered bones;
summer of regrets half forgotten
recollections of your smile.
A child still wanders with picture in her hand crying,
"Why did you leave me?"
An experiment in desire
Arms broken in mutual hatred,
Sinews snapped with violent passion,
Souls ripped in malignant screams,
Time's recollections resurrecting
Memory's wounds still raw and bloodied.
Tired eyes see only red,
Hoarse voices shout recriminations,
Cracked nails claw damaged flesh,
Silent sorrows in silent lives;
Wasted weapons of old loves
waiting patiently for new battles.
My friend, she is the raven. ss
- Raven, first from the ark
- on wings of night, sent forth
- to dry the earth,
- and prepare the world.
- Dove, second, third, fourth,
- returned, finally,
- with olive branch.
- Raven never returned
- from the new earth.
- What did she find
- more interesting
- that so engrossed her soul?
- I sit, by a darkened window
- looking out over the city
- night below, beside her.
- I think she went off alone.
- I think she found herself.
- I hope she met her soul.
- She sits beside me now,
- that very same Raven
- who left to still the waters,
- and reclaim the earth from the flood
- and wrath of a vengeful god.
- Beside her I am at the edge
- of all things; her wings beat
- at my blood and calm
- my seething waters.
- Beside her I am beyond
- the human domain we see
- from a distance,
- from my window,
- through her eyes, keen,
- observing, watching
- down below.
Dame Darkness Calls.
The Night holds my soul close-cradled and safe,
a mentor protecting her lonesome lost waif.
She hides teasing me, under rocks and in shadows,
Tempting, embracing me on midnight meadows.
She teaches secrets of hidden lost things;
Of nature, of dreams and darkness she sings -
Secrets and mysteries lost to you all
Who hide inside houses when dame darkness calls.
That is a beautiful metaphor.
Look at it.
Listen to it.
Let it roll off
your tongue and
between your breasts, and
down to your boots where
you can grind it
My Lizard Soul
The somber reptile of day dreams, observed
in nocturnes of wandering; light night music
of souls that tread tiny steps, silent
and running along darkening paths.
A black funereal dance, broken diurnal rhythmic
circles around my slumber; slow scaled words
crumpled paper memories, shifting
and reforming as a breeze crosses the floor.
A warm singing fire, livened icy fingers
and frigid bones; aching frostbite memories
scratched by bloodied nails, animates
and motivates my lizard soul.
Waking with blood in my belly and a smile on my face
and my thoughts in a far off and wonderful place
moved my soul off to search in the darkest direction
and through long midnight hours of deep introspection
surmised that I might be both dead and a story
just in order to rationalize a life that's so gory.
I live and I love and I move and I try
to keep out of the sun and to drink, or I die.
Thus I don't know if vampire is real or a metaphor
but that's not the answer I think you are looking for.
Close-couched divinations cast with
cruel bones on infectious desires,
as the feral chorus gambols for
the soiled, patched robes of a
makeshift deity not worth crucifying.
Stripped pink and naked, but for
sun burnt face and hands, blood seeps
from a self-inflicted scrape below
your breast, as your homemade
crown of barbwire thorns slowly unravels:
bride stripped bare, gashed
hymen's memory of luscious autumnal blood
flowing tears, broken by
the lash of unspoken regret.
Decayed expectations hover
hallowed; lost spirits of
vampiral longings crow laments
to Dionysian rapes of sidereal fancy.
Your eyes, sunken in victim's retreat,
scout the lost horizons; a broken
survivor of inhuman longing,
separated from eternity by
suburban mysteries of
injected rock star mythologies.
I kiss your bloodied tears of the
suicide's regret, cup your
quivering breast in my ruddy claws
with a lover's caress, break your heart
with spoken words of censure
at your immortal longings
for an endless tomorrow.
Our lips quiver together, touching
casual skin too often shared
in panicked musings of another
night of repentant justification.
Our bodies, naked but for our
concealed horrors, laid bare
when my mind caresses
the stories of your sordid loves.
Skin touches skin, eyes touch eyes,
windowing souls broken under the
weight of a memory of posthumous
regard. Your sex, my sex, stalled
by the history of passed passion.
My tongue speaks new words
of silent passion to your ecstasy
screams of joy.