"Stealing Columbine"
dear ________,
in the grand scheme
of our mutual unraveling
when the dust settles
in our weary bones
and you and I are barely
hanging onto a thread
in some perverted attempt
to restore a measure of innocence
remember this before the notion
of spitting in my face and dancing
on my grave suddenly appeals to you:
I have longed for you
ever since youth was stolen at Columbine
If we cannot ever know
the beauty of lying next to one another
in rapture
please lock me away in your heart
and let neither heaven nor hell
stand in the way
of our fervent affection
despite the guise of our present
desperate straits.
- P
Copyright: 2009, by Raymund Diaz Delizo
Monday, April 20, 2009
Poem: "Death Trap"
"Death Trap"
dear ________,
last night was a total disaster
I found out that
apparently it takes
20 drinks at some smoking
stench filled hell hole
of a bar
to get my mojo working
then she walks in
all eyes on her
mid-thirties
tan, long legs
wearing a top that shimmers
and exposes her midriff ever so subtly
she leans over to the bartender
and whispers something in her ear
the woman giggles coyly
as the drink almost spills
"how did your date go?," asks the bartender
The woman leans closer and smiles
"He was a tool. Like a fucking death trap."
She gets up slowly
And blows the bartender a kiss
The anticipation between
What's to come and
What could have been
Is treatening to unravel her delicate insides
The moment, palpable
As a black, silk dress falls to the floor
The room spinning in ecstasy
Desperation lingers on her mouth.
- DP
Copyright: 2009, by Raymund Diaz Delizo
dear ________,
last night was a total disaster
I found out that
apparently it takes
20 drinks at some smoking
stench filled hell hole
of a bar
to get my mojo working
then she walks in
all eyes on her
mid-thirties
tan, long legs
wearing a top that shimmers
and exposes her midriff ever so subtly
she leans over to the bartender
and whispers something in her ear
the woman giggles coyly
as the drink almost spills
"how did your date go?," asks the bartender
The woman leans closer and smiles
"He was a tool. Like a fucking death trap."
She gets up slowly
And blows the bartender a kiss
The anticipation between
What's to come and
What could have been
Is treatening to unravel her delicate insides
The moment, palpable
As a black, silk dress falls to the floor
The room spinning in ecstasy
Desperation lingers on her mouth.
- DP
Copyright: 2009, by Raymund Diaz Delizo
Sunday, April 19, 2009
Poem: "Flashpoint"
"Flashpoint"
"If I could just see her again," she said
The woman said as she slowly poured herself
A glass of red wine
Uncrossing her legs
A brunette across the table
Makes eye contact
In a bright pink top
Smiling at her
The woman writes something down
And coolly hands it to the bartender
Before getting up and walking out
The bartender hands the note over
And, after reading it, she spills the red wine
"Oh the things I could do.... if we were alone."
Somewhere inside, she gets an intensely warm sensation
Her anticipation threatens to short circuit her senses
The heat of the moment quietly unraveling.
Copyright: 2009, by Raymund Diaz Delizo
"If I could just see her again," she said
The woman said as she slowly poured herself
A glass of red wine
Uncrossing her legs
A brunette across the table
Makes eye contact
In a bright pink top
Smiling at her
The woman writes something down
And coolly hands it to the bartender
Before getting up and walking out
The bartender hands the note over
And, after reading it, she spills the red wine
"Oh the things I could do.... if we were alone."
Somewhere inside, she gets an intensely warm sensation
Her anticipation threatens to short circuit her senses
The heat of the moment quietly unraveling.
Copyright: 2009, by Raymund Diaz Delizo
Poem: "Undertow"
"Undertow"
She stares at the phone
Lost in thought
She longs for escape
As she touches her hair softly
He is pacing, alone in his hotel room
His mind wanders to the last time
He was lying in bed
Next to her
Instead, the fire has gone out
And they are two ships hanging
Barely on a thread
Caught in the undertow
Somewhere between love and desperation.
Copyright: 2009, by Raymund Diaz Delizo
She stares at the phone
Lost in thought
She longs for escape
As she touches her hair softly
He is pacing, alone in his hotel room
His mind wanders to the last time
He was lying in bed
Next to her
Instead, the fire has gone out
And they are two ships hanging
Barely on a thread
Caught in the undertow
Somewhere between love and desperation.
Copyright: 2009, by Raymund Diaz Delizo
Saturday, April 18, 2009
Poem: "The Chasm"
"The Chasm"
dear ________,
If I've been a bastard to you lately, please
Try to forgive my stubborn inclinations
Mid life PMS has gotten the better
Of my manhood these days
Last night was just like I used to remember
Your skin, your hands, our bodies intertwined
Sharing one final time
Before my insides threaten to cave in
Tell B and S, that I haven't forgotten them
The cold sterility of linoleum and hospital beds
Has seeped into my unkempt bones
The fragrance of you lingers
In the shadows of my mind
All else fades in the twilight
The chasm that is your love
Has overtaken my life
With you standing over me
Dagger in hand
Never forget, dear
Let my blood run cold
Kiss me once
Before I surrender
To death's fervent embrace.
- IG
Copyright: 2009, by Raymund Diaz Delizo
dear ________,
If I've been a bastard to you lately, please
Try to forgive my stubborn inclinations
Mid life PMS has gotten the better
Of my manhood these days
Last night was just like I used to remember
Your skin, your hands, our bodies intertwined
Sharing one final time
Before my insides threaten to cave in
Tell B and S, that I haven't forgotten them
The cold sterility of linoleum and hospital beds
Has seeped into my unkempt bones
The fragrance of you lingers
In the shadows of my mind
All else fades in the twilight
The chasm that is your love
Has overtaken my life
With you standing over me
Dagger in hand
Never forget, dear
Let my blood run cold
Kiss me once
Before I surrender
To death's fervent embrace.
- IG
Copyright: 2009, by Raymund Diaz Delizo
Poem: "The Secret Of My Misery"
"The Secret Of My Misery"
- for GW and Bukowski.
Dear Mr. Chinaski,
I'm nearing the end of my first book
not expecting it to take this long
the whole creative process drawn out
with pregnant pauses and mental blocks
on the bed nearby lies a fairly worn copy
of one of your books of poetry
I still don't understand how you were
able to write a new one every year
maybe it was the booze
or the cats
or maybe Vivaldi with his fruity strings
was behind it all
2 a.m. and I'm in bed
while you plug away
on your computer
and my screen has a mind of her own
freezing on me
not budging
blinking faster than my eyes can react to it
six feet under
in some quiet space
I hear you laugh
as the underbelly of my undoing
seethes just beneath the breaking point
the cold air is still
the turbulent wind
that threatens my insides
is all I have left (*)
the pallor of my skin forever changed
I would have followed you down
into that beautifully awful place (*)
Fearfully taken,
Robert "Rambo" Chimney
Copyright: 2004 & 2009, by Raymund Diaz Delizo
(Note: The original version of this poem was written January 2004 for my old blog; * - denotes that these parts were written April 18, 2009.)
- for GW and Bukowski.
Dear Mr. Chinaski,
I'm nearing the end of my first book
not expecting it to take this long
the whole creative process drawn out
with pregnant pauses and mental blocks
on the bed nearby lies a fairly worn copy
of one of your books of poetry
I still don't understand how you were
able to write a new one every year
maybe it was the booze
or the cats
or maybe Vivaldi with his fruity strings
was behind it all
2 a.m. and I'm in bed
while you plug away
on your computer
and my screen has a mind of her own
freezing on me
not budging
blinking faster than my eyes can react to it
six feet under
in some quiet space
I hear you laugh
as the underbelly of my undoing
seethes just beneath the breaking point
the cold air is still
the turbulent wind
that threatens my insides
is all I have left (*)
the pallor of my skin forever changed
I would have followed you down
into that beautifully awful place (*)
Fearfully taken,
Robert "Rambo" Chimney
Copyright: 2004 & 2009, by Raymund Diaz Delizo
(Note: The original version of this poem was written January 2004 for my old blog; * - denotes that these parts were written April 18, 2009.)
Poem: "Last Call At 2 A.M."
"Last Call At 2 A.M."
She came in late
Thoughts lingered in her head
"I've never kissed lips so soft," she whispered
To no one in particular
Lucinda had left the back door open
With a note that smelled of wine and perfume
"Come see me sometime," it read
She imagined what it would be like
To lay in bed and feel vulnerable
Next to someone so much like her
Lucinda was so close
Her roommate felt a sudden tightness in her stomach
And felt a sweltering rush of butterflies
"If I could just hold her hand and look into her eyes," she said
As she stood there under moonlit sky
While raindrops soaked her to the bone
Waiting for one last call
The clock read 2 A.M.
Copyright: 2009, by Raymund Diaz Delizo
She came in late
Thoughts lingered in her head
"I've never kissed lips so soft," she whispered
To no one in particular
Lucinda had left the back door open
With a note that smelled of wine and perfume
"Come see me sometime," it read
She imagined what it would be like
To lay in bed and feel vulnerable
Next to someone so much like her
Lucinda was so close
Her roommate felt a sudden tightness in her stomach
And felt a sweltering rush of butterflies
"If I could just hold her hand and look into her eyes," she said
As she stood there under moonlit sky
While raindrops soaked her to the bone
Waiting for one last call
The clock read 2 A.M.
Copyright: 2009, by Raymund Diaz Delizo
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