Skip to main content

a song in the rain

By B.I. Kukla
rain drops on your forehead
each of them with a tiny tiny star
as we stand under a lantern
across the street from a bar
you say some words they sound like wind
they make soap bubbles in my brain
and you are such a candy fiend
and i hope for more rain
i hope for a flood of words
not the candy or a swarm of flies
i did not know the right chords
my left hand was a liar
so my guitar was wrong
but i killed my goliath
with a very small song

a capella, under a salty rain
between our hearts
a nerve striking refrain
ends and starts

Labels:

Popular posts from this blog

jezebel of jezebels

By B.I. Kukla
jezebel of plastic bells she smiles her best reverend smile when she feels like murder toward someone somehow holier than her best self-delusion   //who do you pray to when your mouth is like abyss and your words poison the light of day like smoke? for what good are prayers filled with lies?// jezebel of elastic tales   she proclaims peace and love for all the reverend mothers of thieves and whores all jezebels and delilahs, oh dear interrogating imaginary spirits sisters   //who do you pray to when you open your abyss and your words are a swarm of hungry locusts?// jezebel of plastic sails   she storms her smiley guile-y heaven by offering candy in unrestrained profusion that's how she understands life all the things sweet and nice for the queen of heaven’s paradise   //who do you pray to when your heart has seven heads and ten horns? some sleazy god somebody else believes in? granting authority to your fake eyelashes and your piou...
Read more

wrong words

By B.I. Kukla
hypnotized by the big screen, wrapped in your cozy fleece you can be so rumpelstiltskin spinning awkward lines into moneymaking grease day and night, in sickness and in health you spin lines that pry open any hidden wallet lines that threaten and guile with a twist and a smile and the poor ignorants' money just pour and you are so proud, so proud, so proud for bringing in the flow to your grateful crowd that you turn your mouth into a radio station for the greedy an everyday hymn to the money oh, wonderful and there is just that unknown, annoying inconveniently undying feeling somewhere deep in your heart but you keep it bound with your perfect grin and there is no dwarf or giant to tell you what it is and all the money you got cannot buy you peace and you no longer own your own mouth there is a hidden war between your heart and mind and there is war all around and you are not blind every up against every down every left against every right every new against ...
Read more

iron-y

By B.I. Kukla
why burn the bridge? so that no wounded birds could live under it to keep their wounds alive your irony is like sulfur “no” is a burning word takes the iron rod giver to say it right they undo every right and fight for every wrong like that recalled letter of apology drop-dead bird mockingly unsent ungone, unknowing of its power ironic like dried sunflower on a blue chalkboard the art of death reigns in their hearts there is only defiance of dessicated flowers  between acknowledgment of rain  given in the right season and the first hydrating sip of life as it were to be fractions matter, splits of seconds are life ages of stubborn magma buildup can crumble in a blink of an eye, when you see how many grand personas brake down between saying thank you and being grateful always
Read more