Poetry from Tony Plocido
It's all poetry and prose. You don't need my opinions on anything... UNLESS ...they are in verse
Thursday, September 13, 2012
Apparition
Every sound you make
rumbles in the space between
what you have and
the sanity it takes to survive.
You're not alive.
You're the ghost
of a saint
I used to pray to.
You're the most devastating
way to
skip through a couple of months.
A couple of bucks.
A couple of half-hearted attempts
to domesticate.
I promised to wait for you.
I stayed true to that lethargy.
That lack of activity
made my mind move faster.
This mission
became my master.
It was exacerbated by faded notions
of connection and
the resurrection of us.
Now that time is ending.
I'm fending off your demons
in favor of angels.
And I will strangle every last
accusation that flies my way.
I won't stray from my mission.
I am an efficient soul
that has pull with heavens.
I have unleavened bread
and wine
upon a shrine of righteous indignation
and scars I have laid before you.
What will you do?
Now that your kingdom has faded.
Jaded makes you ugly.
You tugged me too hard
in the wrong direction.
Now your protection has receded.
No longer impeded
by my need to please you.
So let me ease you back into perdition.
It was a war of attrition.
The thin layer,
that was you,
never had a chance.
Sunday, April 29, 2012
Argument
I Tried
Thoughts of Men
Lighten Up!
with somber soliloquies
Monday, October 17, 2011
Hold On To
I know you are far away
but I’m not doing well you know
there’s a sadness when I try to let go
there is always a subtle justification
for every manifestation of “us”
I create.
I relate better to history.
Even when you were pissed at me
I loved deeply.
Your eyes would seep into me as home
but now
that was a long...long time ago.
time flows
life grows
and we haven’t enough sorrow
to hold on to everything.
Every scene
that ever brought us down
but you
I hold on to
like questions I can’t respond to.
you share my spirit
And I fear it has enlightened over time
to the point where it’s no longer mine
or even something I understand.
To be man around you
was not something I thought I could do
but then I did.
I place a bid on your sentimentality.
I just couldn’t pay my dues.
now there’s no you.
sure you still love me
what choice do you have?
Our hearts are a match.
now we’re older
colder to the idea of change
I wish you could re-arrange
your heart
and start longing again.
I wish you would open
because it’s cold
and I want to come in.
Wednesday, September 14, 2011
Division
Somehow in our division, we multiplied the idea that we should be together. Some kind of forever type shit, has hit us in the back of the head. Suddenly the relationship is not dead. I can’t help but tread lightly on this new found calm; because when we speak it’s usually not Psalms coming out of mouths. Half the time I don’t know what it’s about but I know I wouldn’t want kids to hear it.
It’s a queer set of circumstances that brought us to this apartment. This small compartment at the top of the stairs... where we keep our wares and our inner most thoughts from the outside world. Where we balance the life and death of love, just a breath above whether or I did the God Damned dishes. I wish your wishes had something to do with me and who you wanted me to be. I wish they tapped into my personality...instead of just the fact that I have hands.
What I do understand is harmony. Which is hard to feel when the place is dirty or apparently when you are a woman over thirty. I know that’s unkind but I can’t wrap my mind around why you still want me. Almost everything you launch at me calls me pathetic...and yet it doesn’t remove your hands from ass. It doesn’t allow me to pass without a quick kiss to your lips and a subtle harassment of my sensibilities.
This is fucked up to the third degree and yet my heart doesn’t want to be free. It keeps telling my head to shut the hell up and just let it be. There’s a war without and a war within me. I wish I could just throw up my fingers and mean peace. I wish your madness would just cease. I wish you'd grab me by my neck and ravish me. I wish you’d throw me to the floor and show me what these hands are really for. I wish you’d lock the door so neither of us could flee. Until the sun comes up and the birds start singing from the surrounding trees. Shit. See. My heart doesn’t want to be free.