Two Sonnets

       A Late Morning Sonnet

The ghosts in here have haunted me for days.
I hear those screams of anguish or delight.
I don't know tales beyond the murky haze
Of what could happen on one summer night.
To think of dreams, of nightmares, violent sex—
To speculate would be a loathsome thing—
A vision — painted hair and hickeyed necks;
A couple — man and woman — just a fling?
Just clumsy hands that feel their way around—
Tequila lingering on a pair of breaths?
Or is it real—true ecstasy is found—
Entrusting one another with their deaths?
   The ghosts in here are haunting me today
   But still I wake and wait to join the fray.


Sunrise Sonnet
for Veronica

I fell down your stairs on that fateful night;
Sounds of music still playing to my ears,
the sticky-sweet smells laughing at my flight—
There was nothing to protect me from tears.
As I quickly darted from your tower,
Concrete rose to greet me with sickly grace.
I stumbled down the streets at that hour
Unable to shake the sight of your face.
It is a vision of which I’ll not tire,
But inconsistancy still tortures me.
Whether to live with balance of fire
Or of such troubles be completely free.
  But what if the encounters dreamed were true?
  And what might happen if I were with you?

Pretention

This is a prententious poem of sorts, which may be why I was able to get it published in my college lit mag. However, if you get it, I think it's actually pretty clever. I'll post a brief explanation in the comments section so it can be read unannotated.

***

Cigarette Before Bed

Put on your coat and hat because it’s late. Check your mail once more and turn off your computer. Walk down the hall, turn left, and you should be outside. Reach into your pocket and get your cigarettes. Sit down. Sift through your pockets for your lighter – not your jackknife.

And light.

And there was light.

Inhale.
That breath of life
already taken;

Exhale.
And the smoke floats about you before dissipating.

Tap, inhale, exhale; wash, rinse, repeat.
Such is the way with all evening rituals.

Time moves slowly at this hour.

Someone laughs indoors—
Wonder if you’ve met her at a party.

Think about:
Crossword clues you didn’t get
(they say nicotene helps the memory)
Friends lost
How you guess that means you’re off for lunch
(there’s too much wind for smoke rings tonight)

Sex

(try to blow smoke rings anyway)

Don’t think about::
Friends lost

Get a song from Rent stuck in your head, and force it out with something from an early Simon and Garfunkel album. “Leaves That Are Green” works well. Look at the fading light of your cigarette.

Then think:
It was good
And it was good
And it was very good.

1999

dyspop is dead?

When I started this blog there were quite a few people posting. I was hoping it would snowball into activity but it really hasn't. I'm considering at the very least moving this blog to a subsection of the site, but more likely just switching over to a personal portfolio site (much like i have on dystopiapop.com). Maybe I'm just being impatient and not everyone is still as addicted to the internet as I am? Comment on this post to save dyspop as you know it. If I don't get ten unique commentors who support staying as is in the next two weeks then I'm going to be rethinking this site.