I haven’t lost a thing

In Uncategorized on April 5, 2012 at 11:03 pm

Original Composition by Justin Banks

Drowning in lights at a black tea house
You speak of lost love over stiff sips
I cradle my back upon the peeling cushions
Fire off advice cribbed from daytime talking heads
and internet columns
“Reach out to her if it’s meant to be.”
What rubbish
We’re new pieces on the terrestrial chess board
And I haven’t lost a thing

You speak of the countless failures you suffered
to find Lake Tanganyika
The burning car you left on the freeway
The patch of marijuana in the less tolerant lands of Oregon
Evictions, rejections, and missed trains
The sleeping man in Bangladesh you discovered was slain
I wilt at your short-sighted complaints
A day of dynamism is better than a lifetime of stagnation
Any God would agree, even Logic nod’s slowly

Meanwhile the books pile into the heavens
The thin layer of dust lies upon the sunlight
as I create reasons to rise
The state borders encircle me
My mind is leasing new lands for tenements of worry
I build my body in case my personality detaches itself
Finds a new home, and brings the war to the physical realm

Don’t worry, dear friend
You could lose everything
Even the skin upon your back
You would smirk as blood drips down the trapezius
Find purpose in showing me the way
For existence gets heavy
I haven’t lost a thing.


Tentacle Extension

In Uncategorized on March 21, 2012 at 11:32 pm

Original Composition by Justin Banks

It began with wine
Red followed by white
Now that longing is mine
She extends her wiry form beyond my sight

I shiver in wood stools
The ‘tender meets my eyes
Foliage fills my pool
Ignorance consumes me when she cries

Those without beds console me
Lips dripping as we trade in plight
The Government can’t hold me
Her tentacles pull me through the night

Grotesque revelry of a social dance
The body reveals I know not what to do
Her movement bestows a fleeting chance
Tentacle extension pulls me through

Her denigration echos through hallways
Nine tails upon my back
Her tentacles extend beyond the blue
Laying on your mattress
I speak on what she lacks
Her tentacles have pulled me straight to you.


Not Missed (Skeleton Song)

In Uncategorized on February 29, 2012 at 9:27 am

Original Composition by Justin Banks

When the camera hovered above the Olympic audience
Your face shone through, like embers in the rain
Captured for a second’s embrace
Those countless millions knew you were here

Where are you now?
Those oranges, picked by Brazilian hands as mercury rose
Withered and depleted as the skin on your frame
Eyes as sunken as civilizations that know not of the Lord’s name
Caramel colored moths flicker and weave through your hair

As the London rains play percussion upon window panes
Where are your sunny friends now?

Termites gorge on the innards of a housing project
Cockroaches ponder the drawbacks of immortality
The television documents the passing of time
The passing of torches
The illegal pass (Barcelona, of course)
The smooth rotation of a record has come to a halt (Bowie, of course)

The rent piled up like bones on the shores of Genocide
The credit coyotes howled and popped their teeth
The mailbox bubbled and burst like the pantries of neurotic emperors
And yet, those years, they passed

The lock was severed, the air writhed and dispersed
with the haste of freed beasts
There she lay in the stale regality of a cadaver’s grace
Skin coiled against the calcium undercurrent
Plasticized eyes carving grooves into the heavens

The movers shivered in the presence of dimmed existence
As he looked into the eyes of this Indian queen
His atheism contorts and he wonders…
Where is she now?