Two poems by Raeez Jacobs

Music is our pain, and our pain is our music

music is the accidental
uncomfortable sound
when we bite our tongues

when our bones crack
like bird-skulls in
sixty degree heat spells

when telephone lines
screech as they crease the dial
when the waiting subsides
and your heart changes tides

the sound of greetings
breaking like
iron engulfed in raging flames
who will remember all the names?

the sound of regretting
wakes them up like a canon in the morning
the sound of a million hearts
echoing awkwardly against the sunrise
and slowly

the melody is pain
pain is the rhythm in the melody

 

Dragon Monologues

Twenty-seven and a half cigarettes
Later, and you
Think I’m still
Overdosing on those
Stellar-gone-ballistic somersaults through
The circles of your corduroy heart,

Perhaps

You think I still keep my ego
In the backbone of some
Flame-spitting dragon,

Don’t you?

As only your weight knows
The feel of my most fragile shove,
As only you had seen
Enough of my skin-shedding
In the death-kiss minute,

Limping toward the door with your
Heart hangin’ from
Your wrist and your
Eyes obscured by netherworld mist,

Like a robed eagle; sixty-winged
Absconder, doin’ away
With the former, yet
Unsure of the latter, fallin’
Into your own hardened charisma, while

Some of my catharsis is
Tossed into
The deep creel of moon
Captors,

But I am not still
Locked up in the
Escapade; moving
My shadow along any castle-looking
Wall and holding
The weapons of my own
Injury in my hands, as

If I know nothing about
Impact and bandaging, and
All the other disappearing
Drops of blood, escaping through
The glitches in my logic

Like some stirred up
Cup of dementia, spilling
Over, onto the foundation

Four hands laid down
Themselves, by some volition
Now bludgeoning itself
Against the added barriers,
And all those finger-caressing silences,

now

Because you’ve always thought
Of utopia as
Dystopia, so curled
Into your errors, some glabrous
Tree will bear all the wrong fruit,

And I, I am ambagious
As the thrid fountain coin, draggin’
On my cigarette under water, then
Blowin’ all the misery out with the
Wet clouds of departing smoke,

And proving you wrong, every
Time you think I lose my sleep
For you, by

Waking up the rain
Clouds in your sky.

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