Posts tagged ‘love’

06/12/2013

Active

by Pierce Nahigyan

Daria,

I have loved you so long to no purpose I can’t really remember what it’s like not to be pathetically entrenched in you. You were, at the outset, a cute photograph in the hand of a friend. You were, at first sight, haughty, challenging, a little overweight, and violently opinionated. You are, today, slimmer, less opinionated, wealthier, and tugging me at the end of your tether like a gold fish that’s yet to pinch off its fecal trail.

I am endlessly dithering, a problem with alcohol, brilliant and lazy and very, very angry. (And very, very quiet about it until it’s too late.)

In some slapstick universe we are so perfect for each other it hurts, and we’re married with six kids you’re already bored with and I’ve stopped writing to play with them and I love it and hate myself and we are listless and happy and a little diabetic. Darcy, why don’t we love each other the simple way and just give up this stupid race and walk home on the margins of the road where the crowd’s drinking and slandering the racers? That kind of activity I can understand, and maybe that’s why you said yes to me fumbling around in your knickers all those years ago.

I stopped drinking and you stopped loving me. On the plus side you tell me you’re proud of me for being such a swell author. Well I’ve stopped writing and started drinking again. So, baby, get ready for the grudge match, cause I’m ready for another shot of you.

Spifflicated,

Roy

05/22/2013

Act

by Pierce Nahigyan

After the premiere, Campbell found a dingy cafe and proceeded to smoke, viciously. He ordered coffee the best way they made coffee, when the waitress rounded his table to ask him, and lit the end of a fresh cigarette with the dying one. It was dark above the city, for the hour was late, but in the cafe’s drunk proof glass she was as bright as could be, lamplights and streetlights on and winking where the streets forked each other, taxis droning over the moist tarmac, and the patron’s eyes gleaming.

He pulled his notepad from his pocket and read over the evening’s notes:

Lincoln had a better night at the theatre.

He sighed. His scratchy shorthand marred the bottom half of the page with more ghoulish insights until he came to: “overblown, overhyped, overstuffed tripe that has been Collt’s forte since his mainstream debut, ‘My Heart It Ate a Can of Beans,’ was catapulted to national prominence? What we can say is that the director’s ingenue, Ms. Denning, was not in the mood to act tonight. Not that ‘Kiss Me, Barabbas’ was actable…”

The word “assassination” was written three times in the thin margin.

Campbell sniffed at the coffee they brought him. He stopped the girl that brought it by flicking his cigarette ash in front of her boots. She jerked to a stop. “How much do you make waitressing?” he asked.

She said, “Uh.” He didn’t blame her.

“Do you think you could act?” he asked.

“I am an actress,” she said.

“Oh really?” Campbell said. “What would I have seen you in?”

She named three or four plays that seemed to stress colors and exclamations. “Do you believe in a soul?” he asked.

“I’m more spiritual,” she said.

“Very well. How would you perform the line, ‘I do not love him. He is an evil man with no soul. He has no soul. He has no soul, I say. No soul. Do you hear me, Elohim? He makes me a woman. I am his soul. He has no soul, but I am his soul. Elohim!’”

She giggled and left him with his coffee. He watched her visit her tables inside and balanced the cigarette on his lip. Sure to bring a smile to your face, he wrote.

05/15/2013

Acrostic

by Pierce Nahigyan

Acceptable, they said, my alibi
Corresponds to yours. This criminal,
Released into your custody, will go
Oh so quietly, and no more Me v.
Society, nor mayhem, mischief, promise.
Time at last, I think, for poems only.
Inside, in law, the outlaw thanks the one who
Captured him. Hello, fair jailer you.

04/10/2013

Acre

by Pierce Nahigyan

Jim,

Hot, you say! Is that your countrified way of exaggerating? Don’t you dare tell me you know from hot, farmboy, until you’ve spent a weekend in a thin wood tenement when the radiator’s broken down. Your daddy might’ve called you ugly, baby, but there ain’t nothing uglier than a big city girl in nothing but her drawers trying to keep herself from melting between these rickety floorboards. If I wasn’t waiting for the iceman you can be sure I’d be as nude as a jay. Ding dong your papa’s dead. Don’t get too tough out there by your lonesome. He loved you I’m sure he did. Love, love, love that cursed acreage. You’re like some feudal lord coming home to bury his estate. Oh, I wish I could see it, your bottom of Creation! You tell them ever loving g-men to give you top dollar for your bottom. It feels like you’ve been gone forever in this awful weather. Everything’s sticky. Your letter is sticky. Here I thought you were being romantic and crying tears of longing on my telegram. But nope, you big lunk, you sweat all over it! Ugh. Love, love, love. It is much too pyretic to think of something clever when outside children are boiling eggs. Wasting perfectly good eggs! Bring me chickens when you get back. You don’t have to count them.

Hot on the stoop, waiting for the iceman.

And you,
Margot

03/29/2013

Acoustic

by Pierce Nahigyan

Acoustic rhythm, singing slow,
She’s naked now and she won’t go.
The mem’ry’s clear, the window glows
With frost, the sun behind it flows
It drips, opaque, smoky yellow
The glare is bright, her face in shadow.
Her fingers strum the song she knows
I’ve never heard. It comes in blows,
The chorus strong, the verses mellow,
Guitar poised, her thigh below:

“Remember me, remember though
the window’s gone, the song, the snow,
The bath we drew to warm our toes,
Today, to whom nobody owes.
Remember me, the kiss you stole
When I stopped by to say hello.”

Art by Ken

The works and artistic visions of Ken Knieling.

Dan the Man's Movie Reviews

All my aimless thoughts, ideas, and ramblings, all packed into one site!

Author Kristen Hope Mazzola

Everyone has a story; this is mine

Bucket List Publications

Indulge- Travel, Adventure, & New Experiences

Virus Comix News

Subnormality and some other stuff too.

Primitive Screwheads

Not the Smartest Tool in the Shed

Luminous Blue

a mother's and daughter's journey with transformation, cancer, death and LOVE

Follow

Get every new post delivered to your Inbox.

Join 213 other followers

%d bloggers like this: