Blockade

Every port overrun and closed
All options now buried and deceased
This fait accompli will torment my future feats
No opportunity for smoothing out this crease
No resolve for this crippling self-defeat

I am quelled from quarreling with this knave
This ascetic presence; awful and deprave
A myopic thief to which I am now the slave
So easily it buries my hope in a shallow grave
So willing and able to take back all it gave

In this example is the reason for my jilt
Hastily dug was the hole of my guilt
So I can be claimed the newly dredged silt
I will have to show you how stoutly I'm built
I will be a force that shall drive you to wilt

At this moment you've instituted a blockade
I will persist and your convictions will fade
You have an air of an overlord in the shade
From within we will not come to your aid
From within our justice will pervade

~Living a lie now.


Любов,

Іванченко

Goodbye In So Many Words.

"I see a sadness in your eye.
something that stretches beyond daily torments,
your eyes have a sadness
more striking than love or loss."

"…I…I just cannot…"
She stumbled over the syllables

"Yes, I know.
I don't think I can either."

She slowly collected herself,
"You're so blasé. You never
seem to care about
what I experience or what
I have to say."
as if picking up pieces
of a broken glass,
she reached for each syllable slowly,
deliberately weaving each word,
"You never let me get
the last word
in on a conversation or argument,
you always
have some sort of self-centered point to make."
as she kept speaking she began to act
more
and
more
like shards of broken glass--minute, direct, painful, and itinerant.
"You're such a fool and an
addict
you won't ever find a cure for your brand of
stupidity.
give it up, your little facade of kindness and endearment,
today you were so sweet
but like all days by the afternoon you grew bitter.
love is too far away from your capacity.
you're remote, spatial,
and constantly in exile.
you never called when you should have called.
you should have called."

"I don't make a habit of it."

"And you're always doing that kind of
self-disclosing bullshit,
like you're not wired to make any sort of
behavioral change
that could possibly make other people happy.
your ambition is all over the place
every week
you have some sort of a new fucking idea
why don't you just pick a path and run on it?
I'm just so sick of
all your shit
You don't ever care about what I
have to say
and when I do say something to you
you're always dumbfounded
like you don't have any sort of advice
but
I can see past your eyes and see
you making judgements
and formulating
Lies
Lies
Lies.
I'm so sick of all your lies
you're just so impulsive.
you would not be a good father to my children"

"Okay. I think I've had enough."

"You're right,
we should go to another bar.
this one is making me sad."

He paid for the meal
and the tab,
grabbed her coat from the rack
slid it over her shoulders,
opened the door
and she led the way.

~the battlefield of the beautiful.


Любов,

Іванченко

Welcome Back My Friend.

You deafen character

Reaching from beyond shadow and morality

Ripping joy from the labours and fruits of man

With the crushing gale of dejection.

You can be sensed not seen

Appearing uninvited and lingering much too long

Like the stench of blood being boiled down

You permeate the walls and pull up the paint.

You have broken strong men

Creeping from corners and darkening night

A stalking ether, seeping beyond skin and bone

Deep like a chill into the soul of man.

You possess the power to mute the world

Falling on worlds silently, briskly, like the cup of a snuffer

Murdering the brilliance of today

And lynching prospects of tomorrow.

Your presence is like a parasite

Feeding on souls and defecating this internal pain

The quotidian feeling of helplessness

A labyrinth of loss and damage

Yes my friend, I know you well.

It has been half a decade

And you've returned.

~ You Weren't Invited. 

любов,
Іванченко.

Headstones Like Teeth.

I oft find myself here
At the edge of this cemetery
Forgot by time; it is an artefact
The overgrown headstones hunch
Like jagged teeth growing skyward
I mimic the stone--silent
Listening for the muted screams
That reverberate through these trees
A sound as old as mystery
These are the sounds of the souls

This is where they rest
The souls of hollow yesterdays
Itching to be heard
In this forest of wrong turns
The inquisitive moonlight
Peers down through the trees
She dances between the branches
As my awareness of this pallor grows
I am overwhelmed by the knowledge
That these lost souls now buried
Have wandered just as I will wander.


 ~Trying to be lover. I think I'll fail.

На моя любов,

Іванченко.