Sunday, November 11, 2012

Saved




Saved 


(I was saved July 22nd 2009 at 7:30 pm)


Darkness clouded my eyes since the sixth grade
My head tilted down, gazing at the ground
Soon my eyes focused on my shoes
And I was blind to the world around me
Lost in isolation and despair
I got sick, and my innocence died

I woke up one morning shaking in fear
In a room with no razor blades and unbreakable windows
A room void of life, with ghosts of past suicides
Haunting me in my sleep, but...
I opened up a book that told a story of a man
Who sweated drops of blood, and spoke of trees
In the book I saw the light for the first time in my life
His words came upon me and I could finally see
Like a baby opening his eyes for the first time
the world around me was so new and...

...for the first time in my life I was finally free!
From depression, madness, guilt, and disease
I'm in him and he's in me, and his name is...

...Jesus   

:)

Copyright Adam Gaile 2012

Revenge




Revenge


Oh, thy impudent manner makes me want to eviscerate thine fledgling wit.

If thou face, were it to be in front of mine, I would feverishly tear it in twain.

Thy words are like chicken pecks…peck, peck, pecking at my ravenous soul.

For if thine curses continue to draw nigh, raining further down upon my head,

Mine own hands will come raining down upon thy neck, then glorious obstruction be made.

Yet, I know too well thine laughter will continue to gaggle...

…from the effervescence emancipating from thy mouth, which does boil my blood so. 


Prithee, do not scoff at those past inequitable cruelties that surely have wilted my heart.

Look to yon memories of yore to a rotund lad who was wholeheartedly pressed too thin too often,

By thine own mouth that spewed forth a poisonous stew that did burn my flesh ever so.

Moreover, shall it ever be ordained…thy heart will wilt when faced with my bygone pain.

Thou shalt beg on thy limp knees for mercy, for there is none other pain in the world...

…that contests the agony of knowing thy own enemy's pain. 


Take heed my good sire, and know this…that when your demise is at hand

My laughter will rise higher in timbre, as thine own screams will falter to a dying croak. 

Cursed are thy last guttural rasping words and only upon deaf ears will they fall.

Thou will never utter another in my direction for the remainder of yon last moments. 

For thou hast forsaken thy instinctive ambiguity of my turmoil…of my inward sentiments...

…and thou hast turned a tyrant eye blind.


And for that…

Oh sweet pearlescent revenge…bully, bully, bully…

…thou will be the death of us all…for I will…

I will…gladly festoon my bedchambers with your intestines. 




(The line "festoon my bedchambers with your intestines" is from the movie Gangs of New York)


Copyright Adam Gaile 2012

Morning Sickness




Morning Sickness


I look down at my body and see the failure of a lifetime of withstanding screams and chastisements

From others who I am to love as I was taught.

The wrong side of the tracks never looked so good from here,
And there is a thought that comes when hugging a toilet bowl...what will the morning bring?

In the morning will I wake to see the contours shift into place,
or will I dream until one day a man of power, ruler of the world, proclaims that the meek have inherited the earth,
and on that day I will sleep no more...

Singing larks abound in the mind of unoriginal poets, and here we are in the chronic age.

Finding new buttons to push that will vaporize my enemies in an instant.
The feeding tube was replaced seconds too late, and in the morning a mother cries...

Dropping in the manifold, my eyes watering...
...feeling the hot flush and despair rips out my lungs again.

Basking in this glorious mess, tripping lavender, wasting away till the morning comes and I find you gone again...

Morning illness, to morning glory, to a mother's mourning over a daughter's story.

Dropping so slowly in that silent room, in a world grey…in a morning dead and lonely...


Copyright Adam Gaile 2012

Living Under a Bus




Living Under a Bus


I've seen the greatest minds of my generation fall flat on their faces
Super glued to their couches, eyes sacrificed to TV sets
Looking for a quick escape from the problems that corrode their thoughts

Like a hamster with no feet flopping on the wheel of refuse
There was a time when I fell victim to the slave drive in my mind
Locked away like a prisoner using excrement to complete his works of art
I was dead inside

There are many faces in my life that lack the vibrancy of welcoming voices
I have seen those ashen grey, forlorn faces, turn down in shame
Ashamed for something they were never responsible for...
Ashamed of the very fibrous tissue that dictates the quality of their lives

I've seen the greatest minds of my generation fall under a heavy burden
Of a system that is built on singling out the meek of mind, but strong of heart
And inside me a burning fire is kindled by the rage of countless injustices
At those who are victims of circumstance

There is a war
Between those badgers who covet the most precious trinkets
To stow away in their dens as banners of pride for "safe keeping"
And those who stow away the morsels beneath the underbrush of bureaucracy

We are the paradigm of freedom with contingencies
We are history's forgotten ones
We are the disabled...able to do anything but...
...achieve.

I've seen the greatest minds of my generation weep like children.



(The lines "I've seen the greatest minds of my generation..." was inspired by Alan Ginsberg's poem "Howl")



Copyright Adam Gaile 2012

Breaking Out




Breaking Out
(This is a song I wrote for my friends' band Admiral Sanchez and The Rapscallions) 


I see your face and I can't believe
All those lies that you told me
I believed that I was the only one
Melting under the rays of your dark sun

Those beginning lies hide the pain I feel
Before the world spun me around
I've seen my end in a looking glass
Your lips parted as waves broke me down

Can you hear the sound?
It's getting harder now
Breathe my last breath
Death's kiss, my unrest
This endless sunset

I'm under your skin
I'm under your skin
I'm under your skin
I'm breaking out

Copyright Adam Gaile 2012

Wild Angels




Wild Angels

This is the story of two solipsists in love.
They live huddled in God’s shadow.
Craving eyes to pierce the folds of their weak flesh
Stabbing judgment to thrash and rape their minds.
This is their mantra and their life blood:

“Look at me Father; look at what I have done.”

Yes, let’s all gape at these wretched lost souls.
For we are the auditors of reality
We are outsiders foreign to this realm.
We hold the keys to life and death...
...and to these two hearts.

A verdict shall be made.

Truly they are alone, but they were given a gift.
A precious word never to be uttered lest they die
A word to spread out like a puddle of honey
Drifting and dripping through the manifolds of space.
Swarms of screaming locusts are their only companions.
From their tongues fire licks and dances in the darkness.

Hand to hand
Face to face

They sit alone encased in an egg that isolates them
Separated from the universe their own minds created.
Shaking in mute silence, blinded tender newborns
Covered in afterbirth with the scent of talcum powder
Fetal heads bowed in an eternal eulogy.

Swimming in that tiny speck of gelatinous goo
Scrambling for purchase to smooth white walls
Scribbling thoughts onto hard carapace shell
Hoping the human stains in their imagination will take notice.
In their sin, they share the same scarlet birth mark.

Flopping naked on a page these mortals retract and coil.
Watch as they roll around sweating, back and forth,
Crinkling and ripping the thin parchment of a vast tome.
Shallow breaths and teardrops the only wind and rain.
They whimper and moan...withering black in a locked embrace.

Eye to eye
Mouth to mouth

Here are the last vestiges of humanity’s visage wasting away.
Their innocent countenance slick and slippery
Like two mute baby swine wrestling in Vaseline.
Spinning in the endless void of space and time
Always yearning for a simple word of praise and approval
Forever drifting...until the rot of docility and madness takes over.

The only two angels left in existence.
Longing to touch, to feel, and to envelope each other
To love, to cut, to stab, and to sever
Blood let, blood loss, blood shame.
Wings torn asunder
Now they are one.

Flesh to flesh
Bone to bone

The pair lifts their faces to heaven and let out a roar...

“Anathema!”

Over and over they scream the word
Until their hoarse voices dwindle to rasping chokes.
Grasping each other in the throes of desperation
Seeking nothing more than love and affection
They are answered by dark cold silence.

Final judgment has passed.

These two fools will survive the ages
Oblivious and ignorant of an undeniable truth
They are not real...they do not exist...everything they know...
...is a lie.

Copyright Adam Gaile 2012

The Facility




The Facility

The pharmacy is littered with screaming clowns
Here I sit in my own filth rocking back and forth
Watching the fuzz from a flickering TV screen
All four walls white with nothing but a camera
Peering into my skull…they watch me
There’s a man in the hallway stampeding to and fro
Drooling and snarling out garbled words
That sounds like mutated hell spawn preaching
There are fat bulbous women prowling the halls
Pencils scratching down the daily routines
They’re dressed in white with needles for claws
Injecting comatose serenade symphonies
Into my hip…to keep me from shattering glass
And escaping this night of endless misery
I watch them stare vacantly with mouths gaping wide
Bloody bandages hiding cuts on his wiry arms
The smell of cheap coffee and the scent of aerosol
Mixing to drench my face in ferocious suspense
I crawl under the blanket and hide my crumbling face
Into the depths of hell I want to scream
This must be some twisted horror of a dream
The doors are all locked and the voices collide
Like waves they break upon the shore of my being
I look out the windows to a world sublime
Inside this facility of lithe hollow souls
Yammering into the substantial mix of surreal
This is the last stop before they drill a hole
Into the walls so you can see the festering halls
Never-ending these hallways stretch on forever
And I am here docile in this madness quavering
Hoping that the shattered pieces of reality
Are reconnected to form the semblance of cohesion
I lie here blockading those who would intrude and listen
Those stealers of thoughts and dreams
Those that hide in the dark
Beyond the eye’s reckoning

Copyright Adam Gaile 2012

The Endless Dream




The Endless Dream

I wonder if we go into our dreams when we die
Every song has its end
And this one has been such a sad lonely tune
Evermore we will live for the grace of our fathers
Destined to hide in their shadows as well
On the footsteps to heaven we will sit and wait

We will sing
We will sing

The more we breathe in our dust filled days
The more tears drop from mothers' eyes
For their fallen children who collapsed just out of reach
To the blushing faces of lovers early in bloom
To the fleeting golden years and the time of our lives
Till we grow grey too soon with our very last breath in tow

We will fly
We will fly

In an endless dream we will soar through open skies
Above a kingdom long lost and forgotten
Or wings eclipsing the hallowed halls of past minds
Like silent phantoms we will flee our fears in the night
From dreamer to dreamer we will leap and play in the divine light
Of spirits who will never perish in the realm of sweet dreams
Until the night pulls us back down under the black tide again

We will rise
We will rise

Perhaps the darkness will last forever...an endless eternity
Or will we ascend once more to face a whole new world
Will we be free from the shackled chains of our bodies
Or will we all be thrown into a bog of forgotten memories
Stirred by the kindled thoughts of a newborn fresh from the womb
With eyes closed, and a face wet...our souls will be released in an instant
By a scream so deafening and joyous that the angels will tremble

I wonder...

Will we live
Will we live

To face the dawn of a new day

Copyright Adam Gaile 2012

St Joe Cinquains


(I wrote these when I was a patient for 10 days at St. Joe's behavioral unit...it helped me survive)


St. Joe Cinquains


refreshed
asleep cradled
in the Sandman's twined hands
floating down that powdered parlor
blind rest


blind rest
arrest my soul
detach my twitching limbs
let me drift in the senseless murk
docile


docile
mind fan turned off
smoking brain circuits fried
hibernating in caves of cord
phalanx


phalanx
mass redemption
we are one from many
of a long line of turned shoulders
face shame


face shame
hands around head
knees bent, hair in shambles
rain drops from tear ducts to the earth
beast scream


beast scream
rage manifest
born into a cruel world
monster rising to the surface
deranged


deranged
angel wings torn
monolith clouds rising
swirling bloody feathers skyward
impact


impact
words like bullets
fired from your gun tongue
enters ear, left turn to the heart
choked gasp


choked gasp
flow in and out
can't shut my bleeding mouth
secrets float like musical notes
group eyes


pill pop
doctor's orders
the hallwalkers unleashed
thoughts of home as questions repeat
pity


pity
party poopers
all praise to the drug lords
they hold the keys to sanity
righteous


righteous
the keys don't fit
self locked away down deep
prisoner to a lunatic
mind sinks


mind sinks
a soft drowning
into the murky depths
in the deep waters of the soul
last breath


last breath
sweet surrender
release me to the night
emptiness a shroud around me
death's core


death's core
spreads like fire
burning tendrils stings skin
buckets of sweat overflowing
cool off


cool off
coming back down
contours shifting in place
air vents like gills on these scaled walls
inhale


inhale
confusion past
wobbly world now still
feet firm, legs straight, head high, yet sane
clear thoughts


clear thoughts
watery eyes
motion film memories
portrait of a family breaking
down walls


down walls
house trembles
doors slam, windows shatter
the wrecking ball has no mercy
secrets


secrets
poison seeps in
feel the infection spread
words spit like snake bites injecting
venom


venom
there is an end
these images flashing
bathroom crime scenes against myself
don't think


Copyright Adam Gaile 2012

Soup Kitchen Exorcism





Soup Kitchen Exorcism


I dropped a coin in his cup
But his severed limb begged for more
So I handed a bill to his good hand
And received a blessing from the almighty
I asked him where he's going
He answered with a prayer
And pointed to the heavens
As I gave a blank stare
I glanced at the Iraqi stains on his coat
Military soles wore down thin
I pointed in the direction of the mission
Did not move a budge, frown forming
So I asked him why catch your death in this cold
He answered with sly eyes zipping
"They will not take me there!"
He exclaimed as a chortle escaped his lips
Swore he had a holy cross to bear
The God send of a new mission
To purify himself of the blood he spilled
In the war that raged on in his mind
The one that followed him home
You see he claimed he was the messiah
And the soup kitchen cast him out
For casting demons out of the soup
Now he sits alone on Main Street
Cup in hand, grimy grin gleaming
Those who pass him, do so quickly
Must be the drugs that plopped him down here
I checked his one arm, free of track marks
And checked his breath from 13 feet away
Cast aside my doubts and fears and shook his hand
He said, "I like you"
Again with the sly grin
"Will you be my friend?"

Copyright Adam Gaile 2012

Shattered Images




Shattered Images

There's a muse that was once in my head
Who is now bound and gagged...sleeping off the fear
Tiny chemical particles did this to her...from the pills I swallow
Now I have writer's block, and this is the extent of my creativity
Beyond this is mere babbling nonsense
So without much further a dew…

...drop landed on my chin as I awoke from a dream filled with hands clapping
Laying in a field of grass under the dark skies...lightning crackled above me
I stood up and as I did, through a mirror I fell up into water
Frantic, I began swimming up, up, up towards silver shimmering light

Surfacing, I breathed in a noxious gas that came from the muffler of a taxi cab
Rising out of the street puddle, I looked around at the skyscrapers and people walking
Wiping the murky water from my face, I backed up and tripped over the curb and fell...

...onto clean white linen sheets in a dank, cigar smoke filled hotel room
The woman with dirty blonde hair and smeared lipstick looked up from my waist area
I close my eyes and I drift...drift off into that other world 

Where I am typing away
Sitting in my small apartment bedroom, dog at my feet, wondering...
....where this mind will take me.

Copyright Adam Gaile 2012