Lifespan 17:01:20

one-second delay
the girl inside
do not worry
heavenly calistoga
monsters of our creation
stream of adolescence
miracle of procreation

one-second delay
total lifespan:
how quick, yet slow
that life goes by.
it does not take time out
to stop and wave,
but drives on by
running over your feet,
and the dreams you hold inside of your shoes.
it is barely alive,
yet nearly dead.
just another
and I could be dead.
so think twice
before you jump
for the third time.
by the time you land,
it may be
and no amount of quarters
will give you an extra life.

the girl inside
if you would be so kind
as to introduce me
to that charming little girl
that is hiding yonder.
please tell her
that i mean her no harm,
i would just like
to walk and talk with her.
i would like
so very much
if she would
come to me
and tell me
of her wildest fantasies,
and majestic daydreams.
do tell her
that if she will share
her dreams with me,
i will do all i can
to make sure
they come true.

Happy Birthday
To all those
Born on the day
Left out of the calendar
Like a quiet, little boy,
Or the total geek or nerd.
The date
Of your birth
Held leap
After leap.
Those with the unknown birthday
Know how it is
To feel forgotten:
Skipped over.
They know pain,
But one day,
Will the happiness
That has skipped by
Their pasts,
Fall into their arms?
Happy Birthday!

do not worry
fall down upon me.
let your inhibitions run free.
allow yourself the chance:
to explore
without going too far,
without later regretting,
without the worrying.
fall down upon me.
let that glorious body
and magnificent heart
fall upon me,
cover me,
overwhelm me!

My life
is not written
in some dusty,
forgotten biography.
No one
would author that tale,
nor would anyone read it.
I have lived my life knowing
that no one but I,
will know the entire picture.
I can only create
or manipulate
certain portions
of my lifespan
to conform to their demands.
I can be for others
yet not be for me.

My life
is captured in many places.
Parts of my life
are caught in a smile
upon some anonymous person's face
in some long forgotten photograph.
A piece of me
is still worn
as a present I gave someone
years ago.
My life, in pieces,
as reflections
in countless, mirrored surfaces.

My life is not,
nor can be grouped together
in a biographical stockpile.
It lies only
in the sparse mixture
of memories,
old photos,
and infrequent writings.

To be incomplete
in historical form
means I will never be whole
after my body rots
in the grave.
Without endless research,
my life can never be seen
close to how I saw it.

My life is but a movie
filmed under the direction
of one weird director,
with no script,
no budget,
and no idea
what is going to happen next, until
"Exit stage left!",
as I'm lowered into the ground.

heavenly calistoga
where love springs eternal
is where someone
should bottle
their mineral water.

eyes stared back.
their harshness pierced me
as i gazed into
their mysterious glow.
the face
worn with many scars:
ravaged by the trials of adolescence.
the features all rough,
like the sinister lack of expression
upon the mouth.
his hair falls unruly
around his face.
his ears stick out
and hang.
his eyebrows
are merging into one
upon his brow.
his eyes
and most of his face
are hiden by his oversized glasses.

the fist flew,
straight between the eyes:
the sound of raining glass
and dripping blood.

monsters of our creation
stand in awe
as the world you came into,
which treated you
as just another
disposable diaper,
transforms into the beast
that frightened you
as a child,
lurking in the expanses
that lay under your bed.
the eyes
of this monster
you've created
and lock with yours.
and you freeze,
standing cold against the fear:
this creation of your hopes and dreams
is just a manifestation
of your fears-
inside out,
painted backwards
on the negative print
of your life.

stream of adolescence
sitting here,
in my room,
trying to avoid
the four hours average
of television.
i listen to no music,
because i don't wish
to break the calm
of my solitude.
i sit,
half waiting
for phone calls
which will never come,
and the other half
amidst a bubbling brew
of thoughts,
and emotions.
one moment
i will be daydreaming
in response
to the television show
which i just turned off.
the next
i will be thinking
of a bit of homework
which i just don't want
to do.
the next
i'll be flooded with memories
of my ex-girlfriend.
then i stop,
take a breath,
then all i can think of
is how lonely i feel.

it is hell,
and i guess i am part the devil
by being so shy
that i let myself sit here
night after night.
my social life
is a fluke.
i cannot bring myself
to initiate something,
so i'm left
with other's
leftover attention.

then i find myself
about my future
and how it will be filled
with everything
i miss now.
in that future,
i have all of the courage
that i could ever need
and i find myself
in the bedrooms of fantasies,
with women of dreams,
and never in the hell hole:
my room,
which i ultimately
find myself
back in.

i guess this is all
a stream of adolescence,
as i attempt to
form my identity
and try to mature
into an adult,
full of courage,
enough so,
that i can ask out
every girl
who walks across
the focus of my mind.

the philosophers
of the world
probably started out
as isolated boys and girls
hiding out
from a world
which just doesn't seem
to want to let them in.

i wish to burst out
into the social spotlight,
but i find myself
back in my room
answering a phone call
for someone else,
and wondering
whether that girl
who just appeared in my mind
is sitting alone
in her own room,
waiting for the phone
to ring.

miracle of procreation
Passed to life,
To form life.
Life's offspring.
Lust's child.
Hormone's happiness.
Desire's fulfillment.
A bodily function
With love attached,
Producing a life
Which will relieve itself
The same exact way.

please introduce me
to the shy person
who hides inside of you.
give me the chance
to know her,
for i love and care
for the beauty outside
but i wish to love
the beauty that lies
total lifespan 17:01:20
flag burning
wilted rosepetals

American Freak Show. Copyright © 1991 by Matte Elsbernd. All rights reserved. Printed in the United States of America. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission.