Thursday, August 7, 2014

The Whistle of Manassas

The whistle of the train
in a one horse town
seeped into the soil of my mind
on a foggy morning
and laid fertile my brain
prepared for the classic torment
of this dreaded one horse town

it had been condensing above
for the years I'd spent
as a passenger of this town
prepared to rain down despair
and I'd ridden its coarse
sometimes picking the melted pennies from its tracks
in the tired-eyed fog
that casts its haze upon this God forsaken town
and the cracks of my hopeless face

the whistle may be a haunting kind
a somber wail from across this town
a pallid land of dust and trash
of old cigarette butts, condoms
and the dried remains of countless birds
who could have escaped

flowers will never blossom in this land of ours
they will surely sprout with hope
but soon be dusted over
by the filth of this place
to the relentless rolling racket of the box cars
and the somber drone of that railroad whistle
that encroaches its aggressive rumble
blaring that roaring whistle throughout the air

Monday, July 28, 2014

The Freedom Dance

A fourth of July American night.
a firework explosion-
the way they launch from the somewhere,
way up high
and pop like cannon fire
into the night sky
with twinkling sparks
that dazzle across the sky

Flying down the freeway
that unravels a romance
an independence day
a freeway motor ride
a motor that rumbles on
with heat beats
with wind blasting into the pockets of my ears
with you, and all those firecrackers
exploding across the blackest backdrop
that blankets this American night.

You sit to my right,
as we spent the day sprawled out
beside one another
beneath the sheets
you were always to my right

speeding down the road
a glowing orb growing bigger
approaching quicker
what a swirling Ferris Wheel
somewhere beyond the bridge
with corkscrewing colors.

The red, white, and blue
the American wheel of life,
liberty, and the pursuit of happiness
that guides us towards the sky
to perceive the expanse of our meager lives
and lowers us slowly, safely
back down to the miniature scuttle of our days.

With a pop off to the left,
a heart beat hiccup and the dazzling glow,
like the bottles that pop and flow,
like a beacon of independence,
like the freedom to take it to the nightlife,
and spin out higher in a wild blissful dance,
like a freedom to barrel down the road-
to take two parallel hearts
make them swell, and utterly glow
under God
that great swelling glow
                                                               of the great American night.

Monday, April 14, 2014

For the Strong

Moving on
is harder for the strong
the ones who don't let loose
the ones who know the entanglement,
that letting go is a system of
meticulously shifting wires
until they all disconnect and it all unwinds.

Then there are the ones, they manage
to crop up new distractions
new faces to attach to moments
and those moments stack upon moments
until all time has passed
and nothing is resolved

It takes months of
jealousy and torment
and eventually a resolve
until months,
maybe years down that line
there will be that shuttering
that promises
that pulses quickly
like a shot of adrenaline
and fireworks blast across your eyes
when you, with all your strength
can love someone new
and try your hand once more
to sparkle eternally in the solitary darkness of the self

Saturday, March 15, 2014

The Morning Lumberjack

It was 7am, and we'd been lying in the darkness for three hours by then
the sun arrived through the blinds, with flecks of light glinting from the incoming warmth that glowed like a fresh tangerine spring
that bounced from scattered mirror balls loftily placed around my studio apartment

We passed the morning hours kissing, feeling each others skin, with a tremble
accompanying each fingertip, closer on towards that fresh tangerine spring glow
I awoke, tense, and frustrated, as if my neck had been unnaturally bent
for hours during the toss-and-turn night
and I felt your body, nudged tightly against mine
with your curves pressing into my body, which was stiff by then

So with outmost precaution,
I felt around, and you instinctively flinched,
brushing your matted hair to one side of the pillow and then the other
Your lips were set apart, moist,
and I raised my head to get a closer look.

Your eyes were still, calm,
like setting a blanket on a wild fire
the smoke arises and eventually simmers out
and you just got cuter with that fire simmered out

I noticed, by then, that I was holding myself
rubbing and stroking
until the last unassuming blow
set my body to pulsate
like a heart-beat in the late spring heat
with blood rushing to each perimeter of my form.


Until the calm of the morning glow
simmered the adoration
with such a profound sensation
that my stiff and aching body
suddenly cured,
fell to simmer out
just like you,
to make a nighttime out of that sweet
tangerine glow.

Friday, March 14, 2014

The Tightest Waist

Fingers pressed into the waist, clutching tightly
with a gyration fueled by a racing heart
with cheeks flushed
and fingers combing through each other's hair
so many fingers, some of them mine

Kisses press and pull, then guided from the cheek and upwards behind the ear
so close that you can feel each others smiles
you can see it in each others eyes
and feel it in their skin

A cherish that does not fizzle and pop like a firework across the night
but glows as golden as the blond hair
resting on bed sheets
with strands that sometimes venture between our lips
and I desire to kiss every last one

Inconclusive in its passion
ever reaching, stretching and holding back
insatiate and romantic, keeping the heart pumping
and the blood mixing, mingling in my cheeks
which meet yours and glow

Hands gliding down slopes of flesh
and clutching tightly onto bodies
onto fabrics
and kisses on the torso
like a puzzle to solve
a combination to break

Insatiate, its a pleasant, inconclusive rest
which keeps me kissing furiously against a car
against a pillow, against the wind,
against an elevator, or all together
in the dance of hearts that are content
with an all throbbing rush of passion

Monday, March 10, 2014

That Run

There is a space of time
where every breath is short with a rush of pure oxygen
where you run to bed dizzy and collapse into the sheets laughing
eternally sixteen with a mad rush to feel.

Consider a time when you feel the urge to run at all
with fingers intertwined
as a stampede of excitement
up the staircase and into the dark bedroom night

Where the light blue sky is bright overhead
where the skin glows from the warmth of the sun
where you run to bed and awake half way through the night
naked in between sheets to kiss the cheek
softly breathing unconscious in the heat
slowly in the dark hour of a blurry electronic clock

There's a short space of time
where the hours are innumerable and end too soon
where the sunlight dims, still warm in the late afternoon,
inviting yet another trollop through the night

Where airplanes roar over head and trains honk
somewhere beyond the flickering lights of the towers
that sparkle in the darkness of the night
where a journey is a mere sentence away, a mere mention of a grand adventure
and within hours, you'll find yourself a lifetime away
from the soft breath bed sheets, slow in their sweetest hour

Remember the days of infinite possibility
where there is nothing else to worship
but the details, the lip gloss, and the scattered facial hair
when there is nothing else on this earth at all which inspires you to care

when you only count on your fingers
anniversaries, birthdays, and hours spent
carving love notes into a foggy back-seat window
with streaks of hearts and names
which dry in the morning
as a reminder of the calm that set the night before.

Tear eternally on towards the breathless bedroom
which houses nothing but a mattress,
a comforter, some scattered sheets, and pillows for two
the space is a starry-eyed oasis of joy
and honest love
with nothing else encased within it's walls.

Remember that and don't ever forget it
because with a mere mention of flight,
it'll be gone
into the flickering mystery of a lifetime
beyond the darkness of the night

Copyright © 2014 by Eddie Generazio

Wednesday, July 4, 2012


For Alessandra

You and I could run away real fast
and leave this torturous life to the past
onto a world in isolation just you and me
no need to pack, just pick up and leave,
take only what we have with us
just you, me, and our bleeding dreams
with no one else in wedged in between
as we're here finding that fire across the sea
zooming across it, wrapped up in ecstasy
cause all we need is our electricity
so take my hand and we'll go into the night
run from this scene, those flashing spot lights,
and leaving the dance floor's concrete
on through the crowds and out of door
flash past the glaring lights and far far away
flying trough this life to a brand new day
with your heels clicking like Morris code
because freedom is not a spoken word
but the feeling of flapping satin as we run
kissing like firecrackers under the midnight sun
that bleeds spontaneous like we're under the gun
and rowing along the electric sea
onto the island of you and me.
just believe and we'll be there
holding you close and smelling your hair
with your tears rattling my shattering heart
trembling in tears is how it all starts
and I wipe them away, because you know I care
and from here, you know, we can go anywhere.