It's a Box

It's a Box

It's a ruse.
It's a shame.
A little box
and all the blame.

It's commited.

It's formed.

Opening up

and your scorned.

It's a love

and it's wasted.

Painful mess-

romantics taste it.

It's a rage

and it's a truth,

and it builds

till there isn't any use.

It's a

conspiracy.

It's a

crime.

It's that dead ringer look

you got in your eye.

It's when you lost it

when you opened up

Pandora Box

unopened-

-reopened-

-ripped apart.

But it's opened

and it's used

torn to pieces

pulled, stretched, puzzled, pulled, held, caressed, told it's better, told they're worse, told of future, faced the past, blasted together, mashed away, and given sweet sleep.

And it's hopeful.

And it's last.

To come from a box:

broken-

recast.

-Matthew Koutzun

Coloured of Night

Coloued of Night

Lightness of step
and prism of colour
of one rich red hue
and the next powder blue.
Green splayed in the light
and of yellow wrapped in tight
of purple running off after you.

And of darkness delight
of turning off the light
a million rainbows
prismed; between me and you.

-Matthew Koutzun

This is actually the lightest I've written in a while. And it seems to sugar sweet. I think the blood has gone to my head as I write this sentence to hide the fact that I feel so good and have the artist intent that I should always feel bad. Artist's Pride of loathing is my downfall, been wondering why I shouldn't feel happy, and realize that I really always should. So hurrah for sugary sweetness. The only ones I apologize too are the diabetics.

Prism:Line / Prison:Bar

Prism:Line
Prison:Bar

Please tell me who coloured you
all those shades of violence.
Bruise purple
and tough pink?
Tough skin
and bruised pride?

Tell me who made you strong,
enough that you now don't cry.

Please tell me who coloured you
all those shades of pride.
Smolder red
and sturdy blue?
Sturdy ego
and smolder heart?

Tell me now who crippled both
so you now can't move; can't stride.

-Matthew Koutzun

Simply Put

Simply Put

Simply put:

I have nothing.
I have friends
family
a home
yet want more.

I have security
it what small quantities it is
and what I need to get by,
but have nothing.

Scrooge found this so himself
and find it I can not.

Simply put,
I'm tired.
Of searching,
of falling,
of failing,
and of calling.

And the boredom,
and the stagnation,
and the disposition to the deflation
of the ego that kept me strong.
Falling
Catching
Leaping
Calling.

Calling.
Calling.
Calling.

Simply put
I call out
and a million helpful answers come.
But simply put-
it's me who won't decide.

-Matthew Koutzun

Oh, My Misery Love

Oh, My Misery Love

Oh, I know it's there;
I know, I remember it there,
that deep down inside me misery love.
The hate and bile filled dream
of sadness and soliloquy
my deep down inside me misery love.

It's been years since I've had it
and these days I demand it
that deep down inside me misery love.
And if I could fish I would bait it
once it I have it I hate it
my deep down inside me misery love.

And they all say I'm crazy
for loving my hurtful filled baby who gives me
that deep down inside me misery love.
And I'll take much more
than all the sweet things I could adore for
my deep down inside me misery love.

Matthew Koutzun

I don't know what it is, but I find myself wanting that love that makes us crazy and sad. I want to be depressed and longing, and have tears come a calling, and pine for a love that won't come.

Covet and Wane

Covet and Wane

Goodnight sun, goodnight moon-
you know you love the day,
as much as you covet the night.

And one comes after the other,
regardless of which you love,
so have both- wax and wane with each.

Matthew Koutzun

1907-2007

1907-2007

I am here
inside, before my time they call us,
since we don't seem real yet even though
we've lived nine months.
Life not counted until breath.

I'm here,
the school
my first.
Nerves that I can't stand
standing on end
be cajoled by all my siblings-
younger-
pushing me out the door.

I am here,
at home,
they've denied me to walk 4 miles to school.
I walk them on the field as I watch
smaller footsteps to move foward.

I am here,
Mother is crying
and Father is silent,
water spilled on the ground,
and one of us gone,
we leave in the morning.

I am here
they haven't sent me on the berg yet.
They told me that's where grandma would go
before she died
now that we moved to Canada-
Years I was scared into believing.

I am here
Believing and crying
and crying to believe,
and we went to the place
where the believers cry
and believe.
And we travelled home from that place
it was Easter.
Blood in mouth,
on my dress,
it made me dizzy,
the body: dough-
never helped.

I am as I lay,
the last. Years from then
and on the berg I pass.
And hand from hand I'm carried,
a wave like wave
to the boat home.

I am home,
Home was a boat across the ocean I once believed.
But a hundred years later.
Home only means
up.

Matthew Koutzun

Where?

Where?

Did you disappear?
On plane, by car?
By some comment made from afar?
There is such thing as happenstance
and that of plutonic romance.
So give a fuckup a chance?

Matthew Koutzun

When They Broke the Chick's Egg, A Mirror to Hold

When They Broke the Chick's Egg,
A Mirror to Hold

Looking at myself in the mirror
I see myself younger than I really am.
Soft brown hair,
falling finely on soft brow,
over shallow deep eyes,
that have seen nothing, but much.
Two lips, the bottoms full from biting,
the top thin from inexperience,
although never lacking.
Light bleached skin,
touched only by flouresants,
and high cheeks of expectancy.

I rush to my bed and hide under the covers.
I want to be 16 again,
and feel nothing- over or around me.
I throw the sheets off of me to relinquish the feeling,
and then smuggle them back on
for the security and fear I find underneath.
And they come for me calling,
"come back,
no fear- no foul to be had hiding."
I peek at monsters run amuck
and know I'll join them soon;
eventually.

-Matthew Koutzun

Taking Seconds.

Taking Seconds.

After taking the first bite,
there is the moment of immense flavor of new experience.
And after the second,
there is one of loss and gaining:
loss of the fresh beginnings on the tounge-
the gaining of fullness in yourself.

Matthew Koutzun

Meal

Meal

I've realized that the hollow feeling inside me is not loneliness.
Just hunger.
No wonder I'm so skinny and my genitals are chaffed all over.

Matthew Koutzun

Pressed Against the Fourth Wall

Pressed Against the Fourth Wall

She sits and waits,
and entrevous he does.

He talks
and baits,
and she disconcerned waits.

And now she's up and about,
in a box- all blacked out;
timing will keep this game alive.

Now he yells
now he screams;
and drama: she does as well.

And he hits
and she slaps
and the audience all clap.

And she turns
and he does to
and they look at me and you.

And they stare
now they cry
and they run at the glass between them you and I.

And pressed against the fourth wall
they want out-
to be with us all.

To stop imaginary hates
and lonesome debates.

A hand on the glass;
red- white where pressure press.

-Matthew Koutzun

Forcing to Keep

Forcing to Keep

I'm trying to relate
from somewhere between her thighs.
Taking, reaching in
such great highs.

I've punched through
and I've touched the child.
Caressed a face
soft and mild.

I've gotten my shoulder in
and I'm going to go all the friggin' way.
I don't care if it's wrong-
never cared what others say.

My head and torso
squeezed right into the moist deep.
She sighed sweetness
no sound of pain did she peep.

I'm kicking in the air
as my thighs press against hers
fighting to get in
skin in tears.

My feet in
I'm in with my boy.
He's cradled by my womb-

I know now why woman cry
when they give it away.

-Matthew Koutzun

A Refusal of Reality

A Refusal of Reality

It's bubbling up again,
that feeling of antisipation
or rather
the sick taste of anxiety.
It comes to me in hot flashes
when the world sneaks up and
the face of faceless deeds shocks me into
deadline awareness,
of things that just have not been done
nor accomplished.
It's a hot coal bath of steam
and suffocation to my chest
as thoughts of non-completion
and scared compliance follow.
I have lots of time but still I know:
it seemed like that before.
Jump on now before the horse gets away.
Take me away horse-
that's what I've always wanted.
Wind in my face so I can breathe
and steady step, sure and shallow.
Open up pasture of precious peonies,
and let light leap from lazy days.

-Matthew Koutzun

Porcelain on Colour

Porcelain on Colour

A bed with light blue
and pastel yellow sheets
hiding and combing against skin.

Plush pillow
flattening flax hair
against brow and cheek.

Cool colour
and harsh light
luminosity to the extreme.

Bright trinkets
all in a row behind
a porcelain woman dry against them.

She looks to her
and her to she in bed
and they know their story.

-Matthew Koutzun