Individual Poems

 Love, Devastated
 
I didn’t want to syphon more youth from you than I already have,
For, sticking around with me will make you symptomatic
The prognosis: A reverse Dorian Grey-syndrome,
A gradual debilitation, a sneaky degenerative disease
Effecting rationality, mobility and, worst of all,
Perceptions of love and affection
for intimate closeness mutates into co-dependence,
Insufferable longing
 
We never got far enough for a priest to give his benediction,
Not coming together by some cosmic design, the blessing of
wandering holy men
Those who spend most times locked in cleansing solitude
subconscious isolation
Is now the time to pray? To have asked for a spiritual intervention,
Placing gauze on freshly cauterized wounds,
Blow for blow, the bloodletting
Some might say it’s otherworldly, some might say its ritual
but there is no shaman here!
 
He who rallies against the blasphemy of the corrupt,
Who etches and engraves tally marks for the days that pass us by,
The days that used to dance whimsically like us both,
Amorous lovers finding catharsis and solace
For our origin story went from A to B, then crisscrossing to Z
like freeform jazz that lost track of itself,
Destination questionable
 
I’m in the driver’s seat of this death mobile, this rickety beater
that sputters without confidence,
reflexive of my state of mind
For she is my unfortunate passenger, pleading with me to
take it easy on the gas,
This car only gets 7 miles to the gallon,
We reach the ascent of a snow-covered mountaintop
where the air is thin, needing traction control,
the parking break not engaged as we backslide,
our spinal cords risking instant fatality
 
Bullets of sweat do their somersault
as my soul barters this disco with destiny
This is our final stanza, no more chances to say what
we must say when we need to say it, an opportunity passes as
that shaman from earlier
inscribes another tally mark, his penmanship now illegible
For it is on this day, where the sun and moon coalesce,
bleeding into one another in the cloud-populated sky,
that we part
I release you
 

Douglas Cala  


Douglas G. Cala is a performance poet, film/TV/social critic, media enthusiast, content writer/editor, photographer and videographer from Staten Island. Douglas began his arts career performing at open mics as a teenager at the former Muddy Cup Coffeehouse in his native borough. He has performed at a myriad of noteworthy venues including the Bowery Poetry Club, Nuyorican Poets Cafe, Cornelia Street Cafe, Purchase College, Columbia University, Busboys and Poets (Washington, DC), Raven Lounge, Cafe Vivaldi, and the IMPerfect Gallery (Philadelphia), among others mostly in the East Coast. Douglas has produced performance showcases and has featured in variety shows curated by poets who have appeared on HBO’s “Russell Simmons Presents Def Poetry”. He continues to freelance in theater and film. By day, he is a full-time multimedia and IT specialist for the NYC Department of Education. His photography credits include pieces published in the Amsterdam News and Leviticus Tattoo: Performance Words – A Serial Monograph, a small publication affiliated with the Bowery Poetry Club. 

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