Beloved

by Randy Ai

My pain is a lonely child
Left alone in the street
Crying for attention
Upon the first drops of rain

I struggle to ignore him
Walk away, and live life
Find happiness in love
And find hope in the puddles

But even as I am brave
His soft eyes beckon me;
My beloved lures me
As he craves my every touch

Suddenly, his hands grab me
Refusing to let go
Scorching my exposed body
And poaching my will to live

His set of pale, hungry teeth
So piercing and merciless
Sinks deeply into me
As though my flesh was his feast

“Child, you are all grown up now!”
I scream out in despair,
“Leave your only father
To die alone in his peace”

He looks at me in pity
But his teeth sink deeper
Not enough to kill me
So that soon he can eat again

Music

By Randy Ai

Her body is a beautiful playground

A sheet of music in the wind

And a blueprint for a symphony

He who wrote this music

Must have taken pains to scribe every single note

Waiting patiently for the day

That silence would turn to sound

She is inked with the combined memory

Of our collective and ancient history

The tiny neural pathways

Giving rise to the sensation of flesh

My fingers dance across the notes

Indulging in fast staccatos, and slow arpeggios

I play entire stanzas with the fury of a genius

Pushing her harder towards a cadence

I have become both conductor and musician

Master and magician

Vying for complete command

Of the instrument of my desire

Yet despite my power, I merely interpret the music

And cannot write it

I have no input in the process of composition

That began millennia ago

At times, in the middle of the night

She teases me by calling me an aspiring composer

And informs me that I worry too much

And as she lies there breathless

With my ears placed against her chest

Listening to the tempo of her heart beat

She reminds me that there is still beauty

In playing someone else’s music –

So perfectly

Awakening

By Randy Ai

(February 3, 2013)

In my dreams I will awake

Awake three times before I die

And awake once more before the rise

Of the bread of Jesus Christ

In my dreams I travel far

From the beaches of my youth

Into worlds not heard by time

Or the sunsets passing by

Flying above the chimney tops

Over mountains, trees, and frozen thoughts

Through glass walls of sharp debris

That shatter and cut into me

Although I fell three times before

A wingless bird will fall once more

Into hell and deeper still

Into caverns borne by ill

But as I die I will awake

My dreams will blur the real from fake

And in the comfort of my bed

I will not know if I am dead

Ode to a Lost Jacket

By Randy Ai

It is lost! Lost! Lost! Lost!

Taken from me in its youth

Its bright and young future

Extinguished by the hands

Of cruel fate and ill luck

How I will miss you:

My lost jacket, my beautiful orphan

Whom I have loved for so many years

And raised as my own

You impressed and dazzled

Navy blue, and double-breasted

Your body rose like a tall statue

Long and tall and proud

Finally reaching your full length

At the end of your crisp collar

Men praised you

And women adored you

Your hint of sophistication

Was the subject of conversation

Your photogenic demeanour

Was the fabric of identity

So many years we travelled together

Across oceans and continents

From the deserts of Morocco

To the temples of Japan

And in Europe you were always the star.

And how carelessly I left you

Alone one night, in a bout of naive trust

In the hearts of other men.

And when I had returned

You were snatched away from me

In the heart of the cold, dark night

How I fear what has become of you...

Have you been discarded?

Have waste and rubble

Formed the contours of your undignified grave

Where your lifeless corpse now lies?

Are you hanging in neglect

On the coat rack of another?

Lost and forgotten

In a damp and dark place

Or have you been taken as a cheap prize

By an unscrupulous predator

Who has ravished you

And stripped you of your worth?

Who will take care of you now?

Love you and protect you?

Treat you to appointments at the dry-cleaners

And faithfully brush lint and specks of dirt

Off your body?

And although I can indulge

In an orgy of reckless shopping

I will never find another like you.

As that which we love the most

We find the hardest to replace.