Catastrophic Rotation

This a good night for
Certain mixtures
Not allowed to drink that whiskey
whispering my name
from that cabinet across the room.
Would one drink kill me
or fell me into a deep sweet sleep?
Anticoagulants and Alcohol
make for a sudden change in direction
where face down could be
the daisy push up of last rights
but then that would be something better
than the pain which constantly
reminds me that I am alive.
Maybe there could be a dream
more pleasant than a cerebral hemorrhage.
Yet REM escapes into the night
leaving a derailed train on both sides
of the tunnel of if it’s not one thing it’s another
which is an objection to the obvious.
At least the tightness has left the confines
of my skeletal cage and breathing
is abnormally normal for now
the tilt-a-whirl spins out
into the torrential rain of which
the sound once brought comfort
but for now I am clearly irritated
and wondering if just for tonight
mother nature could just shut up.
Against my better judgment
I have better judgment
wondering what’s the point
of lying in the fetal position
when there is no womb?
The need of medication is the only thing
stopping me from the run away and hide
thoughts or desires cramming themselves
into my skull
the voices are so loud it sounds
of mass meditation
the word relax floats by
Nausea is overtaking my rationale
and I am craving a cool glass of water

Of The Feather

Aerodynamic, thrust
straight forward propulsion
into a sky blanketed
by clouds of every kind
updraft soaring higher floating
spread my wings
I, am a Phoenix
whose fire gave birth
to the solo flight of an Eagle
and such is my vision
of things far away
my eyes are keen
to all things near
flying gracefully
there is no fear
I, am a Hawk
constantly watching
middle earth movement
this kingdom of the wild
diving fast
one third the speed of sound
I, am a Falcon, watching
things closer to the ground
Predatory by nature
magnificent, for the greater good
Of the feather we are three
solidarity I, am One

Instant Replay

instant replay
this time a deejay
narrated by Morgan Freeman
because Darth Vader is dead

they tell me it’s tension
next time a migraine
the pain that rips through my body
apparently starts in my head

that’s what they tell me
but what does anyone know
I’m an enigma within a conundrum
backed up backed down
music calms the savage beast

tear filled eyes a danger sign
of the coming rage or burning flame
that explodes like a furious wind
playing with benzene and matches
is a really dangerous thing

the pre-cardial thump
bruised sternum cracked ribs
reminds me that something happened
even if I can’t remember what

I see the same thing in darkness
eyes open or eyes shut

I give up trying
even my imaginary friend
is sleeping soundly
while I listen to Morgan replay my life
it should be soothing but it’s not
because I keep hearing
the things I don’t remember I did


The Leavers Dance

it’s a clear night
and there are no stars
I stopped here briefly
but never settled
the band played on
this ballet of the senses
moving in circles
a ballet for the senseless
the sun is setting
my eyes have looked away
this gypsy heart
soft shoe slow dance
aches for release
from a place not
worth dying for
wanting to go home
unsure of where that is
understanding it’s out there
somewhere silence
golden peace
but what’s worth crying for
there is freedom
moving gracefully
updraft lifting ready taking
spread my wings and soar
design got in the way
of desires calling
change direction stop
from falling
flying close
to close to the sun
drifting downward spiral
the band played on
by fate or chance
this waltz they called
the leavers dance

A Proper End

connecting through the cosmos
alphas come only from the
beckoning call of omega
behind each sunstar
the light of a previous
celestial rift plays out
in a shadowbox of charged
particles dancing about
the upper atmosphere
tantalizing third eye
visions of spirit truth
sliding cautiously close
to the essence of cessation
taunting commencement
to come forth from the shadows
cheating culmination its due
and as daylight fades off
the aurora realizing still
that no beginning comes
before a proper end.

The Biggest Lie

I’ll be fine
is perhaps the biggest lie
ever to pass my lips
It also defines the facade
I’ve worn for so long
that sometimes I truly
believe it to be me
My character has a tragic back story
and Post Traumatic Stress Disorder
is a name given for an ailment suffered
due to a situation by a person
who should never have had to go through it
Many of my writings have eluded
to a day, the day that changed my life forever
I found my best friend , the one person
who loved you with out a single condition
lying on a floor in a pool of her own blood
Now that did something to me
When you try to save a life
that is not able to be saved
and feel that last respiration
the last heartbeat along with the spirit
leave the body. Due to cuts in wrists so
deep that you can see bones
The mental and emotional damage
from it is irreparable.
That day, That day caused an extrovert
to go into hiding
That day I said “I’ll be fine”
as a bottle of vodka consumed me
The misconception that opiates
and alcohol could in fact take me
back to the day before became my addiction
which lead to the idea that if going back
was not a possibility then going forward
in death would take me back to that place
Hiding behind my happy, joking I’ll be fine smile facade
has kept my demons at bay
and it keeps me thinking thoughts of
if that never happened would I be telling you
this today? Probably not.
Or would I have found the crossroads
and sold my soul for a piece of the action
along with a pound of gold? Maybe so.
Sacrificial lambs have only one thing in common
which creates the impossibility of saving the life
that was sent to save yours
Embracing the Post Traumatic Stress
helps with healing. It tried to kill me
but I resisted which made me strong enough to
step out from behind the facade and let you know
the real me. Everyday I wish to god this had not happened
I have good days rough days I star gaze
I’m in touch out of touch I have a mad need for human touch
There’s no way out no way back
blank stare sad affair
instant replay
reminds me of who I am
and that truly
I’ll be fine

Coverless Books and The Color of Noise

How Long, How Long
Will this world slide
Into the cesspool of degradation
The abyss of its own creation
How long
Can you hear me?
Is anyone there, is anyone there
Can you hear me?
Cried a voice in the night
Can you see me?
Is anyone there Can you hear me
Can you see me?
Screamed a voice in the light
Coverless books litter the streets
Unable to hide their content
Words go unread
For the blind don’t care to read
And the voices
Fade off into the color of noise
How long
How long
Will the willing
Sell themselves into a slavery
Whose master is greed
Only to find the all-consuming Addiction
Of its dark power
Devouring the enslaved
For a pittance of gold
And a perception of supremacy
How long
How long
Will humanity
See color as a difference
Then what’s the indifference
When the only color that matters
For what matters most is red
For it is the red that we dread
And when we bleed
We all bleed the same
In whom so ever’s name
As the rivers that have flooded
Overflowing and bloodied
The killing fields
In the history Of a planned
Perfect plan gone awry
How long
How long
Will the human race keep thinking,
Keep on believing they are
An advanced Civilization
While the history of mankind
Has yet to change as it is never changing
Constantly repeating violence upon one another
When truly advanced sophistication
Is not a thought it’s a community action
Absent of greed and aggression
We can cry and we can lie
We can deny and pretend
But the age of man is at its end
The era of machines is at hand
While the voices keep crying out
In the night and in the light
For the watchtower beacon is burning bright
Pages scatter in the wind and colorful din
Forming clouds of ignorance
Isn’t it time
That we stop believing
In the rise of charlatans deceiving
And notice the color we are bleeding
Is globally the same
This is not a game
How Long
How Long
Will this world slide
In circular motion
Within a perpetual notion
While the machine rages on
We were given everything needed
To solve real world problems
Yet are hung up on systems of belief
And the amount of melanin
In our neighbors skin
How long
How long
Will we the human race listen only to reply
Never understanding why the voices cry
Can you hear me
Is anyone there, is anyone there
Can you hear me Cried a voice in the night
Can you see me, Is anyone there
Can you hear me, Can you see me
Screamed a voice
Or am I just a coverless book
In the color of noise
Katovski ©2014

To thoSe wHo dId thIs

no matter how much I wash them
they will never be clean
sitting on the shore Mediterranean sea
watching the tide wash up
another dead child refugee
daylight to dark
murder first degree
child abuse insanity
the spoils of war
not your finest hour
rogue warrior
is this your power
sending death from above
torturing those who remain
trying to force your will
through childhood pain
it’s funny I’m guilty
through association
this blood on my hands
no matter how much I wash them
they will never be clean


it doesn’t take much
to find a lucid highway
while swimming
amongst the cold plasma
of altered realities
Lost, Horribly lost
vision fading
polaris no longer in view
drifting off the axis
of an astral plain
in search of something
more than that which
escapes these nightly
forays into the unknown
while one milligram
on either side of the meridian
finds or finds nothing
in the silent scream of
absolute darkness
creating something new
from an unusual circumstance
that becomes lost
in the separation between
morning and night