Shoulder Leaned Into

Nestled is how I most think of us
leaning into each other
fascinated by each other
royally engaged entranced
playfully prancing with dignity
intact

Your perfume enflames
my sensibilites
sensing your nearness
shoulder next to your neck
my ear kissing your skin
beneath your ear I far too often
did not kiss

I Always Wanted to be a Cult Leader

Sliming my mind
twisted untied
tye died tried
curtailed mind
fractured by mines
surety assurances
Fixated on faces
assuring of certainties
inexplicable

I Buried a Chimney Swallow Today

I buried a chimney swallow today

He hung from the French lace curtains

Talons clung like finger nails

Wings sprung out, hanging low

high above my eyes.

Black and grey before my eyes

hanging, darting in death all across

our campus

Spread winged, hanging from a thread

French lace doors latched

capturing your natural talons

Interlaced, interlinked,

Captured, till death.

I prayed for you as I buried you.

The Azaleas sing your praises.

Wood chips cover you.

Tattoo'd in Invisible Ink

Scars show in all the most interesting places
Spink, dink, flinked, minks
in faux animal furs
curtailing hairs worn ages ago

Inked in ways I never really understood
Needle in the arm and leg
pegged
by assumptions
Impressed by impressions
driven deep
by Life experienced

Sometimes flexibility shows
itself to the sound of flesh
given over to the
ink master.

Tattle Tale

Many splendored dresses undressed
Expressed by dresses hemmed in by Pleiades
Gazing down from above staring in our
collective naked gaze

Ferrous metals mentally melting
into the solid waste of
who we are

Glittering into the nothingness
of existential reality
flaming out
flaming out
flaming out

Shame, no shame
flame all you want
shame
flame all you want
blame all you want
shame, no shame

Blame you all
not alone but me
alone along the lines
flicking the adulations
and adulturations
maturing, I hope

Loose Knit Straight Jackets

Flexible constraints maintain
wrap around realities and mentalities
S'plainin' explanations

Flailing about
Selling short
everything in our midst

Vision, after all
lost to all
falling to the depths
welcome to the Mall

Fabric of my existence
cotton of lies
truth be told
hold my arms
in lock step

Systemic
invisible to me
so ubiquitous
iniquitous
split like light
refracted

Blind visionaries
guide my path
touching me
all along the
graveling path

Deprivation sensory
blind spots
unknown even to me

Holes In My Socks

You drive the rockets right through me
Firestorm stinging
Intellectual fuckstorms entertaining
Every possible Extentiality

Music to my ears nears by
as the chorus screams
from every corner of my mind

There's no whisper here
There's no whisper here
There's no whisper here

Hinter and lo
the song sings
I never forgave you
Hidden, I yet find you
Afraid, so alone.

Sadness, yet so alive.

Judges

We fired the gas into the refugee camp

To kill them all and erase their memories.

Then we sent the prisoners to bury them

So that they would die too

Erasing them as well.

Then we sent the soldiers

To dig their graves

And their own.

Then we appointed the judges

to adjudicate them all.

Detris

Smoldering ruins is all I see all around. The smell is acrid, full of the stench of death. It exhilarates me to no end. By it I know I have life. We have hope for the future.

The year is unknown. The planet seems to be earth, but it's hard to tell from our perspective, being as we're so close to the ground against these old giants which once ruled our land.

Our shells are hard as the chrystaline stones we walk upon, but our insides, liquid to the core, pure in fact, cannot be touched by any outside force, no matter how large and seemingly powerful. We are purity itself, hidden in our shell.

The gods are instrumental and deliriously figurative for us all. This land is ours for now.

Shit. They have a bigger weapon than us again. Back to the research lab! Build them bigger and smaller till we erase them all from the face of this ground. They look nothing like us. Any similarity is purely accidental.

We must do everything in our power to gather the remains of their day so that we can survive beyond these small days.

God is ONLY like us. He has six legs and has omniscient antennae. Thus we mustn't ever be confused about God's nature.

Devouring the remains of the dead is essential to our well being, just so long as it's not among our own.

But the dead among our own count too. The dead always serve the purposes of the living.

After all, we must live.

Feedback Machine

I'm tired of the sugar
I need the salt
Filling my acrid tongue

Filter it down till I can understand

Filter it down till I can understand

Filter it down till I can understand

Blessed are the poor until you get rich
I've seen her type on the side of the road before
Piece of shit begging for her life
She's pregnant with who knows what
Hospital wrist band still on her hand
as I hand her a twenty dollar bill
with assuage in my death like grasp

Hello Jesus on the side of the road.

Wrists

Slipping my wrists
into the slits of your soul
Awakens me to the pain
of borrowed time

Slamming doors awaken me
to all of your days of old
Always trying to forget
the stamps of my own
daguerreotype

Splicing the dice
until we both rolled
our lives away

Splicing the dice
until we both rolled
our lives away

Playing for keeps

Blinded Visionaries

Blinded visionaries
seeking perceptions
Lids hanging low
by sights too hard to see
Freed by the weigh
of a thousand burdens

Poet Tree

You helped me to plant a garden of words
in the soil of my life
Seedlings of laughter and pain
sprinkled across my soiled soul
into the dried cracks soon
to be rained upon by droplets
of love and hate interspersed
with silent embraces with dripping
sarcasm filling the chasm
which sometimes stood silently
between us

Weeds sprout there too
but sometimes even they have flowers

196

The frequency of your posts don't make any sense to me.

Sheesh. It's almost like you make sense to me.

Written wrists slip across your wrists slit

Permitted to lists, sometimes insipid,
slitted inside my wrists.

Invisible wounds, seen by no one
except everyone with
Eyes to see and ears to hear.

Visions invisible to any natural eye to see.

Visible to every eye to see.

Sheesh, your eyes,

It's almost like I can see your eyes.

Frequencies can be a hard thing.

Betwixt and In Between

Bipolar opposites
swirling intertwined
Fueled by swirling emotions
Cued by instincts
intuitively inspired by
you and me.

Figuring the signatures
Signing away the rights
Flights flying away
to highways and byways
slighted and benighted
by signatories
always lying.

The Great In Between stands
in between the chasm of
what we all are told to believe
Dropping down to the valley below.

Visions of Gehenna
and Hosanna
intertwined
Voiced together
Sung in harmony
Various singers
stepping in and out
Deciding when to sing.

Until the song is finally
spent and sung
unintentially expressed
as chaos and a voice
betwixt and in between.

Nervous Nerve Endings

Inexplicable pain
courses through my body
An excited calmness
pervades my skin and everything within
Till all of me
all of me quivers within
With equivications
inexplicable
filled with pain.

Photos in a Suitcase

Your feet are drenched, smelling of the ocean water.
You carried what you could as you ran for your life.
But the smell of sulphur clings to your lips and nose
as you fled the missiles and soldiers seeking after you
selling everything, sometimes even yourself,
just to get away from it all.

The photos are wrinkled and terribly fragile.
Discolored by age and wear and tear.
Over exposed to the elements of the age
we all find ourselves in.

But we hold them close to our chests
fractured though they are from the wars
within and without.

We hold them close to our chests
fractured though they are
from the wars within and without.

Seeking asylum from an insane asylum
only to be looked upon as an invader
scapegoated, segregated, isolated
barely tolerated, constantly berated.

I can feel my humanity slipping away
as layer and layer of who it is to be me is taken
away from me, or at least I think it's me
I'm talking about.

But at least I have photos in a suitcase.

Abandoned Mall Stores

Walking in through entrance ways abandoned long ago
Service centers long left empty
Discounted realities long left behind
Bereft, with leaking ceilings
as signatories of capitalist deaths
Easily announced

Drip drip drip
as the stores stop shopping
dropping like flies
you know that it's obvious.

Retail tales entail emails
from executives entailing tales
of economic realities explaining
of brick and mortar deaths
physicality seen as economically
unfeasable.

My Last Breath

Stick those sticks into my soul
Inflict me to my dying day
Face me with an effaced reality
which even God would turn away

Don't you dare avoid the obvious
tension of what's there before your eyes

Speaking spittle into my eyes
isn't what I bargained for,
you see it for yourself
truth be told

Hells bells, it's the story
of my life,
told from far too long

A story well we all know well.

The breathes are shorter now
Heaving and shallow
I thought this ground was supposed to be
hallowed

Hallowed by thy name
Hallowed be thy name
Hallowed by thy name

The Witch

If only you could watch
a Majesty awry
Mentioning a voice
A Voice, a voice.

Visionaries bestial
connected. Vestigial
investigations.

Sure. So sure.
So empirically sure.
Slippery as silk.


Certainty, certainty.
Certainty, certainty.
Surety, insane.

She's not safe anymore,
conjuring
configuring
unsure,

Strangely sure.