worm

immobile artifice immoral statuary of curled lips ponderous predilections hammer gamma rays into collar-bone shards of lust and fallacy, phallus shaped skiffs upon stream of consciousness running toward empty seas of tomorrow buy yesterday to change the way you dress and advertise lies you should think upon all that is said and read red doesn’t always mean blood hounds on scent of peonies in the garden behind your house where you buried past and the next door neighbor nobody knows trouble you’ve seen just like the song keeps playing on every station based in this town you keep living like … Continue reading worm

Solemn Zeros

In summary, there was purpose prefecture, pandemonium, permanence fingers frayed stitching ignominious example in grocery-cart aisles uncommon disorders frequently populating God-deserted isles unexpectedly, the vase fell from table untouched it shattered flowers and pottery scattered across the floor as galaxies flowed into void This was all observed and information was documented, annotated. interpretation lost in antiquity, impressions ripple as a neutron star quietly sending out gravitational waves, confusing possibilities of other extents. so often, life will take what we think we know reduce it to a solemn zero; leave us with nothing other than faintest of ideas a notion of … Continue reading Solemn Zeros

Future is the past is the future past

two moons and two suns implications of movement abrasive, heaving of iron lungs implicit in the breathing archetypes assail conclusion finding is desolate and broken desensitized neuromancer weave cords of copper a burglar is re-imagined smoking jacket highs confounding orbs can no longer absorb refraction of everything now only comes in pieces cement is colder than one would think flood is more than earth can drink when did life become a story with such furious editors retake the scenes reality indebted to shadowed creditors no longer aware which of us won. in-between two moons and two suns image courtesy of … Continue reading Future is the past is the future past

raw

what do you say in the velvet aftermath? there is distance a kind sort of anger greens so loud they turn blue in sound of gone baby gone and hey, it’s hanging on that sometimes hurts most wrapped in barbed wire harder to work free when tangled entangled as two atoms can be knowing everything about the other remaining a universe apart gate is there; it’s just infinitesimally small stand better chances of burning in rain vice is worn spite turns to regret for the painful refrains falling upstream quelling capture worship frail release, wounds will not fester when the … Continue reading raw

hey, Brooklyn

hey Brooklyn I heard your voice the other day radio man said that you had made the Big time that’s mighty fine for you hey Brooklyn how have you been? I can’t sing but I though I’d write you a song how are you holdin’ on we’re too far gone to cry now we’ve been too long apart. seven and change since you said goodbye the future always seems to pass me by it’s lonely here I thought I’d let you know never wanted any tears or sorrow not from you maybe, that’s partly true I kinda hope it makes … Continue reading hey, Brooklyn

popular populist mythos

when does it happen? shouting staccato limericks at passing cabs twirl fingers in the earth load up a Dillinger plan hoping to shoot the breeze she just blew on by horns in coat pockets cocktails shaken, then stirred rebellion in high heels 18 wheels to nowhere keep on truckin’ make-believe kills from exposure hard-bitten nuances nod off reservation, energy conservation gambling and liquor two by four funding clues on dirty floors computer tablet tableau tool paint another portrait changing frames and names upright lounge rule state fools fight for air paying $5 per water laugh at laissez-faire even in their … Continue reading popular populist mythos

Hope, resignation

you ignited famine, unintentional or not.  We’re starving.  That masochistic flair you dearly love to wear finds us indebted.  We are caught somewhere betwixt hope…..resignation.  whose crucifixion is fair  I DON”T CARE  meek resolution and dirty dish water hands.  Your labia doesn’t speak anymore.  I may have Tourette’s of the soul.  There was a dream where my chest was fire and I was choking as something was crawling up the back of my throat.  I vomited a cancerous snake, dying.  It had two heads and our eyes.  I cannot for the life of me understand what it meant. My otherface, … Continue reading Hope, resignation