Let's make a deal
that the smoke scented
taste of your tongue
will never leave mine.

I look into this never-ending sun
Left, right, right, left, the score climbing higher.
Then, suddenly the sun ends its cold fun,
and we look at our life it seems so dire.

Days and weeks slaughtered by the LED.
No love life, no friends, no freedom.
Just a window, what the screen lets me see.
I live in a poorly crafted kingdom.

Look before you, at this husk of a man.
He had such potential, he had a plan.

Contractions are fearful of the
ominous bliss; mighty T Rex.
Now we've reached that time, so classic.
For our lips meet and our hearts ski
under the dim fluorescent light
she smiles, and so too do I.
Ends are beginnings in our sin.
Dancing into the night, we sing.

Amongst friends sits the shrew.
A tear glistens so bright ,
he's happy, through and through.

Ecstatic young blossoms
resting amongst the thorn
crawling from the bottom

A rosebud drips down upon the pavement
as father draws a final drag from this
porcelain pipe, its tobacco well-spent.

Rest in peace sweet little summertime bliss.
Lips pressed taut admiring the embers,
while they pieced together a forlorn kiss.

These penultimate moments are a blur
whispered by magpies on the window-pane
wrought by dust bunnies, and letters from her.

Oh lord may we be blessed and insane;
stifle these stains with bullets to the brain.

Let's dance to the boogie in the room.
Hearts pound, energy abound, the hips sway.
Cyclical time baby caught in the flume.
Fall into me sweetheart, your soul's astray.

Arm spread eagles escape into the sound.
Could we maybe find peace in this madness?
Further gone, blue, red, green, and white abound.
EVERYBODY! This love we must address.

One more hit, swig, swag, tab, maybe a dab
and we're off on the moon again singin.
Lay all your innocent out on the slab
cuz darlin o girl their love'll be ringin.

I am King.
I speak good.
I see lot.
I see girl.
She so cute.
She look good.
I kiss her.
She cry loud.
That no good.
I cry too.
Make it good.
She look up.
Sees my tear.
Kiss me too.
She is good.
"I love you"
I am King.
I am good.

This PC is fixed.
I really wish I was too.
Dear God, let me die.

-Switz

So the salmon soars
And the bear bitterly
feasts on their flesh.

His voice is a roar,
Yet his heart does flee
At their very sight.

A shame it may be
That a beast so kind
Causes them to die.

He wants to be free
from fate in his mind,
He can't explain why.

Is it truly sin
if one feels regret,
and would rather die?

I felt the warmth caress my cheek like
the light of heaven radiating down
on me. Looking up I saw my mother,
with eyes blue, and a dress smudged by her youth.
Laughter and love streaked down my face and it
could be said this moment was infinite
in all of its grandeur. But we knew of
this falsehood, for god left for the stars and
you were my angel, but the men took you
too. They marched in; their tin guns rattling
to a tune I didn't know. The storm grew
on until finally, I looked and saw
mother taken into its gaping maw.
My limp retreat, hastened by the need to
escape the reality laid before
me.
As the sad scurried escape continued,
I felt my most intimate seams begin
to tear. The contents of my creator spilling
onto the cold ground. Those tin toy soldiers
surrounded me, and I realized something.
“A ragdoll can't flee”
With an air of vengeance, I took their bait;
biting down on the cursed fruit bestowed
to me by our nonexistent savior.
With a smile I split my seam and screamed out
to all the fallen toys, and fallen joys.
“Hush now men, mother, and me this is life;
this is love, and can't you see what it doe-”
My thought grew dark as a cold tin soldier
finished the job, and I joined my mother
within the ash.
I felt the warmth caress my cheek like
the light of heaven radiating down
on me. Looking up I saw my mother,
with eyes blue, and a dress smudged by her youth.
Laughter and love streaked down my face and it
could be said this moment was infinite
in all of its grandeur. But we knew of
this falsehood, for god left for the stars and
you were my angel, but the men took you
too. They marched in; their tin guns rattling
to a tune I didn't know. The storm grew
on until finally, I looked and saw
mother taken into its gaping maw.
My limp retreat, hastened by the need to
escape the reality laid before
me.
As the sad scurried escape continued,
I felt my most intimate seams begin
to tear. The contents of my creator spilling
onto the cold ground. Those tin toy soldiers
surrounded me, and I realized something.
“A ragdoll can't flee”
With an air of vengeance, I took their bait;
biting down on the cursed fruit bestowed
to me by our nonexistent savior.
With a smile I split my seam and screamed out
to all the fallen toys, and fallen joys.
“Hush now men, mother, and me this is life;
this is love, and can't you see what it doe-”
My thought grew dark as a cold tin soldier
finished the job, and I joined my mother
within the ash.

By a bitter birch's bountiful bloom
My child whistled madness at winter's howl.
The young feline jumped from Satan's harsh womb.
No more knowledge, all he could do was growl.

I prayed mother was home, and father too.
They should not see a waste of their sweet fruit.
With this in mind, in tears, my sword I drew.
If I only had an arrow to shoot.

For I am the greek and she the leopard.
She goes for the ****, a heart's dark Shepherd

When your eyes are painted charcoal
and the morning dew hits your nose,
and rows of fresh roses tickle your toes.

Don’t look at the sunrise and think
that it might mean something new,
there’s nothing that you can do.

The streams ebb, and memories fade,
while you look to the stars and see
nothing, and most certainly not me.

When your eyes are painted charcoal
and the morning dew hits your nose,
and rows of fresh roses tickle your toes.

So now the sickening shadows sting
And your kisses are felt in hell.
The bishop sings his shanty
And all the impurities rise.

From the small town comes the Knight
with armor glistening in the sun.
A mighty sword rests at his side,
And a steed of iron he does mount.

Across a valley he meets his bishop
And their quarrell is quelled
By the sickening slice of a thousand
infantile screams cursing the night.

The End.

My mother told me when I was a boy
Son look up, and see it, that grand old sky.
But now I suspect, her meaning was coy.
When I look up, I see that we will die.

This great ordeal will end without a ring.
For I have befallen no matriarch.
Not one coy mistress to dinner I bring.
For life is as passioned as my food's starch.

I don't want a body, merely your heart.
I no longer care, life has lost its art.

Plastic pearls perched on polyester peaks.
Silk is strewn underneath the underneath.
Darling, it's natural for us to freak.

An earthly eclipse crying from below.
All sound vanquished as I reach for the sheath.
It's finished, diamonds dun, it's time to go.

Oh how a rotted home aches.
Floorboards agonize,
their faces betray
a life's frozen mirth.

A shattered window,
caked in cobweb
calls to her daughter in the wind.

Footprints erased by dust.
Photographs wilted and grey.
Oh how a rotted home aches.

I don't think my friends like me very much
and I don't think I like me very much.

A generic ex-teen sipping coffee
and all I ******* do is sip coffee.

Making a statement we already know
and telling a tale we already know.

Trying to be clever, wicked, and smart
and thinking I'm cool because I am smart.

So this song will end; it's lyrics are dead
and then I will leap and then I'll be dead.

As I fall to my death that's all you have,
An unfinished story.

I met a little boy, he loved the color blue.
All he did was laugh and sing, merrily free.
Man, don't you wish we could be this boy too?
He swabbed the deck; a pirate at sea,
A brave knight, or keeper of zoos!
Perhaps a king, sipping tea.
Perhaps milking cows! moo!
Yet he is not sick.

Today mom cried
Over my bed.
On my head.

She tastes like the sun
that our bitter lives made.

And perhaps this truth
is why we can't be saved.

For the starlit girl
speaks against our false truths.

Not so innocent,
yet full of passion's youth.

The lunar eclipse
is not enough for her.

We are the disease.
And she? She is the cure.

They told me
that love hurt.

Shocking displays of yellowed purity.
Causing my fingers to go slick with grease.
Firm yet yielding; salty on my soft tongue.
The scent brings about a carnal fury.

I lick my lips as  I take the first plunge.
I take handfuls of this sweet heated flesh.
My eyes roll back as grease drips down my chin.
Joy personified, this is truly grunge.

As I reach the bottom, I feel forlorn.
As you can see, I talk about popcorn.

There was a howl, as the faucet began to drip drip drip, and the creaks of a house built too long ago stretched her weary bones as the faucet proceeded to drip drip drip, and a man and a woman held on tight, this memory being just a glimpse, as the faucet kept up its drip drip drip, and a child cried as his toe was stubbed, and still the faucet dripped dripped dripped, and the family fixed it, and so it stopped, and grey was in season as the winter grew near, and the house was empty, and the family was gone, and yet the faucet again began to drip drip drip.

A little bit of greed had crossed my mind,
when I saw brother, pale with that lush fruit.
Like a ghost he sat, yet my envy grew.

I rushed down the hall to my dear mother
and in a single breath I told my tale,
Oh dear brother, why did I heed her word?

Your head rolled, and beside it went my mind.
Mom's wolfish grin claimed you for supper,
but you deserved more than Midas could give.

I took your remains, and wrapped them in silk.
You rested by the woman with no name.
As a bird sang on that juniper tree.

That night we ate my brother's memory,
father with sorrow on his furrowed brow,
and mother whose mask was merely a mirror.

That little songbird came down from heaven,
and mother's mask started gaining some cracks,
as the bird sang on that juniper tree.

With a final song, my mother was gone,
and on her gravestone, my dear brother stood.
it was a miracle, our love was warm.
Our hearts embraced by that juniper tree.

On the seventh moan comes the
howl of everything we have forgot.

Let us sit now upon this throne,
our lies nestling by the river Styx.
Read from the book of our father, or
drown upon what you call your son.

Maybe I'm wrong, I know not the truth,
and perhaps I am like the liar too.
You may yet be saved from this casual justice.

I however am lost in sin.

Bitter though this may make me,
every story must have its end.

So now I say this to you
and I hope you heed my word well.
Voracious though I may be,
even you may be saved from the
domain in which you dwell.

Nobody cares about
the leftover foil
from a long lost party.

Nobody sings the song
that peaked at thirty-three
in nineteen ninety-six.

Nobody catches the
girl with the thin straw hair
when she jumps from the bridge.

Nobody writes poems
about a dying ****
within suburbia.

For now they perch on my doorstep
with tear filled vigor and remorse
pleading,  little earth worms looking
on in my eyes trying to force
their seed in my heart... demireps
and lechers crying in their ash.

A monk's resolute howls draw near.
I close my shutters to the wind.
An infantile pitter patter
brings resolution to my pane.
I look out upon the tattered
remains of man; I soon realize
it is not them, but I who's sinned

Sunbeams sift through emerald leaves
as 'munks pitter patter down below,
their whiskers tickled by the spring breeze.

At the shore a cerulean wave splashes,
while young lovers soak in the sand
brushing joy-filled tears from their lashes.

Baskets of fresh fried fish are passed around
to a picnicking family on the hill
absorbed in the peace of nature's sound.

There's something about these slices of time
that melts away the darkest of minds,
and that my friends is truly sublime.

That rag doll looked up and smiled,
freshly unwrapped
with button eyes shining;
mother looked down on her and said:
"The noise is nothing, rest your head and sleep now child."

As night fell  toy soldiers  stumbled in with glee,
they tossed the poor doll  to the side,
torn by her threads.
A doll can't flee.

The sun grew high,
her tattered dress snared,
and the poor doll bumped her  head.
She cried and whaled to the stars, but none of them cared.

knotted, and worn,
her yarn hair grew wild
The doll sought nothing more than bread,
but spoiled fruit was all the tin men held.

Used up, the ragdoll fell into the fire.
her buttons dust, and mother dead
lost in a sea of the liars.

What the hell did I do?

Lo and behold I love you again.
I cannot yet seem to fathom how
The blind become omniscient.

I look into your mind and there rests
My bitter resolve,  sweet second glance.

So I apologize for this waste,
Time is ticking and so is the bomb.
Goodnight my dear, my love, my pet.
Perhaps one day... No, never, not yet.

Hop frog hop, as you reach into the glade.
Look down upon your tadpoles, see them swim.
Look up and then, Oops! there goes the blade!
You were killed by the leisure of man's whim.

Sing bird sing, look up into the heavens.
Think not of the lonesome boy right below.
Look up into the sky, he jumps seventh.
Ignore petty men, fly where the wind blows.

I don't believe that eagles or frogs cry.
All they can do is give a weary sigh.

Looking at you I see a lifelong flicker
incubating my heart with its warmth
zeppelins fall before this beauty.

You look at me, and I see our friendship grow
onwards into the night sky, and our time is
unending yielding the fruit of mechanical bliss.

Arriving at our destination I see you now.
Rocking back and forth; your heart in your hands.
Enchanting the room with your spiritual show.

Actually perhaps my feelings were premature,
maybe we'll be friends forever
and I can call your name from my dark light house.
Zapping to life the bitterness held
inside of my sad and miserable little chest.
Now, I close this poem with one last line.
Goodnight, and thank you for being you.

A sunbird perched softly in the bramble,
awaiting the raven's  snaggle-toothed grin.
She sang a song, haphazardly happy,
her naive concerto carried by wind.

She whistled and laughed, until sunset came.
Daylight flickered, an old forgotten flame,
and the blistering ink embraced the nooks.
Still no sign of raven, silence took hook.

But no, she's here, a whisper in shadow.
Amongst the leaves she forms a loving sigh.
"Darling Sunbird, I'm here, it's me," she coos.
In that moment, Sunbird began to cry.

There remains a taste of lily on my lips,
as my thoughts grow into a mundane gray.
The Lords of dark and light intertwine
pulling my soul's string, but the dull ache remains.

Sectumsempra's slice can release the devil's grip.
As blood pools at my feet I feel it all fade away.
Finally, this moment I control, it is solely mine.
Alas, I shake myself awake, and return to the pain.

I said I'd **** myself tonight.
But I was too weak.
maybe tomorrow will be the day
the dim candle wick is snuffed.
until then my sheets stay white

I'm going to **** myself, so please pretend to be sad during the funeral.

Look at you with your smile
that illuminates life.
Thank you for this rampant
addiction.
Dancing in my mind's eye
singing that sweet old song,
and stopping my sad old
loneliness.
I look to you and see
the stars, or the ones that
bring me joy, and weave great
romance.