Blanche
Perched high upon a gaudy throne
In her faded dream kingdom
Where everything is soft
And glimmers and glows
Where brutal reality is hidden
By soft colors, the colors of jasmine
And butterfly wings
Her singing
Weary and strained
Like a dying star
Turning the trick
She dons such deliberate disguises
White satin, a paper lantern
Oh Blanche
Purely corrupted
Lighting virgin candles
To hide the stains
And with wide-eyed laughter,
Uttering naivetés
Dropping virginal lies like pearls from a necklace
Clinging to hope
To unheard prayers, unseen supplications
Her restless eyes
Begging for mercy
And wandering aimlessly
Through rainy afternoons in New Orleans
Her lips whisper a battle cry
I don't want realism. I want magic
I tell what ought to be the truth
Truth is sin
Verity and naked bulbs be damned

Hey Harvey Wallbanger
I’d like you to tie me to the bedpost, baby
And press your fuzzy navel to my slippery nipple.
Give me your white angel kiss and I’ll lie down like a brown cow
While between the sheets you play the Italian stallion.

Like a kamikaze pilot head for my pink squirrel
Then give me your ol’ Alabama slammer
And pack a rum punch into that screwdriver of yours.
I want a screaming orgasm
That’ll send me to blue heaven. Wu Wu!

So, don’t mention that bloody Mary
With her devil’s kiss,
Or you’ll find I can give a snake bite that’s as deadly as a B-52.

Instead let’s ride into the tequila sunset in our golden Cadillac
For sex on the beach
And on the sea breeze we'll hear an old love song sung by a ‘salty dog’ with a Gibson
And watch a tropical storm over Manhattan
We'll go to Peppermint Patti’s café
And order an Irish coffee and a large slice of cherry pie.

Happy, after dark let’s drive home for a sloe comfortable screw with satin pillows
And fall into the sweet surrender of a summer dream.

Your gentle breath
Stirs autumn leaves in the streets of my mind
Your eyes are so promising,
Rolling like newsreel camera,
Your pupils shifting like lenses
Their tender glint
Swears there is something better
Something bigger than this
Somewhere, perhaps soon
Somewhere the sparrows sing
Without cages
And the summers are blue
And the satin is black
Your hands on my back
Rub and comfort for what I will remember
Was an eternity
Someday maybe you'll sway with me
Sing, sing willow tree
We'll pretend
We've always swayed together
Maybe one day you'll engulf me
When I, fed to the tongues of fire,
Will turn my face to the flames
To the burning, divine kiss
But it would scorch my heart
With a single ember
Of a charred willow tree

I went from picking weeds in the valley
to leaving footprints in the mountain's
snowy peak,
but the elevation was so high that I couldn't breathe

yesterday I declared myself born again
to find today that I wasn't

I passed my fix to a sad man in a pinstripe suit
in an alleyway darker than the devil's muse
'cause hell I don't need it
I repeat that
like looped mantra recordings
sublimating my mind's subterranean province
penetrating through its satin slip
to a pink rosebud underneath
unscathed and honest
but otherwise monarchical subconscious


don't be too concerned with your fears
getting the best of you
but be very afraid of
how easily
we can fall into complacency

--a good friend's wisdom
I'd rest my head on his shoulder in times like these
but he's not out of prison yet
"I think that's what did me in," he said

you could argue both ways
that my romanticism has saved me
or been a detriment
standing two feet between life
and death
my mind reels and recharges
the air starts to smell of second chances
and the sky poses all
those anti-suicidal questions
how would you
feel if the sun broke
through the clouds
right before you suckled down
the undertow of the river's belly?

Oh how the lows disease me
while the highs mislead me
I haven't figured out which is more
debilitating yet

thinking
just this evening,
could it be?
Is this a dream?
Is this a dream
where I am dependent
on no one and
nothing?
Why, sleep
you tease

A black rose
Lain across thier coffin door
Pedals are withered
Thorns are dull
Leaves are gone
Blew away on the whispering breeze
In honor of the dead
I present this rose
Death and decay have kissed its beauty
Now even more beautiful
As it slowly falls apart
Like thier mothers and fathers
Crying tears of sorrow and relief
Knowing they are gone is devastating
Knowing they no longer
Have the cancer eating at your insides
Like pirahnas in your viens
Or having to fight a war
Waged for the most redundant reasons
In honor of the dead
I cry no tears
I simply salute them
My friend you are gone
Yet never shall they be forgotten
I present them this black rose
Red still dressing the outlines of satin pedals
Like blood on cotton sheets
In honor of the dead
I'll carve monuments with blank faces
Unknown men and women
Still missing after years of searching
So many have suffered
In honor of the dead
I'll carve my tears in the form of roses
On every headstone
In honor of the dead
I whisper lullabies in the moonlight
Sing songs of joy
Dance with thier ghost
As pedal tears fall from my eyes
In honor of the dead
I present this black rose
Red still dressing the outlines of satin pedals
Fortunate to be kissed by the lips of death
Blessed with the numbing of thier pain
Honored to rest weary bones

No matter how well defined the border lines are
I'll walk all along, and cross the ocean
into a barren land of wasted emotion
from the best and the worst of intentions.

No matter how tightly the blinds are drawn
light will peek through and shed light
upon a bleak urban interior landscape
complete with cigarette butts, Vonnegut, and everything in between.

Nights in White Satin may be gone off the charts
but not from our hearts.
In this case, white satin is the plain, unmade bed belonging to my sister.
I thought I told you to stay away, yet you linger on the backside of my eyelids.

Constant blue lights
gently illuminate this bedroom, untouched by the night.
Be careful what you wish for because Jesus saves
but he'll also fuck you over for the shit of it.

everywhere i walk
i see brilliant digital images
of the crinkled eyes of mothers and daughters
laughing and holding each other
crisp and clean backdrops

but when i glance down at myself--
dirty hands stained from pencil and paint
and ripped blue jeans
messy, irresponsible, lazy you sigh

not at all like the other daughters
not nearly as pristine
straight satin hair, no worries, no sadness

people excuse me
and brush it off; whispering "she's just an artist"
this ditsy and awkward appearance
is just a facade

because nothing hurts more than
you comparing my potential
to a small star that could be the sun

Dad woke us up in sheer excitement
Brought our attention to the window...
Listen he said, “to the sound of the wind”,
“The wind is blowing in the same bare place”
Look! he said...its snowing...

Beautiful white pearls.. “look outside”.
my brother shouted with joy!!
Snow! Snow! The snowflakes are falling from the sky...
Winter! Snow time!! We hugged and danced in the freezing night..

We boys ran down to the lawn..
Carpeted with satin smooth snow..
Lets do it bro.. a snowman just right here..

Do not to think of any misery
Of the piercing cold wind...
That bites the skin ...
Violent cold of winter that eats our flesh and bones..
Did we care?

In a few hours or so..
There stood our snowman..
We both laughed while we shivered..
Funny looking SNOWMAN...
scattered about the ground,
in the white landscape,
wet and cold and waiting
This FUNNY Snowman we remember the most...