Your reluctance to greet
the loudmouths who've come
to silence themselves with a
combo, pulled from a grease lathered iron shelf
is palpable, even with
the smoke pouring in
from the hissing grill.
I can't resist to wonder,
behind this façade of yours, what is felt
in the hours you ****
Is your mind content
idly whistling to the tune
of a humdrum existence?
If these inquiries parted from
my incessant curiosity
are met with your resistance,
I insist you breathe in,
breath out.
& either
a) find virtue in persistence
or
b) leap into clamor, run out those familiar doors, with no doubt
that this is the end
& the beginning.
Jul 22, 2013
Jul 22, 2013 at 4:48 AM UTC
A woman of many fine
Words, made two sandwiches
One for Nicholas, one for Freida
On this day
A woman of many fine
Fiascos, made her last
With the drop of a plate
The turn of a ****
The oven concluded
the world had been robbed
Feb 11, 2013
Feb 11, 2013 at 8:39 PM UTC
Most poets construct fences
Of ambiguous and lofty blabber
To stagger, ambitious eyes
Clamoring for another
Hit line, that drags the body
to the grave and greets
Your mother with
A bird, contrary
To the--traditional wave
And jejune grief
Instead, I'll facet windows
With various cob-web cracks
And baseball mishaps
Till I collapse
Feb 5, 2013
Feb 5, 2013 at 10:36 PM UTC
Alone in this world?
Faceted with double edged
Swords
Whispering solemn chords
to muted minds
quivering
Feb 2, 2013
Feb 2, 2013 at 4:08 AM UTC
Propitious clouds fill the horizon, blocking cosmic rays
Emanating from a lingering celestial beast.
On these grounds of substance, humanity subsists with a curiosity
Unquenchable mouths and minds
-- we begin a rampant search for meaning.
The vibrations of our search loosen the crust, exposing the fleeting nature of being
Bewildered by this discovery we blind ourselves with faith, as if we deserve more
Unable to see, we flee in a direction unknown for the chance that it may remedy our pleas. A shadowy remembrance of these requests ripple across arid aspect. Heedlessly stumbling upon past, present, and future, we careen towards the eminence of death. Desires fumes overwhelm, collapsing beneath these earthly plumes. Our last breathe exclaims,”Life is pain, for we are submersed in the mundane!”
Sensationally-- as our hearts begin to tread their last beats
Droplets of clarity deluge our dire thirst
-- propitious clouds that once smothered the horizon
Bequeath themselves of all significance, affixed at high noon
Exposing anew the celestial beast that emanates a sanguine gleam
Reflecting in the pools that surround our pulpy minds
Jan 20, 2013
Jan 20, 2013 at 4:11 PM UTC
It is 6:57. Startled am I,
by the nights dream.
Son of Jocasta, King of Thebes!
I head t’ward the morning steam,
To rid one’s eyes of the malaise
A few stabs
And my mind is clear.
Abruptly, like fire on the agora.
Desire veer me to vices!
A cup of Columbian roast, with stoge in hand,
I perch upon the balcony,
With no intent to slip, I s’pose
Each inhalation and sip
Fulfill temporal desire
beneath our aging celestial fire.
7:54
I am out the door,
out out with it!
It being me, me being it.
Jan 20, 2013
Jan 20, 2013 at 4:09 PM UTC
As we pull away,
From the house,
Your mother's eyes, sheer pools of grey,
Foretelling a journey bound--
to chains of dismay,
As I pull away,
The cigarette from my lips
We cackle as if it is the end of days,
Chanting a ruckus sound,
To neighbors cross moonlit bay
As you pull away,
From our embrace,
I detect desiccated roots--that signify your decay
In an attempt to efface
Forgotten apologies
I pull away
Removed and frayed
What remains
Is a pile of ash
To be swept up in time by the wind
Dec 25, 2012
Dec 25, 2012 at 5:44 AM UTC
A dying man does nothing easy,“Lock and load. Let's do it”,said G.W. Green
Right before Jack Pursley sent 3-5 grams of sodium thiopental coursing through his veins
in Texas. Sticking with the states motto it was probably 5. As lethal drugs flowed into his arms, he used an obscenity to describe life, gasped once and made no further movement.
Imagine his brief confidence in the face of this adversity, before the heart’s blood
Settled in the ventricles.
Some have called such confidence a monstrosity titled, “Hubris”--
Alexander of Macedonia thought it necessary, to cross the turbulent river against fear
-ful odds. For destiny demanded imitation of his exemplar Achilles
Quickly eroded was this by the pleas of Parmenio, who reasons it would be,“failure at the outset.”
Imagine Alexander reciting the words of G.W. Green, instead of heeding to this squelching caution
How quickly we’d throw this decisions bones in the pile, with ******
In Stalingrad & Nixon in Vietnam
All to be shoved in to, a mass grave of faulted zealots.
Covered with soil, bitter compost not to be forgotten
Rosemary sprouts next to a burning
bush in Iraq.
Dec 25, 2012
Dec 25, 2012 at 5:36 AM UTC
Surely in the distant future historians will find our civilization
Appalling, destructive, gluttony,
Stricken.
Receipts of items that once fulfilled our temporal desires will fill earth
creating a toxic compost for life
To nourish upon
They'll blame us for the decay
And devolution of man
They'll duly note our fascination
With stimulants and violent trends
And most of all, they'll be unable
To comprehend our impotency
our hubris our clemency
They'll construct theories
That moor our cultural malaise
To each recrudescence of tyranny
In essence they will despise our very nature.
Not out of contempt but out of fear that they too will fall
prey to the plague.
Dec 25, 2012
Dec 25, 2012 at 5:27 AM UTC
Of the hospital
I sat clenching a leopard
filled with beads.
Father beside me
Tapping his chestnut wingtips against
the bloodless linoleum floors.
It was September. The heat oppressive,
Like the Moors toward foes
in the Iberian Peninsula.
Rays illuminated the woes of those ‘round me.
A barrier existed
emanating from within
Fleshed out by a zeal, to not be on one’s own
At the dinner table, as Father responded
to a **** addict’s violent implosion on Nile Street.
At Carmel-by-the-Sea building sand castles to be
--washed away by the tides
on the bay enrobed with fire
Fleshed out by a desire to be
dethroned.
Fulfillment flooded the lobby,
Father ceased his tapping,
A Florence Nightingale lead the way
past bland white doors,
past elderly covered in black crusted sores
past a priest who pours a libation.
In to the room of your entrance,
Nearest and dearest gathered ‘round
the blemished linoleum floor
Warm cries hollowed down
the halls, signifying your existence
Clenching a leopard
filled with beads. (Now in the attic)
Mother Rose freckled and content
Embraced you, as the world still spun
My eyes a maelstrom of red yellow and black,
seeped streams of grey streams of grey
for the loneliness fleeted that Autumn day.
Dec 25, 2012
Dec 25, 2012 at 5:24 AM UTC