Ant people is what they are
teeth clattering together
out-coming syllables of
insensitive, insufferable nonsense
Pinchers cleaning after a feed
Some revolting alien dialect
Smash them, then
into the gravel
back to the maze-caves of the Underworld
the holes from which they jitter and twitch
but then pause to stretch cold joints
long, black armor-limbs
blink blank eyes upon the new sun's light
They too bask in its rays, like I
awakening the mind for another grind
warming sleepy muscles to pursue crumbs of bread
Like I
So smash, no
let them crunch and spit out uselessness
Just play instead an in-head voice-over
a compilation of wonderer's revelations
Let them crawl, let them be
slowly exoskeletons shed to flesh
antenna's recede to shags of brown
framing lively eyes
pupils recognized as Human
Humane
Words are intent
should be meant as the sun
beams to progress the colony as one
We are the same
Feb 4, 2013
Feb 4, 2013 at 8:46 PM UTC
that Red Kite
it swayed and soared
that Red Kite
it swooped and roared high over hills
Suzanne said 'far away it flies
fast and free
and frolics and falls to follow me!'
sure enough
f
a
l
l
it did.
and Johnny said 'just get
r i d
of that ridiculous rangle
that rambunctious tangle
of rope and Red.'
and to Suzanne,
Johnny was dead
Feb 4, 2013
Feb 4, 2013 at 8:45 PM UTC
The Night Watcher pleads
“Oh, say, say, say”
He slips each rotting corpse beneath gray epitaphs bread and water
prisoners of six feet, dirt, wood, fate
"Please speak, please say"
Mumbling under a thick dark blanketing the moon
The Night Watcher floats between stones
awing statues adorned with shiny gifts and flowery colors
trinkets of the worthy
kneels longer at dusty crosses
gives them spare bread
"Ha! Say, do say!" He laughs
pursuing conversation with the silent sleepers
No answer comes through the soil
applause of dead men silenced
crossed arms stiff in cramped coffins
The Night Watcher lays among strangers
counts the lone stars
Feb 4, 2013
Feb 4, 2013 at 8:44 PM UTC
Chirphead Cedarson's grave
simple as it was
two damp branches
held together by
John C. Rhoades' own twine
was just one foot deep
Stiff in Nature's Valley box
asleep, I could have thought
Small feathered body
slammed against a Supreme frozen window
Reflection of endless landscapes
perfect for practicing new wings
deceived Chirphead
to demise
Woodsy first found him
melted snowflakes
coated the body like April dew
[for little birds, even unmoving, remind me
of spring]
Four of us [strangers most]
stood 'round this gaping grave
a wormhole to the underworld
giggling through made-up confessions
Chirp on playa'
I didn't know you well
What's a bird to do if He'll never be a gangsta'?
Four Sorry's who've never lived mortality
just addictions
depressions
o(re)pressions
leading to he'said-she-said's
never knew my Daddy's dead
Momma never tucked me into bed
Where's our heads?
Four Sorry's smiling over Chirphead's grave
Sean shoveled dark dirt
back into tiny tomb
First scoop over the granola cardboard
sounded like
one-thousand
baby birds
hitting glass
like bulletts
Felt funny to smile,then
But a breath of crisp mountain air
fog rolling over distant trees
thoughts of
fresh coffee
cracking fire
one-eyed snowmen
Gave my conscience a most comforting
ignorant
Hug
Feb 4, 2013
Feb 4, 2013 at 8:41 PM UTC
Been coming to this lonely space
at end of every dragged-on day
searching for your sharp face
A place
where blunt blondes give away their aces
to the first bro-capped scrap of scruff-and-meat they meet
I drink with them just to get some sleep
Hope to see you
in their glazed eyes
gleam and glitter behind
some whisky-washed disguise
A piece of Gold I must behold again
trying to find my treasure, baby
y o u
swimming somewhere in the dark depths
of those shallow souls
Press my body up
Try to feel you hard
against the bar
where once we learned just how far
the other'd go
to ease the painful slow
of forlorn nights
we were knit-tight then
each-the-others safety pin
Now
its these neon lights that keep me safe
illuminate you back to life
these neon signs, baby, make me cry
used to preach
"Love Not War"
but these neon signs
these neon signs
they don't lie anymore
Though I try
I'll never find you here
only stale cigarettes and beer
your lingering scent
keeps me near
holds my early aces dear to you
It's your withheld spades I still fear
still feel their spears pierce
my open, helping heart
should have folded at our start
Oh, how I hoped to find you, baby
s o m e w (h e r e)
Bartender! another beer
Feb 4, 2013
Feb 4, 2013 at 8:35 PM UTC
In(hail the high)
Ex(hail the habit)
In(hail the escape)
Blowing away the aches
of winter-worn bones
My darling and I
name the smoke ghosts
wave goodbye to our demons
as they billow and float
up
up
away to the nicotine graveyard
dug deep in the sky
In(hail the hope)
Ex(hail the escape)
Though
ever approaching is our fate
the high will end
we must awake
reality waits
with a gun and a snake
Feb 4, 2013
Feb 4, 2013 at 8:34 PM UTC
Purrr-fectly petite paws press
between my blades
a free feline-massage
She refrains from complaints
Ignores ***** plates
cups stacked up
Enjoys smelly socks
scattered across a distracted dreamer's floor
Doesn't think movies I watch are a bore
Could I ask for much more?
Oh, maybe this
is the bliss
of which some speak
I think
as she pounces
and plops upon me
a friendly, furry hug
Feb 4, 2013
Feb 4, 2013 at 8:34 PM UTC
it's up for grabs
rent - free
this precious
private passage
where believers tell me
sin hides somewhere
lurking in shadows
of desire
from me
for free
however
hypocrites preach :
'it's best to seek
the highest bidder'
I re-consider.
Feb 4, 2013
Feb 4, 2013 at 8:33 PM UTC
Some words zip around like a dying fly's corpse hitting a fan. It's pieces should be collected, fit together, observed, and put in the ground where no one will find them; where no one will dig them up to utter them again. And the stale blood should be wiped from the blades, for they will keep spinning, and no one likes the sound of a truth gone false, whizzing 'round incessantly in their head. No one likes the crimson smell of something they'd rather forget.
Feb 4, 2013
Feb 4, 2013 at 8:33 PM UTC
skin like
honey
breath
the same
subtly sweet
spiced with
the morning's cigarette
i recall it
more than i should
for my
own good
then
i am there again
toe to toe
skin to skin
******* it in
giving your Co2
a toxic ride
in my blood
watching your lips
exhale
to take
a big
smile
in spite of themselves
Feb 4, 2013
Feb 4, 2013 at 8:32 PM UTC