Tempered glasses
Surround my vision.
Eyes denounce the truth.
You aren’t around.
You don’t exist here.
But your shadow
Permeates all my senses.
The institution of my mind
The crazy animal farm
That cages my steeds.
My royal legion of needs
Riding to the east
Sunrises and Seas

I can’t shake loose.
The rambling jargon of my youth

I know I am not worth much on the stage.
I don’t look good, got no rhythm.
But I ain’t afraid
When the bottles of judgement
Slice the air in my direction near
I salute them with a guzzle of the beer.
Until all my feelings become sheer
See through them and I learn.
Standing tall isn’t as firm.
As all the promises that make me yearn
To see you in the flesh
But the best is yet to come.

Just a ****** for the high
That keeps me in the bedroom.
All night
I usually flee.
The eject valve always close by
Ready to launch.
Me into space
Alone
Solitude sometimes is.
The only necessity that exists.

Can you understand?
If I surround myself with only memory
And regret
And not let you in
Because you are my Achilles heel
My denouement, after the spill
Of all my blood into the sink
Brushing my teeth
Too quick to think.
I quip, prickly and sick.

I choked on life.
And threw out the bit.
I can’t be tamed.
A horse girl by name
I ain’t a leaf, falling to the wind.
I am the howl through the chimes.
The moment of rhyme
When it all falls into line

Battle my spine up to my brain.
I can show you where your heart is.

Beating in my chest of drawers
Roque style
For good ole America’s sake
You can peek.
Inside
Your own hearts desire
And see for yourself.
Who is there, in the eye,
Of your storm
I am in the valley of shadow.
I am in the sea of tranquility.

Your heart carries all seasons.
Shades
Phases
It is the moon.
Radiance in permanence
A companion
For my earthly desire
My heavenly want

I am a spiritual oasis.
And you are the tide builder.
Rippling in from the cast stone
Blame tossed.
Former lover
Disbarred from passing judgement.
Cruel and unusual punishment

I am sure that I can break you free.
Of chains you created
Once you are able

Rather than like Cain
Giving into the rain

I shatter the staff
that emotional crutch of other drugs
upon the bridges you burned.
We burned.
To watch the wood splinter
Embers floating into the sky.
Flickering out
As a lightning bug passes by

I got your current.
In my hair
I got the shake down shimmy.
I can jimmy loose that locked up blood pump.
You ***** little punk
I got your sedation.
Stirred into my milkshake
**** it up, its extra thick.
Spill some on the table,
I’ll make you lick.

You ain’t gotta shimmer.
But surely you shine.
If only you saw the colours
Sparkling through the vines
growing around your chest
where once a heart laid to rest

I know they killed it dead.
But I got a certificate.
In CPR
I can resuscitate.
Make it beat.
Make the heat.

sink or swim.
trial by fire
flight, fight, run, or hide.
seek destroy.
isolate
terminate
whatever man
as long as it’s not the status quo.
the queue for owing you.
something that I can’t afford.

A moment in time
lost to a name.
a place
a stage fit for another queen.
who had set her sun.
Breaking Orbit and running
down to the moment
of separation
my trial by error
one chance
This very last breath
from my lips to yours
back to my head
inside
surrounded by dread.
but alive
instead of what else is there?
beyond the great veil
lift it.
Kiss back
fool hardy laughs.

She climbs Rae Hill alone.
Dusty rose parka, fur-trimmed, stitched with bears.
Mother’s coat, draped around jutting bones.
It creaks with memory.
It holds her upright.

The world below fractured—
friends turned to factions,
civil discourse to war,
until the orange sky burst,
radiant, radioactive, and bleak.

She carries them still.
In breath. In bone.
In the hiss of her Walkman.
Tiger Lily // Doom & Bloom // Vol. 1
A mixtape made by stragglers,
who danced in arcades,
who kissed under fluorescents,
who screamed poetry into payphones.

The tape crackles.
The bees rise.
Green sweat shimmer, orbiting her head.
Not chaos—choreography.
They hum in flickerhymn frequencies.
They crown her in silence.

No elders. No banners.
No one but bees to witness
the prayer upon her scabbed knees.
Even the gods ignored her plight,
ignored the blight of the whole world.

She maps the city below.
Not with satellites, but with swarm.
The water tower—let it flow.
Top Hat Arcade. Stardust Lounge.
Thomson Press. Schumacher School.
All gone. All glowing in bee-geometry.

They put her on a throne—
a blood child made to own.
But when war came, she was left alone.
To fight for her right to exist.
She was no drone.
To each his own—
but hers was forged in frost and flame.

She has plasma eyes,
not for seeing, but for searing.
Kerosene smiles,
not for comfort, but combustion.
The bees orbit her like electrons.
She is not warmth.
She is ignition.

Ash Vale climbs poplar trees, hoping to see.
A bounty hunter by trade,
he renege’d—against pay, against boss—
to witness her.

Blue eyes like icebergs,
freezing all emotion in place.
He watches from the treeline.
He does not speak.
He becomes part of the myth.

She sees him.
She does not flinch.
The bees shift formation:
Witness Accepted.

She rises.
She descends Rae Hill,
not as a child,
not as a fugitive,
but as the Emerald Queen.

Her decree is not shouted.
It is carried in voltage.
In mixtape hiss.
In bee-wing rhythm.
In every place she reclaims,
every name she remembers,
every sigil the swarm draws in dusk.

Lead me to the lunar waterfall.
Chased in your crystalline dreams.
Bending beams of light colour the scene.
Sparkly, still, and serene.
You have what you hold,
And you hold what you hunger for.
And you got what you grasped.
And you want what you wield.
And you have me.
By the hand,
Jumping joyfully into
Mare Tranquillitas below,
Crying out Geronimo,
Bombs away,
Blasting regret,
Lost love,
Trenches, traps, and ticking time bombs,
Quarantine quarters,
And toxic teenage terrains.
Dispersing into droplets,
As our flesh hits the foam,
Diving down,
Delving deep into memory.
Looking up to the surface,
Light lances through,
Tears twining with the tide—
You can’t see me cry.
Skeletons of secret sins,
Dancing, drying by the fires
Started with your cold heart’s last gleaming.
Like the Fourth with Fireworks,
Blazing bursts in the ******* sky,
Same shade as your iris,
Glowing galaxies in circles around a black hole,
Dilated, dark,
Growing, gravitating by the minute.
Minuet in G,
In the newborn garden of Eve,
Setting sun, seen from Hadley Rill,
Watching wonders from the hills,
Ocean of storms,
Swirling, sighing, singing.
The centre of your soul,
Aligns with mine.
Two event horizons,
Colliding,
Black holes, binding,
Into the big bang,
Giving life, light, love
Again
To our weary, wandering hands.
We pick up the pen, the power,
Mightier than the howling hordes
Against us
When they find out
What we did
On the backside of the bold, bright Luna.
I have you in my head.
Bloodrushed,
Pulsing, pounding under my skin,
Veins vibrant, alight from within.
Spark me,
Smoke me,
Like a **** of twilight’s last hope.
Luke, you are the Last one.
I need social shields,
To cope with the look on their faces
When they see me
At the party
You throw in my honour.
I regained,
In the war for your word,
Returned to glory,
For the story.
For the girl,
For bounty,
For *****,
And being bold,
Standing up for the good,
To our own selves
We can be true.
Lovers, in luminous, lawless times.
Nuclear nightmares aimed over waves.
We have our lunar lunch,
Floating in the featherlight fog of low gravity,
Double-jointed dream suits,
Spacetime spiraling,
Redux and redo,
Tea for two,
Waltzing on the moon.

She sits under the burnt-out street lamp,  
Waiting for the sun to rise,  
But there is never enough light,  
She can't see to fight  
And her demons have the upper hand.  
They gnash their teeth in her direction  
And smile a jagged grin,  
Full of broken teeth that spit out echoes of her broken words  
And lies.  
They worm their way through the distance,  
Coming closer to her location,  
And she can smell their vile essence—  
The stench of death and ill repute,  
The stink of inhumane rage and shame.  
It smells of decay:  
Dead trees and dying wildlife,  
Like a city of millions  
In the depths of smog  
From industry gone too far,  
From burning dead bodies in the street.  
They sing of ruin and dismay  
To dishearten the sentimental  
And cause everlasting pain.  
The people say just dance in the rain,  
It will cause the demons to turn and run,  
But smiling under the blackened sky  
Looks like someone who has lost their mind.  
Shadows are long,  
Shade is cold,  
Darkness seeps up from the ground  
Like black tulips that grow in graveyards  
And the fork-tongued agents of doom  
Dance on the tombs of the fallen,  
Those who never witnessed a dawn.  
She stands alone under the darkened lamp,  
Waiting for the crest of the sun  
To roll down the hills like golden honey,  
To cover all the wounds found in the woods of darkness,  
Where demons crawl like maggots feasting on the souls  
Of enlightened and brightened and frightened too.  
Who will fight her cause?  
Who will stop and pause?  
Who will offer a hand or a shoulder  
To carry the boulder  
To just hold her.

Salutations—  
Your friendly neighborhood shaman.  
If you agree, I’ll set your worried mind free.  
Sit down a while, feel like a child.

Sing, moon child!
Sing for the night,  
Sing for the one you hold tight,  
Sing for the weary, distant light.

Don’t idle—  
Here’s your guitar, play a solo that lingers.  
You’re a demigod of sound,  
But your gifts have been underground.  
Time to awaken—  
The earth needs shaking.

I’ll lead you to a mystical void,  
Where clarity births choice,  
And through it, you’ll find your voice.

The shaman fades.  
You reach for your guitar.  
Three chords in—  
A glittering sphere appears, then bursts.  
She stands before you:  
The green-eyed girl from your dreams.

Hair like rivers, eyes like flame.  
She lifts your guitar, says, “Play again.”  
Your heart stammers, hands shake.  
You strum—first a hum, then rhythm takes.

You sing of sultry dances, second chances.  
Your fevered voice makes her lips quiver.  
You know you’ll kiss her—  
But will you remain once you learn her name?

You’ve found your voice.  
But first—a sacrifice:  
A white dove.

In the void,  
You devour the bird whole.  
Now you’re free from your past—  
Your resolve built to last.

You run to the next chapter—  
Stages and spotlights.  
You’ll be a star,  
Sing like a coalmine canary,  
Though your heart is weary.

You sing for the woman in your dreams.  
She is your voice, your only choice.  
Your rage becomes songs destined to hit.

I am the mage, the wizard.  
I have a stage—my sonic blizzard.  
A wall of sound,  
Where I’ll finally be found.

Six strings and a plectrum,  
A death wish, a spectral spectrum.  
I’ll unleash this rainbow in the dark—  
Tell your angels, “Hark!”

I’ll slay demons with speed,  
And conquer my need—  
To lay beside her  
In the quiet after the song’s ******.

The rhythm I keep is my heartbeat.  
Each chord I pick, each riff that kicks—  
Ends the siege of my spirit.

Winter is near—can you hear it?  
I’ll build a musical emporium  
To settle old scores,  
And hold a moratorium  
On lonely love, shattered by the dove.

Fuchsia flecked, rhinestone-rimmed cowboy hat
Embroidered boots to match
Silver spurs, slick, sharp and shimmering
Lookin’ brand new but battered beneath
Travelled far, walking the jagged beat

Where have I been?
Where am I?

Have you seen my mind
Floating in fermented bliss
From the Journey’s Inn,
Destination for friends old and new
Veterans from valleys of domestic arms race,
Comparing wounds from the endless chase
For elusive, blood-drenched euclace.

Oh, the cheap whiskey
Burns brighter
Than all the dead desire
Where carrion birds gather
At the corpse of joy
Bottoms up
Chin chin
Let the velvet gospel begin

Mr. Depression enters the room
A silver slash of sorrow
Sick with his own lore
“Fancy meeting you,” he croons, cold
“Lookin’ like you need a bitter brew to hold”
Warm whiskey winds down the throat’s hallowed hall
To rattle the rusted lock on memory’s mausoleum wall

Have you seen me before?
You might recall—last week, perhaps
Grumpy, frumpy, meek, weak collapse
My garden of grace, paved over with gravel and grit
Wilted and wasted in drought’s cruel spit
Crawling through viper pits and dens of bad deeds
I felt relief
Of quenching parched desire
With earned fire in a glass

Oh, the cheap whiskey
Burns brighter
Than all the dead desire
Where carrion birds gather
At the corpse of joy
Bottoms up
Chin chin
Let the velvet gospel begin

Two stools to sit upon
Lost boy and riot girl
Pink Lady and Velvet Gentleman
Again and again
Bottoms up
Chin chin

They laugh at the tribute band
Silly performance on the slanted stage
Baring crooked teeth
Yellowed from age
Chipped from rage
Filed down by fate

Two AM, wobbling down the jagged street
Holding up the night’s end
Keeping everyone awake
Our lonely bones vibrating
With resonating lust

Urban lamps flickering
Like my wine-coloured iris
Oh, but what are dreams
When fiction binds at the seams
Creating woven fabric of tapestry
Truth in forward motion
Stitching together fragments of reality

Like Casper the ghost, drifting down wishing wells
Pleading, plundered, pitiful
Unseen to those untouched by sorrow

But tonight
With my fuchsia hat
And a bombastic laugh
That overshadows the grief
That had once been on tap
Grabbing grief by the gnarled neck
Shaking loose threads of regret
Into more useful shapes
In bedrooms with velvet duvets

Oh, the cheap whiskey
Burns brighter
Than all the dead desire
We stitch our sorrow
Into velvet fire
Bottoms up
Chin chin
Let the velvet gospel begin