The tomahawk man writes
In prussic acid,
The orphans of Eureka,
Freckled flaws and faces,
Yearn for their mothers,
Wish father might be captured,
And forced to think
Beyond his obsessive deciphers,
A bottle of cognac and three roses
Placed on his grave marker
Every January 19,
As a reminder of life,
And a toast to death.

Drones in the sky
Fleeing young couples game
Sick of shepherd's pie
Hunting different friendly animals
Nothing left to deny
A prayer for the near living
Wonder why so high
Defection from the starry heavens
Deify us an alibi
It was the woman you gave me
Move on to a new stimuli
So...you live around here often?

I immediately know by
the way you look up at me
from underneath your lashes

you don't have to say a word
the high color on your countenance
the spark in your eyes

speak their own language
convey their own thoughts
plead with me to touch you

Today I got taken out
of my box and nuked
for a dizzy-filled eight minutes,
all my artificial byproducts,
and something close to,
but not quite called, meat
melted and congealed together
in a semi-appetizing way,
just enough to be consumed
in a famished **** of teeth,
gums, and spittle,
and here I now sit in a pit
--purgatory's gut--
dreaming I was made of real
pepperoni and sausage,
running free in the open fields
of DiGiorno.

Once upon a time
in a tiny kingdom
called Beautiful Water
there lived a silly faux monarch and his fair maiden
in their castle aka duplex

No mote, no portcullis
but one groovy fence about a humble abode
littered with rooms
ill-appointed and dingy
but with affectionate wainscoting in spades

Nonetheless, they would often rue
the lack of spoil within those walls
'twas an age of shoddy floor-space
like a page with no margins
hence, the royal bedchamber was more a sleep shed

Trips out of town, no doubt
called for something fancy
a room with a view
a bed fit for a king
to stretch out without bother

But a funny thing happened on the way
to forming a quorum
they both pined
for the cramped quarters
left behind

The little bumps
and rubs in the night
came to be a comfort
a way of saying
"Hello, I know you're there and I like it that way"

I'm the poisoned drink
Of your dreams
Come and sit on this throne
Be my perpendicular queen
When the doors are locked
With my psychosis wide open
You'll understand what
All of this means

Love,
Henry VIII

All play and no work
Makes Jack a La-Z-Boy

The steady light
that continues to keep
long after the flame
has settled to sleep

Gwyneth Paltrow’s ****** Candle
may be completely sold out,
but it's not the only bizarre product she sells – how about jade eggs that can be inserted into the ****** and “recharged” with the light of a full moon?

All things considered, the candle is pretty much on-brand...

"The lady's gone mutiny"
Ship to shore communiqué

Desertion hath come to pass
In a salty kiss named betray

Beaten by the waves
24/7

Turning towards goodbye
As cruelest form of heaven

Unfurl the sails
Catch the wind

Rough seas ahead
Spelling out our end

I'm only following you
because I can't break out
of your gravitational pull

incubator
technological mother
wi-fi our blood vessels
to your eternal link
make us passionate machines
symbiotic connections
programming a love
continuously on update
in lieu of heartbreak
in lieu of heartbreak
in lieu of heartbreak
in lieu of...
fail
buffering
abort
retry
error

Can't be sodium-free, baby
Not when life is in hyperdrive
And microwave is king

My wife doesn't know
Which is worse:

That this comes in only two sizes

Or that it's reusable!

You may be able to keep
Your money in a bank
But never your secrets

Not with so many tellers

Red dress confessions
on a black dress
kind of evening
slip one off
slip the other over your shoulders
make sure your
eyeshadow and knickers
match your intentions
otherwise we might never
get the opportunity
to have this last dance
to our song
before outside forces
separate
you and I
forevermore

Never
sell
your
dreams

...to
the
first
offer

The Event Horizon takes
Its coffee black

The Milky Way takes
It with cream and sugar

Is never longer than forever?
or do they live so close together
they often get each other's mail?

Backstroking
into a midnight snack.

That's some bad hat, Harry!

See the sign with the fishy graffiti?

It's supposed to be scary.

Come one, come all
on the fourth of July!

Put your kid on a raft
and watch him liquefy.

Then sail the high seas
with Captain Ahab.

Three men in a tub.

Too far out to hail a cab.

Guess we'll see who ends up grub...

I'm sick and tried
of feeling sick and tired

A bird in the hand
Is worth a whole slew
In the Australian bush

3 is a backwards E
But V is the prettiest letter to me
I guess I'm a sucker for triangles
And the item on my wish list
That best bedazzles
And primps with such grace
I swear she winks
When right up in my face

A word to the wise
About Mr. Wall Street's habits
He so easily gets down
And is then one drink away
From depression

She enters the gratification car
With Victorian lace choker
Porcelain décolletage
And phasers on stun
Don't worry lovergirl
You can't hold a candle to her
But you'll burn your fingers trying
Look at the front of her dress
Look at her passport
Look at how the aisleway clears
She's enroute to a foreign
Meet and greet
Tracking approval
With the shape
Of her sitzfleisch
The conductor has
No need of compass
For her ******* point the way
Once derailed
You can mock and stomp
'Til kingdom come
Until then save your pandering
For trips to the loo
You'll enjoy the ride
Far better if you pretend
She's your sister
And not the woman
Who gave birth to you...

The waffle bird
Flew a bit silly
Like a **** pad with wings
Yet with its sharp claws
Reached down into the water
And pulled out
A dinner boat
Serving breakfast all day long...

You're here for my pleasure
In all kinds of weather
Floated down from above
Like peace in a mechanical dove
Goes through the trapdoor

I've been sent to prism
For minor refractions
My days of frequent violets
Are now in the past
As the light in me
Is slowly emerging
Tomorrow I'll open my eyes
And find correction of vision
Mingled with distorted spectrum

Green yellow red
Are the color of my pills
Pass go I collect them all
The road rages in my head

There's a special place
In my heart for guns:
Left ventricle
Where the bullet lodged

I had a hard time
Seeing other people's
Point of view
So I started collecting opinions
Now I can't make up my mind

I like to go places
It's people I avoid
I travel mostly abroad
But can't recall her name
Half the time

A good driving record
Is worth zilch these days
But ******* might
Lower my premiums

Dogs are man's best friend
Yet they lick themselves
Men are better drivers than women
Yet they trick themselves
Too much time spent in cars
And not enough
In the one they love

There's an old saying
I can't remember
And it goes something
Like this:

Wipe the dust from your feet
Before you come inside
It keeps the house in order
Especially should it get
Sold out from under you

Most of us are but one paycheck
Away from being homeless
Man is the most dangerous animal
Dwelling in the cage of his vehicle
I used to work on Wall Street
Most days now I just pray

Don't worry
Everything equals out in the end
Except life
I'm always so sure
What lies beyond the next bend
Will finally be to my advantage
How could it be though
When my creditors
Own the road?

Rustle of trees,
Static in the air,
Radio wave disturbance,
Satellites offline,
Yet, undetected in the solar constant.

If a woman's voice
Falls in the forest,
(Or her own home,
for that matter),
Does it make a sound?

Or does it simply,
Once more,
In the grand scheme of things,
Fall upon the deaf ears
Of an ignorant man?

...Bursting out of
Salma Hayek's dress!

Can someone please
Get her a wrap or shawl?!!

Abate
Suppress
Together we form silence
Mute
Extinguish
Without a sound
Our love is diminished

Okay honey
Let's spell pollinate
With a bit of math
Anther + stigma = fertilization
Let's pollinate for a spell
Under the quilt
Then over the river
And through the woods
Without any cover we go
Making babies in summertime
May we reap
What we sow

Gift me with song
My darling flute-player
Gentle stirrings
Musical stimuli
Rouse the heavens
To extraordinary flight
Take me to the throes
Of immorality and back
The jetstream of which
Will glisten like gold
Upon your sacrificial lips

Eating out is a nightmare
as every meal dissolves
into a food poisoning scare.

Riding the merry-go-round
is a disaster, your claim of being allergic
to horses forces them to shut it down.

Google is your friend,
symptom searches are endless
whether they're real or pretend.

While reading this poem
you begin to feel a bit worse for wear,
wishing you were in bed at home.

Headache?
Brain tumor is your answer.
Sore throat?
It's probably cancer.

You're not sure if your back hurts
or your kidneys are failing,
neurotic to a fault
you call in sick to your own wedding.

You even press for a second opinion
to see if it's serious,
nonetheless, we do wish you a speedy
recovery from your imaginary illness.