I found myself sheltered
in bed alongside a spectral form,
unconcerned by the storm
surrounding the building
in which I was confined -
immensely thankful to be inside
nestled alongside
the majesty of this deity.

The picture beside me;
a miracle
to my mortal eyes,
too pure for my iniquitous mind
Was she simply a creation
of my imagination?
Could the source of this illusion
be a supernatural delusion?
Perhaps a byproduct
of idiosyncratic thought patterns
systematic to my being?
I wondered...

As an expression of appreciation,
a necessity to shape an effigy
of this manifestation of Aphrodite,
has become my life's devotion -
culminating in the
unveiling presentation,
a ceremony of biblical proportions.

I will soon awaken
and none of this
will have any substantial relevance...
         however
the lucidity of this vision
has given me a reason for optimism;
born out of this distorted dream
I now believe
there are angels among us,
it would seem.

i look forward
to that moment
where your body
will no longer
purely, intensely
be my fantasy

our bodies will harmonize,
cascading they'll meet
to an orchestra;
and firework display
of satisfaction
where my mind
may finally say
'how right those dreams
were all along'

our bodies will write
a new song;
the one i have dreamed
from the first
moment
our stars
did meet

close your eyes,
and turn off your mind
my sweet, blue valentine.
accept that we won't find
love in this lifetime.

no matter, how we desire;
water cannot be turned to wine,
a camel cannot fit
through a needles eye.
and we will never know love -
for it wasn't made in our size

shiny race cars ****
    around the monopoly board
    chasing flags and champagne
      in a head spin of burning rubber
      and thirty five million eighty-six'd dinners.

every roll of my dice
lands me in a pit of snakes
sliding down as i shoot to score
my shots and knocks
have chutes behind every door.

sensibility walks in
in a probability suit
      hooting that i won three raffle ticket draws
before i turned twenty-one
and that my sun crowed thrice
striking the same place
a wiggling wormhole mistake of rising too early.
      as i'm drunkenly bounced, 'to save face'
from my own party.

a taxman walked on water
or walked out of his own tomb
still i dig in his bag of tricks
wondering 'what else he can do'.
i paid him every month
even rendering Caesar his due
now that my leather gathers dust
in my time of dying
i stand cap in hand
begging at his door
only for a drawer of daggers
to stab me in the back. 'hey, A for trying'.

never was aesthetically pleasing
to be a washed up has been

i'm on par for the so far so good steeple
but i'm swinging for an eagle.

motor-sport and politics
are bugs on my cracked windscreen
the lance in my side
and the spear in my rear
remains the same to this day
that idiot wind stealing my cigarettes
a crux shaped rash that just won't go away.

i may shake the water off my feather back
like a stick of melting butter
but the breeze blows
huffing and puffing leaky oil rig rings
that this fluffing puffin can't escape.

give me the cross or give me the chair
but that idiot wind
will steal all i hold dear.

open the door
yours films almost done

feast your tired, starving eyes
on the screaming screen
as a church ***** sets in motion
the rewinding of a binding sermon

whispers drift in on the west wind
from fruitful hilltops
into the blood floods on the streets
disguised as badly dressed drunken pretense

leaping through a swirly bokeh lens
smashing the fourth wall
the singer lays his song at your feet
sacrificing himself entirely

the allusion lies in smithereens
as kings and queens bend over backwards
trying to mend the four fallen horsemen
pondering what may have been

* let the wind guide you
past flying arrowheads

swim with furious strokes
through the anxious eggshell men
who sit with boggy intentions
at the gates of that sinking mire

move with the moon whispering shaman
as he toasts the beaded chalice
filled with amazonian vine brewed potion
rooted in the foundation of a forest

dance in fireside shadows
and on heavy clouds of smoke
to the beating of animal-skin drums
fly with him, let him take you

* believe in the book
for a beast exists within you.

While feasting and drinking
weapons lay unmanned
as the attack came swiftly
flipping the board with flash floods
hollowing the halls
swallowing the hoards.

Without moats
dug in preparation for the onslaught
horns began blasting their deafening mort
halting, shaking sitting ducks
in the firing-line
for a live fire final round.

   ashes to ashes
     mirrors burned to smoke on the ground

   brick by brick
     towering castles came crashing down

   dust to dust
     bodies returned in a soiled mound

Panacea drifts in a full circle
turning life-rafts into caskets
floating down the Nile
where suit-and-tie crocodiles salivate and wait
dislocated jaws spread
extended beyond greed or failure
  fervidly seeking to feed and savor
leaving our downstream drifting
reed-basket fate
in the same boat
// a replica //
of the devoured bread-basket savior.

Walk with me through this siesta city
under the redbreast robin sunset

as the wind whistles in between crevices
of grey, moss covered skyscrapers

and the idle streets run into the distance
like a dry river, empty, but for parked cars.

From tar to dirt as the monotone
mechanical hum transforms
into an orchestra of rustling leaves
accompanied by the gentle finesse of a running stream.
Beyond the smokeless factory district
where the monochrome backdrop
bursts into vibrant shades of green
sprinkled with blooming skittle wildflowers.

Lets us lay a picnic blanket
on the overgrown grass
and drink a bottle of wine from plastic glasses
as we watch the sun sink below the horizon.

You could lie down on your back
toes pointed heavenward
under the star splashed ceiling
while you see the northern lights behind your shut eyelids
and praise the highest heavens in foreign tongues
among the sounds of a trickling stream
fusing with clinking wind-chime echoes
deep in the throes of the holiest of holy's.

Care to join me for a stroll
to the land of milk and honey, hunny?