Bulging bright Bugs
Crawl children Crawl

I recognize my saints.
They grow betwixt the cracks in the concrete,
whispering me awake from among the refuse.

I see my gods.
Worshiping from a sleeping bag wedged behind a dumpster,
they seep through the mortar between the bricks.

I cast out my demons.
They crawl in the seam between my ears,
exposing my fears knelt down at a church pew.

(I wait patiently for that one day when some holy water will wash this world away).

I hear my priest beckon.
Trip down to the river,
come and play come and play.

I feel my idols.
Plastered on the walls,
watching me laugh with unmurmured eyes.  

I hear my heroes.
Singing from broken speakers,
hear them getting sick hear them being healed.

I recognize my saints.
They grow strong and resilient from cracked concrete,
whispering me awake from among the sleep.

The seasons keep changing
She said
Green slowly turning red
Quickly falling as nature bled
I want to catch them, keep these leaves from
spinning about her head
A pretty, delicate dance our mother holds
calling us to get fed

Fruit of the spirit
Father preached
Stretch up and pluck your pick
A peach for each
Keeps the grey night at bay
Avoiding a breach
Fight the seasons or look up and pray for
Earth can never be impeached

The seasons continue to pass
Sister sang
Clouds roll through the grass
Sun shines dim as thunder clangs
I bring a basket through the fields
Out of the rain, slam the barn with a bang
Sit down and nourish
The seasons change but our seeds
Will flourish

Hollow lady electric
Sing a song sending currents
through the forest hectic

Call me a collector
Of experience eclectic
Rambling down life's alleys
Aesthetic inspector
Seeking sublime fantasies
Forget the money please my debtor

As the credits roll
We strip off our clothes
Rolling around in the muck and the mire
of our sweat combined yet we still catch fire

A burning desire
For something I cannot see
Hiding just beyond periphery

In a plastic world
of centrefolds  
I travel with a blindfold
Honey, my heart ain't cold
Don't you see? Your soul,
It's long been sold

Pray for us now and at the hour of our birth
pray for us now
rebirth

Dig up my bones for
I roll in the grave,
Use them wisely, build a morbid mausoleum,
An elegy to the macabre.

A world that's a waste land pray for hope to be saved,
From swaddled in a cradle to
running reckless disastrously spinning his fable,
Echoed down for years to come
A story constantly revised yet forever left undone.

Eliot your nightmare smiles through this
Faded century,
Hollow men we are
Dead men lost in rat's alley
Where we lost our bones to
A false God named Tech springing from a silicon valley.

Getting through time without a grey hair
I understand love lost its way in the watery space
   somewhere between Vega and Altair
Shantih.                                                        ­               Hours Hours Hours
Pray                                                             ­                    Hours Hours
  for                                                      ­                                   Hours
   me
    now
     and
      at
       my
       death

i tasted death's kiss salty yet sweet
i kissed death then spit in his face
death i betray you thus,
go with the Romans needn't make a fuss
i crucify you while laughing at the absurdity
for i know you shall rise again
and i will dance with you once more
allow you to take me home and tuck me in
just not today, not today
i still have some fight left
my future from me you will not cleft
i remain invincible, untouchable!
be gone from my sights i never knew you
on your lips i will only chew
you are thirsty for me, i know
sponge soaked in vinegar i carry in tow
i will crucify you again, stand tall and bellow,
"I AM IMMORTAL."

When victory is conceded
Love lost
Soul sold, simply, salaciously
Some battles cannot be won
Giving up is a gift
   don't try
Embracing the hollowness
Of a condition most human
Smile at the ants as they toil
Blessed are the sluggards sleeping in their row homes
   don't try
Smile at the ants as they toil.
Life is not hard, in fact-too easy
I scream for more of a challenge,
   living precariously
crashing my car for a laugh,
   living dangerously
overdosing in my bath,
Can you show me a successful life on a graph?
   Laugh at the ants as they toil