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."

The suburban housewives are all prostitutes
Cuckoo CUCKOO cuckoo
Sings the cuckolded husband

Bury the demons in the backyard Jack
Decomposing rotting souls
Enriching the soil
Get rich without any toil.
Step
outside

A glance to the heavens
From the floors of our forest
Reveals many a distant star
Symbolizing neither near or far
This twinkling image destroys the ego
Although in this here woodland
Anything goes
We are the kings of our times, the last of our kings, and the future creators.

The truth only goes as far as the rocks thrown
So I asked the reapers which way to go.
Take a trip with me down memory lane.
My past has no real pain
HUmph - no thank you I would not like any fame
I really have nothing to gain but catharsis
So please don’t call me an artist.
Please call me the man who could not deal with beauty and treachery of life so he wrote after lusting for natures delights.

This is imagery that is in no way imaginary

This is for Chester, crack crack city *****

I am the last of the house of Usher

Locked the body of my lover in the dungeon

I sit above her

As all crumbles about me I will stand tall

Will not fall

Take out your doll and pierce it with pins

With all I have seen I am immune to those sins

Let us all go out and binge

No sense living on the fringe

Get high, after all we all are waiting to die

We struggled simply to float towards the sky

See the souls

Drifting down the Valles Marineris

Past sparkling graves and horrific hieroglyphics

The planes of Sedonia

That face

Looking down at our suspended spinning blue crystal

Shouts a link through time between the eye of RA

Staring back out into that Martian space

Man’s roots are in the stars

All us children of the Millennial
awaiting an omen,
seeking out the last augury,
weaving among the boomers
who present us with a forgery.

Stay strong, my children!
We are the last missionaries,
the last lost lovers,
are the rarest breed indeed,
above us a genuine gospel hovers.

Stay authentic, my friends!
Set out with unmatched veracity,
imperfection glistens these days but,
we see through the deceiving fog with rectitude,
we refuse to be mislead.

Steer the course, my children!
These maps made for us yield no
sensible shape or design when traced,
we forge our own compass.
Forgetting north south east west,
undulating inwards with a steady pace.

"We are the lovers, we are the last of our kind, so hold my hand and keep your chin up and I swear we'll be just fine."

We desire no recompense, only truth.
On sour soiled presidential soliloquies we muster strength again and again to chew, repeatedly breaking a tooth.

With roots above and branches below,
we capture our affections in nature's photo booth
but,
furrow our brows in a sordid mirror reflection.

Stay clean, my sweet princes!
Dart ahead to meet me and my words I will not mince.

Hold steadfast to the healing hope hovering above our masts,
steer this ship with steady hands,
fear not the undertow.

A voyage which is long and treacherous,
but this is no ship of floating fools.

Be proud, my children!
We have sailed successfully into the millennium,
leaving in our wake the outdated value systems of the past.

We are the strong
We are the brave
We are the lovers
The last of our kind

can we stop and get cigarettes?
pull over I think I'm going to be sick
quick open the door,
what's all this trash on your floor?
recognize me
see me
I don't know you
but I need your approval,
in neon lights
and
her **** is wet with fear.
as death whispers in my ear,
"I can whisk you away
from all of this, if you just as say."
I grin
I chuckle
but no, I think I'll stay.
and
my **** is hard with fear.

Long lost lovers unite for one last night of delight,
ain't rekindled romance such a lovely sight.

How can any of us
be separate?
Inextricably linked
to the intangible,
all around us.

One is one
One is all

I run away to California and,
hate it even more than...what was
I looking for?...can only be found,
by peering inwards.
And
Roaming the halls of the psych-wards.
Go down, dig deeper,
and
then get the **** up
out of that pit.
In the face of your demons you can simply spit.
Grab a Cross
Grab a Buddha
Grab an Allah, Allah, Allah,
Shallah.

One is one
One is all

How can anything by individual?
Inextricably linked
to the intangible,
all around us.

We are one
We are all

But, we are angsty
we are antsy.
We have lost our way,
somewhere
someway
along the way.

We are the disgruntled employees of the cosmos,
but
to quit is derelict despair,
we must reform our position,
and
keep in sight any opposition.
But, who are they? if not us?

When one is all
When we are one
All is well

You sit outside on your front porch, with nothing to do but look out on
The dream
Contemplations haunt these new, dusty streets
    intersecting in your mind are regrets not easily left behind
Loving the self inflicted pain produced inside
   Get up and leave that porch
   Make a left and walk until collapse
When will the music come back
A heart attack almost welcoming
A deer in the headlights
Swerve right
Durango has a high high
height

Grips me
Grabs me
Lusts me
Locks me a POP chorus run off rails
Unspecified Undesirable Unseen
But
Understood.
U-Turn leave the
Unholy
Otherworldly siege of temptations
Judas Iscariot ascending as Icarus
Only to realize inevitably dust settles

What becomes of one with a broken compass?
Who leads who in a world of acidreaming prophecies ?
An age of false promises and dot.com **** Bellaire
Ownership
My land of the free
Your home of the Brave
New World without bees

Sweat a skip in the record
Burn what you think you should do
Listen to the ghosts inside your head
Blur… just ******* blur EVERYTHING
Become anonymous
Become famous
Drop out
Knock out Lady Luck      AHHHH ****
Because it is importantly cool not togiveafuck


Lumpy lopsided souls stand in line
Don’t drug inject fluoride Put a plug in the self deprecating whines or get back in line with a gaze of blight
Beg for pearly whites
Everything conspicuous
Everyone a conspiracy
Eat WalledoffStreet as it crumbles
Cash in
Sell out
What?

Yourself.                                                                  (Ascend)

“Cultivate” your garden *******
Not you, Him. who? Johnny Flynn the Banjo God
I will tell you without being candid. You are Candide. And No one will give you what you need

Icy desolated deserted
Macdade Boulevards across lands of death
Induce a sigh of your own breath
Whispering
Eli Eli lama Sabachthani

In deduction
Of an ethnographic construction
I’ll stay in flux
From one State frustrating
Across the lines of another contemplating
The beautiful country Delco
Far! Far … ~away~ >forever inside

Get free/
Be brave/
Surround yourself in light/
Pour love on everything/
The day will come when you're no longer fake
And the day comes when you no longer feel
Then the day comes when you'll no longer fear.

I have not been writing enough.
The beach the ocean the liquor the life guarding
Hath made me a sluggard. Lazy, un-inspired, creatively empty.
These crazy hazy days of summer,
The tourists the internationals the Irish the *******.
Have me numb drunk and in love.
But I am not writing enough.
Since leaving the mountains, the west, the Rockies, my pen has ceased to create,
breath, live.

Figure a trigger
pictured fingers
scratch the brain
pick it ****, exposed;
******* minds only craving one more dime.
Insane
vein blade
neck noose
she drinks some to feel loose.

creeping
convulsions

chills christen me a martyr
King of the opiophiles
Christ of the smackheads
Conquering coconaut
Hero to heroinites
Majesty of the methodonians

Glitches in systems revolving
rebel against or kiss them
Ring the bell to bring out the MOB and roll your future to face the dice
who are they ask for advice?
You draw towards these demons while behind you attempt to bask
a mask
Cody raises a flask of poison resentful regrets
Brody the roadie is always on the move
that ****** basement edm dub scene sure did become crass
which only leaves you, alone to groove
and we drink my flask our flask and bask in romance and death
Sorry Sir that you asked…but wait I have one more thought before the session reaches the inevitable conclusive aspect. Listen to my
Unexplained Law
Of
Academic actualizations
Basic casualization
Capital causes compound connections only resulting in casualty
I am orbiting you
Blazing comet
A simple sultry satellite
cold convoluted
Sad
at my farthest reaching far flung Aphelion
Warming and safe at my closest approach to You
Blazing life bringer
Holy holy holy art thou oh Eye of all
Allow me to forever remain at Perihelion
The laws of Keplar could not keep us from colliding
in the end
fire
will be all dividing

Hop hopeless off the L
searching for hell
"works" "works"
"subs" "subs"
"Bars" "Bars"
"Xanny Bars"
The Avenue Chant
Howl the diseased infected addicted ****
The Avenue Chant
an open drug bazaar is a beautiful thing for one playing the beautiful *****
Requiem for a Nightmare

You ask what I need
knowing what I want
Hop down the corner
You know the best spot
they got the fire
I got a house to burn
You ask, can I get one?
I think in first person with a laugh
perhaps I would give you a leg for one
I see you could use it
We keep walking
you keep limp, limp, limping down....
Cambria
Crutches clacking off the littered decaying pavement
The boys are out in town (when aren't they)
the block is hot (as always)
I wait around the corner
You do my ***** business
Our ***** business
Everyones ***** business
You swing back, deed done, dirt in hand
awwww
yeahhhhh
the stamp is cobra
I remember this ****. mm.
this **** is good
The printed snake swims up and out
siphoned from a tiny
baby
blue
bag
cleansing all insecurities, all fear, all humanity.

We limp along
You tell me how you ended up on these streets
wife kicked you out, job fired you, veterans insurance cut you.
The American dream as it looks, on Kensington streets,
circa2013
etc. etc. etc

I feel bad, but, not really, emotional skeleton,
Numbed.

I leave you with some rocks, not much,
then go off kicking
rocks all the way Redrocks
H>O<W
long can I continue without being caught in crosstalk.

A skinny white privileged boy from the suburbs
seeing his future
trotting away before his eyes
The
everlasting
haunting
crouching
limping
creature of death
A
rotten
old one
legged
......junk
Y

Bulging bright Bugs
Crawl children Crawl

I

Hero
in
Hero

He struts into a meeting feeling meek and needy but,
greater than the digit zero.
He figits around not breaking much mental ground although,
these restless legs could corrode the tiles to dust.
Nothing has been able to hold his attention,
they call it ADD.
He calls it the human condition.
He sees fear in a spoon full of dust,
shrugs it off continuing to pump veins full of rust.
Packs a bag and gives sister a hug,
trudge down under I95 reaching Broad to south Philly,
to be at peace and tormoil living amongst the crust.

II

Trying marijuana maintenance
Trying therapeutic intervention
Trying geographical relocation
Trying to be happy.
A pale king in the end a peasant feeling sappy.
He writes
He fights
To the bitter end he sees too many loved ones send,
Letters from the graves they dig for themselves.
An addiction which cannot bend and always leaves
Them broken.
These letters represent a token of hope to overcome
Dope, from beyond this temporal transient world,
He receives these letters.
Don’t give up! Don’t give in!
Written, in beautiful otherworld cursive.

III*

These restless legs can wear the cotton sheets
To fractured fibers.
A splintered conscience,
A glint of hope,
These trans-dimensional letters arrive on a silver rope.

The pale king takes it all in with no buffering
And dismisses his selfish suffering.
He has won
He is the hero of this story.

The pale king who once strolled the Kensington
Streets less than zero.

Is now a ****** hero.

Rally around this man,
A clan of beautiful addicts,
Laughing and not being normal,
Who wants a life which is normal?

All his friends
All his friends
All my friends  

The memories together blend,
In the end our ****-ups make us stronger,
Than the accountant making ends meet in a
Culd-a-sac street sign labeled dead end.

We spent the last ten years trying to feel alive,
And will spend the next ten feeling justly deprived.

His letters scream to defend:
That it is all well worth it, in the end.

Where are those friends tonight?
He visits them at their headstones,
Reminded where it leads, a life being ******.

Shivering cold to the bone,
Hot sweats dripping down flannel folds,
All we wanted was to break the mold.

He is more than a statistic of decimals and
Digits, greater than the sum of zero.

He is the hero(in) hero.

No longer
Less
Than
Zero.

All my followers, have turned to ash.
I thought I was leading to a promised place.
Moses
Yet turning back, a sad wife.
Lot
With eyes brash seeing the city was falling.
The city was tumbling,
And
        Nothing is as cold as an ice cube made of cash.
I flew off through a white foamlesss formless sea to
Always
Always
Land.
Becoming Peter Pain

watermelon rinds
and
osprey eyes
float down from a pink and blue sky

kiwi peels
and
albatross heels
surface around a pink and blue wheel

walk, run, turn, keel
the colors bleed and it's hard to see what's real

olive pits
and
garbage spit
chugging liquor in an attempt to feel

white washed
blank walls
seeing pink
seeing blue
coating the barriers down iris halls

watermelon rinds
and
osprey eyes
floating down from a pink and blue sky

*I look up and feel alive hoping these colors never run bleed or
dry

searching for the roots
the fruits fall all around,
which came first?
the addict or the patient.
a doctors death sentence
a priests condemnation,
the hills are alive with the sound of simple minds
the toils of labor
reap what is sown
unmarked graves
unmask the corruption
coursing through the dead blood of masked politicians.
neurons firing and frying betwixt the temples
a static wave of indignity
just show me how to be free!
or pulsate with me toward distant nebulae
which came first?
mans fall, or mans salvation.
all transgressions will be remembered
all sin will be forgiven

Shall I Project A World,
Scatter full the sky with constellations
and create my own private universe?

The dead are never gone,
but still ever persist,
in the bread we eat
and
the wine we drink.

Long ago our names were written.
Long ago our names were etched.
Do you, think for one moment
this was all an accident,
and any of this is real?

Or do you feel
////that all this is a reflection in the water pond
a cast stone disturbing all reality as it ripples outward////

At this point, I chase the white rabbit
merely out of habit/

My, what big blue beautiful eyes she has.
All the better to eat me with, my dear.
And
My, what lovely lips she has.
All the better to see me with, my dear.
And
Those big swinging hips,
All the better to ****** me with, my dear.
And
Her ringing voice in my ear,
dissolves any fear.

The tide ever rolling,
rollicking into the beach
As
we are high, frolicking,
into the undertow tide,
to hide, from death inevitable.
My, what hair, let down, wrung out,
without a care, and through
this tangled hair.
My, death hath no sting nor fury,
for a man such as this,
me as it were,
her love,
oh my,
is pure purgatory.

Following the rabbit to the abbot,
white wolf unknown, disguised in full
habit.

Like leading lambs to the slaughter/
Like leading lambs to the slaughter/

A love such as this,
won in a bar barter.
Reach beneath her dress,
toss back the garter.
.
I beseech,

I do not think it will land in my hand  

And I will continue to chase the white rabbit,
purely out of habit.

Painfully awoken, the
startling sorrowful tremor.
Young heart
Skipping
A
Beat.
Drain the ***** of its blood,
rinse
repeat.
Lather up covering yourself, head to
feet.
From you I fear retreat

Will you not? For me entreat,
stay awhile and please get comfortable for,
life is an ever
repeating
long song.
Our hearts deep wells,
and our souls are all up for sale

Don't give in no matter how
appetizing
the dark bids dark dark bids dark
bids
get

If one must be a slave to fate
let the gods hear cries of
destructive dissonant resistance.
No retreat
Revolt!
Leave demons behind an iron door
Deadbolt!
Leave destructions distractions
detractions
Confined!
Tied down on the ***** floor,
release and without defeat, nor, drowning
Tumult!

Being Inclined to be a writer and fascinated with literature is so dreadfully awful bc one is ever stuck between the desire to read every word ever written and to express on paper every thought one has had. There is no end, no goal, no chance of ever being satisfied.

Love lies on a razor
shoots through the clouds
as a lazor.
Please don't let me down, I look up.
Blink at the raining blossoms.

I convalesce in my self-made imaginary infirmary,
a red sphere floating firm above
a Japanese blotched black ink dove.
Blink up at the raining roses
Squint up at the blinking blossoms.

Love built the cross,
it also built the atom bomb.

Roses rain down in flurries.
Blossoms blink down in a hurry.

It would be sin for us to scurry,
even as the love spoken previous
beams down from heaven, is impossible
for us to bury.
If this is my truth, let it be conjoined, to become our truth.
And,
with outstretched skinny fists protruding out from the clouds above.
I watch as the Rose petals float fluttering down in a
flurry.
I blink up at the rolling, bowling, balling, beautiful blossoms....falling.

As the the is dawning.
As the sun is dawning

We pull, into the
Grand Canyon,
at sunset.
We toss and fling
giant rocks, boulder-
esque chunks of
Earth, off of
the side.
Someone screams,
they are upset, but
no regrets,

Am I evil?
   (All poems containing a question)
Am I pensive?
   (All poems containing an affirmation)

Blazing across Arizona,
dead dogs grovel,
strays, orphans searching,
seeking, looking for a home,
******* and copulating,
in, vacant gas station
lots. Not a bone,
to be thrown.

Where are our owners?
   (All poems containing a question)
This is enthralling.
   (All poems containing an affirmation)

Fear and faith,
carry us riveting,
through rivulets of clouds,
we sore, flying above,
searching for peace,
doves.

The woods would be very silent indeed,
if no birds sing except those who sing,
best.  

But,
she wants revenge,
with
a thirst for pain, I cannot
contend.
And
as the rain pours down,
sorrow falling from the
clouds.
She wants revenge.
And,
I simply cannot even
contend.

Laying lines out on
the metallic surface, of
With the Lights Out,
white powder flaked
along Cobain's black
and white face.
The drugs which killed
him, no longer causing
him any more pain,
merely giving this writer
some idolized thrill and gain.
And then high, reading
about one more creature,
dizzy with love.

*God gave us memories so that we may have roses in December

Entertainment flows unbounded

Crippling. Infinite Jest fumbling for your attentive mind,

Resist or desist

Laugh and grow fat

Captivated by the ghosts and talking heads on the propaganda box.

Stay where you are, never leave

Bereave the tidings of madmen

A fire place in the summer
A most serene scene.
Burning potential, waiting patiently
For a cold soul.

When the sun retreats in his orbit,
Tilted ever slightly, only a few
Celestial
Degrees.

I lay a deceased bouquet of flowers,
A gift waiting to be burned open,
Alive again.

Potential energy
Potential energy
Potential energy

Your life is a poem
Your life is this
Write it with passion

Potential energy
Potential energy
Kinetic

The moon behind her clouds
She sits boastful and proud.
The sun shining his rays
Smiling
Knowing he will be here until the end of days.

I bow my head in pensive knowledges,
Knowing
That gods meet the same fate as man.

Potential energy
Potential
Energy
Kinetic

Harness the evil
Stamp! Charge!
Out!
You(r) demons
Send the swine hurtling off the cliffs of forever.

A mad king sits atop a crown of broken glass
A dead pop princess screams me to sleep
For forever and ever and a day my prodigals
are always running away.

My brother is my keeper
in keeping me insane

Go down to the railroad
You will see the past present and future...
Rolling into the distance like a faded man' is dreams.
An expired whisper escapes into the stale air,
as daggers cut me to sleep

open my door, Goodnight

Google
"Feelings"
And
Feel
Lucky

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

Don't worry darling, how crowded
The market square is.
I am always up early, and never
Miss a hanging.

I will run with the cure, I might get distracted buy I'll always make it
When you are getting sick,
And impatient.

The chills and sweats
Drilling through your mind,
Will vanish as I walk in.
I know the despair of feeling
Sick
And impatient.

                                                     (Oh Lord hear our prayer)

I introduced you to this world,
Brought your innocence with me
In a sinful satchel,
And lost you under the bridge.

Or

Were you already here?
Waiting for me,
Sick
And
Impatient.

I followed the sent of your perfume,
Venturing through the tangles of your hair.
And
We ended up right back where we started.
Getting sick.
And,
Feeling impatient.

                                   Oh Lord hear my prayer

Alas! The fleeting years glide on.
Eheu fugaces labuntar anni

So it goes, an old poet
rose, to tell the story of
the beast and the decaying glass rose,
petals falling softly cracking into broken
glass.

When you look at someone through rose tinted glasses, all the the red flags just look like flags.

raise a generation on Eminem and Cobain
then
scratch your head wondering where all us grown boys
went a little insane

from Timberlake to Bieber
Brittany to Miley
what's really changed?
anything
but our age?

a president named Bush went to war on terror
in the the middle-east,
ten years later his son does the same thing.

again I ask,
what's even changed
but
our age?

The ****** scandals begun by our ******* president
continue today under an eponymous tabloid cover
called Kardashian.
exploitation the name of the game,
everything is done for us,
especially our thinking.
less scarily,
our cooking.

there has never not been an "us vs. them"
mentality in human history.
we are cultured cannibals, tribesmen who have outgrown
our britches.
****** and racial liberation continues against
****** and racial tension
*** is cheap
drugs are cheaper
morals are depleted
agnosticism the happy sedated norm
nobody expects a revival but the saved themselves, the born
again.
well do I even wish to be born again into a life as this?

If I have learned anything thus far from life's teachings:
One is nothing and everything
Nowhere and everywhere
   spirits abound where you least expect them  
There is no zero and no infinity

Watch a fire burn and you will know this truth

Alas! The fleeting years glide on.
*Eheu fugaces labuntar anni

Oh young one so ablaze in thy passion

What is it you seek, the air thin and connections

confuse and debate souls

Try and push through

Sounding the Heaven we open our flesh

exposing the wave we will name travel

When the night grows light we will see

what it is we call reflection.

Live in the magic

Breath it in, then out. For when fear arises and clouds

corner us as doubt sailing above our gracious gazes

we will have forever gained the truth to carry us

Forward!

Desire

as Fire

spout forth the flames of intuition

Oh young one so ablaze in thy passion
What is it you seek?
The air thin-connections
confuse-debate souls
Try and push through being true
Sounding the heaven on earth
I-we
open our flesh
exposing the wave we will name travel---->

When the night grows light we will see
what it is we call reflection.

Live in the magic
Breath it in, then out. For when fear arises and clouds,
corner us as doubt sailing above our gracious gazes,
we will have forever gained the truth to carry us

Forward!
Desire
as Fire
spout forth the flames of intuition

Crisp leaves, fall from the trees.
White clouds white crystals
Driving around, I need my ******* money.
At least Colorado is sunny.
  
Falling right back into old habits.
Sobriety like chasing wild rabits.

Did you see that badass biker with the gloves?
A million dollar highway awaits, join me, love.

Feel that cold clean mountain air,
it cleanses.
At last I am breathing no longer seething.
Look how cute Silverton is, from the mountain retreating.

Winding down the pass,
Red mountains  linger looming large above.
The Switzerland of America
White clouds white crystals

keep going keep moving keep driving keep flying stop smoking quit choking

obscenely adrift on a sea of steam
awake from my daydream stifling a scream
baking in the midnight moon
I feel as though I left you all
too soon

Captive of the city.
A walk between the drawing and the camera, a drawing and a camera.
Blindness is about understanding gesture.

Stereoscope Sound Scenes Systems

Blue lines form the links between
the black cats suggesting, what we know is that we do not.

Forget me the sweet song
rising from her ashtray
be gone hearts frayed afraid.

Coma Cluster
Coma Cluster
Coma CLUSTER
COMO cluster
CLuster cOma ClUsTeR CoMa

Soma simply trying to muster
Domino Christos no longer allow my suffer

ECCE ****
IN The GARDEN of ever EARTHLY delights

Strings
Filaments
Voids
Soap

bubbles filling a sink
slide through

Pop. Pop.

I float above stronger than a rock
my blue black burning body

love
emirates
emanating

Red-Shifted

For You

though dust clouds interfere

We all have infinite interior strength

Cycling, chasing love in my dream,
embodied by an unidentifiable spectra,
of a woman.
Through San Franciscan streets,
I reach a hill too steep,
but not for the woman I follow,
and
I, filled with trepidation,
attempting to remain surreptitious,
inch down
hands firmly squeezing on my brakes,
only to fall, flat on my face.

I sit front row on a mid-week ******,
in surprise to catch the closing act
of
the Berkeley based Morning Benders.
The drummer jumps down from the stage
to
land on my chest. "Ben!" He proclaims.
No.
"Bobby;" I exclaim. We catch up-talking
the state of Indie music,
as my family drives away from
the venue, into the distance, to leave me
in the biting cold. I forget my jacket,
and
walk back to the hotel, or, campground?
Freezing
and alone,
mid-******.

In the rough of the Devil's camping ground,
Satan, the Prince of Darkness himself tramps around-
holding the infinite trump card-(A 40 ft circle)
in which nothing living may stay and survive.    

I get into a fist fight, with a kid
who has been in the same rehab,
at the same time as me,
over the past three years.
In and out. In and out we go.
But, together.
He is lanky
and
gets hold of my wrists,
attempted head butts,
I struggle free
escaping his vice of a grasp
and
lay him out
with one right hook,
splaying him down to lay
between two cars.
For, we are in a parking lot,
(To mention this, I forgot)
outside of some conference
being held. I assume it is
recovery related. I always liked
this kid, and thought we were friends.
What happened?
I wonder.

North to the Liberties, let's
go to the punk show
and
dance as we would to
Joy Division, even when
everything is going wrong,
it can be ironic that we are
still so happy. Standing
outside with the kids in the know.
She stands staring, from her lips
hangs a clove. I dangle on the edge
of the wall, and stare back in awe.
Everything brightens clear, as
my senses are heightened. Everyone
warned us not to fall in love,
at this bar.

A very Bill Murray Christmas, takes us
by pleasant surprise. Cuddling in a
corner, with a fire crackling away.
This scene, is no dream. The rest are,
beamed from my unconscious.

We all have infinite interior strength

Caught in the clutches of the spindle
my party parlays its way through, ever increasing
grips of madness, fear of becoming overtaken
by the darkness.
Is this a metaphor?
Or, is this a game?
We are in a dungeon, deep, destroying
lest we are kicked for floundering.
The spiders spindle down from the roofs of this cavern.
Slowly descending, thirsty for blood.
My magic is powerless
My blood is becoming the feast
"Feed us your blood." The haunting thought reverberates throughout.

In the cradle of shadows.
Hides a man named Walks-In-Ash.
His face is the last I see as all fades to darkness.

Pondering,
Who knows the secret,
Of how to make love remain?
Painting, still life with pyramids.
Those ancient symbols of death and rebirth,
Of love and the infinite.
Pondering,
What is the secret of the moon,  
What does she hide from the mortals below?
Floating forever circling above.
I know she hides a hidden purpose.
Wandering,
Inside a pack of Camel cigarettes,
Searching for oasis in the dry and solar charred landscape.
Smoking is our own little private communion with fire.
Who knows how to make love stay?
What is the purpose of the moon?
These are the secrets I inquire of the fire gods,
As I wander and wonder,
Inside a pack of Camel cigarettes.

dust creeping falling ever slowly
all matter seeking an elemental match,
red phosphorus add ephedrine
all you need to cook a fresh batch,
keep it up kids and you'll vanish
in a crystalline flash.

an act of attrition
propagated with little to
no conviction

arriving astutely, on the
Lower East Side.
walking  blindly, through
streets of poorly written fiction.
the brevity of time crunched, by
gravity triggers a gasping
mumble, missing any
recognizable diction.

hail down a cab,
surprise. it's me,
come to close the space between,
causing static and friction.
it's the last night on Earth, dear,
so toss out all impressions
first

dance in the dying of the light

we may not well will not get another night

dance, drop, then die, in the passing of the faded jaded light

falls through the open window

the wind funnels through

a wing cripples

pinch him between my fingers

let him blow back along the interstate

was he meant to die on my lap?

or did this car interior interrupt natural causes

my head is a cage

my mind is locked away

when will my soul blow through a window

to a welcoming lap.

The artist evokes his tormented psyche

Through gestural abstraction
a systematic colorfield emerges
The blurring of dreamworld and reality

All pretensions dissolve
But…
Critics still criticize
Snobs still scoff
   the creative will still drink and drug themselves the death.

whichever way the wind blows
that’s where my dreams escape me

They transform to Queens of Hearts and Princesses of utter

Royal

Baroque

Beauty
Bygone
Be Gone
my heart must resist

I will not be controlled by the guild
Caravaggio kept painting until he got killed
Went insane like most artists
Couldn’t stop before he got his fill

****** and the life of death in capitalist entertainment
The unfortunate case of me

Lanes are merging
People are crashing
Stars explode
And kids in pittsburgh say they feel infinite
Poets pantomime pleasantries
Pleasant trees planted on peasant land
When you ask they laugh unexpectedly
"You think we will ever be free?"
We have but one shot one chance
We must flee across the sea

Set sail with no end destination in mind,
just board this ship with me my friends,
and we shall shipwreck onto the beaches of consciousness.

Waiting for a poem to come,
is a specific breed of tedium
which would have a lesser man,
undone.
Sitting bored on the porch
trying to express,
through my only medium.

It's now 7pm and
time to go to a meeting.
Living with a disease,
which through every pore,
is always secreting.

A busted water pipe in the winter,
can only turn the faucets on for an hour a day.
Wave to the missionaries in Kenya,
hey
hey
hey

Love
will mean
facing the problem
of pushing the button
that destroys the human race.

Barbary
Go out to the bar
Pop Punk and Emo night
dress in all black
band tea, skinny jeans, converse high tops.
Something Ironic
  
Want to see friends
haven't seen in ages
jump around
sing Saves the Day
"At my funeral I will sing the requiem."
Watch people drink
they seem to be having fun
feeling ******, can't drink
was just at an AA meeting earlier
**** this, do hard drugs, drop out, hurt the ones you love.

Barbary
Go out to the bar
Pop Punk and Emo night
dress in all black
band tea, skinny jeans, converse high tops.
Something Ironic
Want to see friends
haven't seen in ages
jump around
sing Saves the Day
"At my funeral I will sing the requiem."
Watch people drink
they seem to be having fun
feeling ******, can't drink
was just at an AA meeting earlier
**** this, do hard drugs, drop out, hurt the ones you love.