♠ ♠ ♠

Pseudo-Oriental visions
Haiku, Tanka, exotic terms
Vapid New Age vibe-transmissions
proliferating eastern germs…

Anarchistic thought collages
Existential lacerations
Nihilistic heart-massages
Incoherent lamentations,

Communism on a mission,
grievance-mongering, stewed in hate;
pounding Fascist fusion/fission
chanting harshly “ours the state”,

Hymns to Gods who choked on *****
undertaken in overdose;
rocks that never rose to comet
rolling – but ending comatose,

Hipster ironies, tongue in chic
Metro-wimps who feign the normal,
Redneck rantings up the creek
semaphoric,  semi-formal,

matron’s maudlin observations,
motivational hypnosis,
(sentimental medications
offered prior to diagnosis),

coldly abstract neo-nonsense
read (by dullards) as cutting edge,
letters void of correspondence;
well-trimmed words’ linguistic hedge.

Climate whining (tried untrue)
with eco-prophecies warning doom,
Wiccans and tree-sprites trying to
undo the curse and lift the gloom,

Feministic tribal ranting,
Race-complaining, agitation,
GLBT gallivanting –
all are blights upon our nation.

Boring modernist excess,
(no longer daring  –  formulaic)
confounds –  yet never can address
what’s wrong, and so becomes prosaic.

Lists like this are perhaps  the worst;
another symptom of our times:
we who are woefully unversed
in rhythmic complaining that rhymes.

It's more like having
Too many ideas
Half formed
They sound so brilliant
Until page two
Having ideas for page
Two hundred and eight
Or the best ending
For the story
That has two
Lines down
I can't write anything
If has a title
Write ten minutes
On this
Write that scene
That's in chapter three
I'm writing chapter one
Thirty on going ideas
Most seem to have it
I need to finish one
**please

Cyprian, from Cyprus
Named for the trees of his kingdom
Prince or king
Livia, envy or blue
Beautiful daughter of king Divaro
Ruler of the kingdom
In the four seas
Lucius, the light
He has a way with words
King or prince
Hilaria, cheerful
Accurate for such a child
Who only smiles
But daughter of which king
Nero, strong and aptly named
Impossible strength in a lithe body
Prince or king
And of which kingdom
Aurelia, the golden child
Men have gone insane for her
Of which king
Felix, the lucky
Rumors to carry the
Tears of the water sprite
King or prince or thief
Avita, ancestral
Sister of Cyprian
But who us the king
Cato, how wise
The brother of Hilaria
A prince is revealed
Dulcia, a wonder
Lost in translation
Daughter of which king
Of which kingdom
The diviners of the south
The scholars of the north
The ocean people of the west
The skilled hunters of the east
Or maybe the mountain dwellers

The world is flipped
With odd angles
And strange curves
It has a bit too much
Or maybe it's not enough
Words invert
Shapes mutilate
Atoms overreact
Emotions are switched
Truths are lies
Happiness is an emotional overload
Stress builds up
When's the combustion point?
When does it all become
Too much
Or maybe not enough
When do the tears flow up
When do our smiles shatter
Like glass
When does time end
In a distorted reality
When does time flow
Backwards
Or is it sideways
Odd thoughts become more
Abundant
Your view tilted
40° to the left
Body shifted 32°
To the right
When does end
Where is the clarity
Like putting on glasses
For the first time
Everything snaps into
Focus
Is that my reality?

With a smile curving your lips
Like a drawn up scowl
And a bomb strapped to your chest
A gun in your back pocket
A list in your head
Of names
And of faces
You never looked back
Only the good will be spared
All the doors are locked
There's only one way in
Only one way out
It's all a beginning
It's all an ending
Your music blasts
Such the sentiment
Of a world unlike ours
make evil go away
Now or never
Walk away please
A man in a black suit
Stares in the reflection next to you
He whispers the words
Another day
Another day
Walk away
The Devil Takes Care of His Own
.
.
.
.
That school burn. Everyone but five or six got out alive. He takes care of his own and the only ones who will ever know. Are you, me,and him.

i have  become a collection
of  ripped pieces of sketch paper
and ink and paint and blood.
my head is a wasteland
filled with hazy drugs
that let me sleep.
i want to let gravity do it's work
and pull my fingertips to earths core
mix dirt into my veins
and take shots out of glasses
full of whiskey and ache.
i want to walk into the ocean
and fill my body with more water
than it was meant for.
i want to become the sand
so people will make castles out of me
and so i can laugh
when i burn their bare feet.

instead i am an incomplete drawing
and a poem that makes no sense.

*(a.m.c.)

I think the greatest story
I have ever read
was based on the line
that heroes always win
but then it begged the question
what if the hero
had a slightly darker backstory
when he didn't believe
the words that were
supposed to give him confidence
and courage
And hope
and he gave in
to what ended
the Superhero story
before it even began
But despite all the heartbreak
I still love the story
I think it's greatest line was
they did not win
the hero did not get the girl
the hero did not save the day
the villain won
the world was doomed
to a Fate that we know
that was never told
Only envisioned
In our worst nightmare
They Did not win
the greatest story
I've ever read
begin with the line
heroes always win

The gun felt cold against my skin
Safety still on
Pulling the trigger only happens in movies
Fear holding me sideways
Dreaming of courage to take the bullet out
So instead I began holding pencils to my temple
Attempting to rewrite my future

On my back in a sea of uncertainty
It rolls lifting me up
And gliding me down
Its wavering surface calms me like
The calm before the storm
Storm clouds wept in the distance
Cool grey clouds seem to surround me
I never know when the sky begins
And the ocean ends
Gentle like a mother holding her first child
For the first time
A slow rocking makes my mind drift
Like it hasn't since I was a child
The water has long since soaked
Me to the bone
Filling me up with nothingness
The wind whispers stories
Like teenage girls trying to keep a secret
The place seems endless
Of sleepless time
And timeless nothing
Drifting in and away from
This world's problems
Like every dark thought sank
And every light one keeps me
Floating
A kind of purgatory
No ...........good
No.............bad
Just you floating there
And that's it
drifting
It's like that moment before sleeping
Seconds between awake and asleep
When everything fades
Like in a fog
I see something
A shape at the edge of the nothing
I feel so unconcerned
As stars fall into the water
They make no sound
There is no ripples
The shadows grow lighter
And I fly higher
The water shapes into bubble like forms
Drifting around me
If only I could just be here forever
Drifting on my back
Nothing holding me down