Have you known the winter days?
Late February falls like frigid snow
Merciless undertow
Of evergreen and alpenglow
And grey ground pavement walking
Like Grocery shopping
and weak chai tea
Moonlengths from all family
And surrounded like strawbury temptation,
Late night lamp light contemplation
And drowsy-dampened mornings
Grey glaze of diluted boring
Spattered over every orifice
Charcoal eyes, platonic kiss.
Pull your bow to shoot and miss
Tell me all this is is what it is
And I will tell you, “okay”
(but you know this isn’t what I wanted)

Hide the roadsigns
Blur the guidelines
This is how I love you

Have you known the winter days?
Late February fell like fire on hell
And shook me from my sleep
Ashes cover snow-banked heaps of rubble
I slice my wrist on the sharpened stubble
Of your half-assed beard
(this is how I bleed my dear)
This is how I bear my soul
******* smile
And dominoes
Carnation cults
And buried bones
(This is how I build your throne)

Hide the gravestones
Burn the rainbows
This is how I love you.

And have you known the winter days?
Late February fallen like Lucifer to the underworld
We both knew I wasn’t altogether that typeof girl
But we pretended anyways
Alcoholic halo haze
And foreign intervention
Of somewhat insidious intention
And the legitimate logistical question
That defined our discourse on fear
(this is how I think my dear)
This is how I speak my mind
All that grey
Those missing roadsigns
Smoke and soot and
Blurry guidelines
And Gravestones gone
And rainbows ash
(and we are never coming back)

This.
This is how I love you.

Museums as art
Art as museums
Sail the trail to my mausoleum
Psychopaths and physicists
Psychiatrists and philosophers
Philanthropists and pilots and painters


Declare now, that these are our days –
Our hours, and our days
These are our city, our hours
Our time, our days.


This is our world –
At 14:92 I landed here and claimed it
And searched it and found it wanting
Of civilization that I could so easily supply
By means of wounds and iron
And brawn and truth
(and just a tiny touch of influenza darling)
By means of our Lord,
Who grants us all that we desire
If only we **** enough of those he did not choose.
This is our world –
And we shall make it what we will
Make it in our own image
Teach it that innocence is not knowing the difference between right and wrong
Raise it to hate no one
But to love itself so deeply
That all other love seems hateful in comparison.
This is our child, love
Yours and mine.


Here the first shall be last
And the last shall be first
But once the first are last they shall be
Last
Last
      Last
And once the last are first
They shall make it so they can never be last again
This is our primitive accumulation
Of necessary materialism
Let’s cultivate matter
To make objects that we can place on shelves
And in cases –
These are our cases
And we love them as we love ourselves


Museums as mass graves
Mass graves as museums
Kiss me in my mausoleum
Priests and prisoners
Prostitutes and prophets
Pioneers and pilgrims and pagans


This is our time –
And we are dispensing it in spendthrift increments
Buying threadbare bandages for our cavernous canyons
Buying ample earplugs
To seal in the silence
So we can somewhat say
“look there is peace –
Look we have done it
In our time it is accomplished” – 


This is our peace –
And we know it by the signs
The lions and lambs lay quietly together
In our brass-barred zoos
For as long as shelves and cases
Are intact and the first are first
And the last are last
And the civilized are organized and holy
There is peace –
Oh, look
We made peace!

And as for Solomon and Socrates –
We take their words to weave through our new wisdom
And when we re-chart the constellations
We shall give them each a star
And salute them once a year
When they come around the universe
Oh, look
How wise we are!

Mass graves as art
Art as mass graves
There have been no better days
There has been no greater time
Politicians and pornographers
Professors and pirates
Psychologists and pastors and pianists


This is our time –
And we are doing with it the very best we know how
The last are toiling and trying
And the first are trying to think to try –
But there is a shortness in our hours
And a violence in our peace
There is inherent foolishness in our wisdom
And disease in our cities
And there is death upon our shelves and in our cases.

This is our world –
We crafted it and declared our truth to be true
We sculpted this, our colosseum
Please inscribe my mausoleum
With “we know not what we do”

She cries for his pain
Wishing to absorb it all
Without memory

Where shalt there be one in mine time of sorrow?
A new day tomorrow,
And a night of affectionate cuddling!!!!

Her pain is mine misery
When her tears floweth I drown with them
I one day hope to find their cure
To take away her sins..

She had a shovel to uncover me,
I seeketh her tantalizing lips to smother me..
In dinelime butter,
And a glass of wine with goblet bread!!!
Her hair as a crown to wrap mine head!!

I'm existing,
Yet not living,
I'm resisting,
                     Due to the despair of being hurt!
I'm restless
Panic disorder
I have a wish list
                     Yet only seek a queen of other borders
I'm lonesome
I'm miry
I'm ghostsome
                     A hopeless romantic who still hast hope!
Such a paradox eh?

I'm searching
Yet needeth one close
A phone call even
                     A loving host!!

I'm young
I'm oldened in time
I'm relic,
                    (Hopeless romantic) reads as mine sign!!
                                                  Route "9"

Like a rabid beast I need unchained, ive been a textured slave for many a years,
Built into the drainpipe of society,
Gathering fears,
Like a snake I slither the uncut grass,
Where thy brain is cut in half seeking thy other half!!!
Pounded unsensational headache errupts,
As the world stays currupt,
I gather Intel of governmental verse
A pharoah church to marry a queen I do want,
No falsehood nor stunts,
But realism, in movie theater form!!!
I want to be reborn in her atmospheric charisma!!!
Mi amour' , she of far shores
Take me home to whence I came!!!!!

Hast thou ever had this feeling young fellow?
When thy stomach billows, missing one thou hast not met?
No sorrows, nor regrets, ive thrown in every bet, as frenzied for one I've been, ive not heard her voice!!!
A delicate choice?
To wait?
To navigate words thou had meant to say?
To write scramblings on a page dedicated to one!!!
I'm a hopeless romantic,
Tis,
So moribund!!!
Hath thou young fellow?
Let me rephrase mine own question....

Hast thou gone mad over a heroine?
One of passionate words,
As in when every time thou hast read those medicinal
Scripture's thy own self gets lost in the heat?
Burst or ******* plasma she creates in the most fertile places of mine mind!!!!!
For far to long ive been blind,
Yet now can see,
Like a dream I'm squeezed into tomato juice altitude,
For to be the fool in the rain,
Still waiting,
No gain,
Just stains of the longing I so earnestly want in this crimson psyche.....

Is it all wrong young fellow?
Because it all feels so right!!!
  
Like an afterlife ive searched for to many ages youthful listener!!!!!!!!!!

Her optics,
Dark as sensual chocolate

Her skin,
Caramel melted

Her coiffure,
Cimmerian layed,

Her lips,
A poetry page,

Her tongue,
A living well

Her fun,
Thou shalt get lost to a holy grail

Her treasure,
Obscured by her fears

Her measure's
Goddess wear

Her wants
An emeer of past life

Her needs
A king of all right

Her faults,
None to me

Her perfection
Tis all I see!!!!!!

                                    And tis, all that I seeketh!!!