We were heading to the aurora borealis with tic-tacs in our pockets and mossy footprints in our pasts,
I was finding wrinkles on your face and tucking them under your pillow cases,
Filling up on cherry vanilla coke and you,
Laughing at your jokes, but breathing for your laughs.
Goodbyes became “see you soon”, but we regressed faster than we reached the bases,
I was left asking my heart where you went and all I received was,
“Come again later” or “Maybe next time” like a monotonous 8 ball.
I checked for Pabst Blue and trophies, but I got acquainted with the empty cases.
You always told me not to get my hopes up, to keep the ends of my strings clean.
You heeded a warning as if you had an expiration date,
But I think I forgot to listen for bombs ticking over the sound of heartbeats.
They always told me that if it comes in like a lion, it goes out like a lamb.
Well, if that was true then why did you set my life on fire, treated me like Diego Rivera,
Like Frieda Kahlo, this love hit me like a tram.
Can you really violate a person’s privacy,
Once they’ve pushed you naked, into a crowd?
Because finding your diary yesterday was bittersweet, but the only sugar was reading it aloud.
“I’m coming home, but instead of doorbells to signal return, the singing of her pulse is my only melody.
The only thing to resemble a welcome sign was your hair dripping on your chest.
My only blankets were your nimble hands and your hollow breaths,
My favorite song is a compilation of every word you’ve said to me.”
But now you’re hosting tea parties, but you’re sipping chardonnay,
No recollection of my address because you’re occupied by your high-class party,
Spending hours upon hours discussing La Primavera,
When you’ve not listened to classical music in over a decade.
Now I’m left wondering what song rattled in the back of your head when you sped off in a high-speed chase.
I could tell you who won, but again,
Don’t think I can keep up with your pace.
It doesn’t matter much now that I didn’t love you like a happy ending,
Nor did we resemble a love song,
But our love was like traffic signs: cautious yet reassuring.
It was like avoiding cracks in the side-walk, without any rhyme or reason.
But it turns out; humans are not able to see all on-coming traffic,
Swerving away from an on-coming object is no longer effective once you’ve hit it like a brick wall.
You filled my head with pages of filler paper, allowing me to scratch the surface,
Never truly knowing you, claiming, “It’s easy, it’s simple like this”.
I never knew simplicity to hurt like hell.
Now you’re hosting tea parties,
But you’re chugging the last of the Rose,
Being with you was like La Primavera,
It has been excessively over-played.

The clouds come
Cause there must be balance
With highs must come lows
Great joy costs great sorrow

Understanding creates empathy
Empathy leads to compassion
Compassion compounded by
Societies failures makes me cry

I question how before I get to why
I pose probable possibilities
Before I get to the revolutionary changes
Exchanges must be made
To improve the way we live

And for each failure each falling foot that stumbles
Each time another human suffers
Cause another human was indifferent
I crack exposing the back of my black and bitter heart

The void is an infinite empty expanse
Waiting to be filled with stars and solar heat
Waiting to warm the numbed shoeless feet

I see the streets I was there to
Violence, fear, aggression, intimidation, ignorance

The clouds come in again
But swimming in the cold grey thinning veil
The stark dark hearted self
Serves only to sicken my soul

It never softens the blows
Or helps me to expose
The true depths in either direction

Laughter breaks the silence
A smile interrupts the bleakness
A conversation during breakfast
A librarian or other friends
I break the balancing boards
And swim towards happier shores
Discarding my depression and
Other dreadful expectations

From my window,
in corner of an eye,
see a pink flamingo.

Broad curves,
into familiar shape,
grounded legs,
Iron weighted.

Been there
for years,
quietly sitting,
amongst roses.

Pushed by storms,
changing winds,
yet surprising,
inner strength.

Retains balance,
keeps small piece,
staked out,
of much larger plot.

Slowly losing,
it's distinctive hues.
Dissolving,
fuchsia to palest pink.

Every family
has their own,
pale pink flamingo

She sat cross legged defiant;
a smirk played the features of her face.

The man, doubled up,
holding his crotch,
his ******* grin turned grimace.

As she walked away,
"next time, I'll add a *******!"

Aztec Warrior 6/27/15

I will tear the skies
and rip Eterion asunder,
and still you will whisper sweetly,
"It is not enough."

I will set the oceans aflame
and close the gates to Elysium,
and as you tread among
the ruins and the ashes
You shake your head
ever
so
slightly.

"It is still not enough."

~*D.C.

We blew the brains out
of midnight
under a root beer sky
and followed the tawny
streetlights like a spindle on a B-side.

Ever effervescent
we tango on piano-key pavements
dancing like febrile bacchants
under a tallow moon.

And we might amble into
crepuscular philosophy
whilst alley dwellers
Do their best to stem
the global water shortage
and graffiti artists
sharpen their spray cans.

Inevitably we perambulate in to lamentations
ruminations on *******
over those we loved from afar
like jackdaws gawking at carrion
we just don’t put it so many words.

Later we get home and ****
because once you’ve murdered midnight
and the doves come up
and dawn is reborn
it’s the only thing left
to
   do.

Precipice hanging
Red rock dwellings
Hiding under the sandpine desert
Freeing me in the process
Tribal seeking
Falcon knowledge to leadeth me down road highway
Noones way
But the freeway
Riding the cool gypsie wave
Moral decay hath abounded me
With the naysayer's and no bringers
Wolves cometh by swarms
Mastered by scorn
They scorn another with boiling hot heat....
Trampling feet..
Dance to their own tune,
No rhythm and blues
But jazz gone punk!!!!
Raccoon turned skunks
On lonesome highway to hell...