kittens aren't always the best audience
when I get to singing
Up on ******* Creek
Saturday nights
they just lay there
like a real audience
trying to ignore me
but as long as they don't tip
my Budweiser over
we got an agreement-
if they sit still and don't
hiss
I give 'em a
plate of tuna

We heard the words
But knew not what to say
So we returned
To the work of the day

Strange folk had come
From unknown place
To share with us
And with our race

They spoke with ease
Yet moved not their tounge
They spoke for hours
Until the lights hung,

To this day I can't recall
The greater of things they said
Nor their ancient stories
Which now have left my head

The only thing I do remember
Is a repeated phrase they spoke,

"Then, then when the sky is red,
And shadows bloom
Inside your head,
When the heavens break
And all is dead,
Then you will know
What we have said."

We are
the creatures
of the night
no tears for us
as we soar
taking on
such glorious
         heights
up through
trees, up
through the
invisible threads
between stars
in silvery wefts
I will bring home
the nourishment
to my little ones
nestled in their
warm nesty twiggy
holes safe curled
in lairs
we are
the protectors
of the light
that starts
in darkness
and arcs
        like a flare
we ride alone
but when we give
we yield
completely in
full thrusts and
curlicues,
glow-in-the
dark patterns
as leaves
cascade and
comets fall
around
the shadows
then, in the
morning's first
sun peeking
I land and find
that peace
a kind of
proximity to
that love
I'm
  seeking



'

A broken hero
In a fallen land
Leans against a tree
No longer to stand

Death surrounds him
And so does it's god
Bidding him rest
No longer to trod

She whispers sweet songs
Without time in his ear
Lay down to rest
There's nothing to fear

Just close your eyes
And Drift with me
To the land of The fallen
The realm of the free

She carried him off
With a tear in her eye
As she did the hero thought
It's not so bad to die

Lightening from a clear, blue sky.
Random firing synapses. Fluttering twitches.
A moment where the eye and I diverge.
Mind rockets in flight, morning or night.
Become a twisted ball of rubber bands. Writhe.
Avalanche of trembles. Lungs in a vise.
Devastating payload of cognitive dissonance.
How long will this horror of nothing last?
Waiting is the worst. Paralysis of time.
     Sitting on a sofa on a quiet afternoon
     Hoping for a large slice of normal, soon.

I taught you the skin of the wolf                                                 I                                        
My skin                                                             ­                                 saw                           ­ 
These fangs as a pretty smile                                                    you   ­                                         
My smile                                                            ­                        in                                    
                                                                ­                                           the                                      
These fangs.....                                                       ­                              rain                              
dripping blood from the last ****                                 You
But hungry still                                                            ­         promised                                  
Always hungry                                                          ­                     me                            
Always on the prowl                                                            ­                 your
These sharpened razor teeth                                                            ­         blood                
This lust and flesh for meat                                                             ­                              I  
                                                                ­                                                          promised
I taught you the heart of a wolf                                                         you
It's only beating                                                          ­                     a
To hunt                                                             ­                    flood

**I want you to die
Into me

What is death by chocolate?
Chocolate you must accumulate,
To amass your aggregate,
Are Mars Bars better than a man?
For chocolate you reach your hand,
Is there enough chocolate in the land?
Then there's housework in the world,
Best keep your strength up, girls,
Give those chocolate twirls a whirl,
A moment on our lips,
A lifetime on the hips,
Just call us cuddly from now on!
As on chocolate we ponder on,
Death by chocolate, satisfaction!

I’d love to find myself a suit,
drive 12 minutes and
sit on a barstool that won’t
stop screaming,
be able to smoke
inside again,
**** in *******
stained toilets,
push on locked
stalls and trip over
high heels that reach
out from under like
ashes ready to be flicked,
have makeshift conversations
with a 62 year old
old bartender who throws
an ashtray and a glass
of jack on the bar
at 9:12pm every day and
spurns at irregulars,
harlequin nods
at pseudos and
tire at denials,
pay a $13 cab-fare
and let him keep a 20
for listening to me *****
about how I should be able to
smoke inside the cab,
find myself questioning
every single piece I’ve ever
written while spinning
beneath my sheets,
wake to work
and work to 5,
I dont yearn for much
just a kiss for when
I leave and one when I come
home, if she's still up.

Love
If You Have
Begun
A Thousand Times
Love
When the Waterfall Flows
And The Birds Sing
The Ticking Of the
Clock Stops
Neither the Stock Exchange
Nor a Mighty
Meteor can change this Reality
Only Eternity
Can Be
On Time

It's not necessary
To walk through a cemetery
We'll still get graveyard dirt on our boots.
There are billions of bodies
Innocence buried everywhere.
Just take a step.
They are the foundation of things
This hopeless empire built on corpses


Wine-drunk time well spent
in cheap shirts
with ring around the collar.
Sweating. Sobbing.
Furthering the stains and their hidden agenda.

I have a nice watch though.
It was a gift. From the cosmos.
It’s this inside joke we share and
we're laughing at you because
you don’t get it.

I step into the room
The lights begin to flicker
And as they fail
A lone candle shows in the dark

The painting behind the candle
Is illuminated by its warmth
But as I drew closer
Its colors began to shift

After rearranging itself
The painting formed a new scene
Of a man wearing a trench coat
Sitting on a wooden bench

I stood before it with curious eyes
I could feel a light breeze
Come from a small lake
Beyond a willow tree

Overcome by the peaceful breeze
I reached out towards the portrait
Shocked, I saw my hand go through
Into the world of the painting

I slowly pulled myself
Into the ancient art piece
And soon I was engulfed
In the strange paint brushed world

As I looked to the bench
I realized the man was gone
And behind me I could no longer see
The entrance from which I came

Moving towards the bench
I saw a folded coat
Noticing the breeze again
I grabbed it and put it on

The world felt strange
As I sat on the bench
Somewhere beyond my sight
I could feel the warmth of a candle

And curious watching eyes