I look at you on the sofa.
Lying there all young, healthy
And warm, and I don't just want you
In the obvious sense; I want your
Liver, kidneys, flat stomach, strong,
Long, young legs.
Frankenstein's parts-storage
I want your youth.  

I can't have it. I can't take it
And have it. Angry. I want to
Kick your ***, but not really.
I want your mouth to
Expell something
Other than this
Teenage girl
Chatter.

I want to hit your pretty face
With all of my one-third-life-crisis-
Frustration behind it
With a pillow.
Eat feather, child!
Chew cotton!
Munch goose!

Straight left-straight right.
I have fought men
Twice my size,
I'll beat you up
Until you
Suffocate
And surrender
From
Laughing
So
Hard.

Paint for me a dream
Colored in hues of emotion
Steeped in love
And dusted in music

Our love, little girl
Our love is not a castle  
No palace of gold, no fortress
Or stronghold
No cathedral or church

It is a tiny tree house
Where we sit
Dangling lazy legs
Holding hands

Rope ladder pulled up
No grown-ups allowed
And no single idea
About any love
Outside
Ours.

Sometimes, I see the God descend to ground.
Lowered on pulleys, creaking as he comes,
He booms his monologue to waiting crowds,
While they - all certain that this God will make
Things right, will get the parents and the kids to talk,
Will mend the broken marriage vows, will fill
The bank accounts, will take the heartbreak out
Of growing old – they hearken to this voice.
But after, when the dummy-God ascends,
Departs in peace to mechanistic skies,
The crowd must stay to watch the empty stage
Repent its trick of mercy by design.

They shiver as it undergoes its shame -
See Faustus at the Hellmouth once again.

she sat like old smoke on the back of an elephant in the room.
like a dead wreath, breathing a pure circle
of hell. she broke a tambourine over the head
of a homeless man made of diamonds.
she broke his hardness with a constant sigh of sorrows
and chose to do violence upon her last smile
clutching the bitter rings in a porcelain
tub. brassy lion's paw
resting too heavy now on a cracked linoleum
floor.

with her eyes
open.

Pain has its pleasure.
Tears have a reason.
My sadness I deserve.
And suffering I must endure.

For a few moments, I want to swallow the past,
to stare in the face this old chapter of life.
time have come for a final reading
and see what I did and did not wrong.
delete characters, events,
to forgive them and forgive mine.
there is not much time and I would have to start again
to write my own end, to build my new time line
and conserve most pleasant moments,
to just take less from people,
so I can write about beauty and truth.

but this is just a chapter, of my former life
and undo is a fairy tale of memories
and the point of this is writing a new chapter in life.

Branches break, the earthshakes
But not from earthquakes or big shifting plates
Its the mistake you made
That made your foundation break
That put ripples in this once calm lake
So... Now
See here, before you see there
Be heard if you cant actually be there
Now that your factually aware, you should see clear
That your still
miss, miss, missin' the point
Still tryin' to avoid coming to terms with your void
Your an adult now, no more toys
Make sure your words are properly deployed
So hate that developes can be destroyed
It was..
Inevitable...
We make decisions that we know are regretable
Were gonna have to eat whether or not the food's edible
But you can always break the mold and throw out the stencil
Just look at my ways of creating gold with the tip of my pencil

-J.A.M

Is my shadow my soul?
Or is my soul my shadow?
Both come with me.
Why would they be separate?
Can my soul live also in my shadow?
Can my shadow hide my soul?
Shadow in the sun, indicates fun.
Shadows in the dark always give rise to fright.
Is my shadow the duality of my soul?
My inner struggle with bad and good?

A shadow is where direct light cannot reach due to
obstruction by an object.
This I know.
Is the obstruction my soul?
The soul, in many religious, philosophical, psychological,
and mythological traditions, is the incorporeal and,
the immortal essence of a person or living thing.
So what is the shadow?
The dark part of our souls?
Or, as many would have it a scientific result.
Soul = object of spirituality
Shadow= result of science

The ancient Greeks believed air, as opposed to solid earth, to be incorporeal.
Ancient Persians believed fire to be incorporeal in that every soul was said to be produced from it.
We humans are mostly water.
We humans live on earth.
Each of the four elements manifests in us.
Our shadows and souls must therefore,
relate to human activity on the principle of "as above, so below"
My shadow and soul are me