endless, monolithic
desert roads
stretch far,
like a rug
rolling it's tongue
out for sandals,
the car boiling
and windows blowing
cool air,
like the wind
trying to
become stronger
than the sun,
and the song
Breezebeats
croons lyrics
into my ear,
like it can delete
the silence in the
rest of the world.

Strung together elegantly
Silken ribbons connect
smooth shells
And kukui nuts.

Though it is not vibrant orchids
Or a beautiful hibiscus
It carries their memories
Gently as the waves
Kissing the sand.

The shells remind them of
Past reminiscences
Of younger days in rustic Waimea
And delighted smiles
At Hanauma Bay,
Watching colorful fish
And gliding sea turtles.

The kukui nut
keeps them grounded together
So as not to drift apart
In heart.

He strung it around her neck
And softly whispered in her ear:
aloha aku no
*aloha mai no

The one created for sabotage
Adored by few
Abhorred by numerous numbers
He treads an eternal sorrow
Which tortures his blighted soul
Scheming against ingenious blueprints
His destiny's been read
By gypsy cherubs
He's learned the path
Trodden by none
His predestination
Answering to this heavy burden
His Father has brought a rebellious notion
No other celestial entity has knowledge
Except for him and his apostles
Agreeing to God's earthly will
To be forever cast into a shadow
Agreeing through pure love
For his Father
And sent to tortuous furnace
Unbeknowst to mortals of seraphic Lucifer's
startling sacrifice
God's grievous banishment of his son
For he only aspired
To become like his Father

Metaphorical stringency
Idiotic transgression
Coat this democratic autocracy
Flailing capitalism slowly drowns
Splashing freedom in the face;
Obeying party goers
Stand as if a wall,
Indeed they are
A rich, extravagant barricade
Of outcasts
As pariahs under cloak
Stab the new age constitution;
Egocentric totalitarianism will sway
At the sight of a metaphysical blade
And the ghastly crown
Will topple to the bottom
The country has shed her lizard skin
Regurgitating for her new flock
Feeding a new set
Of avaricious minds

A rolling sea of emotions
Wash over swirling neural thoughts
Controlling actions
And expressing words
The heart sits on the Throne of Organs
Enduring harsh enterprises
Surviving, living, beating
Offering no poker face
Each face
Each belief
Construes from this lovely genetic system
This is why the mind becomes
A monster
Topped with green jealousy;
The sweet heart will never know
In it's beautiful innocence
That the cold brain is emulous
And eternally envious of the heart

How could you do this?
You cheated on me tonight
How could you not show?

I miss your soft light
A tranquil luminescence
That calms my sad soul

You were always there
A calm, silent companion
A present comfort

I took for granted
Your prescence, beautiful love
And alone, I'm left

In the empty dark
With the all the stars in the sky
But their light is weak

Your nearness I loved
Your great face never laughing
At my tears of woe

Invisible Moon!
You cheated on my tonight
Still, I forgive you

Physical entropy
Degenerating mentally
Blistering coldness
Completely divided
Minute attentions
Diverse dreams
   Of crowned suns
Sidestepping death
Reframing life
Unopened borders
   Enclose the
   Pedestrians within
Open minds
   And closed mouths
Closed fists
   And open eyes
Blindfolded
   By an uneducated
   Population

He fell from a shooting star,

Dust from angels' wings

Falling from his hair.



His eyes reflected the sun,

Burning bright



From his soul shone the night,

Still, quiet, and tranquil



His heart was the wild,

All fierce and patient



And I fell for him,

Thirsty for his



Pure existence

Of being

a blue jay
paints circles
along a million
silver lined clouds
hovering over trees
like a musky mist
of love.
my tongue
on the glass
sketching a kiss
except you are as
warm as the live
blue jay
painting circles
along a million
silver lined clouds.

I saw upon a dying street

Beneath the trees' barren

Humiliation

A young man

(who reminds me of my grandfather)

Rakes all the leaves

Into a sad pile

And laughing,

He sets it on fire

Embryonic visions
       Slide in and out,
Induced insomnia
       Creates
             Crazed awareness,
Small auditory hallucinations,
Kaleidoscopic images
       Burn the retina,
Horrify,
       Terrify,
             Electrify,
It's just the monster inside,
As real,
      As vital,
             As an *****

of which
is humor
and of
which is
life
that our
dry mouths
gape
at the beauty
of death?  
old princesses
and young
hobgoblins
will
laugh at
our
naiveté
that imitates
picnic blankets
and checker boards.
"Many perished
precisely
because
they were young
and beautiful."

Andre Breton
laughs
with our age
and our age
laughs
at time
and time laughs
at half
played grand pianos
and full moons
and they laugh
at our fingers
which fumble
at life
and life
fumbles through
humor.

of which is humor
and of
which is life
we wonder
as water clogged
ears strain to
hear.
or listen?

invariably long speeches
full of thoughts
empty of ideas
to improve a failing nation
with harmonic discrepancies
platformed and supported by
blood painted canvases
framed by the wailing
of those inflicted with the disease of war and politics
( those pitiful necessary evils)
no second thought
emanates from those wasteful
vain men and women
no. no second thought emanates to empathize the eternal
sadness wrought by their selfish actions;
this son of a dead man
is brought to you by
the politicians and CEOS
(sick warmongers)
in Armani suits and Rolexes
who seem to walk out of time
and they will send him
to the same fate as his father
never fully understanding
the complex waves of emotion
overriding and rolling over neural thoughts
just another face
just another body
just another life
now just another number
pitifully printed nameless
in wasteful
paper news

It had discovered
A small shaft of darkness
Wriggling from the pain of light
A mere whispered phantom
Haltingly treading a miasmic path

Continuous dewdrops of ocean water
Leaking from saddened face
And its twisted self
Enveloped in putrid strongholds
Of offensive thoughts

Though veiled in
The absence of light
It has met its match,
A burning flame,
The flowering torch
Of another heart

With moth- like trance
It has followed this luminous being
And become itself
An entity of inspiration

A lost Alice
In a diagonal Wonderland.
This is me.
That eternal maze of a dream
With drunken mad hatters
Who will vaporize and **** out life
Like a slithering chimera,
And I'll be like that poor white rabbit...
I'm late, I'm late
I'm late, I'm late
I'm late, I'm late
I'm late, I'm dead
For that queen will
Chop me into soup,..
Her cannibalistic tastes
Will watch with drooling joy
And my severed head will roll
Down to the queen's feet...
Let's play croquet
With the silly girl's ****** head
Ha! She laughs with delight
And rolls the head to and fro
In a beautiful lush garden
Cut out the heart! the queen demands
For the crowned woman is worse than
Vladimir the Impaler
And adding a warm heart to the vault
She will have her name strike
fear and lust into men's hearts...
Until they become a vaulted collection...
I'm late, I'm late
I'm late, I'm late
I don't exist
My watch has broken
My ticking heart is no more
And my grinning head stares at the queen's feet...
Wake me up! I scream, I beg
Save me from...
Save me from myself...

I had a bad day.
One of those that
started while
I was sleeping.

Shaking hands
and a heart racing
like the horses
in the Kentucky Derby.

I kept my mind blank,
on purpose, you know.
How is it that
all of a sudden,
every bad memory
comes to mind and
turns me into
jelly?

This day is odd.
Everything off.
Someone looks at me.
"Are you okay?"
"Yes, I am."
It's a small lie, but that
is the answer they expect.

They don't want to know
anything, except
that everything is okay.
They don't want
to know
the bad things.
Because that makes
them uncomfortable.

The sort of
uncomfortableness
that makes you itch.

I roll, and
take a ****.
I smoke my
closest friend.
You know the one.

I forget the bad,
I float in space,
and watch that someone
stumble and fall.
Too much to drink.

I prefer nature
to help me with my
bad days.

Why does it matter
What the little red fox says?
Silence is golden

The rain falls heavily
From depressed clouds
Of dark and mournful greys,
The torrent of water,
The sky's composure slipped away.

Needling drops ***** my skin
And crowns my saddened soul,
Sodden and embraced by cold.

My mind wanders far
Above these burdened clouds,
And their tears run down my face
Concealing my own
And washing silent pain away.

Now I and the rain
Have come together
In mournful harmony.

Choking
And sputtering
On a wrangled wreckage
Of my long, lasting train of thoughts
Tangled

The gods of my mind
Feed my spirit moondust
And I float through
A plastic purgatory
Everything rushing past
Absent, gone,
Blissful detachment
(Until reality forces itself inside)
I take a bite of my life
Bitter,
Like the moon.
I find the worst things in life
Are free, as I stare above
At stars and other people
(With the same pain as mine)
Searching for an angry fix.
The stars are just broken pieces
Of glass stuck in
The machine- cut night.
I bite the feet of my confusion
To keep it from stumbling
As I drown underneath
The upper hand.
Bitterness on the back of my throat.
I unsubscribe from my own mind
Because I don't get it anymore.

It is
My turn
For a ration
Of
Pain in this
Minute world
Where my
Tongue
Becomes a rug
For muddy
Shoes to
Scratch upon
And where my
Heart becomes
A marbled
Gravestone.

We'll walk hand in hand

in a field of daisies

each whispering

their little secrets

to the wind.




The willow tree

beyond us dances

in it's own trance

that we try to understand

by kissing the bark.




A geometric heart

has been carved

eternally

where we share "I love you's".




Beauty waves

from the sky

and no matter what eyes

behold it,

It is beautiful

and wonderful and

full of bliss that we might

burst into

fireworks of stars,

and now we can




make the night shine too.

Ashtoreth preys
On unwary beings
Using her sly wit
And beguiling smile
She twists and dances around
Burning her figure
Into the soul's retina
She's all thoughts
And hallucinations
That they all think were meant to be
They'll fall in love with lust
Then despair
When they find themselves seduced
And forgotten
Amongst the ochre smoke
Embedded and immobilized
In Hell they are in
They fail to find
Dante's secret door
Deeper they wander
Not quite dead
Nor blessed with living
Ashtoreth has given
The sweet ambrosial water
From the gods
And there in Hell they'll stay
Immortal
Surviving by serving
Sin's brother

he walked
a dusty path,
weary feet,
squinted eyes searching
through the horizon
of a sun burning low.

flower petals
of memories fell
softly to his feet.

there is nothing
beautiful here,
except the whispered
prayers
that he breathed softly
upon those delicate petals

and
let them drift away
onto the wind.

i found myself
peering inside
a thin slit of mentality
of my endless mind
a dark, dreary place
no better than the physicality
of my brittle life
for there is nothing worth living for
as no faith has been founded
within my empty heart
peeking within
i cringe quickly
squeezing my eyes shut
so all i imagine
are the imprinted photographs
upon my black eyelids
each picture shifting
with every mental blink
like slow lightning
striking dead trees;
i open my eyes
to the warm breath
of a vermilion sunrise
only to find
i've been living
inside my brain
where i have hidden
the earth
in this mental attic

butterflies scream,
wilted flowers weep
my loneliness holds me
in my sleep

toss and turn
that faithful friend
is here to stay
until my end

clinging to shadows
my blood it infects
until the noose tightens
around my neck

the puncture marks
in my arm
of the needle
keeps me warm

induced chemicals
in the red stream it goes
that loneliness inside
high and low

the end I see
no tunnel of light
finally I know, and I
cling to life...
                       With
                                  all
                                        my
                             might