I am the pinnacle of controversy
Some say ******-my middle name
And still to others I represent freedom,
I am the pointed pentagram of blame.

Almost mothers spread cold-feet
Where I scrape and claw/vacuum aspirate eat.
From open, porous, space-between-legs
My Gnashing teeth-grind out the would be meat.
I am the noise that is never forgotten
Detaching zygotes from walls of womb
I am the reality of ****** indiscretion- the tomb

I do my job- do I play  “God” ?
For the “******” behind doors
Carrying secrets & dreams of more
They leave one less-plus future full-term
slide up their stockings & hope not to return

I’m the last to see the mothers-to-be
Before they change- rearranged
I see geometrically: each.separate.part:
Chalk eyes never wet just hurt
Lips-lined straight with shame
chins that never wobble- 50/50 tipped to pray
& feet with nowhere to fall, they walk away

I am the pin-cushion point of pain
To what the picketing protesters agenda is aimed
I am where pro-life and pro-choice meet
The executioner of straight to heavens unborn elite
I am the buzzing abortion machine.

Barely Walks.
And does not sleep

day squinting
night in trance;

Moonblinked


& Anomie doesn’t speak 
What she thinks
Until she drink
Apart; life projector spreads in sheets




Anomie not loveable
so off she goes
with dogs in sheets
that bark and bones

& in the padded womb
zaps milky-Light
synthetic-filtered-bright
A spotlight for the bees
Getting Drunk between her Knees

Confusion explodes confetti
disorientation takes the plow
*** the only how
An ******; or a fake hopeless meow
She lives in mental corners
watching window borders
They push in; she falls out

Brand new day
Teeth on pillows crack
Anomie's mind
has to react
She's fast to split-
Spit out a rebuttal
method witty-tactix kit

No one tells her time to go
But when Bee's belly full
She-goes - Self-loathes
Morning Glories still shriveled in their pods
They own the glory of her story and her song

Hiding in sarcastic retreat for clean feet
under ***** water bathes
wipes off the meat

Not your friend
She's trouble to love
The dirtiest dove

Anomie is naked and she's hated
Take away the curtain glove
eye slit under sunlit
She recovers

Don't judge
it's all her love
but you ****** Anomie anyways
just because
The Thrill

The window of the classroom blinds-
The morning sun shined through.
The little ones at school to play,
Each eager for the day

All questions stopped when once he walked
To scatter dreams of pure-
With violent bullets; he made red
The white boards and the floors

Through gutted valleys he did stride
Of children slain for none
His boots crushed lunches and he paused---
On innards low his foot

And of the fame he wished to find
The media inclined---
To tell a tale of what guns do,
Without the kids in mind

They each had dreams of perfect things ---
And all respect is due
To little minds cut off from time
To which they had such few

Daisy Love

Say something about your petals that have fallen astray
Lets hear about
your green grass view  sprinkled  wet on sunny days
When innocent lips graze
Sour icicle breath on sweet Sundays
Express a time when all 7 petals mine
Perfectly aligned
Told no story of weather and time.

Pluck one - through seven plucks later
Daisy stump tell the world how the
Innocence fell
From the height of grace
To rough asphalt hell.

When all thats left is pollen stains
And leaf veins.
From playin the game
Pluck
to love me
Pluck
to love me not
Pluck
to love me
Pluck
to love me not
plucked at the soul
daisy stripped of self
Ruined after all

Noli Me Tangere
Do not touch me
I am the deer that eludes the hunt.
The thick beating drum that rests by my lung,
Is no ones to scoop out or to conquer
Round’ my neck droops -a necklace of daisies,
Withered off-white six-seasons sun-bright
A gift from the Artist;
Whose soul twined with mine,
Deep roots and thick vined.
Our fruits once plump ripe, now lie rotten
Plucked from my presence, forgotten
The essence of Wild & Free- we ran rapidly,
From, institutions, illusions, dogma, delusions
I am he and he is me. a painting, verse, a memory
& now I flee alone, paintbrush tail, no home
To hunt me is in vain.
I am the bohemian- I am never tamed
Noli Me Tangere
Do not touch me

First Word War
Pseudo Realistic
Ballistic Uninhibited
A missile sent to split 4 ways
Edify a Crisis in phases
Automaton Pretty Faces
In Disguise to Amaze
a general public of sheep
BLEEP BLEEP
bullet proof bodies unarmed
with spit charming critics
listeners are chirping crickets
culminating communication
this is project…
“Superior Legitimate Unfeeling Trend”
Capital Punishment designed for when
humans breathe on humans
stress is truth is fast
look looming
wade in boozeblues keep on using
mayhem amusing
to pigs in fatso pen
***** rich and booming
sucker fish snoozing
we execute plan z
permanent marker losing

Everybody Likes
             A
                 Short Poem
             That
                    LOOKS
Like this.
                 So Artsy
You can't resist:
                           To make my poem trend
by pressing the heart <3 button
                                                THE END.
                                                #marketing

Her lips were cracked, I felt along-
The ridges cold and crude
Her bladder seeped onto the sheets
I wrung my hands; withdrew

Her heart was still a living drum
I called red-lights and blue  
To take her to the machine place
The hospital, my pew

And when she woke- I seldom spoke
Of what I had been through
Nor she for she was equally
A secret-keeper too

The butterfly of many talents
talked nothing but of himself...
and never stopped to Listen
or gain true conversational wealth
cloaked in flamboyent colors
his butterfly wings so huge,
captured a little lost lady moth
(looking for the moon)
and kept her as his muse

just as the wings of the butterfly
so was the moths heart large
and so she inspired her captor unconditionally..
and loved freely, fanning him...
& flapping her wings too hard...
each time they would tear ,
she'd ignore the searing pain
for with all of her inner beauty;
by no means was she vain

the butterfly misused his muse
did not reciprocate emotion
so her wings drooping stupidly
with blind devotion
were as lost shadowed in his coloring
as before.......
searching for the light of moon in black ocean

he had never saved her from the vast
sky-sea & empty Galaxy
But used her flutter as a tool
to satisfy his selfish artistic needs

the little lost moth lost flight
As she began to understand
the light butterfly provided
was a stage light made by man

all the time she lost
robbed her spirit and stole her grace
so she rubbed the powder off his big bright wings and thought
-what good is his outward beauty now that he can no longer soar in space-
Disenchanted but free at last
moth tries but can never trust color
won't inspire art or music
and will never love another.....

Milked and Pasteurized in infancy
I come of age and choke on the breast I've suckled and wrung.
Explore an open door of opportunity to meet the man who settled the seed.
Disappointed to find only horses, cracks, and neverland keys.
Recognize a social scheme of getting in, getting off, and moving on.
No longer ignorant in bliss,
Apparent to me that daddy left and all that's there is mother mirage.

She's climbing a ladder to complicated bliss,
Pockets full of posies, pills, and thrills.
Mind full of confliction,
self-deprecating inhibition-
hypocritical actions to condone.

Bake a cake.
Make a mermaid sandwich to oblivion
Talk metaphors to your minion.
Fake a place.
Call it home.

Be the hammer in my stone, help me tumble n' bow to your throne.
Sold me sideways lies and theory
Hypothetically, it seems to me that $commission$ was gained
from blackened eyes and skinned up knees
Come to find the wrinkled hand that led me was none but my own.

Guess your conscious forgot it's name
Guess your soul forgot my name.
Careful Grace that saved a wretch like no one.
She's carefully steppin' around your toes,
She's gracefully getting tired of recreating this unreality.

You're a ******' rabbit in a hole.
Lit a match and you've lost all self-control
What breaks you makes you.
What takes you, stakes you out to come and **** you, fake you
Knock on hidden hills door to get more
Swallow the roof that disproves your critics
Keeps you loose and ******* the alphabet dry.
Swallow Cold Alphabet Soup.  I try.