Lascivious feel of a man
misguided in his triumphs
enthralled with his disasters

Self-inflicted are the scars
Invisible to the eye
But he sees them

Vague imprint of a face he knew
Engraved in his consciousness
Chiseled by affection

Memory of an effigy
Vaulting spasms to the mid
It's an infection

Struggling for air
Desperate to grasp a branch
Long since cremated

Suffocating infection
Chokes him
An echo of affection
Torments him
Cloistering rejection
Roots him in place

The feel of the vehicle, bitter from the night
Blue light on the dash
Whirring of gears as the glass rolls
Eight air fresheners hang loose from the mirror
Holding on to your memory

Grabbing for the pack of death
And lighting another nail in the coffin
reticence clawing at his ears
The memory of your mirth fueling the fire
Indigestion strikes like a knife to the side
Held by your slender hand

The laughter shared obsesses the heart
Beating with such vigor and plight
Mind tripping on compromised pasts
Tender is the ghoul from the nail
Circling his head like a noose
Bound by your memory

In remembering solace
To ease his concern
Taking comfort in his rusted cage
Seat embracing him
Upholstered in stained fabric
Shedding light on shadowed nights of old

His memory of you fades
No longer lancinating
No longer choking
In taking solace in the void that has become your memory

Day and night
   One forever chasing the other
Elevation to base level
   Naturally trying to reach that comfortable low
Positive and negative
   Trying to balance the chaos
Shadow and light
   One cannot exist without the other
Matter produced in a black hole
   Still has an anti-matter counter part to settle their chaotic existence
Quantum coupling
   The idea that particles that are smaller than our problems can be linked and effected together in real time
You and I
   We thought this was it
   We figured the chaos was organized
   That the day and the night coexisted in a beautiful coalescence
   That the creek stopped flowing and made a lovely pool to swim in
   That this black hole called our lives had stopped *******
   I assumed things were peachy because you seemed happy
   But then the moon ran away, the sun to forever chase it
   A crack formed and the pool began to flow again
   And that hole called my life began to slowly spin
   And devour the colors in my days
   Leaving only black and white
And
   Days and nights

Is that it?
Are there no more words worth saying?
Could it be
That all my cuts and gashes
Have scabbed?

Is that it?
Is that where I derive my words?
From the old stubborn pain
Of a heart in shards?
Is my ink not simply
My life blood pouring out?

Is that it?
Is it so sad that I need
To hurt in order to spill rhymes?
Is it worth it to pick at old wounds
Just so I can make a bit of
Self indulgent art?

Is that it?
Does my mind simply become
Stagnant when it has no
Negative input?

Can't I write when I'm full?

Can't I write when I'm happy?

Can't I write whenever I want, regardless to how you left me?

Is that it?
A question I asked myself over and over
Is that it?
The only person willing to listen
To my pleas was an inanimate
Pad of college rule?
Is that it?
Is it?

Born under Artemus
To the mother, Nemesis
Born to fight against
The hounds of hell

Has earned his company
In the temple of villainy
Has earned his place
Among the lore

For the lore be written
To include the villians
For the lore be not a judge
To cast shame on him

His actions have bound
His fate with the hounds
His actions will decide
Which road to chase

Which sends his soul
To a heart once his own
Which sends his mind
Into insanity

His state on the plane,
A strange domain
His state on the dais
A pawn to the fates

Who allow him to rectify
His mistakes in life
Who allow the hounds
To snap their jaws

At the gates of hell
With a familiar swell
At the gates of Hades
With a heart of hatred

With a beautiful prize
Held up with pride
With a beautiful emptiness
Caused by vengeance

The hounds snap their jaws
And click their claws
The hounds move aside
To grant his passage

Into the forever abyss
That is born from hate
Into the forever
His name, Eucledes.

I met an eccentric fisherman today
He was five foot five  with a beard
Seven foot seven

As gant as the pole in his hands
And more bronze than my shower taps
He had a salty grin and six black teeth

'Ye fancy fish, interior boy?'
S sounds whisled
'Aye got one ere for ye then lad'

It floundered in my tender land hands
It's gills flapped open like window blinds
'Relinquish me boy'

'Wet my skin in the waters of home,
And I'll trade a desire for my freedom'
I gazed at the fisherman

He had disappeared

'Release this fish and I'll grant
The deepest wish for ye, small ant.
For my power is great'

I'm hungry, powerfish
I haven't eaten for days
Could you give me that?

'A simple wish, a gift most easily given
Drop me boy and you'll taste heaven'
It floundered

Water splashed my face as the fish
Swam away from the shore.
Where is my meal, oh powerfish?

'Fool hearted boy, simpleton left hungry
Never trust fish or else ye angry
Enjoy the hunger lad
I'm the tastiest fish you could have had!'

It's hard to stay hopeful
Hopefull hope full
Hope
The adamant, stubborn desire for something better
Or something more

And being full of it can leave you
Full of ****
Who are you kidding?
What a joke it must be
To maintain hope when staring down shame
And dismay

But you have to remain hopeful
Get a fresh glass of the ambrosia
And fill up on hope
So much hope that your ****
is saturated in dreams
And turn that frown upside down
Hop in that boat of dreams
And sail into the sun
Sail into the future

Build a mast out of happy
And a sail out of positivity
And oars to be fashioned from the finest
Apple tree
And float on with the hot gail
Maybe you'll find that distant shore
Where hope grows on trees
And the smallest fruit fills your dreams

Inflection
Infliction
Infection

Defective
Defenseless
Impressive­

Depression
Impression
Departure

From

Reality
Surreality
Purit­y

Into

Frailty
Depravity
Definitely

Causing

Confusion
Diffusi­on
Profusion

In

Inflection
Infection
Imprison

On the stool
A pedistal for the fool hearted
Jilted and the shamed.
Made out to be the villian
In the drama you named
"Life"

On the stool, perched and poised
To lift one more glass with the boys
But they're not here
To gaze on him

On the stool
Head in one hand
Brew clenched hard
As the few drops left
Hit the sandy tongue

On the stool
Belly full of forgetfulness
He stands
To **** away his hopes
Of being with you
Getting accustomed to
"Alone"

On the stool
Consuming another glass or forgotten memories
Will he ever leave this place
Of shame and disgrace
And open the doors to face
The cold yet familiar embrace
Of failure and be left with the taste
Of stale beer and old tobacco?

The sands become my tomb
As I lay staring
At natures mirror

Memories invade my gaze
The mirror depicts a face
Staring back

Is this the face of the man I was?
Or the glare of the stonecut man
That I've become?

Etched from marble
Or maybe granite
By the horrors it's seen

This sandy grave consumes me
And my glare turns upward
Inflection of this mind begins

The mirk above does not churn
It does not waver
And I realize I'm alone

The Vast reflects back at the stonecut
Mirroring the emptiness
In his eyes and soul

The realization of internal emptiness
Is deafening in the silent night
Has revenge done this to me?

My body a float, my ships ablaze
drifting into the last whisps of haze.
I stare into the sun
and feel it glare right past me.

Wind whips my face, hair adrift in mirk
I think back to when that devious smirk
sent me away
and doomed all of my men...

The sand gripped me back, on the beach of my birth
twas the first step I took, into the future, inevitable dearth.
Doomed from the start
but far too blind to see

There on her pedestal, she once was my queen
this far from the shore, her gaze has no chains on me.
twas the hero of yore
absent my name, in the lore

The villain she made me, the destroyer of homes
wasting innocent people, a case of Fomes
has tainted my heart
and wilted me from the inside

Irreparable the damage of that Asp in the sand
holding me close, promising her hand
and cast me away
cast me away
cast me away



Sickly and venom-ridden, my soul and my mind
dreams of the woman who I must soon chide
I float in the mirk
Apollo wont watch me now

I pray to a god, in hopes I catch ear
and am given a chance to return from here
return from here
hand wrapped around spear

cast away away from home
into parts unknown
dying cold in the waters
most stranger to me
most stranger to me
most stranger...

Dear gods hear my plee
give me one last chance
to exact my revenge
and pay my way home
down straight into hell
with her head in my hands
*Shallow eye-light guiding my way

There's voices again, familiar and faint
they tell me things, intention to taint
they whisper lies into my mind
they make sinners out of saints

I heard her again, an ethereal roar
her mirth rang loud, piercing the door
in death her soul must have bind
again her memory wanders

First the laughter, then the Shadows
behind an edifice, and around it's corners
is it a memory or is it malicious?
darkened figures in it's high windows

There's voices again, calling to me
promising folly and dismallity
should I listen and face insanity?
Or disregard them and their brutality?

The pain I see in the back of your eyes
As you stare at me
Shaves years off my face and puts razors
In my blood
It sets the acid inside my stomach on fire
And arthritisizes my joints
The stare I send you sees deep in
Through the window
I can alleviate our pain with a word, an action or a kiss
So close, yet galaxies apart
Your eyes show your heart, I send my heart
In hopes that our hearts will beat as one
And that our torture may end
And that my sheepish ways may end
And that we become singular
And that the stars above form and bend for us

On this clear night the moon glowers
Spreading false light on the blackest of evenings
Your porcelain flesh is illuminated perfectly
The lurking breeze shuffles your hair around the white dance floor
A waltz of seduction, a tango of pheromone driven lust

The moon skirts behind a passing cloud, as you nuzzle closer to me
I tighten the leash around Time’s neck and slow it down
It is our pet, we command it what we will
We command it to remain still, and we relish in our embrace

“Dear Moon, I pray to you
that I and my love shall stay
forever under your view
on this nega-light night
with time at our feet
*and her warmth in my hands”

The bramble wood slumped low
Over the winter fueled forest.
The stocks broke the silence
As a deer did walk.

Antlers of glory, frosted with hairs
And glints of diamondic ice.
Majestic forest memory, striding by
When the pink stalked.

This creature crept like no other
It’s mane was long and tangled.
But only covered it’s head, it wore
The skin of a fellow creature as it drew its bow.

A twitch of the nose, a flinch of an ear
The arrow flew through the air
Rustled the bramble limbs
and dispersed the diamondic ice.

Guide me, guide me.
Guide me to the home I deserve
Guide me, with your spotlighteyes
To the world I wish to live in
To the arms that need filling
To the heart that needs mending
To the one who requires me
The same one who needed others
Guide me to the home I should occupy
Guide me back to you
With your spotlighteyes

What did I do to deserve the pain im receiving?
The lies and tales of deceit that tread your history
Like a shark lurking for tasty, red blooded fallacies

Im not the boy you think I am
Im the man that you need, the man you hunt for

Like that humble shark in search of knowledge
You lurk and run, hoping to find me in front of you
The fallacy that I am, im not eluding you
Im right here, I always have been

I think this time the tasty fish has to find his own doom
And search out the razor-being and end my suffering
Then the pain I feel, will be my own doing
And not the doing of cowardice

K.D.
My life is fleeting, like a bat from the sun
And the tires are still spinning
The air reeks of brimstone
The hell I face is nothing compared to the hell I’ve been through
The hell I’ve felt waiting and wanting
To tell you
How I feel, how I felt
The fire is growing, frozen breathe in melt
Its creeping closer to the tank, I cant move my legs
I love you still, always will
S.L.

The pale sands shadow your skin
The moon’s light bares you no justice
Its shine is nothing compared to your eyes
Nor does the ocean beside me, twinkle greater than they do
The goddess of the night waits atop her throne
Eyes that pierce the clouds and space itself
With the face that sent many ships to the deep of the ocean
The heart and mind to mend and destroy
You are my Helena, my Calliope, my Cassiopeia, and the River Queen Cleopatra

The waves splash my feet, my love
My boat is bound for lands dangerous
The white sand grips my feet, and I grip back
I wish not to leave you my goddess
Wait not for me, Lunar Matriarch
For I shall not return alive
Leave my body afloat dear Gods
Let my ship burn, my men die

I shall never see this beach or my Aspen Harlot afterwards.

How are you doing? I am well.
The water this time of year is quite good, yet it is very far down.
You may need a longer rope.
To answer your question, no, a child has not fallen into me.
Please write back soon, Solum Unda.

The lightning
A sharpness of illumination
The charged ions, her hands.
I want to join her
Her vehemence, her power, her random abandon
Her ardency, her benevolence
She strikes the earth with a tremendous blast
And cracks the crags of cenozo
The snapping of her leashed dogs
Excite the nightro

gen

I shall climb the mountains to the west
I have to yell loudly into the atmos in hopes of her hear
I will thunderously dance under her wet and hope its tears
If answered, I shall join my love in the aether, and become one with her.

He writes invisible lines on horizontal, murk.
Twisting the phalanx lance similar to a shimmering rod
The iron blade edge combusting moth shrimp
As they ride onto a load to gather currency
The coal-burning Noise-whale, a collector
Twists a symphonic of wrench and groan
Under the gargling wail of fuel
As well as pistons, the reflection of The Tired.
They rest hovering topside, crouched
And struck by the whipping lash of colour
The rope wrenches into the horizontal,
Winching the Oxen toward the catch
Winching until nets rip in like horizontal pull
Surfacing up through murk with a feverish shine
And shifting away to naked frailty
That glory The Tired had began to behold.

The wind carries the soul
Toward a heart, it’s own
An apparition of anticipation
Toward the body, raggedly worn

The teller, not the told of
The forgotten, not the forgiven
Time-bleached and iron-hardened
The scourge and scorned

The wind carries the leaf
From its home, into the abyss
A melody of Frailty
From the porch, familiar and warm

The searched for, but unwanted
The secret lover, the obvious fool
Beach-beaten and vine-ripened
The burnt and enlightened

The wind carries me
From the darkness, into the bright
The waiting maiden, fair skinned beauty
Toward the light and a better life.

Rambling, clambering, bubbling brook of words
Runs quickly over the book
In front of you
You
You who are without unknowledge
Without sin
Without the knowledge to know
How to feel
Or too see
Or to untranslate into “me.”
How you talk in that way
The way that forces me to look away
Look away because if I don't I believe
That my arms will heave
And I will leave this chair
And heave a hand heavy into your hair-line
And find that you are possibly kind
And caring, and willing to share the words of cherish
And behold in the awe of the beauty of the words running
Rambling
Clambering out of your open head
And onto the burnt carpet.
And into my hand
Heaving with heavy hatred
At the sight of your human form.
But for now
Those words shall remain running and rambling
As I hold my clambering rage inside
And wait for you to finish
Waiting for the rest of the room to realize
How pompous you really are.
And I thank you
For if you weren’t rambling and bambling
Then how could I have written anything?