A nascent society gluttonously feeds
on the palingenesis of hyaline paragons
forged by stolid and archaic eremites.
A whilom friendship leaks a susurrus
of tristful regret,
while pernicious ***** maunder
puerile attacks on munificent
intellectuals who only wish to
augment risible souls and divagate
from vertiginous roads too often traveled.
Such a chimerical respect for tradition
is too rigid to be broken alone.

Through unheard hymns, stained glass reflections,
and blurred visions of scattered rosary beads under a dusty crucifix
I stumble desperately towards the confessional booth
so as to skip purgatory
and walk across dried [willow]* leaves,
the patron saint of flipping the bird
refusing to recognize the difference
between water and it's apparently holy counterpart.

Unscathed by altars of broken dreams
I will slip into the mysterious afterlife
without fear of judgement,
rather drunk
with a child's curiosity.


*unfavorable climates for palms led to the substitution of boughs of box, yew, willow or other native trees.

Play a song to my fevered heart
do not stop, do not restart.

Sing the tears right off my face
sing forever, just in case.

Rock the shoes off my aching feet
"down on the corner, out in the street"

Beat that bass till youth returns
and the yearning soul within me churns.

Solo licks of sacred breath
heard not once since Hendrix's death.

Compose a score of rising tension
race my heart with hot dissension

Songs of love or songs of trance...

...all I want to do is dance.

Death be nimble, Death be quick.
Walls of decaying urban brick
rotten scars of surfaced pain
scratched away by city cranes.

Landfills and houses fill the rest
behold the putrid angels nest,
mayors of blind, children of deaf
tongues removed from gifted chef.

Brothers and sisters fade alike
rusted daggers flawless strike
Hearts of lions dull alone
Hard men's withered fingers groan.

Light forsaken in cities dead
plagues of sorrow swiftly spread
today is dying, morrow's sick,
Death be nimble, Death be quick.

Ambiguous propaganda seeps paranoia
into crevasses of budding knowledge,
spawning hordes of diffident souls
that cower behind the Aegis
of altruistic motives.

Self preservation clings
to pragmatic love
and delayed satisfaction,
while enthusiasts of law
leech gold from delicate
words left unsaid.

The expense of insuring hope
dooms creative anomalies
to tedious and ceaseless
indentured servitude.

And the day split-lip parasites
swarm like Death to claim souls,
the only cure
will waste away final days in
an attempt to prolong them.

The vacant hallway echoes futile cries
of withering smiles
and half-murmured lies.
Mind scattered with glimpses, images flash
relentlessly
'till memories collapse.

Vintage wallpaper stains rooms with regret
as the cold wooden floors
never forget
temptation haunted by weights of deceit.
The rocking-chair sounds
the horn of retreat.

Remnants of love forever lay broken
shards of once was
and words left unspoken.
Joyless, he left with just a whispered sigh,
of withering smiles
and too-late goodbyes.

Captive to an enigma of mirrors
where infinity is seen to grow nearer
but delicate fingers stop at cold glass.
Escaping Plato's Cave but reaching impasse,
perception eludes reality's grasp.
As wise men sit patient and cowards gasp
intelligence hammers at mimicking bars
unavailing, retreating with only scars.

Self projections linger 'cross barren plains
mind forgotten freedom, shackled in chains,
hungry men compose spoken free verse
bellowed harmoniously unrehearsed;
but only one voice reality sings
I am the first of the mirror box kings.