nightingale wings
sing upon a breeze of spring
yet fear

the bats of
your eyelashes
scream

here in the moonlight
everyone is beautiful-
that will not last long

Right now
it's midnight
somewhere else

at noon,
you may see
two hands
clasped together
in prayer.

Me, I see
a *******
hiding behind
a thumb.

Break my knees, claim your worship.

Your cup runneth over my bowed brow,
only rising towards thine countenance.

Paint your lips with my blood:
(ne'er-do-well my flesh)
kiss me into immortality.

Do all these things in mastery of me.

Packed tight and
smoothly rounded
like a cherished snowball,

I threw my prescited heart
into the hellfire
that is your aura;

my love for you
was a rocket
that could not survive reentry.

For better or worse, down will come
heaven: the wife I have and hold
smooth and warm like a shot of ***
her heart made of pure, solid gold.

Bad hands still get played where I'm from
for better or worse, down will come
for those that would take me for chump
up my sleeve fell the fatal trump.

When the lights go out...that is me
sound suppressing louche stridency
for better or worse, down will come
loose ends a means to zero sum.

Ghosts hide and seek confrontations
not smart enough to know they're dumb
signposts at omega stations
for better or worse, down will come.

Slow snowflakes descend upon socializing howls,
full moons rise and shine beneath mobilizing howls.

Skittish eyes, fretful feet fear the hour of the hunt:
sure doom orchestrated by synchronizing howls.

Savanna pride is tantamount to sylvan shame,
wisdom and madness therein polarizing howls.

There is hierarchy in this night dynasty
survival, the common cause organizing howls.

A laughing wolf is very charming amongst them
what does not fear makes stranger, mesmerizing howls.

i look
at stars
and wonder
if i'm being
shined by
twinkling motes
in the blackened eyes
of cosmic hypocrites...

boardroom doors,
circuits open
grey matter hallways
where skeletons
made of lightning
fricassee my synapses

jackboots roundup
****** dahlias deflowered,
their wilted smiles
rainbow
the grass below
with shadows

cowardly dandelions
roar no more,
taken to see the wizard
on yellow brick roads
paved with the
carcasses of braver kin.

Sooner or later, night finds you
taking matters in your own hand
malice aforethought by demand
detach the bone from the sinew.

The red light special feeling blue
sooner or later, night finds you
working ******* track, selling this
customer zipper lip service.

No one cares...sign off to the side
a wishing well puddle of pride
sooner or later, night finds you
hat in hand for a meal or two.

****** wrists wipe away the rue
vestigial seems the mirror
memory blurs the truth clearer...
sooner or later, night finds you.

Grazing on dead men's hair
dripping rivulets of bile
chains are reins seared
into their manes
equine specters stampede;
obsidian hooves trampling
the dreamdance rhythm.

The storm of us was seductive
but best intents turned destructive
against the will of their heralds
crestfallen by the reductive.

I never thought my heart would break
in your held hands, my soul to take
time to heal and distance to learn
faith in always was a mistake.

Lost in the pain that you ignore
trust, to coalesce is amor
noble find than blind ambition,
true mind, body and soul rapport.

I saw handwriting on the wall
recognized your sleek cursive scrawl
dupe in the loophole; kick the chair,
hope is quite heavy in freefall.

Telltale that love is not warfare,
that truth is a dangerous dare
more burden than blessing to bare
the quantum of solace we share.

Forever trapped in the locked room
buoys floating through darkened seas
each of us was born in a tomb
we may desecrate as we please.

Shadow puppets dance and sashay
forever trapped in the locked room
masks of rationale we assume
the yellow king is on his way.

Infernal planes spiral open
most minds are not fit to plume
forever trapped in the locked room
little priests find all keys broken.

A flat circle of our chagrin
dreams of being a person loom
this has and will happen again
forever trapped in the locked room.

I first saw him in magazine ads:
chiseled face + handlebar mustache + a thousand yard stare= badass.
Often, two smiling, beautiful people would be to his sides,
connected to his coolness, validated by his sophistication.
I couldn’t wait to have one.

An adjustment period comes with having a pet—sacrifices must be made.
People say things like, “I never figured him as a monkey person…”
and you become part of the pet owner’s subculture.
He stinks up the house a bit, but I never have to lay down newspaper.
Like I said, sacrifices must be made.

We soon develop a symbiotic relationship:
when I wake up, he is next to me…
I pick him up after every meal…
I take him for walks on my breaks from work…
Ozzie & Harriet…
Michael & Bubbles…
Frankie Beverly & Maze—
“We Are One”.

Anyhow, eleven years pass and he gets huge.
It’s becoming harder to carry him the less I think of it.
My pet develops a penchant for climbing skyscrapers,
a proclivity towards abducting white women,
but he is always there for me.

I wouldn’t call him high maintenance,
but caring for a silver-back gorilla can be expensive.
Nonetheless, he is well-fed;
the money I spend is Chiquita.
I kiss his ****, sure…everyone that knows him does.

I have to get rid of him
and it will break my heart.
You can’t take a gorilla to the pound
and they won’t read Dear John letters,
but something must be done.
If I don’t **** him
sooner or later, he will **** me…
he has become a wild animal after all.

A pet is never more dangerous than its owner.

You keep trying to turn the amp into the mic.

This, the secret fate of all life
forever trapped in a locked room
delusions of grandeur are rife
chain links chiming hope in the brume.

Sooner or later, night finds you
this, the secret fate of all life
death is the groom that seeks a wife
to divorce and marry anew.

For better or worse, down will come
the upper crust cut with a knife
this, the secret fate of all life
best intentions first to sucuumb.

Zeitgeists eclipse the long bright dark
yellow spiral reign, flat and stark
reincarnate to reckon this strife,
that, the secret fate of all life.

soft candlelit glow
writhing shadows on the wall
naked silk and gin