The deer are buried up to their necks
in the sandy soil
the struggle for purchase
frees them
into a pack of black wolves jaws

Cup your palms around
that candle dear lazy
Spells to cast to the wombs
keep our ghosts outside
peering into tent *****
yellowing irises and
stamens strangely swaying
but nonsense
Butte no
out there
they stalk you dear lazy

Godless godly engine
Dreams its fuel for
entertainment
and call it at
art

in reverse trendelenburg
hot blood flush rushes
to my face
vision blanks the time being
and scarlet feverfew dreams
come with bills of ignored mail
why did they pour sand all over my bed
Im helplessly brushing notes
of blackbird wings
all because I wanted to give up

I have the flu
and that is perfect
It's not sarcastic
because now I can be
rotten
on the outside too

I like to remember that time
that we went to IHOP breakfast for the first time
You didnt know
but i was really nervous
and you started singing bohemian rhapsody
and i joined in
it made me feel better

Don thy best armours
For your heart flies
a lock of her shining hair
betwixt the spear shaft
to pierce the hearts of men
their broken forms lay strewn
across aphrodites battlefields
Beware you glimpse
such grace as ever strode
the folds of firmas breast

There's a town
It glitters with light
In a valley with walls
That sharply ***** heavenward
Into vicious triangular teeth
Covered in snowpack
And ancient spines

Aquiver mellifluous ineffable hiraeth nefarious somnambulist epoch sonorous serendipitous limerence bombinate luminescence ethereal illicit petrichor iridescent supine aurora solitude syzygy phosphenes oblivion ephemeral incandescence denouement vellichor eloquence defenestration Sondra effervescence cromulent cellar-door debridement

Illustrator icon verdant cerulean aeneous  albicant amaranthine azuline argent chartreuse damask ferruginous  haematic  hyacinthine ibis ochre primrose russet sanguineous virescent mystborn transcendence

Afraid I may have  accidentally awoken something dark. Dreamed of instructions most cursed and ******, the architecture is all wrong. A 2d face devours the page it was inked on, I'm a awake I'm awake I'm awake

She's beautifully chaotic
a whirlwind of makeup and hoopla
she'll kick bushes on her way;
to a can of beer and a good comic book

The truth is whatever
I say it is
So
Leave me alone
I just want
My secret life

I'm laying in a half filled
Inverse boat
The other half is
Filled up
With thoughts

Maybe they'll publish me
one the corner of the
daily
page 6
and sorry ***** black smears
bite they no longer
print any questions about what
or why
the daily exposition celebrity
murders
all bright screens now
farms as far as you can squint

my hand could pass
through the table
if I pressed hard enough
my feet
through the floor
I just want to melt
until I disappear

Moon of my heart
I haven't called you that in awhile
in the language that isn't ours
or heard you say it's response back
Even so
you are still
Jalan at'thirari anni

Miles of dusty polished marble
In half lit carpeted corridors
Of abigails and millers
Furnished lobbies that
Pipe down in soft tones
For absent auris
And present shells

I'm irritated and I'll
pour this bowl
of wrath on all
the things
around me
punch holes and
shiver through
the sudden bleak
Emptiness
around me
fill it back up
with liquor until it
sloshes away down this
knife hole and it
clatters to the ground
even though it's got my
fingerprints on it
I can wince through these
tears and cover it because
I'm irritated

Sorry sweetheart
mommy was drunk last night
Had too many alcohols
and she couldn't fit all
of the fruit snacks into
her mouth before
she passed out
that's why
the bed is covered in them
yes you can have some

I want to live
in a tin roofed shack
with a cooking fire underneath
that curls up its smoke
from under an iron ***
watch blue dark clouds
Roll in over the hours
so I can hear it's music
beat a rhythm out on my tin roof

Keeper of the meaning
      Mindfulness a prelude
           The struggled literature
  it asked the way
The keeper,  
    contemplating the path
          Stopped to think about
       Natural things
Asking elders on the trail
Creating triads
         Depicting aspects  
                  of her answer
    To the question
What it means
And some;          
  were enlightened
             And air and breath and beauty
       Wrought wrath
Indigenous justices
    Things worth keeping
          To the keeper of meaning

It's soft white alabaster but
a little dingy from overuse
hinting it's age with a bit of staining
around its curved spout
condensation dribbles from the lid down its azure twisting floral patterns
hissing it's boil with a pitched
Screeeeeeeeeeeee

You gorgeous creatures
delicate powder brushed faces
behind those large dark sunglasses
casually smoking
with your legs crossed
I'd burn my icarus wings
to catch the scent
of your perfume

So light
I brushed the drops away
With a wave.    
But long enough
To soak the earth
And fallen timber.                
I balanced on precariously
Traversing effervescent deluge
Losing purchase
And contemplating a sanguine palm.
Empathy swells the waves
That wash from each other.

Past me was an *******
He didn't care that future self
would be miserable
selfish ****
I want to trade places
with that *******

Sometimes I write landscapes
sometimes I paint abstract thought
sometimes emotions split
the iron I have wrought

pound the table
another round
here liquid courage
is to be found!

out flow the ales
pour forth the meads
hoist axe and buckler
there's mighty need!

For bearded froth
and battle hymns
tonight we drink
we drink from skins!

we drink from cups
we drain our steins
we'll drink until
our eyes go blind!

So hoist yer glass
join us tonight
put up yer fists
prepare to fight!

Put down that barstool
Ha! Ya missed
And sing the
Cadence of the ******!

Then pound the table
one last round
there's liquid courage
to be found!

Sometimes what is
and what would have been
or what will be
slips
Through your fingers and
possibilities and moments
that never were
or won't be again
flicker through
single frames on a
film reel
and if you could see all the frames
At once
you would be God

Some think this world a vale of tears, or worry and of sighs;
That Life's a great big lottery, in which few win a prize.
I read some hopeless verses once that don't deserve to last,
They told how the mill can never grind with water that is past.

I'd like to change that fallacy which has caused so many a tear,
And by transposing make it bear a message of good cheer
And point the way of winds of hope, like pennant on a mast,
For I know that the mill can grind again with water that is past.

A mountain stream comes trickling in the sunlight down the hill,
And gathers volume until it has strength to run the mill;
It happily continues then, upon its useful way,
Turns other mills still further down, until it joins the bay.

Its temporary mission o'er, it sweeps out to the sea
With other useful waters bearing it company;
And there all peacefully they rest, beneath the shining sun,
Who seems to think their mission is scarcely yet begun.

With gentle force He lifts them up in vapors to the sky,
And gathers them in fleecy clouds in His domain so high,
Where kindly winds then waft them back to that mountain home,
From which a few short hours before we saw them start to roam.

The cooling night then causes them to fall in gentle showers,
A blessing to that mountainside, to grass and trees and flowers;
And in the dawn of early morn we find them back once more
In that same little mountainside, but stronger than before.

They gather volume as they come a-tumbling down the hill,
And then with added vigor again they turn the mill;
And then in play they rush away, through meadowland and town,
And every mill again is turned as they go dancing down.

The brightest day is no more useful than the darkest night,--
Our troubles soon would disappear if we'd view them aright.
Good fortune may be holding back her best things to the last,
For I know that the mill can grind again with water that is past.

And that same little mountain stream
Has always been to me
But one of Nature's many proofs
Of Immortality.

I'll press my face against the wall
and pretend it's your cheek
on mine
even though it's cold
I need to watch less
****-o-graphy
It's making me
lonely

Should Andromeda collapse / Hammering hydrogen entraps
Cresting waves of burnished light / Whitecaps in the endless night
Fly apart with gentle violence / Into eternity of silence

Auspexes chiming targets acquired
purple smoking lances fire
Cherub dead face wings flutter
Ghost choir sings and voices mutter
Scrolling cognator clicking gears
snaking red glow cables fear
dull black cermite gleaming; polished
through the walls
with violence; demolished
Flags of battle now unfurled
Exterminatus; the end of world's
Atop the pile men stand tall
now fall back quickly to the halls
with bolter, chain, claw and hammer
fight back the witch, the mutant; unsanctioned psyker

Feel the walls breathe
They ripple outwards
And reverberate back
Cracking the air
Breaking the floor
Shocking the senses
Accelerating the heart
Heating the space
Between us

being separated from you
is suffocating
and i wonder
if you feel the same

I went about my day
with my intestines and stomach
so tight
I had swallowed rocks
boulders
exhausted
shaking
nauseous
went home early
there was no way I could function
so I used the rocks
to drown myself
in a bottle

Sit on street corner
with my hand written sign
Delicate letters
and scriptwriting fine
whisper your desires to me
love loss lymric & rhyme
I'll promise you sweetly
it's worth your dime

Rainbow parking lot oil stains
After the rain
staring at the washed asphalt
and my fingers go numb
wondering how the hell
and why so sad
another long drag
so much for
trying not to be bitter

White dust covered bark
cracked
in black slashes
to crowns of
gold
and yellow

I like to put my feet up
on the wall
and cross my legs over the tile
it feels comfortable
and smooth
         this is my bastion
vast and wet and screaming for
a release.                          but most often
it's a quiet place
a temple I've built to worship you in
where words echo somberly
invaders demand their boat back
and ask if it floats
  it does

And it faded to a dull ache
never quite leaving
never quite the same
a permanent grey cloud
over our collective landscape

Tonight I thought about
pushing the accelerator to the floor
And turning the wheel hard
the roads were icy
and I was already going pretty fast
it would have been easy
to blame the weather
instead of me
but I kept the wheel straight
I'm not sure why

with a black sharpie smile
and two scissor holes
my brown paper bag face
lets me walk out the door
and interact with you
its safer in here
my brown paper bag face

Oh goddess
Let me kneel before thee
in supplication
Arms outstretched
the temple's forbidden smoke
burning in the brazier
is your perfume
How may I best worship thee?

In the summer we shall
paint your alabaster idol
Her lids be the color of bruised fruit
She is nameless in our tongue
but the people called the Greeks
name her Aphrodite

The farmers pray to you for wet summers
the masters beg you let them cling
the dregs plead for full bellies
They do not know you
They do not commune with you
in your temple
and yet they have the audacity to lament
when you turn your face from them

What brings the rain and corn
Is sacrifice and devotion
it is the doorway you enter through
But even that is meaningless
for your beauty is a mask
and you are not your face
or your idol
behind it
is your divine truth, secrets lie there
gods demand beauty in spirit
so if they be hideous to mortal sight
they will still be beautiful
to Aphrodite

So bring the oil
cloying to pillars our garlands
touch our forehead to the cold stone
and lift our spirits
to meet your painted own

Throw my hood up
get the **** away from me
No don't wanna talk about what's wrong
(Is it going to be okay)
Slam the door to let them know
How upset I am and now
Its off its hinge
and I'm off to binge
that will show them
give the finger
from the back of 911

I've seen the kind of violence
that makes you ill
for the rest
of your
life.
grotesque bombastic dramas
and tragic gore soaked tears
and when it's still
and quiet
it comes roaring back to you

Home that isn't
Is full of spiders
What do they eat
I'll sweep them up
Until it's lovely
Again