Feb 2012
Dull death
Wreaking avenues
All faceless made of love's mess
An empty alley moneyless & hopeless
We all smell of crisp money
Lost dreams
&
Fortified compounds of false fornicating
Sweet kiss of gloom resting atop the moon
I hate poetry & every room that makes its presence a tomb
The golden loom of wicked holiness
Relinquishing only the faults yet not the sin's
And though the sky is grey cool forgiving
The mind is always reminding me of the ones who are winning
Dull death
Worn blacken robe
****** traps yet intellectuals still buff
Where there were laughs there are now
Hanging fish gaffs
Smothered in chocolate blood from
The finest hands of Eastern Italy
Bed sheets spread across her silken skin
Yet there is no place that words can even begin
And when one tries their efforts pour out in vain
For the sun and the moon and the rain clouds too
Were never meant to be written or burned down
Forsooth tis' true
Dull death
Your hair smells as if its been burnt
And my tired worked lungs lunge
Toward what our Brothers have created
And what your sister tried to keep sedated
Yet I know not what keeps your heart warm & tight
For the fright is alright until no one is there in your bed & in sight
Listen to the window it raps as if it is telling you
Where to go and your you should learn to get blue
So when your gale blows for no one but the soul of saint Clue'
Take your tarot cards because the claim is there with no one in sight to blame
Dull death
Dreaded prose
Dreaded symbology & repetition
A trap with no key
A box clamped shut by the hands of the Gods
Burning pages within cooling words
A river bed lined with the finest grapes
And the smoothest milk
Shifting in the sands of the old & the new
Pressing for an expansion that will not be there
Holding fast to a truth which shouts from the claps of the mob
Roman like & epic like
Playful, a blind child gripping the strings of a lying kite
Dull death
Forsaking cruel unforgiving relentless
Comforting death
I see your eyes for I stare right at you
The notes which chatter from your stained white teeth
Remind me of a tune my mother used to do
She sang it on Christmas
There was never a moment in my youth I could have missed it
Dear Death
Dear Mother
You are one and the same
Wreaking avenues
All faceless made of love's mess
An empty alley moneyless & hopeless
We all smell of crisp money
Lost dreams
&
Fortified compounds of false fornicating
Sweet kiss of gloom resting atop the moon
I hate poetry & every room that makes its presence a tomb
The golden loom of wicked holiness
Relinquishing only the faults yet not the sin's
And though the sky is grey cool forgiving
The mind is always reminding me of the ones who are winning
Dull death
Worn blacken robe
****** traps yet intellectuals still buff
Where there were laughs there are now
Hanging fish gaffs
Smothered in chocolate blood from
The finest hands of Eastern Italy
Bed sheets spread across her silken skin
Yet there is no place that words can even begin
And when one tries their efforts pour out in vain
For the sun and the moon and the rain clouds too
Were never meant to be written or burned down
Forsooth tis' true
Dull death
Your hair smells as if its been burnt
And my tired worked lungs lunge
Toward what our Brothers have created
And what your sister tried to keep sedated
Yet I know not what keeps your heart warm & tight
For the fright is alright until no one is there in your bed & in sight
Listen to the window it raps as if it is telling you
Where to go and your you should learn to get blue
So when your gale blows for no one but the soul of saint Clue'
Take your tarot cards because the claim is there with no one in sight to blame
Dull death
Dreaded prose
Dreaded symbology & repetition
A trap with no key
A box clamped shut by the hands of the Gods
Burning pages within cooling words
A river bed lined with the finest grapes
And the smoothest milk
Shifting in the sands of the old & the new
Pressing for an expansion that will not be there
Holding fast to a truth which shouts from the claps of the mob
Roman like & epic like
Playful, a blind child gripping the strings of a lying kite
Dull death
Forsaking cruel unforgiving relentless
Comforting death
I see your eyes for I stare right at you
The notes which chatter from your stained white teeth
Remind me of a tune my mother used to do
She sang it on Christmas
There was never a moment in my youth I could have missed it
Dear Death
Dear Mother
You are one and the same
