like most unknown writer's
i'm just a few words to blur through
nobody gives a **** what i think
i live in my head
such a small place
my desolate skull walled laboratory
stained with phantom ***
of vain ideation's
as i make poetry like earth quakes
no one feels

i've decided that the world is
oh so wrong
a failing trajectory
running in circles
hitting the same brick walls
with endless repetition
somewhere between low minded stupid
and high minded ignorant
is there a divine purpose to evil ?
does the buck stop with God ?
or is everything Eve's fault ?

to many of us are slumping over our mourning coffee
to impotent and exhausted
to love each other right
to busy keeping the wolf from the door
to busy wiping the blood off the merry go round
and unhinging amputated hands
still gripping the gold ring of success

i want to change the world in my own image
but i'm invisible
like a cellophane transparency
writing invisible things
with invisible ink
in a sea of invisible writers

i'm no good
to drunk on *******
envisioning red velvet women
with smudged lipstick
and frizzy hair
getting it cross eyed
grieving
because its a fiction

God is about principals
of which i have few
about self negation for heavens sake
which stresses me out
are we a gulag of souls
in a Siberian winter
everything has consequences
we call that free will

what determines destiny?
what we think we are ?
or what we really are ?
do we live in a great dynasty
of synthetic flowers?
are our lives run
by councils of
ordained monkeys
who like to herd sheep?

is God the Devil ?
and the Devil God ?

God is love
love of patriarchs
love of tribalism

almost all human endeavors
compared to the virtues of god
remain appalling misdeeds
we are never holy enough
never faithful enough
never pure enough
never sacrificial enough
never ascended enough
never sober and celibate enough
never the perfect dead
enough

so much that makes happiness
he admonishes as profane
ash mouthed saints
ask nothing of life
except to hiss at sins

The Devil is hate
but you find him in your pants
having a hella party
Satan
with his obscene laughing
in an evil **** of ecstasy
kissing foot pixie through diaphanous stockings
turning her to pearl butter
with lips of fire
while moralists
chin up and proud
for their endurance of misery
betray the inner pulse
to devour like
moons of lechery
and stuff themselves
with ***** honey and perfume
to ensure their destiny in the realm of the senses
goes unfulfilled
for Gods sake