plot out distances between freckles
and count the amount of hairs;
in a beauteous analysis
a cold witnessing
of)a featured lifeless gaze
projected onto windows
refracted in time with the pounding
from lost soulless ghouls
in a dank puddled basement
as we stare through keyholes

the length of life waits to rescind
to wash up on the shoreline
anew, once refreshed
with Angina on

wading in cyclic waves
in deposits of reveries
stale orangeade sonatas
and dull area tirades


the purpose
economized

every axiom
americanized

and as your atoms become depersonalized
tension is materialized, in ornate ivory
shattered brass instruments rusted by
novels written to god
in a
fractured light
and range

cramped in a curtailed distance
a brickwall deadend universe
gnashing with frustration
****** yawns of futility

closed viaducts
and vacant lots
deafened eyes, grey
glimmering in retort
to their own expression


blind sight was squandered by the snapback, of all the
strings of the orchestra as they were simultaneously snipped
by sharp prying eyes, listening to the mixing of paint
to smell the music, its arms limp, vivid
wishing to pull you back (in hindsight)
with dreaded, deadened incantations
a dithyrambic liturgy to the drunken thoughtless night
of slurred litanies and unappeasable, irascible deities
lonely and immaculate, all-powerless and deft
in irksome quarrels and arguments
glossed over by the fine print of another
exalting the vainglorious self-inscribed paragons
and revelling every inadmissible mistake

gazing past to a solo star
dumbstruck and dead
from an evaluation
and dehydration

dying to know
forget it.

Squeeze, squirt and smear
A pimple,
Keep it disgusting,
But keep it simple.
Like lance a boil
To release its ****,
Describe it well,
Make a fuss
Over the putrid sore,
Use poetic words
To enhance the gore.
Drive your finger
Up your nose,
Spit green lugers
Like gargoyles.
Present yourself
Like a loser.
Pick morning goo
From you eyes,
And wipe it on
Your naked thighs.
Don't clean the dirt
Beneath your nails,
Au natural seldom fails.
Don't brush your teeth
Til afternoon,
This should make
Your lover swoon.
When you pass
The silent bomb,
Take the blame
With aplomb,
Smile as though
You've done no wrong.
Clean the wax
From both your ears,
Use something white
Your love holds dear,
Be ruthless,
Don't show a care.

Use some or all
Of the above,
I guarantee,
A cure for love.

You say to yourself
"I want happiness"
so  you remove the
I which is ego then
remove the want
which is desire and
all you are left with
is happiness and if
you want to be
happy, be.

You will often find
that happiness sneaks
in a door that you did
not think was open.

The gift is yours in
this amazing journey
called life and you
alone are responsible
for the quality of it
so focus on what is
important and capture
and remember the
good times as you
move forward from
the negatives and if
things don't work
out the first time
simply try again
and happiness can
be yours.      
                           Jon York      2015

I am a babe
suckling milk
from the breast

It is bland
It is benign

With each new experience
it becomes less so
it grows a taste

It is bitter
It is sweet

I grow my teeth and
begin to eat the
meat of it

It is so rich that I ***** it back up

There is none left

I eat the *****
until my body
accustoms itself

I grow strong on it

It twists in my gut:
a white Worm with its
tail in its jaws

My teeth and fingernails
are yellow with it
My eyes and lips
are crusty with it too

I grow my mind and
begin to see the
heart of it

It is vibrant
It is alive

I fear to eat it

I sit at the table
set it with ****** cloth and
cannibalize myself

I realize I am eternal
go to bed weeping and
share me with myself:

My **** is potency
My **** is caprice
I love myself

We lie close and examine
the heart of it

It is grey
It is dead

I eat it without fear