-
I see Neptune
spinning in
her big blue eyes.

I see her
desire burn
every time
that
she tries.

She tries
so hard,
you can see it
in her face.

I moon-beam
with pride
just like
outer space.

I couldn't be
more happy
than a toad
on a paddy.

She moon-rocks
my world
when
she calls me daddy.





.

.This is the OzI've come to know,the one in my brainbeneath six feet of snow.The one that smellslike burnt raw umber,that rumbles like sewageand woke me from slumber.From a place in my past,where I've sat down and wept.From a deep, dark cornerwhere all my secrets are kept.And I feel more alivewith every secret I tell,I'm not lion,nor Miss Dorothy as well.Nor am I the Tinmanas I take another ganderat the rivers below methat slowly meander.Through the bowels of a citythat's there just because.It bleeds in my dreams,this place I call Oz.From the moment I woke upwhen my feet hit the gravel,I chose the high road;this brick road that I travel.Is this the partwhere I click my heels?Because you really, really  don'tknow how this feels.It all came to meon a mid-winter's night,while a city that sleptwas all covered in white.Tap, tap, tap. . .it rapped on in my dreams.Oh! the slamming of windows,the millions of screams.I feel I've slept a thousand years,wrapped in wrong, circled with flaws.A mere hallucination,then I saw the sign:Hey everybody-Welcome to Oz!

.
She is
his morbid distraction.
She's the bullet in his gun
and she's looking for some action.

More than death she longs
to become his blessed bride,
the two will become one
the day she steps inside.

And she gets very tired
walking through the Arctic rains,
but she will pick up speed
when she's running through his veins.

She is
his morbid distraction.
She's the bullet in his gun
and she's looking for some action.





.

.
I am part soul,
I'm here for a kiss.
I grasp at her stars'
photosynthesis.

My long lost Atlantis,
a rose from dead seas.
She shows me the doors,
but hands me no keys.

I'm the fallen columns
all scattered about.
"Twenty thousand leagues!"
I heard someone shout.

She's my chipped chiseled stone
below the mucked mire
that leads me beyond
Calcutta's cold fire.

Ah! Lethargic genius,
there's gathering birds
where dogs lap at the *****
we mistook for your words.

She hides in my veins
while it's raining outside.
She's my universal
osmosis suicide.

She really is...






.

~Death reminds me
of a certain summer day,
a mother's smile-

like a father
you've never known.

Like rain racing
down a foggy window pane,
or a child's pain passing
with a kiss.

Like:
just realizing
the butterfly's beautiful
purpose before
being hit
by a windshield.

Death is not
always black,
sometimes
it's blood red;
or just a mental
hesitation.

A hiccup
in the chasm of time.
A demise of
thought-
or

is it?

Just another invitation
for the stars
to fall with the rain,
to dance on your grave-
to wash away
the silver moon.

Until memories of
that one
summer day comes flooding
back to fill in that empty
six foot hole.




.

.Like echoes of April through Aphrodite's smilesoftly draped over sleepy mountains,waking with dew laden apple blossomsin a bright white field.The sun opened one eye and quicklyflooded the valley with light.The caves of ice began to melt soon to becomea clear rushing stream.The mist, slowly liftingand thesilence has just passed away . . . . . . . . . .For a moment in time the sun and the moonhesitated against the pale blue morning sky.Within the reach of a naked eye, Jupiter loomed.Fish filled the blossoming stream and all swamin the same direction.Time could have been standing still andthere would not have been anybody to complain.The scent of fresh apple blossoms whispered upon the air.I could hear panda playing bamboo flutes.Then I could hear people hustling and bustling.The sound of stainless steel objects seemed toslam into the concrete with a scattering,shocking force.Then I heardmy doctor speak firmly,"Clear."~

-
Shaping molten sin into wrought iron ******.
Rusted rivet's sparks sail down the spiral staircase
and scatters like fireflies on the stone.
Guitars scream as they lead the band to slaughter,
thinking they own the streets like Al Capone.

Molten metallic music with a razors edge
mollifies the faithful like mutton to the ledge.
Mayhem ensues with a sonic boom as
bolts of rock & roll illuminate the room.

We're heading toward a revolution,
we always heard you wanted one.
They bought the lie of evolution,
burnt their skin waiting for the Son.

It's just a heavy metal observation,
you allowed the lyrics to take their toll.
Today we see the damage is done,
the insane have unhinged their soul.