it’s a god-awful small affair
to the girl with the mousy hair
10,000 hipsters stand in the square
with ***** makeup and ****** flare
prayers fly into the dim lit sky
as a generation asks god  ‘why’
it’s a god-awful small affair
to the girl with the mousy hair
I sit here in despair
for a god of whom I did care
well, just a man with a master’s eye
for making all of the people sigh…
and now I sit here with my head in my hand
just trying to understand
what this world has come unto
can there ever again be skies of blue
and while *swishy in her satin and tat
frock coat and bipperty-bopperty hat
there can never be another like that –
the morning news brought a cold chill
as the icon of us undesirables
came to be laid at rest
it’s on America’s tortured brow
leaving us to sit solemn
as old records spin
telling tales of space men
and life on mars
a little china girl
and one man who feel to earth
it’s on America’s tortured brow
the fashionista of glam rock
the birther of Ziggy
the man who sold the world
forever changing
chameleon
in smart shoes –
spinning grooves
and scattered cd’s
tears slipping away
as memories already start to fade
it’s the freakiest show
look at those cavemen go
will they ever know
just who left us
take a look at the lawman
beating up the wrong guy
it’s a god-awful small affair
to the girls with the mousy hair
now she walks with a sunken dream
and the cream that once rose so high
so too will come the time to die
and as all of us let him go
there can be a bit of hope for those
who carry a torchy flare
to the girl with the mousy hair
and will sing in the dead of night
with face paint and a big spot light
******* and the party boys
come out with their fancy toys
but it’s a god-awful small affair
if you find you’re too square to care
‘bout the goblin kings sad depart
from this earth and from hipster hearts
see these kids have no loyalty
to a man who helped define me
when the world gave me a frown
for kissing boys in a dainty gown
ole Davy gave me peace
with a confidence that never ceased
oh Mr. Jones I’m in debt to you
for turning my grey skies to blue
now I’ll forever carry this torch
from green valleys to my own front porch
but it’s a god-awful small affair
it’s nice to know some of us care…
about the earth and sun and stars
and yes
there is life
on
     Mars –

My thoughts are an angry ocean and I've been tossed out to sea.
I'm drowning.
Lord calm them, please.

even now,
in the city of your keeping. pillars are erected in the name of those rings that drag across the pads of your fragile fingertips
and in the valley places, we break your hands.
i carry you around in dark tepid forests
and in the wet parts of your lungs-
we dine.
and in the outer ocean
where the lovely bundles of sinew inside your calves curl around each other to keep warm-
we force out our cries.
we gunned down our best chances.
we built upwards towards the sky.

i came to the tower when they went to worship the origin of dead
laptop fans
we want the hum like planes going by ready to drop bombs on babies-
balm of the backs of your hands-
a short- sharp, shifting weight. like the memory of a mother's dress
a weeping, like others before.
and even now,
i dilate down to your size.
i find ways of getting through to you.
i strangle out the folds in my skin.
there, lost bodies convulse to freejazz as the ship fails to come back down.
and the little black dots behind your knuckles shimmer on your bones.

Your footsteps sound like symphonies

At Last
Before death
Love life
Your life
With a love
Absolute-
The one who
Loves is greater
Than death.  You
Are that one.  Born
In mourning which
Is the prayer that
God always hears
And always answers

They lived up on a hill

In an old farm house along side the old wind mill

Out front was the old barn that leaned slightly to one side

It had been used for many years and filled the owners with pride

On the farm the family continued to stay

The mother and two sons living peacefully day after day

Then came a time when the mother grew sick

All gathered around the bed as the final clock began to tick

She passed away leaving the sons all alone

They continued to live but the farm no longer felt like home

Espically to the one son that was called Sam

He withdrew into himself and became just a shadow of a man

On the outside everything seemed fine

No one suspected that Sam was running out of time

Not even the other son, John, who worked the farm alongside him

So it came as a shock when Sam committed the ultimate sin

In that barn on the hill

A man entered and time stood still

Sam told John he was doing a chore and smiled as he went to the barn

A shot rang out that awoke the many sleeping animals on the farm

What to do when you enter the place that you knew so well

Only to find that your brother lays with a gun and an empty shotgun shell

What a sight to see that early in the morning

The heavens did weep as the rain started pouring

Mourning the loss of another so soon

As the wind whistled a sorrowful tune

So a few months after he had buried his mother

John had to keep it together so he could bury his brother

Staying strong as the world falls apart

Keeping their memories close to his heart

Yet he couldn't stand to stay

So he moved to get away

Now the barn on the hill stands empty along with the rest of the farm

An abandoned home ruined by death and self harm

come & find me
i've left my phone plugged
into the wall because i can't feel
you breathe through your fingertips
and i can't read your lips through emoji
your belly-button doesn't look right shrouded
in 8 mega-pixel dust and i want to touch you instead
of a keyboard on a screen and tell you about my day because
even though it's written doesn't mean it's real meet me offline because
i don't want a five second snapchat victory snapshot of your *****-line
i don't want my silly romantic poetry to be re-grammed on your insta
framed against a picturesque city skyline or a stoic mountain lion
with hashtags and sexting doesn't turn me on like the sound of
your voice i can write you letters until my fingers bleed but
they always arrive seven days late and you never cry
when you cut them open with a knife and i'm not
looking for a pen pal anyway or a friend
instead i seek a mirror with glowing
teeth or an outlet to plug
into and charge
me up

I would offer you the best sensations, shivers down your spine
Ecstasy thrown, mind blown, you begging to be mine
Stroke my ego and I might just stroke your skin
Your body a new world, where should I begin
Your face on mine, my hand now held just below your wrist
Now Ill start with your lips because I simply can not resist
The scrumptious shade of strawberry and the tastes even better
In my mouth your tongue had sung and left me even wetter
A calm that makes me no longer wanting to give up and give in
A kiss that I want to build a house on and with you live in
My hands hold your cheek
As I stare up at you rather meek
Then trace the lines on your face and run my fingers through your hair
Nihilistic
Pessimistic
Altruistic
We would make quite the pair
Around your lovely locks tightens my grip as I pull back slightly
biting on your lip, your hands gripping my hips so tightly
I would smile with a silent confidence
As you recount how long you've imagined this
Your imagination may not have prepared you, albeit wondrous and vast
To feel better than you've ever felt, just know that it cant last
I would offer you the best sensations, shivers down your spine
Ecstasy thrown, mind blown, you begging to be mine
you chuckled and told me a body like mine should come with a warning label
Your eyes hungry devouring me from across the dinner table
The long lost longing, the build up, the intense temptation
Your mind reeling from a new glorious sensation
Nothing could have gotten you ready for what you'd feel with me
Better than you've ever felt, so visceral and free
I'm as persuasive as I am perverse
A mind I'm sure you'd love to traverse
I would offer you the best sensations, shivers down your spine
Ecstasy thrown, mind blown, you begging to be mine.