You have joined forces with my frenemies,
you have just destroyed our genesis,
you have become a total nemesis.

I thought you were a friend,
but you have been stabbing me right at the back.
I would have never guessed that there could have ever been an end,
but now i know how much you were fake.

That smile,
dear snake,
you kept crawling in the bushes,
but now you crawl on the eroided plateu,

i have seen your moves from afar,
stay away!
you keep on looking at me with those eyes filled with evil,
you trained to become wicked,
i am not surprized that you using your skills against me too.

Dimmest tights of all
The wolf behind the streets
Beneath a visage of grandeur lay a meadow of gray
Sit, Sweet Dear I only please you to stay
As the dusk turns to night, the dust begins to collect
The cob webs of falsehoods begin to string out further
Oh sweet! Oh dear!
It didnt take long for the dripping crested diamonds to pound into my ears.
As if a night of silk is better than the cotton of truth
And the chandelier is a flies trap am I the fly?

I scurry and buzz, Leap and fall on the ground
I wake up, but these thoughts were only a dream.

The teenagers of the bayou look down to their pocket God, summoning validation through divine vibrations;
heads bowed they pray for the prey, for the sensations of meaning, refreshed each second,
filed and cast aside,
except on thursdays, or maybe fridays ‒
for these are the sacred days reserved for nostalgia, for last weekend’s cigarette taste,
for those cheap-gin glances, lacerated by and filtered through the teeth of crocodile tears,
for the lovesick night sweats and the mouth of another, for the break from chronic ennui,
all captured in thirty-three unearthly flashes;
The teenagers of the bayou look up from their pocket God and stretch their aching fingers upwards,
exhausted, habituated, unquestioning
of the heaviness of such emptiness
within
their starving hearts

**** it up

Put on a smile

Pretend to be you

Pretend there aren't tears threatening to peek through.

let's play [pretend]

Does anything ever mute
The sound of dying men’s screams
Who volunteered to defend
The righteous demands of greedy dreams?
The clouds roll quietly in
And who can tell if it is mist or smoke?
So, this pile of dead humans;
Are they enemies or a sick man’s joke?

Did they know what they were
When they piled into the planes and cars?
Did they have any idea why
They were ordered to march and fly so far?
Were they told they were fighting
For one thing when it was really another?
Were the coerced into uniform
By neighbors, teachers, fathers and mothers?

And when smoke clears each time
Do those that came after them to battle
Find some still lie there dying
So they can listen to the death rattle
Of one more brother or sister
Dying in the mud on their back
From a war that was started
When their nation was never attacked?

Glory and pride are words
That can be used to cover over lies
Like bandages over wounds.
But they don’t mute the mortal cries
Of those who died feeling tricked
About not defending freedom
But for money for the hand-picked.

My heart wavers between ancient
and fresh.
You drag me down the water
with your anchor of false hopes.
And he wide opens his arms,
the door, his heart
then looks at me
And tells me I am free.


-- Eleanor

Absurd it is indeed
Brought together by life's tide
Husband and wife pronounced
We sleep entwined,
Yet our dreams disarrayed
Also by diplomacy masked
Our rancour,
We get out of bed four!