I want to die out here with you
I want to decompose in your arms
our flesh slowly growing softer, and softer as our skin rots and our organs decay
our bones slowly growing closer, and closer
until our leg bones are not separated by leg flesh and our hip bones are not separated by hip flesh and our hearts seep together over our rib cages and our skulls press together, chin to forehead
dry leaves tickle our feet and the cool wind soothes our hot bones and the earth covers our clasped hands
until they can no longer tell who was me and who was you

Green night in the middle of the day…
Fire rising to ****** the moon,
Uncle Sam’s praying in my room
And the 8-ball will not say

Why a woman holds a gun
To her husband’s sleeping head;
Does she play or just wish him dead?
An armadillo’s included for fun.

Uncle Sam’s lost his hat in the fire
Maybe that’s why he’s praying.
Not for the country he should be saving
While we are conquered by liars.

I’ve tried to make sense of this before:
Masked fiddlers strum in the conflagration,
Dead books, butterflies and chimps run the nation,
…there is luggage on the floor.

Should I run from the scene,
Or stay and try to fight?
I can’t read my books in the deepening night
And there’s a skull waiting just to scream.

The man sleeps on with a gun at his head
And I see another skull by his side.
It must be a sign saying: “run and hide”.
But why can’t I do it?
There’s no way to get through it,
But I must wake up and fight or I’m dead.

June 1, 2006

Cobwebs
in the eyes of the skull
long forgotten
left behind
in time
cobwebs
in the eyes of the skull
like an empty hour glass
bottom heavy with sand
as the hands chip away
as time passes by
as the spiders legs
weave its web
creating a symbol of death
but also... life
a pretty mirror
in which sits the grim reaper
his reflection
hidden in the strands
strands from which beads of life
do glisten
clinging dearly
and just like the web
reliant on a thread
life hangs delicately in the wind
like a basket full of flowers
in an abandoned back garden
the owners no longer exist...
hanging
and waiting
hanging
and waiting
awaiting its own destruction
a fleeting work of art
soon lost in the winds of time
and the forgotten skulls
sit laughing in the sand
a silent kind of laughter
only they understand
so laugh
while you can
says the sand
says the sand
*laugh
while you can
while you can
while you can

dried up skulls
with motionless eyes
pulled out of their sockets
lie about on forgotten land
as more are placed in
the jars, already filled with other
dusty, dirt covered eyeballs.
the strangely clean glass containers
in which the eyes are placed
stand on wood shelves,
calling,
              b e g g i n g,
to be set free
from the trap of the elderly,
blind man's clutches.

it used to be daisies
under shining droplets of sun
transparent sadness
trapped in spiderwebs
now he's left on the
bleak balcony
with only his snapdragons
shaped like flower skulls
living for a tomorrow
no one believes in

Not easy to walk through a
meadow full of flowers
when they look dead
and it's as if you can see the
bones of the dead
reaching for the sunshine
that the daises aren't sharing
as I collapse towards the graves
part of me wishing to be a flower
and the other wishing I was
colds stone with some skull and bones
with my smile washed away
but roots of nature growing in me
my tears becoming lost in
the ground
because the flowers need it
but I need to stop feeling like
a dull piece of grass
I need to be a flower
but I'm just going to be
another sad story
lost in the dirt
that the flowers need to thrive
and another lost soul
will kick me around
but we all end the same
and we'll all breathe the same
dirt one day
and it won't be easy to walk through
a meadow full of flowers
when they look dead