This place was new to her
Tendrils of envy
That had over ran her heart
Like spilled ink

The witch gobbles six Lorazepam
Just to survive the after noon
And trips from her botched stride of self righteousness

Her inaccuracy, in her mind is fact

Her sense of superiority over shadows any type of kindness that trickles out every now and then

Her flippant demeanor
Is known and is spoken of in fork tongued folklore

Her spells of insanity and depravity

Leaving all the passes in a stated of relentless unease

She trots the ash covered cobble ****** alleyways of the sullen slums
And the scornful ****** watch from rusted fire escapes
Blades in hand, back-pocket crucifix

They swoop down and surround her

She who caused the drought, the death of all live stock and infants’ demise

She falls to the ground

“May the truths of the universe diminish your incantations!”

She screams

They cover their ears and douse her with holy water

Her skin peels revealing her grotesque scaly red skin
Her yellow eyes gleam as its pupils dilate

“And with these blades of sanctuary we obliterate your being”

A typhoon of stabs follows
And a sacred jar is laid out
To capture her spirit
So it may never return

A capacious fallout shelter in the Arctic
We have survived the blast
But our rations are depleted
The sublimation of the crazed hunger that is obvious to everyone
I have lost
Tempting as a cool crystal fountain
Enticing as willing women with legs spread
As luring as a treasure of golden bars
I’m sorry my friends
I will never be forgiven for this

Harshly they fuss, brutally ascend
The living are merely the dead sleeping
With tired minds and dimming spirits

Whimsically panting as they pass an unmitigated declaration of disarrayed yet binding love

The living sing

They sing of old men and babies being born

The children cheering

Sermons of legitimate advice and reassuring reminders

Integrations of baptizing and rebirth
Of anointment and atonement

Conjugal wellness
Tales of glory

       -Tommy Johnson

Father demolished in a collision
Dark feelings brew in the young man’s soft murmuring heart
Pain in the eyes of his victims
Fear in the spine of his weakened targets
Hate in the frozen debt of winter
Angry and tortured night and day

Suffering screams, he mutilates them
Violence brought to a family on vacation
Chaos caused by confusion
Arrogant resentful greed

Father why?

Pass on
Select the time and contemplate the goals
My golden Goddess, my Queen
The sanctimonious moments of life
Those you live for

An intrinsic grove confiding in the glistening sun

Lovers strolling down the dirt paths **** without shame

It is natural here; joy and laughter fill the air

Our brains elevated with naivety and innocence

Ambient sounds and kind voices are all we hear

Select the hymn from the long, long ago
The moment is here
“Be free” they chant
Under the sun
In the shade of a cryptic tree

Ship out here again to the grove
Roam through the cool pastures
Join us
As we dance to the overture

Dark eyed underlings
Hissing impulsively
Madhouse notions enter the man’s cranium

We are gathered at this junction for this vigorous cross breeding
Of the immense love and the prolific lust we have for life
And extend an olive branch to those with a dim acceptance of death

Bent on devouring mortality
Floundering to pump out a miracle
On a spree of existence
Cruising behind tinted intentions
Melodies crumble sheepishly

Ah, divine originator of life
Allow us immortality
To escape our awful fates
And plan a mutiny against Charon

We beg for silk and satin intimacy

Evil wicked sorcerers of the soul are refused iconic eternal life
Gentle menders of the spirit may bask in the glorious groves of timelessness

We are all here

The values and morals we’ve all held dear are now gone

Now look!

Can you think of your next move?

Has the migration begun without you?

The question of “what am I doing?” resonates in my empty noggin
And an answer is never thrown back

Only more questions
Are set free on to me
Doubts, second guesses, negative thoughts
Worrisome regrets and guilt

Attempting to see how I feel after the bomb dropped and left me scorched and nearly dead

My attitude towards it have changed
I didn’t want it to
But the explosion has made my vision of the truth I once held dear too blurry

No, no nothing has changed only my place of input
It is still true
But is it right?
Is this where I should be?
The skepticism marches in

I thought so last time
I was naïve and blinded by emotion

But are emotions what drive me?
What makes me human?
Why am I using logic now?
Because I’ve been hurt

No, no, no I won’t let the mushroom cloud shroud and elude my feelings

Ah, but look backing during the final stage I was tormented night and day

Okay so logic is good
As is emotion

Emotional logic?
Logical emotion?

If the logic makes me feel confident in my feelings and if my feelings appear to make rock solid sense then all is well

Nostalgia, shame and all that from before now gone

But they’ll come back like always

But now I have tools to fight them

You need the fight; it keeps you aware and always going