**** it, did you just light your hookah?
I was hoping to have a cozy chat about the world of the Red Queen
Not the Mary Jane land you think to lead me into
where you live out your lust-filled dreams,
I was hoping for a little bit of tea
and gossip,
just as we used to when we were younger and unknown
I don't want to sit on the wet grass while you boast about your brain size
--Or other measurements--
the talk always ends up
with you under the mushroom,
giggling like a hyena,
and me just standing there,
tapping my slippered foot in disgust.

Walking up the rickety stairs,
Patchouli and cigarette smoke
combat for supremacy
Before I even reach the door,
and I step through to see
The everyday undead scattered on the thick carpet like so many corpses blown out of Wednesday Addams' haunted dollhouse.

Maybe it wasn't wise to come.

A cd player informs me that, indeed,
Bela Lugosi's dead,
And I cautiously move into the living room.
Ruby lips and ivory faces emerge from the gloom,
Incurious glances marking my progress
As an acolyte guides me to the Queen of the festivities
Holding court in a corner of the living room.
Her waist-length silver-gilt hair and damp skin like fresh camellias gleam in the candlelight,
A studded black goblet brimming with Jack Daniels
Is handed to her,
A token of homage she eagerly welcomes
   while nodding me forward.
Whispers behind me tell her story,
Of how she's seen a thing or two in her time,
And why her flat stare and Theda Bara smile give glimpses of her bottomless occult wisdom.
As her slim fingers play with a knotted black necklace,
She considers me long before finally declaring,
--"My God, you're an old soul"--
And she pats the cushion next to her,
An invitation to drink deep and close of her dark knowledge.
A cup of something unknown is pressed into my hand
and I sip, hanging onto every arcane word she utters.
Night slowly fades into dawn
and I wake cold and stiff from a kitchen floor sleep
only to see the Queen buttoning the cuffs on her white poplin shirt.
Smoothing her tweed skirt, she steps into her pumps,
Grips her cup of coffee,
And with a cheery wave, leaves for work.

My dear planet Mom:
You deserve our love and care.
You're our only home.

Tantum tempus temporis
quoniam aliena femina in meo cubiculo dormivit;
ecce illi quantum dulce somnus est.
Quanta etiam libera somnia sunt.
In alia aetate mundum certe rexit
vel optimo regi in matrimonio fideliter ducta est
qui iuxtus flumen psalmos luce lunae scripsit.

**** me iri foras egressum et spatiatum
Nihil occurit hic, nihil umquam fit.
Praeterea si incedat iam volat me narrare;
habeo nihil, praecipue erga quicquid erat.

Viam cepi aviam
qua celeres non superant;
dignis praemia sunt
qui verbum veritatis distinguere possunt.
Hospes solus me docere potuit
praeclaram orem iustitiae contemplari
et videre oculum pro oculo, et dentem pro dente.

Nisi duo homines in mansionem,
Est nullus in viso; verem exspectant,
proinde quasi ver plaustro accederet.
Mundus deleretur ea nocte
sed meae amicae aequum esset;
illa meo cubiculo dormiret *** revenirem.

Meridiano me promoveo
adhuc in obscura parte viae;
in angustos corruere
et constans manere non possum.
Alius mea ore dicit
sed solum meo animo audit,
calcas omnibus etiam tibi feci
quibus tamen careo.

Ego et ego
In creatione quo ingenium alicuius
nec alicui ignoscit nec excolit.
Ego et ego
unus alteri dicit nullus et videre
imaginem meum et vivere possit.

From "Bird's Nest In Your Hair" by Brian Jobe

Sometimes I'm rain when I appear sunny,
Grey when I 'm actually blue,
My ups moving towards downs,
Inner turbulence masked with a smile.
I'm eternally aware of the butterflies,
Circling my seeking mind,
Scary-fascinated when hell
breaks loose,
And the butterflies dance towards freedom...

Please gift me
Thor's powers, I really want to bounce a hammer off this person's skull now!

rage.

Even in my dreams
I am not me...
But am instead a figment of someone else's
Ideals and aspirations...

And so he sat next to me,
his bloodhound pacing the bus floor,
Round and round in a tight circle,
before settling at our feet.
Sadness hung on the young man
like a soggy blanket,
And my
observation, sharpened by intuition
led me to venture...
"It's cold out tonight."
He startled and smiled: "Why yes, yes it is".

(What do we do for the downtrodden?)

"Is this the bus to Capitol Hill?
I'm going to buy groceries,
my boy here is hungry  and I hope one is still open".
I looked at him closely
"No, this one goes to Queen Anne,
everything's closed for the evening.
Maybe I'm wrong,
I don't think you're okay,
Somehow I know
you're not telling the truth".

He sighed and shrank into himself,
"You guessed right-- I am homeless,
On the streets for a year now.
Me and my buddy,
with no end in sight".

(What do we do for the downtrodden?)

"They took all my things
when my car was broke into,
My entire world shattered with the blow of a hammer,
But at least I've got him,
and he glanced towards his companion,
I'll find a warm vent,
and we'll sit there til morning."

Bartell's was still open
and I opened my wallet,
Some soup, of course, dog food,
roast beef hash and hot tea,
"Please find a good doctor, there are many to help you,
I can tell that you're suffering, give you and buddy a new life."
He thanked me and with a whistle
called the bloodhound to him,
They turned right towards Lake Union,
Fading into the night.

(What do we do for the downtrodden?)

Be careful, Donnie!
The noose you want for his neck.
Might go around yours.

"Love is nothing but a biological transaction," you yelled at me and we fought anew over the perfidies of the male ***.
Initially dismayed, I soon understood that
As a girl, you saw your father break your mother,
Her will over the years fusing with his own
As she became shadow,
And then sickly ghost,
Her lucky marriage effectively erasing the stain of her Jewish birth--
As oh so Catholic Daddy
proudly told his friends and relatives.
And even though you tried to fight Daddy's self-importance,
He was always there behind you, squeezing you between his fists,
molding you, as he imitated his god creating Eve,
Casting you into his own perfect image of chaste and chastened womanhood.
And when your mother decided to permanently leave,
Daddy forbade you to miss her,
Celebrating, instead, his own resurrection with a new project and a new wife.
Twice.
You thought you could resist,
But Daddy's benevolent advice
about your plain face and lumpy body wormed into your fragile psyche and
cracked you in two, leaving you raving and disjointed.
Daddy eventually joined his sky-Father
And you wept, vowing to forget and remember his legacy.
And now you live, addled and alone,
A basket of pills on your dresser,
Fanatically frustrated yet terrified of a man's  touch,
Angry yet wishing Daddy was here to save you.
And as the years passed and your friends married and divorced, you
convinced yourself that you had
escaped a woman's fate , not
realizing that you had offered up your own heart and soul  years ago as a suitable offering to His eternal memory.

Yes, Daddy made ****** sure there would be no following act.

What you call freedom
Is the right to self-ruin
Don't let me stop you.

A call to rebel
From the top, is no call.
It is sedition.

It takes a fair amount of confidence
and a good-sized ego,
To drop the line and coolly walk away,
Certain that she will take the bait...

"Mike, I need a cure--
"Everyone says Clorox works..."
"Sir, you try it first."

Life can be like the Sahara in August
When water becomes an urgent issue
And the oasis is another day away...

Chorus
And here's to you, Tucker Carlson
I loathe you more than you will ever know,
Please, please go.
What's that response, Tucker Carlson?
I'm a snowflake and I'm
Probably gay,
Hey, hey, hey...
Hey, hey, hey...

l.
I'd like to find the idiot
Who gave you your own show
Which *** was firmly kissed to get your job?
Roger Ailes is probably laughing from his couch in Hell,
He never dreamed that FOX could sink this low.

And now look at you, Tucker Carlson,
Ratings climbing higher every day,
(Sad to say),
Keep telling lies, Tucker Carlson,
You'll be president if they get their way,
Hey, hey, hey,
hey, hey, hey.

ll.
Remember when Jon Stewart took you down?
It was at a "Crossfire" debate
It was epic, you got canceled,
That was just the start,
Everything you touch is second-rate.

Where have you gone, Bill O'Reilly?
The "No-Spin Zone" is calling out to you,
(Boo hoo hoo).
What's that again, Tucker Carlson?
Bill's a perv and you are here to stay,
Hey, hey, hey,
Hey, hey, hey.

Moving in silence,
Shadows part, leaving no trace,
A cat's ninth journey.

the edges of my hatred for you had grown ragged
and i realized it was time to file them down,
i picked up the whetstone of contempt and weighed it carefully,
its blunt smoothness removing me to a higher plane,
And i smiled as i placed it on the table,
My pleasure almost obscene
As i slowly dragged the edge of disgust
across its surface, enhancing and restoring the original shine...

Eyes laser lock into mine
Broad white hands grip my hips
and like lion like wolf like the night
I'm pulled onto your aching mouth
Violent with longing I dance with and against you
While the air crackling wet and hot
moves around us with the sharp smell of fevered impatience.
Our searching fingers ****** into each other's hair,
My curls spiraling your ear like a witch's vise,
yours dark-straight and otter-slick,
daggering and slicing my open skin.
The brine from your forehead oceans me
As you pour yourself into every pore of my body
seeking the source, seeking infinity,
and I'm tasting you, wanting you,  
my senses overwhelmed by your driving desire,
Every synapse is pin point and I'm dangerous as I try to hold onto this massiveness this urgency to burn and meld with you as we fling ourselves into the abyss of a dying sun and shatter into a million fragments...

Big egos dream big
Yachts no longer speak of wealth
Billionaires in space.