My heart left my body,

As the axe of anger,

A tool brandished blood red,

Did cut off my head!

It was placed on a table with

writer's ink and paper.

A heartless head

ready to make

hurtful verses.



Words flowed from a place

My heart no longer dwelled.

The axeman tore out my heart with

a ***** fist,

Chucked it onto the stone.

My swollen eyes glanced at the

****** ***** -

Bleeding to death on the floor,

Hearty blood that echoed your name.



Without Heart,

I created words of revenge.

The dark creating spiteful spoken lyrics

Into spiteful words

on paper heading for you.

It had an evil style.

A mocking tone.

My mouth and the floating pen cried-

*******!

While my torn heart raged at its

absurdity.



It was too late.

I was executed as heartless.



Lying near death.

Gentle hands wipe my tears.

A sewer's stich patching up

my mutations.

I am frozen,

Alone in the dark.

A just punishment.

I realise now, the black ink

Was as black as evil itself.

My souless state has turned

Love into Hate.

It has ruined me.



I want to tear out the stitches.

Show the whole world my ******

up mutations!!

I deserve to die.

For I would rather be dead

Than have lost your love.

The loss I caused with my body

that was

without heart.....



**** myself.

I truly did.

I wish I could undo time.

But I am only human.

One who does not fight to keep her heart.

Her soul.

Her memories.

One who turns anger into words.

Words into the end.



Fini

Thelonious Tree had so long been in slumber
that no one alive could remember the number
of years he'd been snoozing, and it became understood
that Thelonious Tree was asleep now for good.

On the first day of spring dawned a day calm and fair
when a horrible noise pierced the still morning air.
It rattled his roots, yes it shuddered his trunk
and dimly Thelonious heard the cathunk
that rustled his leaves where birds were at nest
till grim and confused, he was roused from his rest.

Ancient Thelonious opened one bleary eye
saw the soil caked with concrete, saw how smog choked the sky,
and worse still he saw that clamorous sound
belonged to a man far below on the ground
with an axe in his hand and the axe went cathunk
each time it was buried in the side of his trunk.
From a slumber so deep it had lasted an age,
Thelonious now woke to a terrible rage.

He shook of the very last traces of sleep
as he pulled out his roots from their place in the deep;
he reached down and with a sickening smack
threw that axeman so far he would never come back.
The man landed far off in the limbs of some trees
where he threw down his axe and he yelped out a "please!
that the trees were alive, why I never did know,
I'm done with my axe now; I'll just help things grow!"

Meanwhile Thelonious found that nothing was green,
there were but stumps in the earth where his friends once had been.
They were now houses and fences and tables and chairs
they were burning in chimneys and polluting the air.
Heavy with grief, he at last understood
that the humans cared nothing for trees; only wood.

I think often. It's a habit I can't seem to break like a gambler with his gambling and a priest with boys' knees or what brands red A's on our chest. I think we're a bit too trusting and I know we're a tad naive. I think it's best we love each other from the safety of three feet. This finite planet and our infinite greed pair up wondrously said the axeman to the tree.

The world that has made us has gone from a fine fitting coat to an ugly old shoe. We say we've outgrown, but what of the sea? Let's poison it. What of the the ice caps? Let 'em melt like a bowl of forgotten ice cream on my coffee table. I have more important things to devour. Gotta run, culture's waiting.

So I follow the rabbit down the hole wait I stop! Curiosity killed the cat I bought with a two dollar bill my grandmother gave me as payment the first time I cleaned that labyrinth of a cellar beneath her house: musty, dark, repressive I thought I was inside of my ten year old self then through the dark I can hear a rustling, "God?" I plead, my hands clutching the windex. No answer, there never is so I head into the shadows when I see the rabbit and this time I bolt for the hole but my head hits a wall. I concluded that life was a cruel joke as cynicism ensued.

I couldn't sleep, couldn't eat, couldn't dance, couldn't sing because boys like girls, and girls like boys and boys don't cry, but I cry. As does the gambler and the priest and the woman on the horizon. I could have bet it was an angel and the gambler, he did. She steps into the reef and we hear her song and I know that she's me and I'm him and he’s all of us and the reef is that cruel joke I learned in the basement chasing rabbits but it's awful pretty from here is a warning to you when you think God is dead and death is synonymous to halt:

I'll swim inside this reef 'til the day I die. Water slipping through my fists and I'm yelling no I'm whispering no one's got a verb for trying to help. Water's to my neck but I'm not stopping. The coral ends here where I can finally sink sink sink my body in the trenches, spread a dustier me across the oceans, fill Earths' blood, a mass of veins and rocks and steel blemishes with my own maze of veins and thoughts and inauthenticity…


♐ ♐ ♐


Bury me naked cause where they say we're all headed headed it's gonna be hot hot hot like a medics sweat dripping down his nose as he beat beat beats on her chest but she's too big to get through. Too big, too fat Lady Liberty's choking on fries we're the world's laughing stock, the UN's singing jest for me, jest for me, jest at Mother Nature's giving way to political pressure same as Gods giving way to backwater pleasure and curses, a moment of weakness but 14 billion years? He’s old.

It's 2011 and more people hate hate hate from pin ****** in the ocean spewing bile in the deep, now whose fault is that, really? We're all shallow like my lagoon, my tropical retreat where there's no oil. No God. No smiles or tears. Can't sing, can't dance...can only be me. Who's gonna say that they're one in the same? Heaven's not a cloud and Hell's nicer than you think and I do. I think often.

The tree are whispering in hushed silent tones
Their voices carried softly by the wind
Caressing the whole forest with their hymns
Suffused in their cries, the arrogance
And greed, and vanity of men
Men that were tasked to guard creation!

Their chants deafening, echoing, increasing
In brave tumultuous waves
Growing ever louder
Pushing the rivers and tributaries into the seas
Infused in the currents
The laments of the helpless
Trampled, and ravaged, and killed
With violence and impunity!

Be wary of the axeman, the hunter, and the miner
They are lurkers, waiting in the dark canopies
Waiting for a chance to **** and pillage
To **** the forest out of its wits
Until it loses its lushness and vitality
'Til it surrenders its grip from the divine earth!

Be wary of the forest ranger
For they are the ones that orchestrates
The relentless and appalling ******
That decimates lives, hopes, and aspirations
They perpetuate the madness
They are the harbingers of chaos, they are destruction
Their charm, vile and putrid
To ever allow them recite their prose would be death!

But never despair,
The sleepers have woken
Those with quiet ears slowly hears the noise and commotion
The deniers have silenced their self-serving lips
Await that moment, when the silence is fractured
By the forest, howling in raging defiance
Justice will be swift, the wolves will be unraveled as sheep!

And only then says the oldest of the trees
Can the children of the forest roam free.

today you made my bones shiver
like you were the winter frost
and i was an an old birch tree
i can feel my leaves turning crisp
breaking off, crumbling
deteriorating

today you made my bark peel
flecks of me twisting onto the solid dirt
turning cold in the frost, hard and stiff
leaving me naked before you
I am splinters and knots
vulnerable

today you came as the axeman
blunt weapons at my side
the deer are scattering at the noise
the birds tweeting madly, desperate
the wolves howling
you've stolen my limbs now
claimed them as your own

I am only a stump

It has been resolved!

It is a crusted concept, inept and unabashed

It is the last call on a windy city tram to the south side

It is a favorite sports bar closed for remodel

The pleasant bliss of air and undisclosed favorites

I will finally extricate myself from the grips of Charybdis

I will continue on, my sail billowing with glee

the air is my fuel and neverrun empty

Can you give a piece of El Dorado to my newfound friend,

Can you give them the same happiness you promised me

and don't let them wonder too long


These unforgotten experiences that mean something to you--

It is an orange rind in the water, silently exfoliating the ions

It is a concrete structure undefined

All the stones that are friendly and snuggled intently against

the mold

I will find new homes in the volcanic chains and wonder about you

You will never again remember the same way who I am, just the faded constraints of the way I challenged your brain

Think of new things! See the trees as lungs

and breeeeaaaathing

You'll find that love in another chunk of god, no complaints for the weary

The kind and lovable axeman who cuts u--Pondicherry

I am a static mold and will rapidly extrue

All the magnificence of things that I cannot view

I am a rhythm of the heart, a beaming drum

I analyze the air and drink it like ***

Fermented love of god, give me no return

To give that which no man has earned

thank you,
sweet love
thank you for showing me something new.

I sit in a dark, musty room, the smell of damp penetrating my right to my bone.
the familiar shadows and lighting comforts me as I sit in the chair, staring into the mirror
The distant screams from far below are all too loud, but the scrape of metal on stone is worse.
I can hear my favourite song playing, and the crunch of a car pulling up on the driveway
I stare out the tiny hole in the wall above, focusing on the feet scurrying around in an attempt to ignore the bloodstains on the floor.
one last time I gaze at the familiar room, which has been mine forever, and will be no more
The key scrapes in the lock and the gate sqeaks open.
my mum knocks on the door before popping her head around
It's time
Roughly, I am forced up and one set of shackles replaced with another.
she guides me out of the room, crying already.
Reaching the door to the world, a quiet warning is uttered before I am forced out into the bright sunlight.
mum shouts for my dad and together we climb into the car, on our way at last.
I haven't left that cell in 16 years.
My time in that house is over- now I'm 25.
Stumbling over the cobbles in the glare I was so unused to, I barely noticed the shouts from the crowd which had gathered.
Everyone cheered as I got out, but they sounded muffled, entirely unreal.
The block on which I placed my head was well bloodied, stained brown from years of use.
The aisle was smooth, worn by all those who came before me.
I paid my toll and the axeman said something to the crowd- I couldn't think because all I could see was a well dressed woman standing where my daughter said she'd be.
He stood there beside me, as did the priest in his ceremonial robe.
I realised that was my daughter- not the eleven year old I remembered, but a twenty seven year old with her own family.
And so I am passed from my father to my spouse.
I opened my mouth to call out to her, an-
"I do."
**I woke in a dead sweat, convinced that one must be true.

You say you're an ally of change
Raising your fist to the cause of the moment
But we all see you strutting through the streets
Paying no mind to the people around you
Begging on their knees for your grace

Don't tell me your hero story
Don't pretend that you care
If you really want to show me
Just say that you know me
When the world's injustice comes to bear
Down on me

The weight is on my shoulders
But you can lend a hand
This cross is mine to bear
But you can help me up
When it falls
Down on me

Don't sell me your tales of noble glory
Don't play the savior's role
If you really want to show me
Just say that you know me
When the world's injustice comes to bear
Down on me

When the axeman takes his swing
It falls down on me
When the gavel drops from above
It falls down on me
When the house of cards falls apart
It falls down on me

I love you, John the Baptist
I love you, Saint Sebastian
I want to be the blades
that slice and pierce you
and martyr you
lovingly
Securing the fame
of your spirit
with the sweet and holy
suffering
of my touch

Metal wrought of man
I am a woman
in the shaft of an arrow
my heart in the sharpened head
glinting
entering your skin
Sweet Sebastian
exposed to me
I am inside you

The axe and the axeman
obeying the command
to end your life
John the Baptist
A girl wants your head
but I'll have it first
I'll kiss the nape
of your neck
forever

I talk to the pines. I sit
under their boughs of perpetuity,
rest my head against a security of
surety I can't quite grasp.
I tell them I am lost, that the search
has been costly. I tell them
I am the red squirrel
who lost one too many nuts.
I tell them the axeman has no love
for the taxman, though both
have been cut loose. I tell them
nosotros fuimos hechos
para más que esto. I tell them
there are things I've done
that not even the clearest sky
could observe, that pride is the fall
of the haughty man
and what comes after isn't worth a mention. I tell them
Old Man Wibble may have been
a drunken fool but at least he knew
what he was doing. I tell them
my attention has leisurely slipped
into a dimension quite immeasurable.
They wave their boughs
like wings in the wind. I tell them
this song could never be wrong
for the music is our own.