my hopes were like
beanstalks towering over
the people below
the kind of beanstalk
that jack would climb

the doctors said that
your chance of surviving
were smaller than my
right pinky
the one i used
when we promised
to see the northern lights
the ruins of the civilizations
and your mother

but i still believed
that you would live
that you would talk
and you would walk
after all i got it from you

your hands were getting colder
but i still held it tightly
like how you held mine
after you lost me
in a circus crowd

you stopped eating
and the machines
were helping you
survive for another hour

your arteries
were blocked
and your brain
was bleeding
but i still believed

until the day your spirit
left your body at 3:42
you left me living
on earth with monsters
that loved me
when you left

i still believed
that you were alive
that you would talk
and you would walk

but you bought
a one way ticket
to paradise
and you are never
coming back

It is the little things we see
that turn us into giants
one day I'll be
a giant too
and so will you.

We can gather moss or rolling stones,
each have homes,
a place to be
but not in this society,
ignore them if you will but
they're still there.

The cemetery is full of dreams,
unfocused light
screams in the night where
giants fight,
stones and moss and
one more loss.

Every separation
that I have ever known has grown into
a giant too, as if the giants always knew
what I did not.

In the inner of my inner self
I reach up and take a bit more
off the shelf
where my heart beats
where each end meets the beginning and
the beginning is the start of the end and
continue.

This,
the giants always knew
One day,
I'll be a giant too

I fell in love with you too easily.
Too easily, I hoped and prayed
and placed too much faith in something I knew,
in the back of my mind, was not there.
I placed you on a pedestal
so high and above the clouds
it was unreachable, and I loved you
from the ground on which I stood
to the stars that hung above your head.
You never looked down, you never noticed.
And I planted beanstalk upon beanstalk
to try and get to you, but they all withered and died.
I tried and tried, and still you never glanced at me.
But I loved you all the same.
I loved from a distance, the same way I loved before.
It was easy to love you, it was easy to try.
And it was easy to get hurt, and have my selfish hopes ruined.
It was also easy to stop caring,
To stop sitting at the base of the pedestal that I built.
Oh it was so easy to dismantle that pedestal.
Too easy.
It was hard, though,
seeing you on the same plane as I.
Seeing you for who you were and not what I wanted you to be.
It was hard to walk away, because I did love you,
I just didn't love you enough to stay and hope anymore.
So I did.
I walked away, and left you there,
bewildered at my antics, and still not seeing
the ruins of the pedestal, the dimming of the stars,
or the withered beanstalks that littered the ground around you.
I walked away.
But I left a piece of me with you,
and you still haven't noticed.

I'm a frightened little boy who's scared, lost, and confused
Wanting desperately to feel protected from
Nightmares haunting when awake; Unable to stop the abuse
Wish my savior would descend down from above

Mommy please why won't you save me; Anything you want I'll do
Fiercely needing, almost bleeding, to be loved
Didn't mean to misbehave and promise I'll be better too
Daddy please don't scream, get mad and start to shove

"Good times" merely cover up; Create a shadow for the truth
******* stories lull the mind, becoming numb
Ticking time bomb, no surprise when like a powder keg you blew
Striking blows just like a boxer with no gloves

Planted problems rising up are stemming from and grow into
Epic beanstalks much like Jack thought he wished of
Same result from fabled tale except there is no golden goose
Just the giant who refuses to give up

Trembling fear I have inside can't overcome; I lack the tools
Chains me down; These shackles I'm forever cuffed
In a war against myself where it is destined that I loose
Broke and battered, insides shattered into dust

Banished from the realm of life to Fortress of my Solitude
Daily robot the appearances keep up
A magician misdirecting and forever hide from you
All the pain and shame within me that I clutch

Needed partner, what I'm lacking; Information is not news
Someone that I could be close to is enough
Life is empty, without feeling; Like a poet with no muse
Left here rotting; Man of Steel has turned to rust

i haven't been able to write lately
haven't been able to place my finger on a single, fleeting emotion
before it is whisked away into nothingness
the vocabulary within me is surely going to waste
as i grasp at straws in attempts to make them grow into beanstalks
these days, i'm not sure if i'm happy or sad,
but the uncertainty is enough to keep me busy for now
i'd rather not know one side more than the other,
but what i do want to be sure of is how you feel about me
i can be the goddess of the sun of your tantalizing universe
or i can be but a speck of dust leftover in a dark recess of your mind
and you can be either of those to me,
but in the end, i'll always prefer warmth over isolation

Gold is cold  . . . but it
can buy you heat

Silver will tarnish
your soul

It's only life
The only one you have

Take the wild
it will refresh your flesh

Never take more than what you are . . .
or want to be

Giants rule the world
of beanstalks

Live in castles in the sky

Harbor fields of gold

And are never satisfied

My little is greater than what they have to lose

Through the eye of the needle,
Not to the left or the right
Dodging both on the comets tail

I streak into the light
My last wish out in front
As words melt in a fiery contrail

And with only one question
To weaken my heart
With only one thing to know

The seasons entwine
All beanstalks are felled
With the exit signs all aglow

I crash through the doubt
Releasing new hope
My affirmation now to reign

And look ever further
Beyond my scope
As my senses become untrained

I feel the loose pieces
Start to come off
A new lightness now abounds

The last burden has lifted
Burning bright in my wake
Crossing over—turned around

(Villanova Pennsylvania: November, 2016)

pieces of you do not feel like pieces of glass
or pieces of last night’s meal,

they are not shards they are not crumbs

they do not cut they do not disappoint

you are like velvet tipped roses
or green fuzz in the bed of a swimming pool
seeds planted, nearly peeking through
a new orchard has belched

where my impressions of others have been
sliced by thorns

I am not quicksilver but I am developing
two toes at the exterior of my cocoon
I am changing

up to my ankles in you
all these fragments, finally a family for them

remind me it is a non-invasive procedure
if only for a tongue in my belly button
or beanstalks in my mouth

soon, soon, soon I’ll bloom, bloom, bloom
fertilized from my pieces of you.

Through the eye of the needle
Not to the left or the right
Dodging both on the comets tail

I streak into the light
My last wish out in front
As words melt in a fiery contrail

And with only one question
To weaken my heart
With only one thing to know

The seasons entwine
All beanstalks are felled
With the exit signs all aglow

I crash through the doubt
Releasing new hope
My affirmation now to reign

And look ever further
Beyond my scope
As my senses become untrained

I feel the loose pieces
Start to come off
A new lightness now abounds

The last burden has lifted
Burning bright in my wake
Crossing over—turned around

(Villanova Pennsylvania: November, 2016 )

The unequivocal sorcerer of slaughter,
I touched the altar and altered my saucer.
Also, I'm flying off the couch like a mortar;
Hoarding powder for that elusive boarder.
I'm bombarding the forest with sawdust,
Open up the squealer and I'll absorb ya.
Kirby the paupers, never mind impostors
From monsters to varmints via carnage;
I'm taking hostages from a cockpit locked in orbit
While you're too busy getting lost on shortcuts
Through the forest, like some forgotten tortoise.
I dream of beanstalks taller than the tallest,
All chopped up as fodder for my fortress;
I'll Trojan horse your forces as a florist
Then harvest your gardens with ordnance.
Ready the warships with torches-
It's turnips versus turrets,
And my furnace is fuming for your service;
No need to be nervous, I'm steady like a surgeon
And concern's always been for the toucans.
My archers carry shotguns for the turbulence,
Your thoughts hang like moss against a blank canvass
While mine climbs like vines towards madness;
I'll finish this with a sickle
And end up myth of the labyrinth.

-SLuR

one day there won't be an edge kids
just a hole in the ground for the suicidal
do a bacteria count of your spring water
while tossing down a few useless conventions
why do anachronisms live so long die so hard
and cause no embarrassment he mused
musing had become his compulsion since
the holy ghost serpent handling incident
their medicine man pronounced him dead 7 times
his own ancestors sent crows to peck out his eyes
the fortune cookie antidote worked off and on
then hell ascended under his smoking feet
their vanguard toes now on fire
one thing is sure in the lust for truth
contemplation will not buy you serenity
but yes your life can be lived
without a prison cell oath of allegiance
if the universe demonstrates intention we’re it
the battle between sequence and simultaneity
may be good for another 10 squared generations
in this hypnotist hunch monger demolition derby
where a legendary and enormous ignorance
complicates matters for no apparent reason
well maybe for the following reason
all explanations have been oversimplified
in a panorama of benign efficiency
arise you yuppies and management level trainees
you have all the tools of cognition
you will ever need right in your head
every act begins with an estimate
let's put Humpty back together again
feel relevant that's all there is to it
since a monopoly on endless pleasure
is yet to be fully achieved and moreover
the Great War in Heaven is officially boring
and furthermore the iris is a sphincter
just thought you'd like to know
sorry a lung obstruction makes my voice whistle
one ******* homophone after another
making the undead radar in on me
my wings have been clipped so many times
they fall off at the sound of grinding teeth
thanks to the dogs of innuendo and pantomime
we anthropomorphize absolutely everything
no beanstalks on the horizon he noted
just a marsupial orphan with an Aladdin's lamp
charmed into the gesticulating arms of Venus
by the secret patty cake handshake
then a magic thing happened
there is no magic
only unknowing

Take a hit or ten of the pipe that will
Surely rearrange your mind, until
You come back down to Earth, but while you are up
See what drips from your mouth into your cup

The road turns upside down with a grin
And without any dignity, denouncing your chagrin
See yourself shouting at the weather up at the sky
Raining, snowing, or sunning, you’ll pass it by

Float past the purple beanstalks that
Grow right by where you just had sat
Listen for nature joking inside your ears
Making you think of all those wasted years

A glorious wind blows you like a page
Out of those bars that held you in society’s cage
Do not be alarmed in the world you have come to
It is a divine paradise in the clouds of pleasant blue

Flowers come forth in the morning spirit sun
In this warm grassy meadow, you skip hop and run
And around you are those happy smiling faces
Belonging to those friends that have brought you to these places

There’s an expression for what these feelings are
Even after you’ve fallen down from your star
It means that you’re away and dazed in the head
And the feeling is called being blissfully dead.

Through the eye of the needle
Not to the left or the right
Dodging both on the comets tail

I streak into the light
My last wish out in front
As words melt in a fiery contrail

And with only one question
To weaken my heart
With only one thing to know

The seasons entwine
All beanstalks are felled
With the exit signs all aglow

I crash through the doubt
Releasing new hope
My affirmation now to reign

And look ever further
Beyond my scope
As my senses become untrained

I feel the loose pieces
Start to come off
A new lightness now abounds

The last burden has lifted
Burning bright in my wake
Crossing over—turned around

(Villanova Pennsylvania: November, 2016)

Fe fi fo
hum
some times it's fun
or fum
but today it is hum,
wonder why?

Giants have to get by
by being remembered
in cheesy fairy stories
which bores me rigid.

and being tall has its pitfalls
it's not all peaches and golden eggs,
****** beanstalks play havoc with
my legs
and don't get me started on my back
or
that blasted Jack,