Crinoline filaments
Rolling over and over
Mid-flight the ochre velvet ribbons sailed to the left
Instead of to the right
Two feet retreating
But with one shoe on

Memory returns
For a few seconds of
the calamity
At that private house in Paris
She’d tumbled down the central staircase
Sailing with legs overhead
until she stopped miraculously with her ***
at the shining leather toes of the footman.
He kept his head up.
She wore a beautiful dress.
Her hair was quite precise and she hoped that that would be a sufficient enough apology towards an empty silence.

But this isn’t that.
I shoved her.
And she went willingly. They all do.
We’re roughly a group of fifty-three.

Gathering in the last few years
Whispering over drinks
of tumors
And vascular difficulties
Of pills and appointments and forgetfulness
They never mentioned that
In those climate controlled rooms with
Blackboards covered in Latin and Trigonometry
Of the body’s failure.
Now there’s no longer any mention made of the kids
or whether or not that husband was worth the bother

Did we notice atop
The balance beam not a peep was mentioned
About the moment when you can no longer walk or stand?
That the brain asks please but the body will not comply?
How cool the marbled floor feels against your cheek while you lay for hours in your own feces?
One can rest comfortably knowing at long last that that wallpaper was the right choice.
Kept one really engaged while waiting and waiting for someone.
And that is just the beginning, right?

Perhaps some assumed that the end would come with a daily circle reviewing the contents of their chamber ***
Grimacing and worn
While they recline in white nightclothes
Something akin to what they saw on the BBC

Perhaps a startled disquiet at the rebuke of their intent and gamely stares from a premiere specialist in Switzerland
an expert in alternative therapies
for what someone dared call
terminal
Anyway, this is quicker.

So we’ve come together
As sisters
And when the time is right I get the call
We go onto the roof
There’s an elevator now because
Otherwise that wouldn’t work
And one by one
In small batches
They are dispatched
It doesn’t take as long as you would think
We are confident and have agency
We were taught that we could do anything
And they are right.

The ones with a lot of metal can be a bit tricky
They have balance issues
But are always chic and always polite
There was a time when we were forced to be together when we clearly did not want to.
We never thought as one.
Some families are better than others.
But everything is different now

One day it will be my turn and
I wonder who will deliver me?
And what shall I wear?
Will I try to see where I’m going or will I rest comfortably in my finale.

I adore the way the wind catches the cloth.
How the crystalline beads are removed around the neck and handed over
so as not to add to any distraction
Or delay
The pinky coral mouthed “Thank you” and
And the sweet eyes that once were bright and shining say their
Goodbyes
Rippling
twirling
looping
interweaving
cascading
Down.

Rhetorical ambiance –
Marker writes 2D in 2D
On white windows.

“Does he see the fish
in the murky river?”
I do.
“Of course not.”

I CAN’T ESCAPE
no one, teacher screams
shattered board
a hole through –
nefarious, nebulous faces
eat light

Anyways,
eraser goes down
Teacher writes 3D in 2D
I reel with lack of –
Sleep.

Birds flee the coop
Clock strikes the red one
Hickory-dickory dock
And I, in my creative
Hickory-dickory ship,
slowly leave

The exception makes the rule
so they say
except the rule is never fair
write it down a thousand times
in chalk
or ink
or blood
doesn't change the justice of it
or more often lack thereof

In the 2nd grade
a puppy love
crush on the
teacher steeped
deep in me

to my delight
her clear eyes
recognized the
promise of a
chubby boy
in all of his
quaint simplicity

her gentle
voice, friendly
and firm, filled
with caring instruction

the giddy class
attuned to her fresh
brunette bouffant, bunned
and perfectly coiffed,
speaking style and
youthful whimsy,
not a strand of hair
out of place

her svelte figure
flowed through
classroom isles
filling the space
with scented graces
of prescient carnations

that afternoon she
was abruptly called
from the class

when she returned
our beautiful princess
was sobbing

she concealed her face
then turned her back
on the class, crying
in a corner to dismayed
blushing blackboards

regaining composure
she turned
exposing her tear
stained cheeks
and dissheveled hair
to an unsettled class

“the President
hurt his back” she
announced.  “He’s
in the hospital.”

Whoa… I thought,
the President hurt
his back.  That's
terrible I surmised.

our beloved teacher
dismissed us
and resumed her
tearful grief

when I arrived home
my mother was
sitting on the bed
weeping.  “President
Kennedy is dead”
she blared.

my mother’s rumpled
housecoat and
tousled hair flattered
her flowing tears and
anguished sobs.

the tears of women
marked the end
of many puppy loves that day


Bob Marley & The Wailers
No Woman No Cry

Oakland
10/15/13
jbm

hands fly everywhere
loud rock music blasting through the speakers
clothes messy and tousled all around
some guy's lips on mine
bodies entangled on the couch

i hope that it's my prince chariming
the one i'm dreaming of
at seven years old

attending concerts wearing an extra ear piercing
few chain bracelets on my bony wrists
screaming in a mosh pit
with a guy who swore he'd stay by me forever
singing at the top of our lungs
in a moment i wish would last forever

silently, i wish the concerts we'd attend
are the concerts i wanted to see
when i was fourteen

tumbling in heels i wish i'd wear
when i finally get into that dress
that dress, pristine white
flowing and trailing behind me
with a silver ring on my ring finger
given by you
and walking to the altar
to have you slip another ring onto me
this time
a golden one
to symbolize our eternity

i wish it'd be the same kind
of wedding that
i wished for
when i were twelve

helping carry huge loads of water on my shoulders
forcing my dad to "sit the hell down and take a rest"
and doing his work for him
while my mom catches up with him on the years they've lost
as they both enjoy their retirement years
and maybe or not thinking of getting a new job
to still keep this family standing

i hope that my family would never
break again
like what happened when i was eleven

alumni homecomings
my friends and i would go back to our second home
the home that kept us awake at night
with endless cramming
and strong lectures
we'd stroll along the hallways
hug old teachers
throw chairs and peel off their dull colors
and write under blackboards
like we're students again

but for me, i'd interact with the students
checking the covered courts and the field's grandstand
seeing people with their eyes closed
hands outstretched forward
sweat rolling down their faces
as their seniors shout at them
i would smile to myself then
when the closed eyelids flutter open and the arms set down
and the students are instructed to stand up

the seniors of that time give out a command
and they, along with the others who were sweating profusely
would face me,
the one leaning over the metal bars
smiling and waving with nostalgia

a sign
that i have accomplished my dream
at sixteen

i'd go back
and find you as well
in the same building
interacting with your old crush
who grew prettier with time
she'd wave at me
you would too
i'd feel my ribs squeeze against my heart
and i'd wave back

again, that jealousy comes back
that same jealousy i felt when you
asked me to prom
at fifteen

but i trust you
and you trust me too
so i carried on
because i knew that later
you'd come back to my house
and we'd have a movie marathon
or we'd play call of duty again
then we'd cuddle and sleep together
and fall out of the couch the next morning

i believe, i believe
i do, i really do

but i knew it was hard
with all the scars i have to prove it
i knew it was hard to stay positive
when i knew disaster was just there
with us
with me

at last, i'd experience the harsh reality again
the moment i fall out of those equally pristine white heels
when i realize that i'd never wear those shoes or that gown
because by then, you'd be gone
you'd come to realize how much of a failure i am
and how worthless i really am
how much prettier she was than me
how she's much more worth it than me
and how she could make you happier
than i can

all my fears at fourteen
came true at nineteen

but then i'd wake up and i'd realize
i'm still fourteen
it was all a dream
which i don't have the heart to call a nightmare
and instead
i'd call it a premonition
of the years to come
just like the scars i never thought i'd have
when i were four
or when i were ten

the scars
they tell me how much i've failed
and will fail

so i think back on my dream
and smile a little at the ending
of nineteen me
living the last of my teenage years

for your own good,
it was probably better you left too

cause y'know
i'd leave me too
at fourteen

5 worlds across , we still met
67 worlds to the left and you are the teacher
1 world to the right my teenage companion
4 worlds north and you are the heart friend
16 worlds south a shield made from wisps of whiffs entwined in the musky perfume, i know all too well , because it is mine
9 worlds east and 2 doors in, the fireplace fills the not so smoky room, it feels like red wine or mint lemonade
18 worlds down and the cave left especially for you , when the travels get to- too rough remains yours
As far as i can feel to the infinite worlds around , you never made that plane

As far as i can feel we embody the divine
As far as i can feel we can only love in time ,
As far as the free bird flies and the crows with brown wings sit with turtle doves and sizzling bluejays alike i will resonate in your vibes

Hold Still, i'm at loss for words
i know them , they are abused and left alone and does it **** you as it kills me to know that i have to wait , i have to wait , even if the time is relatively short and there is work to do , i have to wait? As if the eons were not enough , as if the chalk had turned to rust and the cheese to lines on blackboards dripping with the stink of fatigue but i can not sleep , i must hold steadfast to the beat , i must hold steadfast to the call , i can not falter at all

Yeah the portal closed only to open , but no one told me that it was me until the deed was done and indeed to see the rising of the sun, but my wish came true i got to spend a night with you

next time , please , please just look me in the eye and tell me , you are not coming back for some time and i'll be fine , just don't lie to me to escape the wrenches on my pulsating heart because they tighten not on flesh but on soul and they leave me with the memories of love gone cold
so i speak nothing but truth , i cry tears of corrosive fears and release the pent up tension

Thank you for keeping me awake, for opening some doors, perhaps, next time we'll explore some more

But when can i wake with you everyday and know that i won't have you torn away because i'm strong enough to withstand the constant barrage of energy spiraling in cosmic serenity
Oh i can channel it through so not just you , but everyone who needs illumination can sip at the fountain of youth and never lose their imagination but i don't know how many more times i can leave you and have my soul shaken , no more baby , no more

We've been apart for long enough , is that enough space for you to touch? Even if you need more know i will grit my teeth and grow some more,

i know now , there is no depth that my soul will not plunge for you and you wanted my heart on a page , here are scars to prove it , i go by the name Kali , i'll be your one woman army

he hooligans feet




you see the hooligans are trapping me down and down, making me feel, i am too shy

to be like anyone cool, and i don’t want this to happen, the reality is, my feet have fungus

but it could be the hooligans trapping me, making me believe that i8 will never be a family person

ever again, and another thing too, the fungus is building up on my feet, here is a song

the hooligans have trapped my feet hooray hooray

yeah they have trapped my feet hooray hooray

you see the hooligans have trapped me down, like i have been ******* by a terrorist, yeah

and i feel like i am hooligan forever and forever amen, oh lord

you see the hooligan is me back then, the me who wanted to destroy the world

by taking each boy away, so they couldn’t find a girl, my lord

you see i said ha ha ha, you oldies are going down

you see i am a mean dude, who needs to break away

and this hooligan stays in my body till i am too old for ***

yeah, the hooligans will hassle me, like my old pal rex

you see, how this hooligan will hassle me, by ripping the shyness out of me

i want the hooligan out of my body, but it’s so fucken hard

i want it out i want it out, but really i am too filthy yeah

i am hearing blackboards ghost my mate, ya see my previous life who was beheaded

and i remember being killed by a strange man named fred

well, him, he was crazy, but so am i

i hate everyone saying i am CRAZY, it drives me nuts

i hear these voices, saying come to the other side

and be my friend, yeah mate yeah, this would be the coolest thing

just like me, the coolest thing

and the hooligans have his legs tied and his arms tied

and every time he walks, his feet will be planted on the floor

like he has been trapped forever and ever amen

you see i was trying to be a hooligan to show my family that they are so shy

you see, keeping my legs planted on the floor, is to say, i am a cool kid

and i was protecting myself from the bad spirits

ya see if i tied myself up, or pushed my feet to the ground

i can tease my family forever

but this could turn nasty as some actual hooligans rob me, by saying your not a hooligan, mate

in a really angry voice, and i don’t want to rob banks or steal cars, no that ain’t for me

please don’t make me rob banks, i hate that kind of life

cause i close my eyes, and draw back the curtain to see for certain a budweiser beer

and all young people got drunk with me, yeah, how about you take your beer

and get the **** right out of here

you see i don’t know for sure if my feet are itchy, because i feel my hooligan coming back to me

or is it just, the fact that i am too nice for the real world, and the hooligans keep me in, young dude heaven, to protect me

with a clash of drums, a flash of light, my itchy feet became hooligan feet

i was floating off to darkness, please leave me alone

and i saw my dad, drinking a methane smoothie, that i left there for him to tip all over me

hey baby ooh yeah hey, i want to know if this hooligan will kidnap simon

hey baby ooh yeah hey i want to know if this hooligan will kidnap simon

you see brian allan is a family person, who doesn’t wanna rob banks cause they are bad

i know they are poor, and i know they are having heaps of problems, but hey baby ooh yeah, hey

i want to know if the hooligan will kidnap simon

you see people are treating me like a hooligan, i don’t want to be a hooligan

i am a family person, who has a lot of fun, yeah

why don’t these so called families leave me alone

you see, they are treating me like a hooligan, all because i was shyer than the so called teasing families

i am a family person, more so than them, i hate the hooligans trying to trap me under the families

so they can ask me to rob banks, I DON’T WANT TO ROB BANKS, I HATE EVERYONE TEASING ME

I AM NOT A HOOLIGAN, REALLY, I AM A FAMILY PERSON, WHO HAS, itchy hooligan feet

BECAUSE I MADE A MISTAKE IN LIFE

It is black always black,
It is black in the light,
Tis void you and I black,
****** deeply void,
Alone in black am I

Shadows creak loomed the darkness,
Eyes bleed crimson slithers,
Mind filled with pungent aromas,
Rotting flesh smells I

Reaching twisting they move of the night,
Corridors screaming, laughing, buzzing,
Feeding, ticking thoughts thinks I
Doors bang and lock clutched temples,
pain stabbing fire,
blood pounds and pours dead are they,
ebony risers of the night

Shush shush sweeping blood slippers slide,
Shush shush sounds the old hag with broom
Pouring bloods,
tis perfumed I smell

Clanging keys black rooms screaming,
iced breath swirls, old cold hand brushes by,
Ever cold is water here electric red I see,
blood red nails screaming blackboards,
Screeching Seething and howling pierced am I

Writhing pain restrained jacket and I,

— Beseech me oh dead in white,

Locked away bathed in blood lonely heart,
Polished broken window moon eyes,

Mortal hell chained to die—




© Arnay Rumens /A Sol Poet 2012

the love and romance.
the years lit by artillery.
the wars.

the men did these wild things. these great grand expressions of love and survival.
they’d damage themselves, bleed while moving furniture.
wood splinters better painted red wet warmth.
they’d notch together plum-cut bricks into
crenulations or walls or cathedrals.
home built.

the women: of an ancient woven fiber
and/or old energy, they’d battle serpents into dark and drunk loneliness.
she conspired for a happy life.

death by the meadow.
old woman remembering young woman and
young man,
now old man approaching.
the world forgets, but we will always have eachother.

remember us youths in proto-revolution.
we didn’t believe in what we did.
we lived a lie.
all america.
dreaming and soap opera.
daytime television blastulas.

the wars are fought early, and fierce.
the wars are won and lost on highschool dancefloors.
highschool blacktops. blackboards. breathy
kissing.
spectral codes of light.

and we bloom outward into livelihoods and
incomes.
timelines.
trenches to crawl from shell-shocked and screaming ****** ******.
or not.
but yes -

the world is built on blisters and scar tissue.
nothing is untouched.
nothing is unwounded.

i can't see past sanity

    ...tick tock

    the door
    lights out
    creaking floorboards
    of dreams striped and contorted
    you, whirling away
    the night
    calling the cuckold clock

    ...tick tock

    the forest of eyes
    that winter in me
    the tracks in the snow
    bitten off by white waters

    ...tick tock

    i can't see past ignorance

    ...tick tock

    the open blindness to chances
    unrelenting sparks
    of hope faded in memory

    ...tick tock

    in distance
    torn away
    claws scratching canvas
    screeching blackboards
    hands over my ears
    to make it through
    to make it

    ...tick tock

    stop.

My name around the house is Mr. mushroom

Cause I’m always cooking mushrooms

Salt and pepper mushrooms

Squealing in a pan

You’re vegan and you don’t like mushrooms?

I don’t understand


Looking like a lizard, chewing on stringy hallucinogens

Or classy and tall floating in your soup

Or rich like truffles

Or frilly like flowers that kiss each other


Growing in bark, growing on trees

Growing in fields with no strawberries.

I met a mushroom picker one time, real nice guy

Was his trade, did it all day.

Squealing in a pan

My sister said when it comes to cooking mushrooms, I’m the man.

Don’t get all imaginative on me, and start breading and crumbing

Just doesn’t do.

Just the nice robust standard cups, at your local super market,  or sometimes those portabellos

Get them sweating like scalps in the heat!

Torture them with black pepper, fingernails on blackboards!

Then sunburn them in sea salt, crisping around the eyes like a vagabond child

Don’t let ‘em escape!

Mushrooms clouds, over the reef, think about them in your sleep.

Serve with rice or toast with a coffee or tea,

It’s Mushrooms for me.

Looking at blank faces,
they stare at blackboards,
because they have to,
or else they get a slap on the wrist.

Walking through the halls,
the all move, shambling along,
like zombies following a piece of meat,
just going from one spot to another.

People talk,
and rumors spread,
through quiet whispers,
and small notes.

You get up early in the morning,
and take the long drive there,
and as you walk in, you see,
"welcome back!" to mindlessness.

Oh my friend

I feel the weight of you in my pocket

as I walk these endless halls

with careless faces

that spit words without waiting to see where they fall

where my mind wanders from the blackboards

and longs for relief from my suffering

you tickle me with your edge

prodding and poking until 
I raise my hand

ask to be excused

walk the same hall

enter that room 
and succumb

Oh my friend

who comforts me on long nights

when the dark seems to press in from all sides

you howl my name from the night
stand 
begging for another bite

pleading to feel yourself between my shaking fingertips

and I oblige

Oh my friend

with me always

you keep me sane 

and when you ask for another scar?

You compel me to listen.

So I obey

Oh my friend 

who screams for blood on the red tiled floor

yearning for more, always more

keening a song if I try to stay away 
who always comes back with a vengeance



Oh my friend

take another piece of me

take another bite

another drop
make a river with my offering
s
make a tsunami with my lifeblood



Oh my friend

you are calling again now

I can hear you screeching from the drawer

I hold the key in trembling hands

I wish I was stronger but I am not 

my body is proof enough of that

torn by your constant needs

marred by your incessant thirst

ravaged by your sharp tongue

scarred by your edge 

tear my sides
my wrist
my legs
my heart
take me

Oh my friend 

I am not strong enough to resist you

I will succumb once again to your call 
to your will

to your lust 
take me as you will my friend

take every part of me

leave nothing unscathed

every droop of blood upon your edge

Take me my friend 

leave me nothing 

my friend

Oh my friend

my friend

take me

words spoken while running singing lying
or telling the truth
come in volumes lengths widths and of
a small scope

located in books on bookstore shelves
wondering or humming to see if will sell
or going to the thrift store to sell

words come love blackboards teachers
reaching up to spell a bunch on a list
for next weeks spelling test

wondering over to a museum to
watch a spelling bee
for students in grades one through three
the winner of each grade gets a brand
new dictionary and a spelling book

Words written by others in books
teach us how think see and watch
the send a book list home

for a test before the school year is out
words help us to understand what is happening
around this world  
while leaving us human beings to
step back in wonder
since our children continue to make us
wonder at the words each one learns.

Pale horse
From dusk til dawn ridden
Not reading constellations
Stars from our eyes
How many moons?
but still riding on
From dusk til dawn
Destination unknown
Under the black reaching night
No one tells us to sleep
There is no end
Only the miracle
The sun will rise
Stars from our eyes
How many moons?
My empty hands are growling hounds
From dusk til dawn

Our hands
Cities and instruments
Blackboards
Sidewalks
Gardens where flowers grow
And I know if I can make it now
Highways and silver mines
Dawn comes
Bird song
And I look to the west
The miracle of morning

Our hands
Sun up to sun down
The harvest in the fields
The glory in our labor
The consecrated charge
The duty that is our land and our faith
Our hands
Held open to the sky
Competent and capable
To build
To protect as is our chore
To eat
We feast and we repent
Wake up to a new day
And celebrate our blessings

Before, i was scared
Of talking
Of speaking
As if the words i utter
Were acid pouring from my lips
Toxic to anyone would here them
So i stayed silent
Subservient
To other people
But words , words dont just give up
They want to heard
To be listened
Some words go out
But i always take them back
Why would people want to hear
Words that arent even good?
Arent even right?
But they need to be let out.
So i wrote them down
On napkins, on blackboards
On the sides of my textbooks
On anywhere that can be written with ink or lead or chalk or anything that can be written down
So words filled the sides
Filling them with nouns
Adjectives , similes, metaphors,
, until the sides couldnt take it anymore
They need a blank page
But u wrote on top of the words , on the right, the left
So the words overflowed
But not as i thought
They flowed on the other side
On the front page
I tried to stop them ,
Prevent them from going there
Because someelses words were already there
But i couldnt
when they hit , they didnt clash
fight  , didnt
But they greeted each other like they were old friends
I was behind them
The words
And someone was behind them
There was a person
I said sorry, apologized
But he just smiled, and said , i was waiting for you to make that mistake

you never know what
                the next day will bring,
but, like today,
   i became disappointed
   and the amount
       of letters i received
   by mail...
in the past 10 years,
   i received only bank
statements,
     alumni magazines from
edinburgh and u.c.l.,
          oh, and those two
letters (+ a book) from a
girl from warsaw...
but today?
      i look at the counter
and see this letter for me...
      but that's the odd thing,
i've never had contact
   with harrington & byrne:
hanover sq., mayfair
                            (W1S 1BN)...
the **** do they want
i thought while opening
the envelope...
       ah... i knew it, *******...
    buying the 1840
penny black postage stamp
with queen victoria aged 15,
for a "mere"
one hundred and twenty
quid...
   but that's good...
         they also sell gold & silver
coins...
     i'll phone them up
  or write to them, and ask them
   about my collection
      of foreign currency -
you never know,
     those polish banknotes
   from the inflation period
prior to the collapse of the soviet
union might be worth
  something akin
  to the excess of zeroes written
on them;
****, you think i'd be making
this up googling the brand?
         like i said...
  **** me... my email account is
even better...
                  i have
          about a total of 20 emails
in it...
        either i'm covert,
  or invisible,
     or "worse" still,
          a persona non grata;
        mmm...                          bliss!
saying that: it's nice to receive
the most random letters...
                 ACTUAL PAPER!
sooner or later, you'll get perverts
roaming the streets,
     with a sheet of paper
in their hand... rubbing it between
their fingers...
    as you'll get those perverts
sniffing ink-cartridge, once loaded
    into fountain-pens -
   can you remember the days
of chalk & blackboards?

(ix)

obscurity’s footnote

mom’s
prescription
blood

a lamb
nosing
a bar of soap
into the path
of those

women

burned
by blackboards

(x)

around the time god stopped writing men

I took
a ghost-like
custody

of a property

a ruin
of melancholy
trespass, my father’s

dream-ending
stomach

(xi)

return is the first stage of a life’s work

god
loses
eden

every so often
I use my breast
to open
the photographer’s
mouth, her hair

alarms
the dead

Blackboards love math dorks
not whiteboards, glassboards, or corks
Chalk's gathering dust

I was hurt beyond measure, beaten, bruised,
shut down, sinking beyond mountainous
stones, closed chambers, saw-slashed syllables,
whip-smashed vowels, dry rotten, abandoned,
sashed up, floating on dank shores, ax slapped,
crashing below burned hallways.  My heart was
shifting in unstable positions, squeaky baseboards
and blackboards, screeching sounds folding
and unfolding around my broken soul as I stared
around the empty bedroom seeking serenity
from this lost love lingering inside my cells.
I tried to convince myself that I wasn’t falling
in love with you, your dark passionate eyes
reaching deep into the layers of my labyrinth,
thick lips filled with incandescent rhythms,
widening in my sight, sparking my horizon
as I longed to embrace your landscape.
soft bones of freedom and hope traveling
within your wild nature, seamless treasures
revolving in the air, wavy hair everything
I wanted and more, wonderful arms a stream
of poetry, a dancing mix drumming through
the cracks of my creation, awakening my universe,
your rapping soundtrack of romance headlining
the cityscape, shining like flashing stoplights,
like crystal china.  And as I paced back and forth
around the shadowy space, the green-walls
starting to close in on me, all rusted and ragged,
hardened, splintered commas snapping away
from subjects, damaged verbs and run-on
sentences, my shrunken shoulders trapped
in hollow holes, dying, dim, slim,
shattered stems encompassing my limbs,
sour vowels burning in my mouth,
squashed maggots and bedbugs dissolving
down my throat, spoiled milk clouding
my windpipe, huge cockroaches crawling
all over my flesh as I took in the gratifying
touch.  I was losing my mind, shotgunned,
stunned, uncolored depictions stealing
away my serenity, jagged letters scrawled
in sharp swords across my blackened belly,
stained mirrors facing me in every direction,
my bladed hands lashing at every stained image,
feeling the fire flames from each cracked glass,
sizzling slopes, crazed hallucinations, dazed places,
raw-scorched galaxies, my crippled fingers
bleeding in saddened songs, smoked, undone,
unready, diminishing beneath slippery creeks
as I wondered why love could hurt so **** bad,
why when every time I thought I had found the one,
it was just another mugshot melody shattering
my system.

The whipped up temper
for a mass destruction―
of thoughts. A squeaking floor,

summons the―
last measure of strength, to manipulate
the blackboards,

to draw skylights,
to do everything to bring in
the hope.

A fracturing dilemma
seeks annexation from the blind faith.
You had started doubting on yourself.

Beyond the high pitched
dramatics of banging doors, I
stand below the windows for harmony.

Red:
The glimmer of Mars on a northern lake
Sandblasting the old battleship’s belly

War:
Men in blue jackets line the railings
Bloodless hands signed the armistice,

Thursday:
Too early for a drink after work
White faces watched the stock market fall

Blackboards:
Teacher’s pets got to clean the erasers
The sound of fingernails could twist your stomach

Convenience:
What a thing to base society on
Driving down to pick up a box of hamburger helper

Michelangelo:
Woman’s ******* on men’s bodies
Freeing the form from the marble

Igneous Rocks:
Lava flows melting the asphalt driveways
Ocher glow on the bellies of helicopters.