<soft spoken intro>

...see your still here again,
    .....think your still welcome here?
                 ...here,
huh

Closed our mills, took our jobs, put in down our throats,
Fed us lies, took the pensions, thought we were a joke,
Media all bia's -steal my sentence, voted 'ere to revoke,
Cratering down! Cratering down the steepest *****!

We're taking you, out back and to the side,
Gonna be a genocide...

We're taking you, out back and to the side,
Gonna be a genocide...

White people,
     are raging, against,
           The Machine..

So Welcome, welcome...welcome...
      To The Machine...
            Floyd

I once woke up covered in blood on my parent's steps,
My truck was miles away on the side of the road.

We're taking you, out back and to the side,
Gonna be a genocide...

I was happy then, because there were eight.
I was happy because it smelt like ash and ukuleles;
rushing water that could very
very well break my neck.

I smiled and you smiled back
blinded by a flash of everything,
anything that happened in Decembers and Februaries
and the warm air, lying thick on the back of your neck
melted that flash clean until all I saw -
all any of us saw -
were blinking images of ourselves.
caught unaware and griping but also so very happy.

It smelt like summer, like tires speeding up, up
higher and higher until we crashed into the sky and fell down,
cratering holes as acid rain.

left our things
cratering the desert;
palms upturned
pulling the pressure away -
soft-words
talking down the crumpled spine of loss.
the sand,
the sand.
if it wasn’t so fine,
would you be able to trust
the mistaking of
abrasion for absolution?
will you be able to forgive
the belief
that a collapse can come
with good intentions?

There are two moons,
the one I used to cut my wrist
and the one that followed me home,
bathing my blood in silver light,
its round-eyed innocence gone.
My skin glowed white, hemoglobin
starved, celestial, cementing
my place in the firmament,
so that the universe cried with me,
cratering all the worlds with its tears.

just a moments grace
from the rushing roaring
in my brain.
just a little surcease,
a second's truce
between voice in and sane.
i just need to change my focus,
to blankly stare,
for the smallest while not to care.

to have a twinkling and a wink,
to re-adjust the mindset.

to re-sing the refrain,
to desist the cratering battle,
to lay in fields quiet,
to release the burgeoning
strain.

to hear the epiphanies call,
sweet and clear.
to understand life's meaning.
to balance fear and longing,
couarage and strength.
to walk my passage willingly,
all of it's undetermined length.
one quiet moment,
is all i need right now,
in order to adjust my wavering stride.
that and the knowing,
you will walk beside.

The old man stands in bare feet
on the composite floor,
gnawing on raw potatoes;
a crypt of tenderness
behind a barrier of
golden baby teeth
and thin wire rims.
He swallows ardently
pushing whole potatoes,
passed a sixty-year-old
clog in his throat.

One day, that tenderness
will drop like lead
from his mouth;
each word
cratering in the softest earth
“I’m trying.”

One day, on the back
of his blood
he’ll remind me;
with a mouthful of lead
and a snarl,
he will urge me to run.

Pile stone after stone upon my chest
I deserve not the breath that i draw
Brittle bones house a pulse ever softer
As they splinter, caress
With the grace of the moon descending
And force of the guillotine's blade
May the echoes of my death rattle fall upon deaf ears
And be swallowed by the lapping waves

May my bones please the hounds
May my flesh feed the ground
May my heart cease its ache
May the sun rise again

Oh sweet sleep
Still and unending
A calm descends upon the embers of being
The coals cratering my eternal home
As deep as need be to bury these shameful bones

The moon shines no more
I could never rest under the sun
That I know to be true
But I'd come out under the moon.
Its modest brilliance, paling before the light of the sun.
But now, even the moonlight burns my eyes.
Instead of brilliant yellow,
I searched far and wide for ashen white.
Now I search the sky
For clouds, to hide behind:
Clouds of all shapes,
Clouds of all sizes,
That replace uniqueness
With transient whispers of specter silence
Where dreams become what?
Dreams Fade
And I disintegrate
The Moon Crashes.
Scarring it's pristine white
With cratering canyons.
Now the sun sinks
Into eclipsing dark.
And I'm afraid, that you'll never find me.
Even if you feel that's O.K.
Who knows,
Maybe it is....
So Goodbye Moon
Your brilliance has lost its luster,
In the cavernous gutter I'm in

I feel like rain and every man I meet

Is subjected to me

The cloudburst of emotion and pain

A flash flood of heartbreak and sorrow



I fall until I land in their hearts

All drenched in regret

Their clothes soaked through

Suddenly, with the feeling of me



I silently pour in

With baggage that hails down

Denting and cratering them

Until the levee breaks



A deluge of myself

Until all they can think about

When a storm rolls through

Is how much it reminds them of me.

you are a silhouette cut-out.
if only i could fit into you.

out of proportion?
parts; poking and cratering
across my body to make
this mismatch of flesh.

am i god's leftovers?
or is that too divine?
i'm what everyone else
simply left behind.

i thought my heart
too big, too full, too red,
but the dark side of it,
is horror, near-dead.

disproportionate - yes.
in the physical, emotional,
metaphorical sense.

i am an uneven hill surface.
cannot complain when no one
bothers to clamour across it
to see the dark side of the moon.

Methinks, I post literary endeavors inxs
but tis with blood, sweat and tears
in case ye did not guess,
who struggles to craft reasonable rhyme
ideally read by a pleasing poetess.

Aye ***** nilly understate (trying to)
tantalize, hypnotize, galvanize...
with "FAKE" trumpeting
spellbinding, rambling, quivering...
intoxicating, hallucinating, gyrating,
stop to take a breather...

English Language vocabulary, a
fascination, intoxication, provocation...
upon me ocular, neurological, mental...
faculties of this nattering nabob
from outer limits of twilight zone
i.e. literary krazy Jewish jabberwocky

issuing haphazard global toll till
fallout exacting deserved ****
cratering nascent (inchoate) career
digitally/electronically bi:
ne'er re: carpet bombing

away upon modus operandi, sans
sesquipedalian shrapnel strafes wrought
realization literary scaffolding
complex edifice thought
out in mind of yours truly,
not popularly sought

opportunity to experience
rush of excitement,
asper choice winner equals naught
inexorable effort to cobble innovative
linkedin words disappointment fraught
submissions witness polite declinations

attesting, lamenting, regarding poetic
expansive glommed language, unlikely
success tubby brought
adulation, commendation, enunciation...
fades into afterthought.

Ablest adept adroit aficionado
applauded aspiring authors accorded
absolute badge because
brevity brews brilliant burnished
bravado bubbling budding bulwark
captivatingly collates, communicates,
constitutes conveys avast literary

Grand Canyon chiseled, sans scribe's
Colorado devoid, asper driven desperado
contrariwise, through prevalent
persistent pinterest proclivity,
plus plethora pronounced propensity

resoundingly regaling readers
re: raffish ridiculous rumination
renders endeavor incommunicado
diligent doggedness ironically -
dampens dueling dynamic dud

dutifully dramatically diminishing
divine dreaming skin deemed darling
distinguished doodling I sip
prose poe hit tick drafter
equally or exceeding
prospects envisioning El Dorado,

thus this 1% Neanderthal
bets his sweet bippy
and bottom dollar
febrile frenzy to fashion words
essentially relegated as dense bupkis
will automatically plummet
hook, line and sinker
10,000 leagues under the sea
accidentally discovered courtesy
scuba diver assisted by Octopus teacher.

He subjects unsuspecting readers
to lumbering lugubrious trademark
style saturing media airwaves,
thus instinctive immediate attribute
acutely sensing reasonable non-rhyme
heading directly to Davy Jones locker
years later discovered posthumously
and hailed as figurative
long lost sunken treasure
linkedin to the outstanding
ascribed to yours truly,
honorable Master scribe
among pantheon of great poets - ha
a run of the mill
schlepping logophile.

We fear, yet respect you, as diminutive determined invaders
nibbling like too eager lovers at necks, faces, arms, and skin
invading our fragile human air space like sneaky chinooks
your poison injecting into all the cavities that lie deep within

We bow to your humming, into our eardrums eerily drilling
dreading the cratering with your probing insectile missiles
as you target the ****** territories of our all too human flesh
your determined approach that old instinctive fear instilling
knowing nets do not dissuade you no matter their size of mesh

We praise you, as shrilling, chilling choristers of the Tropics,
admire you as enemies, secretive, invincible, secreting unease
recognizing your sustained mission to dominate humankind
as you move ever Northward with an invading army's expertise

The grizzled veteran looks out over no-mans land,
scars visible on every part of exposed skin.
Eyes search the horizon
knowing the next assault will come.
…you're ugly…
…you're alone because you're flawed…
…no one wants you…
Each shell lands
near enough to true
cratering my field of resolve

I just want safe hands to hold me.
To give me the peace of mind
of knowing that I won't sleep alone.
That I won't wake to this hellish battlefield.
Someone to shield me from the artillery.
Someone to fill in the craters
and soothe the scars.

Cratering on Thursday
Cray
ter
ing

impact rubble thrown

behind my ears
aches

shakes

I din't know
how sore

my head could be
from lying to you