everything dries up this time of year
driving into the wind I cried for four hours
but the desert air drank the water from my face, from my lips:
brittle sacks, experiments in evaporation

candy bar wrappers blow around the backseat
courtesy of these broken windows-- impractically high speeds
I don't know whose trash this is
I've been driving with a ghost

shouting at it, in the vacant passenger seat
all the things I'd never spoken
(for I swore you could read eyes)
but illiterate you saw only reflected stars

trying to find yourself in the Pleiades

all you knew of love was mythology
all I knew-- diesel gas, freon, points on maps
you read nothing in my vacant looks
I saw nothing in your ancient texts

a translation problem. little less.

It's the first day of summer heat.
Temperature is one hundred and four.
The junkies and drunks hit the street,
shufflin' towards death's door.

Freon raindrops fall from air conditioners
that hang from windows on the third floor.
I think "this day couldn't be finer",
as I shuffle towards death's door.

Bicycle tires roll over broken glass
from the shattered window of a store.
The prostitutes all congregate beneath the overpass,
as they shuffle towards death's door.

**** smoke fills the air
as I finish off beer number four.
A chance to put my mind elsewhere,
as I shuffle towards death's door.

Mind like a molecular laser
Even if you get in front of him
he always comes out ahead
His rivals dead
Evidence smashed
with "Magnets"
Chemical connect established
bringing in steady barrels
Cooking blue glass beneath circus tents
undercover of pesticide, and less pretty poison
His wife is a wreck
She's the only one who knows
Sweet Walt the chemistry teacher
Is a freon-blooded massmuderer
Keep the glass coming
Need fast cash
To get established
You can always count
on Skinny Pete and Badger
for comic relief
Albuquerque's foulest
runs every thing he sees
Its guaranteed...
He won't live to fifty-three.

Death hides a stranger
Into the *****
Of the night
And like a freon smile
It beckons to beguile
Leaving us empty
And with shame

Death knows no blame
And fathoms any danger
Like a whiplash
It scourges our pride
So in the end
We leave
Without a benefit to claim

In life we taste
A little of the sweet
But bitter pungent
Do we meet
And all favors
That we pray for
We must pay for
They are debts to settle
In a square

The sky is clearing
And i see
The clouds that hung
And clothe my stars
They are not mine
Those that i seek
And all i know,
I’ll soon release

Death hides a stranger
And so
A stranger i shall be
Gone and unto my grave
to fall
The rocks
The rain
The vultures all
For stranger still is truth
When unto me
I finally meet
The stranger that is hiding
Behind the mask of death....

It has been almost
Two thousand
And five hundred years
Sine Plato’s cave
Spewed us out
Into an odyssey
Of light and
Philosophical
Humanity
Two and a half
Millennia
Spent clawing our way
Out of the dirt
Into this age
Of technological wonders
And now you
Want to blunder
Back in to
That cave that
Gave birth to
A new science
You want to
Take back
Evolution
And electricity
Medicines, and
Other utilities
Letting Freon
Burn a hole through
The atmosphere
That was protecting you
Letting old ideologies
Rebloom and consume
Taking the opposite
Of mushrooms
Twenty-five centuries
Till we succeed
In failing so completely
As you drag me
Back into
Plato’s cave

Air conditioner.
~~~~~~~~~~~
Air conditioner
I made it possibly to live in relative comfort
Refreshing air by clever refrigeration cycles

Clever cycling of Freon gasses as compressed
Oh Mr Carrier you made it all so possible
Natural climates in the home and malls
Dynamically altered to a comfortable temp.
I am a poet n dispense without condition
To the world I give my poetry for free on.
In some places the Freon gas is taboo
Only my free poetry creates conditions
Never has so much poetry been released
Earth bound and channeled by Gods spirit
Relax now and read in the comfort of home.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Written by Philip.
November 7th 2018.

I stood
vastly alone in the center of a massive torrent of people and chewing-gum-stained walkways.
I looked
up at the red brick behemoths with metallic teeth dripping freon-compressed drool onto unsuspecting charlatans.
I wondered
what life was like in this storm before their gentle hum breathed life into each apartment, all while the sun scorched the windows.

I was afraid to put that next cigarette to my lips
For fear of washing away that lingering taste
It wasn’t the 7000 chemicals from the smoke
It wasn’t the 70 some cancer causing agents
It wasn’t the carbon monoxide, nicotine, tar, arsenic, ammonia, freon, cyanide, or the acetone
No it was you
It was the lingering taste of you
and your cherry red lips
It was the taste from where your lips pressed on mine
Completing my puzzle
That taste I’ve been chasing since the tenth month twenty first day of seventh grade
And if you add ten and twenty one you get thirty one
And if you flip that you get thirteen
Thats how old I was when I first kissed you
It had been a dare
And back then my ****** lips
Did not know about poison
My christian lips
Did not know how addicting you were
My collar bones were unexplored land discovered by your wondering hands
My chest was a new world after you
And now standing here
Standing still
Watching you walk away
I put the next cigarette to my lips
And try to chain smoke my way over you

We don’t belong here
Among people who see
Only red in the kaleidoscope.

People who will burn down the candy store
To keep a foreigner’s kid
From maybe getting a lollypop.

People whose good will
Ends at the top of
A concealed leather holster.

We don’t belong here
In a place where the scenery
Goes off limits 97 days a year.

A place where the wind
Is often angrier than me
And covers things with talcum powder dust.

A place where no humidity
Parches eyes and nose and mouth
And water gives you kidney stones.

A place where those with shrunken purses
Huddle down in freon igloos
Longing for the place they left.

We don’t belong here
The shadows of our spirits do not match
We sing our songs in foreign keys.

We hide the face of who we are
And wear the mask of fitting in
No, we really don’t belong here

But here we stay because
There is no other place to go.
          ljm

Air conditioner.
~~~~~~~~~~~
Air conditioner
I made it possibly to live in relative comfort
Refreshing air by clever refrigeration cycles

Clever cycling of Freon gasses as compressed
Oh Mr Carrier you made it all so possible
Natural climates in the home and malls
Dynamically altered to a comfortable temp.
I am a poet n dispense without condition
To the world I give my poetry for free on.
In some places the Freon gas is taboo
Only my free poetry creates conditions
Never has so much poetry been released
Earth bound and channeled by Gods spirit
Relax now and read in the comfort of home.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Written by Philip.
November 7th 2018.

Would you excuse me . ? I would stay for desert but my world is in chaos
A Phoenix rising from the ashes , phenom
Sleepless with eyes open I can dream on
Maybe a stream I can lay under a tree on
So I can chill like freon on a field like dion
Just chill for a second so I can be empty
And the waters could slightly wet the grasses to splash me on my tired soles
Drooling is fine as long as no-one knows
Just ask your pillow he's been cool about it for some time now and always been there for you to lie down even caught some tears in all the years now that-sounds like a friend to me if we wasn't
kin at least intimate amigos and nothing short of it

I've Wished So Much Of the "4th"

Nothing eternal as the sentry of thoughts
surfaced with course memos
under trees were branches
while the terse sky...
imposes roots from hell

older yearly wanton grueling haughty suppressed
breaking from sundown

Into 3 fingered humanoid flickers of empathy
or simply understanding
as the drain on alacrity
sends drudges of depression to new flights

Light the strolls encase the toes
running brave yet stamper out cursive strokes of the body
staked for Xerox belay on heavens, on belay

Only without your senses
forces fraught jasmine glops of Freon jolts
collected by gutter fed demi costs, the frequency more or less

Another evening & years stretched by
glassy faith cut with fire cool waters
& doubtless familiars
yet, never understanding as the dreams never arrive

They juxtapose, should I be sunk or
I the weeds of life assail, oiled by grease of existence
& fall into another blank reality of holding

Who calls a namesake and savior
or can it be fraught by conscious marks
alight on scratches metaphysical
continuance and the dance
to avail for there's an awe of an almost "omnificent empress"

And then there's just every other fourth of July

Nothing eternal as the sentry of thoughts
surfaced with course memos
under trees were branches
while the terse sky
imposes roots from hell
older yearly wanton grueling haughty suppressed
breaking from sundown
Into 3 fingered humanoid flickers of empathy
or simply understanding
as the drain on alacridity
sends drudge of depression new flights
Light the strolls encase the toes
running brave yet stamper out cursive strokes of the body
staked for xerox belay on heavens on belay
Only without your senses
forces fraught jasmine glops of Freon jolts
collected by gutter fed demi cost frequency more or less
Another evening years stretched by
glassy faith cut with fire cool waters
doubtless familiars
yet never understanding as the dreams never arrive
They juxtapose should I be sunk or
I weeds assail oiled by grease of existence
fall into another blank reality of holding
who calls a namesake and savior
Or can be fraught conscious marks
alight on scratches metaphysical
continue the dance
to avail for there's an awe omnificent Empress

Nothing eternal as the sentry of thoughts
surfaced with course memos
under trees were branches
while the terse sky
imposes roots from hell
older yearly wanton grueling haughty suppressed
breaking from sundown
Into 3 fingered humanoid flickers of empathy
or simply understanding
as the drain on alacridity
sends drudge of depression new flights
Light the strolls encase the toes
running brave yet stamper out cursive strokes of the body
staked for xerox belay on heavens on belay
Only without your senses
forces fraught jasmine glops of Freon jolts
collected by gutter fed demi cost frequency more or less
Another evening years stretched by
glassy faith cut with fire cool waters
doubtless familiars
yet never understanding as the dreams never arrive
They juxtapose should I be sunk or
I weeds assail oiled by grease of existence
fall into another blank reality of holding
who calls a namesake and savior
Or can be fraught conscious marks
alight on scratches metaphysical
continue the dance
to avail for there's an awe omnificent empress

Eyes of a sky. So entwined
With worldly promise.
The absence. Of a god is like
A girl deprived of chocolate...
And eyes of god.
See Gabriel's gift. To the prophet.
Muhammed...


Of love. Battle Songs. And jaws
Of hardened granite..
Manic episodes. That make
Me want messianic status...
Capture the head of Janet.
Just to stop the yapping...
Funny if I'm a girl
Why you call me man. ******
*** Amanda Bynes played shes the man.
And mulan was the script of trans mishappened.
Thrown in a mislabeled basket.
Washed with miss matching fabrics
To stain the water.
Now my fathers cloth is
***** crayon. Spray on sealant
Matching shade of batshit....

Palette of a dancer. With a rat **** wig and talent matches
Like she came from insanity.
Who could of imagined this great
Manifested. Happiness would happen...
Like a planet of amateurs.
Who took for granted.
How God's plan was greater than imagined flaws.
Anxiety. And dry heaves.
In a weaved contour of detour.
To a place of committed insanity
Death and damage to my manhood.
Surgeon. Working. With imperfections. Managing
In the band saw....
Chop a ******* hand off.
Hold my throat at ransom
For cash candy. And a soft retreat to chuck berry's mansion.
Complex of cher. Celine dion.
And the killers.
Speak of jesus. My knees like freon
Keep me clean my cheeks breach my teeth.
And soon the village sees
I different me.
Intended and invented. Born of
Meaning. Caution but promised.
To be clean of tempered damages
And diagnosis ****** forensic.
**** it I'm just rambling.
Dont believe the plot.
The director or the camera men
The novels much better.
Jot my thoughts in pen
And saturate the smooth canvas
With the dancing ants
That manifest. Loss of sanity.
Like washcloths in the basket
Marked for bleach.
But reaching its arm into the washer
To clean its conscience.
Body stops. The heart collapses.
Revived. Brought back from
Jesus. God Angel's. ..

she's who i'm with
so why do i want another
is it her hips, and their width
or is she just the better lover
her mind is like ******
and she's cooler than freon
i'm a sucker

the first time we touch
remind me not
to mark you
he might notice
and that'd be awkward
word
not like this isn't
now
how you do switch
with ease
turn off your feelings
cold freon
gonna be an eon
waiting to feel
like i could love again

***** around i guess
with old flames
until then
while they look
for the same thing
hang on
until desire is quenched
or i'm hanging
swingin'
higher and higher
keep on
higher and higher

can i
this mental block
is crazy
emptiness that fills
the void
inside
this cavity
that only grows
talent to please
but where's my appeasement
i invite relief
from lazy, uncaring parties
and get upset
when they prove what i was thinking
what you got
that i don't know
that makes you
so superior