I n   t h e   m o r n i n g ,   i   j u m p   o u t   o f   b e d
i t s   a   f u n n y   t i m e   f o r   m e
b r e a k   t h e   b r a n d   n e w   d a y   a c r o s s   m y   c h e s t
j i n g l e   t h e   b e l l   f o r   a   c u p   o f   t e a

i   l a y   b a c k   a n d   r e a d   s o m e   o f   a   b o o k
t u r n   t h e   p a g e s   l a z i l y
l i s t e n   t o   t h e   s o n g   i   w a n t   t o   h e a r
g o   a b o u t   m y   t e a   w i t h   c a r e

b y   t h e   l u n c h   h o u r   i   h a v e   s a t   a r o u n d
l i t t l e   j o u r n e y s   h e r e   a n d   t h e r e
f o o d   i s   m a d e   w i t h   p l e n t y   l e f t   t o   s h a r e
w i n e   a n d   o t h e r   g o o d   t h i n g s   t o o

w h a t   a   p l e a s a n t   t i m e   o f   y e a r ,   b y   j o v e
t h e   s k y   i s   s i n g i n g   o u t   f o r   j o y
t h u n d e r i n g   t y p h o o n s

l i t t l e   m a r b l e s   r o l l i n g   o n   t h e   f l o o r
w e   a r e   l o o s i n g   t h e m   w i t h   g l e e

o h   w h a t   a   l o v e l y   d a y
w h a t   a   l o v e l y   d a y   i t   i s   t o d a y


o h   w h a t   a   l o v e l y   w a r
w h a t   a   l o v e l y   w a r   t o d a y
w h a t   a   l o v e l y   s m e l l
s m e l l   o f   f i r e c r a c k e r s   i n   t h e   h a y

If even for one second
you understood
what you've seen
standing
right in front of you
you wouldn't scream
or pinch yourself
like a subconscious pilot
trying to eject from your dreams
Leave upon leaf peeled back
like the paint that coats the walls
of this mostly silent building
that surrounds you
like a grafitti covered
**** stained nightmare
of petting
and favor games
The digital ******
horrorshow stage
Lights, action,
put some tape
over your camera
Set your microphone in flames
It's impossible to track
the truth
even though it died
bound and naked
but they forgot
where they buried it
You've seen it
just like me
I know you have
Don't worry
that pervasive feeling
of sickening intoxication
wears off in a year or twenty.

Earthen desires,
these are diamonds,
that shield our veiled eyes,
trance like sheathed sward,
hidden in the mantle,
a top the mountain,
creatures lurk atop,
Deviled in the mist,
splattered in Lumios,
The crone and spit;
they really are a horrorshow,
Straggling around,
hovering,
hurtling toward,
**Unknown Territory!

I am a beginning and I am an end
I am a stream of consciousness and
I am my own lack of surprise
Manifested into a walking horrorshow wondering
where it went wrong.
Watching the birdwatchers checking for watches
They know no time with enough patience to share
Little smiles of knowing more than you
The ones who found what they were looking for
in the trees and canopies and little handbooks and scientific names
Flightless birds waiting to be classified

i often have to search not long but
very hard to find a little integrity left
in my body
and when i wake up i am completely confused because
evening and morning are two loose ends of
the same black hole

every night i lose the feeling in my legs
washed up jelly legs
every morning i wake up all solidified
it takes me over five hours to seal my sheets

"under trees which are still bravely
competing against autumn"
there, i stole your sentence
what's it going to be then, eh?

****** anarchist
we live in a power house greater than this world
i crawl through a hidden door in the attic
little metal plate on my chest
two lightning chambers powered by dark energy
walls dripping smell
of fresh herbs

the window a post for reminiscing
restoration hour

I have too much compassion for all of this dark.
As if within the turmoil, someone's playing a harp.
Like Beethoven in the most horrorshow happenings.
I try to re-sort things but amidst the chaos, I can't help just laughing.

A person is a silly thing.

Burkowski had a bird, I think I may too. I feel my true smilings, it has to be true.

Little bit of bitter then add the sweet to take the sting away,
Life is, and no spoonful of medicine can lessen it;
Mary Poppins pills to make the pain go away now.

Self medicate and try to keep it down;
Barbie and Ken, with detachable black eye and whiskey bottle.

Another household horrorshow right outside my window but if it's not on the media, how can I tweet at ya, to show you how much I care and how much I support the police at least until it's the hounds released at me.

More bad news and the death rate increases but by a show of support I can get my heart rate down to walk by my ex;  jealous with his new "*****" or so I call her.

This is the new addiction, we're all showing we to care to care and an equal sign that means peace,
safety pin it to our shirts to show we're there.

The only safety I need is on my gun, now I got a box for my son because he shot his mother in the head, I should've stressed gun safety to him, he'll get the hang of it when he starts school next year. Now the boy is a soldier, fighting for peace, some love him, some hate him. I just want him alive, but if he dies, he'll die like a hero and if he washes out early- I have no son.

Intent doesn't matter, only actions show character. That's what I call a disgrace, which is why I wear a mask, to show my true face. Hiding in plain sight is the best kind of disguise, but you can tell a storied life from the depth of my eyes.

So Mary Poppins pills and it's just the way, a little bit of salt and sugar to start my day.

I'm so sorry
I know I'm a maniac.
I know I have a nervous disorder
and this is the most
bombastic
Asstastic stupid
******* horrorshow that I've allowed myself to be.


I can't see anymore.
I have self hate slime
gooeing up my eyes.

My life is a slovenly horror show lie
and it's breaking me into little pieces

What's my credit score?
It's all lies.
and I want to cry...
and shy away from everyone.

It's all lies.
everything dies
and I'm apart of it.

I thought life was lit.
but now I'm burning down.
Don't frown and cry for me.
Feel good. Eat food.
Live life.
Have fun.
Have dogs and go vacation.

The world is gonna blow up some day and all you'll have is memories.

It's something we all can see.
Make a day.
Please..... have fun.
For all of us....

The news is not good news today--
Hide from the wind and run from rain,
A boat on fire, gut sick gun play.
All told, a litany of pain,
And I, perhaps I should feel worse,
Should give anxiety its due,
The medications being cursed.
And yet the sky outside is blue.
I claim no sense of innocence,
While holed up here--a sonneteer,
With lit incense and cupiscence
For that woke fear this craft can't queer,
This horrorshow, this pixeled glow--
Trade winds that blow where words won't go.

And so as the vicious street punks and the droog crews make merry in the modern cities of ultra fashion, so I dress to impress and clash in the streets.

Hammer and Brass knuckle, chains and living by the switchblade life.

Speeding lights and Burgess printed the method.

Savage young punks.

Sword duel for honor long gone out the window now, guns are for the classless, if you have a hate-on for someone, fist to fist or blade to blade, bat to bat and blood to blood. Look em the eye if you want to shed some flesh.

Bowler hats and commando boots, canes, bats, bruises and blood.

Real flash horrorshow, savage young punks, the dreams of youth wasted on the violence of wide eyed children, children of the digital era who grew up as latchkey kids, who grew up feeling isolated and had no healthy outlet for that anger.

Anger is an energy, the birth of the atomic bomb.

The homegrown domestic terrorist.

Suddenly violence seems less romantic and street gang fights for respect and turf turn to stray bullets raining down across the nation, homes and schools, churches and weddings.

We still love our violence.

Glassiness is the debt I made in my eyes.
Money's overrated
and so is love.

Love is like a masterpiece
that you see in a show.

It's real nice to be by it
but it'll blow you up and know
just what it did.

Bidding for a fancy life
is a horrorshow
is exactly who I am
and it's all I'll ever know.

I held an hourglass against the sun to burn up all the bugs.
All of the little critter crawlers that buried under my skin.
They like me more at night, because I'm very warm.
So, they storm my hair hedges and burrow in my skin.

The ****** up part is that I let them in,
and allow me to be itchy all night,
all night in my dreams I sweat.
It's salty, saline regret.
And it steps inside me, over logs of happiness and hate.

I let them in to help me begin to be a better person.

And they let me know that the horrorshow is that I'm worse than ever happy memory I held and thought I still was.

Grazing in the hell hills,
I stumbled about a sticky situation.

Mumbling.
Making a mole hill out of ant barracks.

It's true.
I shouldn't stare at the sun.

So, instead
Let us run an artificial operation.

Maybe, let's mention
just how sterile of a horrorshow life showed, and should be what it should be.

Stumbling around...
Still.
Holding still in a coffee shop.

It's not what I hold.
And It's not what I have.
It's not even anchored in my soul,
but still I can NOT stop.