In the instant a second presented itself
It dissolved, shrunk to the second...past
Out, gone.....a single thought could not be reinvented
For it was a second too late to squeeze the beginnings
With elementary mood breakers

Could the second have been different, thereby
Creating the onset of a brand new colour pallet
Drifting off, a direction lost to us, unable to pick
Up the tracking device of the rudamtary subliminal
Message, distorted by sleeping particles stored
Latently....dulled to the jazz tones of deaf ears

Identification slaves fired, packed up and rolled out
Partners squabbling, second '2'.... demise
Precious seconds lost, creating 3rd and 4th second
Lapses, prisoners of the past, what was and is no longer
Do we grasp the very second, conscious of the sound of
‘NOW’, cleansing our minds eye, rinsing our field of vision

The seconds may escape, existing in fornever land
Damaged as they trip and stumble in their two legged
Race to the realm of nowhere, continually stepping out of
Time with themselves, soaking up the spoils of
‘None of their business' lifestyles, dallying
In the lanes of borrowed lives, unrecognising
The empty shell of their own............

The cancer is told to no one.
We latently recognize noble reticence;
Are inspired by the selflessness:
He hid the pain and loss so well.
The addict,
The same lie,
And we say,
Loser!
One inspires;
The other,
Despised.
Two suffer too.

i stretched my tonsils wide and swallowed the sun
and all that i got was this mouth full of blood
i swallowed again
and relished the crack
my knees hitting the mud
the earth was the first
not to fight back

so i collapsed upon her back, forgot institution
and didn't try to get back up
just lay quietly in disollution, swept up in the flash flood
looking for some kind of nameless crudely chiseled love
chasing a faintly tricky latently burdensome buzz
tainted by ***** nail beds
and haunted by swerving white trucks
socially taught to get up and never come down
emotionally taught to get down and forget what it's like being up
luck no longer has meaning
that is just the universe being
i want to give up and go with it
i want to revisit that rattling requisite
i am ready for this ego to lift

“Visita Interiora Terrae Rectificando
Invenies Occultum Lapidem,”
“Visit the interior of the earth and become pure
you will find the hidden stone.”
when the time is right
i'll turn from red to white
drenched in a vitriol bath
my bones will surface
bright as gold under the light of the night
sinners worst dream
alchemist's delight

swallow the demons and
stay awake
no matter what you do
don't miss a minute
forget what pain is
form callouses
you will not be ashamed
of your right to breath
and grow out of this

Eternal funeral for this beauty
       latently in a coffin sleeps,

With never a burial - she can't
             die even six-feet deep.

Like I said, I don’t want any trouble here.
Remember when I promised you that I would
Watch out for you? I still hold to that,
My dear, consider me your Spirit Guide.
When you wake up you might not remember my vow
My dear, the oath that I keep for you.
I won’t take any away from your quiet ascension.
Latently you know that I was me who kept you safe.
Your success is mine and I ask for nothing in return except
To maybe keep you in my pocket, I’ll
Keep you for my amusement for I love
How you rarely tread quietly, softly, never softly.
For my benefit, just for me.
For as long as you remember, for my pleasure,
To bring rouge to my full and uplifted cheeks.
Just for me.

The cards of the 30 year old deck
festooned with Monet´ prints
swoosh so easily pliant in our hands
we unthinking about what the cards must know.

The dealer endures rebuke for bad hands
and pleads randomness and no malice
but still has the cheek to brag of her own good lot.
The cards bear unholy smudges of anger
and oh the tales fingerprints could tell:
loss of cool, onslaught of quiet ire
if not murderous fancies
all shielded by superb acting
and control
of ****** muscles
and the pace of breathing.

This drama plays out
unspoken but with latently lurking
hurts, slights, envy
and long smoldering resentments.

Even patriarchy rears its ugly self-righteous head
and cords of tolerance of the old man are strained
and taut to the breaking point,
Pete now realizing why Kit no longer plays when Dad’s at table.

But then there is the rare event
like when it’s revealed that Liz had the better hand
but folded because she knew Burt needed a win tonight.