The color of death is not black, is not white.  
                                                        ­                        Not red, not gold.  
Think: ashen skin.  
                               Think: where did the blood go?  
                                                          ­                       Think: pale, so ******* pale.
Bruise again.  He’s going to bruise again.  
     Mottled red   and      purple   and      blue   and      green   and      yellow.
That’s what the body does after death.  Blood runs down
to the lowest bend of the body and bruises the skin.  

The rust of cerebrospinal fluid as it sloshes
                      back and forth
       in the bag hanging above the bed.  
                                                      My mother’s hands:
white knuckled and gripping down on washcloths
to prevent her from breaking the skin of her palms.
The constant hum of telemetry,
                                the soft whoosh of the ventilator.

The human body has roughly 7% of its weight in blood.
The human body has no ******* idea what to do when
there is too much or too little of really anything.
Think: blood vessel bursting.
                            Think: cells mutating.
                                                  Think: proned patient coding after intubation.

Bruised.  His hands were bruised from all the needle-sticks,
from his lack of platelets.  And a single transfusion only goes so long.
                                                           ­   Goes three weeks long.  
The hands on the belly, laid so gently, so carefully are
covered in makeup.  The hair is parted wrong with a cowlick.
I know how they created that soft smile on his closed mouth.
                                                                         I’ve read the books.
                                            I’ve heard the talks from morticians.  
They’ve made my grandfather tan, but
I know what’s underneath the foundation:
                                                                                  grey.

Aquiver mellifluous ineffable hiraeth nefarious somnambulist epoch sonorous serendipitous limerence bombinate luminescence ethereal illicit petrichor iridescent supine aurora solitude syzygy phosphenes oblivion ephemeral incandescence denouement vellichor eloquence defenestration Sondra effervescence cromulent cellar-door debridement

Illustrator icon verdant cerulean aeneous  albicant amaranthine azuline argent chartreuse damask ferruginous  haematic  hyacinthine ibis ochre primrose russet sanguineous virescent mystborn transcendence

~
Pristine upturned mouth
charitable sanguineous lips
****** only when they sound as a heart murmur
filtering through dark canticle streams
to the bottom of a kalonoù pond
no more...
~

I have often turned within my grave to ponder of the reason why
Upon the date of my birth, you took me to your secret hide

Underneath an aspen tree within the deadest of nights
You took to me like a moth to a ball of flickering light

With the devils own smile plastered upon your face and the slightest of hand
You produced a sanguineous jar of hearts and an ominous jar of black sand

You grasped my hands in your work enured and fairly calloused paws
Looked me in the eyes, and told me to forever leave my pale hands raw

"Never soil your untouched hands, your hands and eyes you shall avert'
"Never bruise, nor ever hurt, nor shall they be ever touched by dirt,

"Never touch a rose, nor touch a bee, as danger is an all you see,
"Close your eyes my little darling, and all of life shall be but a dream."

With the trust of a mothers child, I kept my eyes tightly squeezed
Wished upon the star within the midnight sky, wavering in the breeze

Held my hands up to my chest, hoping the fluttering and staggered slips
Not to be seen by your face within the light of moon as from the sun it dines and sips

Of a heart that had only once been given to me and should have forever stayed mine
But the greed inside all mens' hearts want, and reaches out to grasp a young new 'hind'

With another slight of those calloused hands, you took my life for your own pleasure
And stole what was rightfully derived as mine; a beating heart, you took your leisure

A working mind, once a clock, now fully had come to a skidding stop
You took my bones and my teeth and used them as a fertilizing crop

The very worst thing that you did, you took my pride when you took my skin
Shaved off clean with a diamond edged razor and worn as if you were mockeries twin

Burried underneath that beautiful aspen tree, I've been given the time to remold
But my life had been stolen, the soul forced out before the bells had tolled

In the time it had taken for my pieces to remold, I had realised something then and there;
There were always things that were meant to go untold, but the truth is ringing upon the open air

You wanted more than what was offered and had bitten off all you could chew
But if I'd known back then what I know now, I'd know real good men only come in few

Standing sacred amongst the dead,
A mausoleum built, protected,
It watched and witnessed the years as they passed,
It remained silent against life so vast,
A vigil reminder that the dead can be kings,
The wealth of many don’t think of such things,
Remembered in death as they were in life,
This fixture wept beyond their mortal sight.
Of broken hearts and dreamy fog,
The Mausoleum held inside, a bog.
-
I witnessed it upon the path I walked,
The dead-end, so to speak, it frightfully stalked,
It almost glowed a neutral grey sheen,
Aghast, I looked past with thoughts of being,
I emptied a heartache upon a pillar,
It reached to me and my hand now withered,
It called my name once in the silence,
The voice so hollow, in hallowed solace.
While this garden with dead did proliferate,
I opened what was once the tomb’s inner gate,
I stepped inside not knowing what came
Next for me in life’s theatrical game,
Surprised to see it held a catacomb,
I walked its halls in vain, entombed,
Cephalic attacks of thoughts herein,
Requested presence of answers therein,
Creatures and demons alarming inside,
We take the most identifying and hide,
We look to find we are the same,
In life, in presence, in thought, in vain.
-
I saw the bodies that rested yet here,
They seemed so at peace to sleep for years,
One cadaver at the end of a hall,
Seemed to beckon to me and warned of fall,
The steps leading down, treacherous at best,
I looked at it more as if it were test,
Test of strength, a test of will,
But my insanity would not keep me still,
Hidden between his skeletal palms,
Was a page ripped out of Bible, the psalms,
His favourite, I imagined, but it shook my spine,
Because he appeared so clandestine,
So surreptitious, the look upon his face,
He hid no remorse for passed mistakes
His teeth decayed like his mind did in life,
His bones festered and caused him great strife,
Were it not for the pedestal that held him up,
I wouldn’t have seen aside him a cup,
A cup full of sanguineous red,
The shuffles on the floor from where others fled,
I took his cup and drank from it well,
The taste of old blood, congealed, from Hell.
I then could not have had foretell,
That this would put me in a dreamlike cell,
I stumbled on the floor and rocked,
My thoughts of reality were then so blocked,
I couldn’t hold concept of anything,
I fell asleep and awoke in a dream.
-
The Nightmares, transgressions of the dead that lay
In this catacomb, suffered a fray,
A war between families large and askew,
The swords of fathers to sons imbued,
They bred them with hate and raised them with blood,
They fought their battles as sons best could,
One of them had their internals leave
Their stomach, and organs were bereaved,
Because of a ”friend” that with a knife,
Decided against his opposing strife,
He feigned a hug and with his fist,
Wrenched his weapon and did persist,
To tear his friend apart, depraved,
He cut out his heart and his father gave,
His son his burial rites,
The other family far from contrite,
Desecrated this mausoleum,
The battlefield turned to Coliseum,
The young fighting old and not knowing why,
The women and girls lost much and cried,
Their men would not have any of their words,
Ironic to not hear pleading songs of birds,
The families lost while being forewarned,
Both now lie entombed, both thought of as scourge,
The mischievous gaze the skeleton gave,
I now understood, I thought I was insane,
Even in Hell, he battles them still,
I learned not to let idiotic persistence cloud my will.

I've been under the influence
Of a grand delusion for years:
That humanity was in need of saving,
That I could do something to change things.
But the vast, sanguineous swamp of civilization
Swallows you whole,
Indiscriminately forcing you to adapt.
Ripping your flesh from the bone,
Until you are a twisted phantom
Of who you once were.

The ants,
Though,
They work together.
Their colonies are, essentially,
A single organism:
An immune system of warriors with grotesque chelicerae,
With foragers and scavengers radiating from the colony's center,
Bringing back sustenance,
And the queen, ceaselessly pumping out generations.
They all live and work and die seamlessly:
Cogs upon cogs, organic machinery.
So what am I?
A blockage in an artery?
An aimless foreign object,
Doomed to be consumed by everything around me?

I don't know.
I wake up and I put my contacts in.
It's usually past noon,
And some days I can't get out of bed.
Don't ask me why.
But I go to class and I take care of things
I'm trying to at least be mobile,
To have options and use them.
I've got a wanderer's spirit
And a saint's moral code.
Why must so many go without? I ask.
Why do we cause so many of our own problems?

Again, I don't know.
We're naïve, hairless apes with nuclear weapons,
Cosmological Protozoa at best.
Our cities are staunchly divided:
The haves and have nots,
The grime and the detergent.
The ghetto is potholes, shattered glass, And faded, forgotten dreams.
This is not the succinct society I see in ants;
This is chaos, disorder, malignant and cancerous.
This is ecological genocide.
This is systematic exploitation and manipulation.
This is rigged elections and clandestine empires.
This is **** Sapiens circa 21st century,
And I want nothing of it.

The exquisite taste of iron
Lingering enclosed
A sanguineous river
The bequest of mine adversary
A purple mottled blossom
Burgeoning forth
Flowerbed of
Battered frame
Extinguished flame
The corporeal battlefield
Ravaged

Iniquitous intentions
And dominating force
Unabated terror
Reigning forth

As with every new bloom
It claims new ground
A daring boldness
Possessed of strategy
With motives unsound

A brink battled raged
Body consumed
Lost shattered frayed

Within and closer
A planted cerebral seed
Rising forth malady

Nevermore unchanged
Though the body heals
The mind retains
Lasting casualties
Slivered charred remains

She was accused of
Many unstable unsatisfactory emotions
All of which amalgamated her hurricane soul
That so breathlessly changed pace
With every maleficent or peaceful encounter
That fed the storm of her pith
A hollow quintessential girl
Hidden beneath eyes of tragic twinkle and
An amorphous disposition
That so whispered her visceral uncertainty
With which
She placed her demons in plethora
Upon all who obstreperously disturbed
The susurration of her own self-cataclysm
This decrepit distorted typhoon
Of the thundering lullaby she once embraced
Dissatisfied with the resonant rhapsodic scintilla
She so carelessly went from sonorous to somnolent
Once her nature echoed a sanguineous symphony
Of intimate honesty’s to now
Only as discreetly murmur callous contempt
Until this once magnificent hurricane soul
Did crumble like the walls her efficacy once
Tore down to whimper into the dust that is
Now her soul’s riven zephyr.

Rope to ***** the weather, sweet sixteen dreams
The mirror tells we can have some fun in teams
I can't find my reflection anymore, searching in eloped reconnaissance streams
Lassoes in the sky, stealing cars under the starlight standing in strong dreams
Another day in paradise, looking better in paraplegic purging preteens
The electric fuzz on your face touches my standing goosebumps gleam at the ****** seams
Bumblepuppy acolyte turning at the prongs of the tattered road, calling up your Hessian friend and making politics right at the sanguineous pea-brain lean veal after the mob gets out on Russian ruby streets running with honesty
On the other side of the world, where the sun sets and polite moonrock never survive on The Berlin Wall tonight abseiling away sealed away, waiting for the ballot or the ballet
Waiting for the limelight to subside, guts tellin' me to keep my self in lowly mad hatters tied to napes, hundreds hanging by weather reports claps in laughter, descending tents by the brook beaming at us in starry dynamo of the thousands
Losing himself in a lucid dream of what was once the world's reality now sleeping, dead presidents in stygian darkness
Hanging on to the word of the weatherman, crime is rising in Russian motherless children hung for misdemeanor looking for a metaphor, the nation understands and wants to know us
Ukraine leave us from the 1990s, too late the third stone from the sun has taken three turns, we are at the trapdoor
Resurrecting the insurrection, pejorative for misnomers and draconian dead beats sibilant suss
Too bad I see the whole earth, on my body stains on laconic red flags, still fly indeed
Flying in the wind, like idiots in the weatherman's underground cuss dirt into the report sowing dead seeds
Unable to see the sun behind cold clouds in stormy weather, battered suitcases breeze by murmurs talking by-lines and stolen **** in ****** underwear ****** unable to breed
Then, the bombs falling and shifting with changeling wind charred sun under the unbeing reading in the Aurelius light
Thousands in the starry dynamo might outshine us all and the nation can't hold us back and keep us far from the fault in stars
The silver lining in the cloud, puerile virile as lady lying Glasnost to the prognostic benzedrine patient
I've never seen a can in hang in stormy weather
Charting out the Chinaman on the hydrogen shore, communism is on the brink of helium war with itself, viscerally hanging from Tomorrow's daughter
Whipping up the foamy sea like cold ice nostrums thawed in search of the antidote to warm red planets named after Roman Gods
Looks like the sea lord created a thalassocracy for the sea cursed by memos and pastiche, droll parody in the mewling hall of the rebuke of free-prose poetry hanging on the tinkering lampshade
Touch me now, never or now bullish books read the list of people who were once on this winding road just like us shining crummy ******* now in a handful of stardust
Being is tougher than living, and the berserk wind keeps changing
Under forked lightning, it gets worse when the spoon picks me up
In my wet dreams, I'm killing myself hurting to find if you can put your mind to this cornish dream of Cavendish and hashish
Stuck in the stitches, and the ******* don't drip blood and sweat it
Ukraine leave us from the 1990s, too late the third stone from the sun has taken three turns already
Murders on the mystery train, never reach the orient station looking for a whimsical refill
Halting sloth the indolent, I remember redolently like moth attracting to the blazing coruscating gleam, that's when a screaming teen becomes an upstart or a fiend
With an iridescent grin, caviling on the shore asking more from jackknifed business kitsch photos of the crosses
Throwing them in the trash, just like that
Ire of the nation broken with the lugubrious sleep of dinners after the summer's madness, hurt by the locked hearts in an armed madhouse looking at everything like geniuses
Asking what does it mean? Motifs and everything, lintels on the fluorescent signs on numinous streets caressing our wires, hanging by the piano wire
Waning adolescence now has a name in Hades' beard made of fiery pubescence that doesn't wanna listen
Tantamount to the king's orders, ligature marks on the hands that only know cuffs
The que glibly glistens in the lively dungeon
Hosted by bacchanal and mistresses, Elizabeth Bathory in the company of friendly books full of picturesque pedestrians on the streets of angry murders with ****** sleeved shirts
Blackened lackeys looking for a toss of change or pederasty with Countess Dracula
Moloch, you have made my life changeable despite skiffs
Moloch, I hang in the balance of the skirmishes of scorching fire burning at the midriffs
Easter bloc, ropes hanging for whoever doesn't wanna burn in the witch fire, sold for 200 pounds in a dilapidated home, till the berserk wind blows the candle out, old under Tudors that say a lot in a few words about style in art as slavery is merrily rampant
Killing the people, in the name of the republic of 1968 reminiscent of Phoenician Lands, rueful murmurs arouse the twisted looks turning out the traitors
From the rapidly changing wind, that brushes our hair and kills the pain of hanging to our families in bunkers
From the road of hope, I find some affliction in the forgiveness
Of my lord in whom I find breadth, heareth, endeth the breath that lendeth thy will, in the lengths of my souls searching for horizons in Old Earth
I died with my elegy in 1968, the wind still hoists flags in my name in death three years in the latter

I walked up a narrow stairwell
Hearing the soundly innocence
Within my despair

Blood stained the wainscoting
The sanguineous dispaly
Only leaving my temples hurting
I was about to scream, "******!"
But, I wanted to see before I weep
In case, I get a seizure

In my room
Everything, still like water
However, sepulchral and suspenseful
The macabre got to me
When I saw mother hanging from the ceiling

Gaining consciousness
I found a knife in my fingers
Saw a man fleeing

Now, I realize
I'd rather be dead
Than be living on borrowed breathing

Why then .   .  .shall mine,
Heart inner walls and galleries.
Be not draped about
In such lush crushed velvet drapes and tapestries?
In plush deep daydreamy hues
Scarlet,crimson, or sanguineous ,
Which ever term
you use.
As long as it depicts the color of my muse ....
Intricate and brash
Yet refined raw and delicate

Variegated elegantly with
varied shades,
Each new love I invite in
Having artistic differences ,
As they often do
prefer Carte Blanche
To make love look
How they feel it.
For peradventure,
If I keep decor from an old love,,
Its the same as making them to blame for past pain.......
If your looking to loose
Thats the game for you..
I used to play it that way
Now I play the blues.
Over paid my dues.
Soul still bruised
Still feel the noose
And the short leash
Id run to the end
And thrash like,a spastic
They have all trained in
Emotional war tactics
Any attempt to fight back are in vain.
Their urbane
Splash stains of ratsbane,
Purple me ......
Then leave......
All vanity .
Ampersand,
Lies imbue questionnaires,
And rosy bruises replace
All this superfluous covering where love used to sojourn so beautifully.
Now the walls are a pale glossy sorta yellow .
even though the crimson flow of slow blood flow through it  .
Scars of  unwant
Disallow a chance to stain them..
Oh Love will thou come back to me again.... .
I adore thee ,
I am empty.
A fresh canvas I offer thee.
Yours wantingly
........Me.

I've always wanted to go with you
With your sequestered simulation desperate talks
You can follow me wherever your poetry opens up
OPen at the close, write happy endings
Take your time, your communication is for the wordsmiths you prophesize on
Philosophize on what you have, your possessive nature is your casual vacancy
You might call your id and superb egotism a cham of glib dreams in a wary catatonia
Melancholy is white if you put on the gloves to write a supposed witty poem
Black as the blue akin to quills, pick up and write in your sanguineous sincerity
Writing's in your blood

Slow mo.  
I'm falling
I'm already replaying
What is happening
each second is an eternity
Frame by frame
Wait ........
STOP !
RIGHT THERE...
See that?
After the flash
...
My pupils dilate
The surprise in my eyes as I realize where the pain came from
This is just a Still shot.......
The peak of pain ,
Pivotal point
When I begin to become undone
...........
Shell shock
This is why I run
I can but I can't see
Tasting the irony
Clutch my chest as I lean
On my way to my knees
been kept in the dark on so many things
By me......things I pretended not to see . ..
Things I didn't want to believe..... everything my guts were telling me
It's hollowing ...
Caught up in the neon green glow
Of a fatal Epiphone.....
trying to swallow a brick ....
Covered in sand
Ampersand,
Everything is so ........
Sanguineous
Feeling nauseous
Ballistic
100 grain.243 boat tail hollow point fully jacketed slid through my chest
I'm dumb ...

Reeling back on my heels ,
I'm stunned,
heartburns
Murmuring,
the rest of me
Cut free currently completely numb
Multi masking with metaphors
Disconnected laying catatonic on the floor
Knowing these stigmas ,
Spiked with poison
Enigmas without solution
.....
She was bored ....
I was lonely ......so she created this illusion we could both lie in....
Ending like a Steven king .....
Began like a harlequin
I'm floating .... souls bruised
And uhm.......
Looking down,
At the crime screen,
Stuck in confusion..
Final conclusion ....
I took the risk .....
I new the outcome......
And id do it again
Because your the best there's ever been
Chalk line around my body
I look like a clown .....
Super happy
With a frown.....
One more time please
......
I'm up if your down

Slow mo.  
I'm falling
I'm already replaying
What is happening
each second is an eternity
Frame by frame
Wait ........
STOP !
RIGHT THERE...
After the flash
My pupils dilate
The surprise in my eyes as I realize where the shot came from
Still shot.......
...........
Shell shock
I can but I can't see
I taste the irony
Everything is so ........
Sanguineous
Feeling nauseous
Ballistic
.243 boat tail slid through my chest
I'm dumb ...
Reeling back on my heels ,
I'm stunned,
heartburns
Murmuring,
the rest of me
Cut free currently completely numb
I'm floating .... souls bruised
And uhm.......
Looking down,
At the crime screen,
Stuck in confusion..
Final conclusion ....
I took the risk .....
I new the outcome......
And id do it again
Because your the best theres ever been
Chalk line around my body
I look like a clown .....
Super happy
With a frown.....
One more time please
......
I'm up if your down