Alfred is my friend,
glowing in the windowsill
coughing with karma.

He is a peaceful
lovely little basil plant
but he may be sick--

black spots on leaves tell
that an infestation grew,
but I love him more.

water and quick snips,
coarse lullabies and sunshine
I hope he will live,

because goodness knows
such a lovely companion
can’t forsake my poor nose.

I love my little Buddha husband
sometimes I watch him as he naps
his face assuming the soft delicate
lines of a child or an angel
asleep on God's *****

I observe him in the garden
through the glass patio door
reflective light of the noonday sun
splashing gold over his bent form

Gently he snips fragrant rose blossoms
arranging a charming feng shui bouquet
for our kitchen counter

Cuddling close and cozy on our
chocolate brown love sofa
as evening casts a starry
love spell

I Thank God for such a
blessed and sacred life and especially
for my little Buddha's delight

Positive thinking got you drinking yourself in shrinking it off like it was a bad day, just a bad play, that it'll go away maybe if you pray
Blinking the lies, closing the lids at the rest of your life, just to avoid losing your way, stop you from jumping off the bay, try to find that ray
Meditate, let the light illuminate your mind, realize that it is not your day, your month, your time to be alive, shoulda just dived
Leave behind the weight, everything that's falling off your plate, starve, **** off your *** drive, collide into the divine light

 Job, having a boss barking off orders behind the shop, his saliva tasting like cola pop, go back to making corn on the cob
Walk the fury off going to the bus stop, have the boss pass by with the new drive, feeling like your head is in a throb, your whole life is a joke
There you go asserting, to make sure you keep that earning, determined that this what you should be deserving, absorbing it because you got no other yearning
You're overworking, jerking yourself off cause you got everyone overlooking you, shaking you off, like you're nothing, of no concerning

Come back home alone, grab a beer to cheer yourself up, forget that you have no one dear, no peer to be sincere or express your biggest fear
Eat some made up meal, feel like a pioneer putting together some canned tuna with weird aroma, do some tear and stir, end up with an unclear gear
Binge watch some netflix, six episodes in a sitting, call it a quick fix for your emotional mix, wonder if its time to bring the crucifix, 
Expel the demons that keep making snips and ticks, writting a bad script for your life, six episodes and six more and another six, wonder if its all just a bad trip

You're a meaningless grain, this pain is in vain, you're not even part of the food chain, abstain from being the main one to entertain
Don't let the grey slob penetrate your right brain, don't complain to the earless strangers about your acid rain, they'll call you insane, show off their gain
You won't find in anyone a golden ray, they'll shower you golden then flush the drain,  steal your blood when you cut off your aortic vein, 

Rise above before your demise, realize you're the one holding the light, that life is more than smelling like french fries, that if there's no light, you rob a flashlight.
Cries and kicks won't bring the sunrise, sanitize your thoughts, do not penalize your gut, ride the highs before you die, customize your hell ride.
You're on your own, and time is drippin on, you don't get a clone to do a re-do and reach the throne, get off your phone, soon you'll be staring into a light in your tombstone
Grow a backbone, burn down your belief of home, do not pospone your will to live because its out of your comfort zone

The boy kissed her soft lips
and
all fires set alight in his heart.

She melted
like bitter ice in the flames of his embrace.

They were lost
in their crazy pleasure
and fragments of memories
echoed
in the spaces between them.

Ha-Ha. Look at you! What happened?
That hair, I loved it so much, it reminded me of champagne
Ringlets that sprang and moved with the wind in a beautiful manner

And those eyes! You could stare in them for hours.
The emerald and liveliness never ceased to enchant me
Such kind eyes they were, always happy and shining

Oh Oh! Your skin! The skin!! It was that creamy mocha color
Everywhere, no tan lines, so gorgeous!
Not a blemish in sight, so smooth, so clear

Mm...I can't take it anymore! You must tell me! How did you do it?
Did your golden locks fight some strawberries?
It's all sticky and red now, cut up
Such a shame, those curls were so pretty and now it can't swirl anymore

Also I love what you did with your eyes. Emerald turned swampy and dark
Still wide awake though? I can see some fear in there, what are you scared of?
Is it the redness that covers your silky skin?
Ohh...what is that red stuff? Mm…tastes good!

Blood! Ha-ha! Look at you...Mmmm
Covered in blood, cut up, and ugly.
My hands are as well, how did that happen?
Yes, I am covered in blood! Yours.

Let's continue, bit by bit
Some snips here, a slice there.
Until I'm finished with your transformation
When I'm done you'll be even more beautiful...


Ah! I think you're Perfect now. Heehee..

I’ve foreseen this moment for so long:
Always on some other plane, in some other grain
Of sand—in the far-off of time
Some future, a world away, too indistinct to decipher
the blurred edges into a clear line.

I’ve had nothing but hot electric tears
to warm my bed this year,
but they’ve long since gone cold.
See? the birds know.
Outside my window, they sing in the dawn
Long and low:
come home, come home

I don’t know where it begins or ends.
Small snips, short-lived,
Cut from the reel, spun through my head--
Some future, a world away, too tangled to unravel
the golden, living threads from the ashes of those long-dead.
(I don’t know where they begin or they end)

But this is the plane, and this is the place;
This is the axis of time & space
Where the birds sing you home on a path so old,
you can’t help but remember the way.
Reach down to the ground, wrap your fingers ‘round
the tangles of this golden thread,
pull it from the ashes of those long-dead.
The dust, once settled, will find its way
into the skies, then kiss my eyes.
(but it burns, it screams like a blow to the head)

You, a sweet surprise— the ash in my eyes—
Sharpening the edges into clear, cutting lines
That run ragged and ravenous through my head,
drag me through the ashes of the long-dead and I
Promise not to scream when they snip this thread--
(Oh, I would really love if you’d pull this thread)


Yes, I’ve foreseen this moment for so long:
You linger,
I blink;

and then you are gone.

DEATH is stronger than all the governments because
the governments are men and men die and then
death laughs: Now you see 'em, now you don't.

Death is stronger than all proud men and so death
snips proud men on the nose, throws a pair of
dice and says: Read 'em and weep.

Death sends a radiogram every day: When I want
you I'll drop in--and then one day he comes with a
master-key and lets himself in and says: We'll
go now.

Death is a nurse mother with big arms: 'Twon't hurt
you at all; it's your time now; just need a
long sleep, child; what have you had anyhow
better than sleep?

You know,

  Sometimes I wonder what life would be like if I hadn't met you.
You have changed my life and I can't thank you more.

  You make me so happy and comfortable, I feel like singing along
to my favorite songs just because I am so happy being with you.
La La La La Da Da Da Duummm La La La :) there i go, singing along.

  I can't even imagine sleeping without you beside me to hold onto
in the middle of the night.
When I wake in the morning, I look forward to seeing your face.
  I enjoy your music, and your passion for what you love.
I admire your honesty and trust.
  I especially admire that you are stronger than I expect.
Through our fits and snips, each time I turn around,
there you are, with a smile on your face.
                                                           ­  and that is why, I Love You.

  I say, but never truly say,
                                                        that....­
I love to hear every thing you have to say.
I love to learn every thing you teach.
I love to listen when you speak.
I just, love you.

&& I'm so happy I married you.

for all of us, star-seekers, feeling now alive

for those with the ghastly skill of being alone
amid crowds of people
lost in thought but ok inside

for those who see streaks of madness
fly round, illume patterns/puzzles
grasping scales celestial to infinitesimal

for those playing games with reality
snogging smug wealthy boys in stairwells
oxygen bonds breaking the sublime

for those forgotten under dirt, asphalt & spot
buried dates and dashes no splashes of memory
just naked nihilistic Precambrian bones

for those nameless from identity crises
smiling glibly through missing teeth
embarrassed by circumstance and the folly of age

for those trapped in jaunty youthful frames
lacking mind's dessert: veneration (contradiction)--still
wisdom perilously choked plus feared

for those chanceless beings fate sweeps & sooner snips
chuckling at theodicies while they still can
some soothed by snake oil--I mean Purpose--
then just dying

and we're still uplifted? we are still star-seekers.
we, divorced from form and aching for the sky's response
hear nothing, but we know

eyes' lies are all around us and inside
they wear us out and keep us moving
they are ancient dull clichés, tarnished but
they have the audacity to make us shine, aspire
they are what your grandma says to get you to behave
eyes' lies are true:

we are still star-seekers

The whiskey in your pores is drowning me, and when I come up for air the tobacco in your breath chokes.
When you lay me down, naked in front of your colleagues and peers, I’m not a man but an object.
Plastic. You look at me like a vessel.
A cheap locket you bought at a convenience store,
you crack me open at the seam to place pictures of other people.
A collage of this man’s sensitive touch,
This one’s sensual sway of the hips,
Snips, snails and puppy dog tails.
"You inspired me," are the words found in the shapes of your smoke,
But they smell of your claws digging into me in hopes you’ll find what you’ve been searching for.
I didn’t inspire you, because I am nonexistent to you, though my body isn’t.

Who am I?

.


Snips & snails & midnight shadows unaware--

...the soft flesh of wildflowers tremble
in the blistering wind.

Slowly shifting their tattered reflection...
Twilight fire, painted angels
bleeding dreamlessly.

A perfect stranger
melts like a million echoes ground into dust.
Eternity glowed like a falling moonstone.

Girl's souls
really are sugar and spice...







.

Pitter- Patter-
no more,
just shut up
can't take
nervey nerves
so dumb
no big deal
just feels
out of place
in my face
can't escape
shouldn't
would be a regret
until then
sweats and snips
no relief
not in usual pain killers or thrillers
just thinking far ahead
when everything will be
anxious for another reason.

I will cut you out of the picture of my life.
I will take a scissors, to these complex memories and
hack your influence out.
It took me months to buy the scissors,
years to get to the shop
but I got here, I have them.
I will hear sharp snips as I cut across
the images that are burned in my mind.
No longer will my thoughts wander towards you.
No more, will I allow my feelings to be  
clouded by a person who dug their words  
into my lungs and shattered
my ribs, with boots made of malicious intent,
of careless incompetence, of clueless mockery.
I will use the scissors to cut your burning strings,
wrapped around these cheap candles.
A chord cutting spell. Dust beneath my heel.
The memories I cannot cut I will burn.
I'll light a match on the bridge you
ignited.
You always said people never change, so killing current you’s influence
In revenge for past you’s violence is righteous, it is fair.
I'll sharpen their blade on the soul you hardened.
I'll rip up the pictures if I have to, claw you out.
I'd sacrifice that part of my memories,
I'd happily **** the old me entirely to take you too,
To cut you out of the picture of my life.

There was an old crab from the Andes
Who had claws in the place of the handies
She wasted her time
Chasing the sublime
Now she snips chickens in Nandy's


There was an old knight whose great sword
He'd swing so not to get bored
He ran through the Prince
But started to wince
When he saw the royal horribly gored


There was a dear ledger from Ryde
Who had Gods love at his side
He wrote bibles for pence
On an old picket fence
That loveable ledger from Ryde


There was an old fellow from Greece
Who always wore a golden fleece
He rode his horse far
Faster than any car
Because of the healing properties of the fleece


There was a camera man from Spain
Who always used to film in the rain
The water was wet
He'd always forget
Electrocutions caused him great pain


There was an old man whose bonnet
Was woven with pages of sonnet
For he was a poet
And didn't he know it
Pretentious old man with his bonnet


There was a young man whose cuticles
Were ornately fashioned in cubicles
He was so vain
To be pretty again
He funded big time pharmaceuticals


There was an old frigate from mars
Whose cannons sounded like guitars
This frightened the queen
Who vented her spleen
And shot the space frigate from cars


A cat and a mouse and a dog
Lived in a big giant frog
They always ate brie
For breakfast and tea
Now they all wear one sandal one clog


There was an old pear from Derry
Who was scarcely if ever so merry
He fell from a tree
Landing in a lee
Till farmer Giles turned him into perry


There was a young lady whose toliet
Was broken so plumber would oil it
The new seat would come
To comfort her ***
Until another breakage would spoil it!


There was an old dog with a dream
To build her own mighty trireme
She'd sail the sea
And be back home for tea
If only she had opposeable thumbs


There was an old butcher whose feet
Would every third sunday tread meat
He rolled in the blood
That came in a flood
From cuts in the **** so discrete


There was a young boy with three heads
Who slept in three seperate beds
Whenever he dreamt
He lost what it meant
(The downside of having three heads)


There was an old eagle who'd sing
About losing her old violin
She gave up the search
To perch in a birch
And starved herself horribly thin


There was an old priest by a tomb
Who curled up inside a stone womb
For so close to death
He cursed every breath
And waited the slow march of doom

Her laughter pumps the gas, dumps the clutch shakes and rattles from each intersection
Her wet feet leave monster tracks long damp claws arching across the cement
Her hair grows brambles collecting thorns and twigs with the best of bushes
Her senses, corvid, snatching up dropped coins, pencils, paperclips
Her tongue unfettered, butterfly breath reels with snips of story and songs
Her eyes hold drops of honey, sticky sweet lashes follow the sun
sunflower cheeks blush cardamom on yellow velvet
glow butterfaced with dandelion kisses

Rough, regular under hand, stubbornly slate, unchanged unmoved.
if her soul is a garden there is a cinderblock there
holding down the sunflowers,
along with the grass at her core, it grows roots,
     but no moss.

Little black dots on the hillside
All fuzzy and free

I come across some, and they look at me
Black eyes questioning, am I a friend or a foe?
So gentle, so simple, never very bold

I know that they will all come to a bitter end
The process has been started and I tend
to notice these things, poor animals, so used
Simply products to us, no one is enthused
about taking better care of them
Most just never think
But watching them now puts me on the brink

They've been branded, ears cut, and even crueler snips
No anesthetic, and when they're gone, they won't be missed

Others will appear in the green grass fields
A never ending supply
Why isn't animal life held dear?

Later at the store, I see them again
Neatly stacked in packages, frozen and then
I know there is no possible way
I cannot be a vegetarian today

It's 9 am your throbbing eyes
     pull you towards awake
The town hums hot outside
     to a tune of 13 minutes,
     buzzing nerves; roll out of bed
     and try to calm the ******* shakes
and 6 times
     in the last hour,
tried to swallow
     those distinct, familiar notes

          swollen throat won't go away

You're drying out. You're mopping up
     the yolks of eggs with half-burnt toast
And hearing snips of songs on radios
     down the alley from your home.
But the paint's all dry on this one--
     and this breakfast's monochrome
One more time
     choke back the losses
   on a streak that's growing long
         and ever thicker

It's 2 pm and coffee's tasty
     it's making your eyes ache
The town shares your migraine
And streets laugh at your footsteps.
     with the strangest sympathy
Try to still the ******* shakes
     as you cross the Lewis bridge
Just to shiver with the spirits
     while they howl about your head.

          But, outside, the town hums hot.

i remember when we smiled
through the phones
and we wondered
what it'd be like
to hold each other close--
and it was such a far away dream
of a happiness
that i had never known
and when i saw you
standing
real and tall
your skin,
dark to my pale,
caressed the bracelets of scars
i wore as badges
of honor
and you held me
like i was something precious,
a feeling i'd never known
and it all just felt so real
and endless
and i closed my eyes wide
to all your faults
just to keep that feeling
for a little bit longer
and you smiled and held me
clinging to my skin and
to the thoughts
of a future
that we would never have
and now snippets pass before my eyes
of years later
like the snips upon my wrist
the same wrist that you kissed
the wrist that now
wears a bracelet of your name
etched into a scabbed memory
of screams and decay
of a once first love.
but there was still a day
where these carvings weren't real
and all that mattered was your eyes
finding mine
and for a moment
in your arms,
i was warm.

5:58 pm.
The tortures of the week
are bookended at last.
The sun has gone to slumber
Hoodie zipped and a layer
Of crimson lipstick;
I am out the door.

6:15 pm.
Numb hands clutch each other like lovers
there's a wind that snips like scissors
The train is late.
I wait.
Just another weekend, anyway.

6:17 pm.
Warm breath gushes from an open mouthed train
I step inside.
Bottles clink at cold feet as my bag is lain.

6:20 pm.
The train stops.
Shudders.

6:22 pm.
It's moving again.

7:00 pm.
Miles from home
I've entered my mini weekend world
That gnawing weekday feeling lifts from my chest at last

7:12 pm.
We walk, the six of us.
Up the hill,
Turn left.
And there's the woods.

7:14 pm.
"Does anyone know how to start a campfire?"
"I can't see a ****** thing."

7:45 pm.
Orange flames spit at the sky
Illuminating the branches above
A criss-cross mesh gives cover so little
To six cherry red cigarette ends.

8:32 pm.
The clinking bottles are
gone
thrown in a bush?
I think
I may
have drunk each
one. or more?
(Who knows)
I do.

8:45 pm.
I explore.
No one to guide
But five pale faces
moonlit and smiling and tripping on twigs

I finally feel I can join in their smiles, too.

9:01 pm.
I don't know these faces of moonlight all too well
But they're starting to feel like home.

10:32 pm.
A change of plan
We stagger though the door
Of her empty house.
I count 8 of us now,
I thank my lucky stars
I've spare clothes packed
And bask in the warmth
Of a new friend's house.

11:06 pm.
Sat on cramped carpet floor
I smile as the warmth fills my lungs
A buzzing high replaces faded intoxication
I pass it on
And am given a shoulder to rest upon.
(I'm so happy. Wow.)

11:48 pm.
My head is so fuzzy.
And the quiet boy from school
Sits across the room
Him and I
We're far more alike than I'd ever have known
And I'd never have known
If not for tonight.

1:15 am.
I never want this to end.

1:30 am.
She plays her hushed guitar
As I lie on her shoulder
She's so beautiful

I didn't know she could sing.

I wish she knew.
I sit back on the floor.
(She strums her guitar
And sings her last line
In a voice so **** quiet;
'Where is my mind?')

2:45am.
I never knew how different a film could be
Surrounded by friends
And high as the sky.

3:33 am.
I sleep.

5:02 am.
I wake.
The boy waves
From the side of the room
A silence not uncomfortable
It almost feels like June.

6:58 am.
I go to sleep once more.
And I'm happy.
I'm so happy.
At last.

Pinocchio

I want to be a real boy

not a lying decoy

wooden girl doll

a little too tall

lack of hips

couple snips

to get the hair

that I can bear

as mason jay

things’d be okay

The snip-snips
halo my shoulders
in curtains
Ever-changing colorations
striations
maculations
depending on your mood
either flat as a newly paved ramp
or as ***** as Friedman
You took a class on this
you tell me
adjusting your headband and baring your teeth
your version of a smile
I steel myself against the guillotine
It falls to the ground in leaves of auburn
going against the nature of winter
and longevity
(there go four inches
off my life)
You lean in
boing the spring beside my face
inhale and ask me
what is my conclusion?
as your panda colored drapes swish by my cheeks
Sometimes it smells like cinnamon
or the cactus flower oil you bought that one time
and sometimes I get nostalgic and remember what it was
before I let you touch it
(autumn, soap, and vanity)
but now mostly it smells like one thing:
smoke.
And phantom pain.
I thought you were an expert.

Heavy lids, lighthouse waves sputtering on the stone between steps,
the sound strangles you / breathe silently
exhalation loosens your limbs longingly.
Rhythms break the continuous system /
derivations of wordly conditions /
crouching tense in the reeds, jump to break gravity /
crouching beneath the monitor, ready to cut wires /
snips bright white
chunks of
hair on the tile.

Walk in the door
Notice all the sports themed wall
The barber shop full of gossip
Waiting your turn
The barbers says next
Sit in the chair
tell the barber how do the hair style
He covers you
Snips and trims
Razor cuts and high fades
Shows you the work with a mirror
Pay your fee leave a tip
Dusts you off sends you on the ways
Come back haircut can fix you any day

Cobwebs for eyes
and a cotton ball tongue.
I can't see what everyone else does
and even if I did,
how could I tell you
it hurts?

No one ever expected my buried body
to climb back out of the grave
I dug for myself.

No one ever expected my blackened lungs
to draw breath again,
to breathe the air that smothered me.

Twisted claws
gnashing teeth
slimy scales

And when I wake up
I finally see
that the nightmare
was always me.