a spiders hairy legs
the comb you forgot you left under your bed
covered in tar
yesterday morning's coffee filter
barbie's toilet brush
the holed paddle of a canoe.
tall tree branches without leaves
the potted plant in the corner nobody water
the ****** of your grandfather's bead
this is a trip to the ER
for a stye, pink eye, no eye
this is friendship and fear

I should start being serious for a change
it’s not everyday that I get the chance to make my mark-
an eruption of countless warts- figuratively of course
they’ll remember even if they don’t want to,
like the stye that wouldn’t die despite surgical excision.

then there’s you
who wants to forget me
my girl, who did you **** last night?
I know we agreed to stop seeing each other
but I would love to hear your stories, inside you.

I’ll be gone in a few weeks
all this talk of seriousness has condensed on me
like the cold sores you leave me with
eye sores for coke ****** with daddy issues
I’ll be your daddy, I’ll even be your brother if it gets you wet.

Don’t slit my wrists yet
I can still manage a compliment some days
give me a hundred reasons to abandon my ways
and you know I won’t do it
you know I won’t even try.

I want a good **** before I go
maybe a cigarette after that
I quit smoking, but I’ll bump the easy one without warning
and ***, I won’t settle for anything less
I want you to watch as I take shots off your *******.

Wasted days that count down
quicker than your menstrual cycle
have left me wanting for time
I wouldn’t waste any differently,
probably, worse.

Preparation is turning out to be quite a grinding ordeal
late nights, empty pipes, lungs dry and well past ripe
tendons screaming for respite, finger tips peeled
your tongue- lets me know it’s time to sleep
If I wasn’t serious, I’d be picking up where you left off.

Trite query from pen so weary
My muse has blown a fuse
The light that once shined has declined
My fleeting hope hangs from a rope
A vagabond whose muse did abscond
With illuminating spark leaving him in the dark
Out on a lark; my scuttled engine in park
Night and day I recon the lexicon
But the literary discourse is no recourse
To a stray itinerate who has lost his way
The stye in my eye has begun to cry
The pus is no fuss; my page is dry
A rhyme for a dime would be sublime
Perhaps, a bartered verse in my purse
Will break the curse, or still worse
Might stain with shame my languishing pain
Incarcerating my fraudulent pen in the critic's den
Oh, if words would rain then my brain drain
Would filter inspiration to my perspiration
The fertile strain if only but a grain
Would fertile sprouts shoot extinguishing my doubts

When life has only twenty left
--maybe ten, of any good
with good behavior
The narrative gets thin and sketchy

Mind heads out--
to join the limping leftovers
to contemplate
the priceless wastes....
that stretch like endless sand
to salvage what it can
where I managed somehow to hide
something

“Like I ever asked for you?
Or for anything you had?
Like I ever needed you?”

So he showed up
late-in-life – and hungry
Shoved me through denial's door
Turned me out
from
his settled life
Barred the door
with distrust
--the size of tree trunks
once the drawbridge gets pulled up....
all the while-- crying,

“Love!”

“...You come only, when  
I... call for you!”

Seems some kid named David
got this treatment once
Were it not for his voice and lyre
--all that soothed the insane Saul

Same David, did wrong too
Spied her bathing
Privileged private lust

“Barricade the avenues' access!
“Keep to your own!
Show up when called for-- Minstrel Poet”

for an audience with your Noble Lord
In the land of Greeting and Misunderstanding
where one wrong word
gets girl turned out
like Small-talk—Not allowed!
For only when HE
Needs it

Make those emojis go away!
**** their happy, soothing nonsense!

--punishable by banishment
lose your job as Waiting Lady
banished from his guilty manor
for saying, "I think, maybe...."
From the court of royal heirs
gets tossed

“...To a pig stye—with ya!”

Where--
the ***** keeps singing anyway
It's only all, she does
with birds who dote on nearby trees
who note and pen a song to sunset
then fly away
to dot the blue of air

Make-do on scraps
Dress in dream's abandon
leftovers
learned from fire and pounding
in the forge of
Truth and Worth--

that's not the same
for everyone

I met a traveller on the road.....................Chin in hand, a heavy load..........He sat before me on a grave....A man in though of the brave.......................... And slowly passing, by his side, I felt him crying for those who died...................And looking down I saw a name, Him,  my father was his name...............Stepping on a crooked stye, I overlooked the bluest sky...............Old men travel, down the roads.........Each burden him, to each his load!

Mixing metal shrapnel
With my ******* powder.
Reality; lost its handle.
Death; surrender Your power.

Listening to them
Is **** at gunpoint.
I only follow him,
The rest burns in my joint.

Pigs squeal for your green,
Or to join them in their stye.
Surrender to greed?
I'd rather die.

Ill swollow the hollowpoint
Rather than society's pill.
Burn the faces of the coined,
Resist the demons on the bill.

Fight with me.
Bleed with me.

Die with me.

Victory is ours,
No matter the outcome.
Monsters by the hour,
This is what we've become.

March Forth.

come quickly
come quickly
you silly old dog
when they thought of the name,
they'd probably had thought of a creature like you-well then right on the dot
for a pig with a stick in his eye and a stye for a leg could have begged his way faster to freedom
and found more to eat in a day then you eat in a week-but you stay?
And i wonder and ponder by ponds full of water collecting my thoughts in a vase now discolored
what marvelous mischief might happen if beast were no sanction and all things with thoughts were judged solely on actions
morality then would weigh heavy with sanction and perhaps no man dines at the right of the lord
only a creature, deemed fit to absorb his observance
for now, it is begging to get very hot in this furnace

I met a traveller on the road,                                                                                                                                                     Chin in hand............a heavy load........                                                                                                                                     He sat before me.........on a grave                                                                                                                                             A man in thoughtful......of the brave!                                                                                                                                                  And slowly passing, by his side                                                                                                                                               I felt him crying, for those who died                                                                                                                                       And looking down. I saw his name                                                                                                                                                   Him, my father, was his name                                                                                                                                                           Stepping on, a crocked stye.......                                                                                                                                                                                 I overlooked the bluest sky............                                                                                                                                         Auld men travel down the roads                                                                                                                                                                                                                                          Each burden him..............A heavy load.

Come with me, we'll go and see
a world through eyes of despair,
where children cry their tears of blood
that rains from out the air.

Where bodies lie in every stye
that wraps 'round every bend,
and broken dreams lay in the streets,
never to flourish again.

Harpies flare through razor air,
and harlots ire the land.
Stay your breath, lest shall you fall
unto their starving hands.

Screams of fear ring loud and clear;
cacophonies tremble the wind.
Banshee wails doth trail the gales;
listen to the gospels of sin.

Gaze unto horizon's hue,
so beautifully bleak, and black.
Miasmic decay corrupts the dawn,
and chokes the daylight back.

The countryside's nowhere to hide,
for there's where cannibals dwell.
Marrow, bone and bloodied flesh
fill the outskirts of our Hell.

Drops of flame akin to rain
fall from out the sky
from toxic clouds of blackened smoke;
we're all gonna ******' die.

What say you, oh filthy shrew,
shall we sign you in?
Come inside, you've naught to fear.
Come bask within the sin.

Does this look infected?
Is it a skin tag or a stye?
Maybe it could be a cist

Rub some salt of the Earth in this laceration
Side with the one who says to burn it off with a cigar
The same cigar he used to burn off those leeches when I was younger

My soft gaze is fixed upon the wall
Woe, is me
Whoa it's me
I've skipped a meal and now the voice in my head is screaming
"A collection of weapons
Brought to the masses
It pumps adrenalin
Into the veins of the caste system
Think outside the box"

Neotreric inklings are inbound
During my wall gazing

I know what I must do, I have the tools
I am calm, I feel it calling and I see the path
I catch a glimpse
I grasp the concepts of existence
I practice and become aware

Now I play my flute and ride the white ox home

I omit efforts
It come naturally
It always has

Denny all authority
corruption of conformity
Never believe all that your told
Don't let your self be bought and sold
Our legal system is an utter stye
So let your ******* hang high
It is time for every soul to unite
And win this utterly ****** up fight
It is time for all of us to be free
And let a better order be.

I pass bins bloated and stinking
dead pigeons squashed 'n rotting on the floor,
I pass the rich, the greed-infested
sniggering entities dancing on the backs of the poor

I pass dogs nailed high upon billboards
apartments riddled with flies,
out in the distance a stray cat whines
curdled with the sound of a child's cries

I pass drug addicts sneering and leering
arms pock-marked and bruised -
through ***, drugs and addiction
obsessive compulsive dispositions are infused

ecstasy the fuel to the stars beyond
to a world way better than our own;
through poisoned hope and substance abuse, upon our brains
the stye of sickness has grown

[music blaring formulated and fascist
Oh save me ground control! Ashes to ashes]

for is it any wonder I rot from inside
doomed to death by a heart blackened and sore?
Crawling along, the carrions line up on the horizon -
my cuts bleed, my bones ache, pain this body can't take anymore

nineteen years I've waited to be loved
alas nothing but a crass compassion that neglects

oh please -
please tell me
I'm not destined to live like these rejects?

["I'm so happy... hope you're happy too"]

My dad writes about villages, hamlets, and hay
What else can he write about? The light of the day?
My father wears linen suits
my father pursues
his poetry style.
His stye in the eye
his pie in the sky
but why, father, why?
No one is looking for questions
and answers are blind
I keep reading my Hamlet
And I fall behind.

Her riot forced her into predomination
Of all the abolishment this was
The final end

She played the game
Far too long
To not give in

But to leave
All for once
And all at once

Blackhole ****** thru me
Turned toward
The torched Sun
Only to peel the bleached
infectious skin

Vibrating in the
Noise I call THE WIND
It whispers at first
Then turns up the volume
To see a traveling herse

Jokingly I submerse my body
Only to find that the
Purest necter
Negotiated on that tree
The vines wrapped around my leg
Wouldnt
Let me Go
Thru it
Around it
It wanted to eat me whole
And so I let it
For a season maybe two
But wasn't this the me
I'd hoped for lived with
It gets confusing
And this mess
Looks like a mess
A pig stye room
And after eating dinner
She roast a toast
To her dead lovely awaiting
Husband
Patiently they walked up and over
The corpses law

Jagged and weary
Their bones fell
Into each other
Lost they put the
Wrong pieces together
And now he's she
And him is her
Everything doesn't
Make sense
Except for true earth
Which vibrates
At a frequency
That is drums like WIND
Like fire
Like all the crusted attire
These women warmed me with

Nothing beats the flesh
Of another true warrior
Nothi,e and I mean
NOTHING
REUNITES AS IMPALLING
AS HIS FLESH RIPPENING FOR HIS OWN URGES

Kisses by sins nature
He throws shame and anger
Meeting her at the door
He greets his afterstare

Release the hasp
Pull back the mask
The key has turned
Your face to learn

Remove the lid
Reach down amid
What’s hidden deep
—as secrets sleep

Confront the lie
The souls new stye
Wash clean the pain
With loves refrain

Commit your faith
In God remake
The time is now
—all time is now

(Villanova Pennsylvania: July, 2016)
      From 'The Book Of Prayers'

Lie or lye?
steal or stye
in the right eye

A mortal coil
on Kombat soil

Finish him
or hit the gym

I'm lost
in our galactic thrift
saving cheap coins
exchanged for hot *****

I'm found
in our sector drift
sold thru wooden skewers
over white hot embers

king by side
queen takes knight,
dusks to dawns,
bishops preying on pawns,
crannies and rooks,
1000 Benji's in The Book,
30 pieces silver all it took,
fishers of men by hook or crook,
ends justify,
ying for the yang,
black for the white,
depths of duplicity,
deadly duality.

The prince of platitudes,
logging for wolves,
specks by his eye,
maybe a stye,
he thought he could see,
learned that he's blind.

Dexter's and Deedee's,
Ed Edd's and and Eddy's,
washed in the red,
sailing unsteadily.

Gotta grind to acquire a k9,
a Canon or a canine,
merry in the mundane,
simply to stay sane.

Tiger Woods nails a hole in one,
The Lamb nailed a hole in three,
took the L never kept the score,
hoping to see his eaglets soar,
back as a lion ready to roar,
not an apparition he let them feel,
no longer heard the hissing at his heel.

Mirages made in desert thirst,
caused them to stray and whine,
to the point it was fine to dine with swine,
in the cool shadow of his wings their wounds will heal,
for it's for his house he has the zeal,
refining ore he's packed and sealed,
the greatest gift to men revealed,
salvation for every nation,
with the gospel's propagation,
disciples' proliferation,
entire generations,
discover true liberation.