[A] is for
An
Archer with
An
Arrow through his
Adams
Apple, very
Applicable, to the
Ample
Amounts of
Amiable
Attitude,
Adorning his heart, in
After
Action
Attributes, that impart, the
Admiration, of
*******, in this
Acting out of
Arrogance bit. he is,
Astute, in his
Allure, and
Aloof, in the
Air, of
Aspiration, in which, he was
Alienated in the
Agony, of
Asking
Assassins, the
Aforementioned. lights, camera,
Action. recipe of the
Ancient
Admirals of
Avian
Aliens, that
Attacked, with the
Arms and fists, of
Arachnids, now
Aching to be
Activated in sudden
Allegiance to the
Answers, of the truth.
Accumulating wealth for
Anarchy's of
Abating
Angels in
Atrophied,
Alchemical
Academies of the ever
After life .. . of silence.
****** strengthens in these
Accolades of violence, in
Alliance to
Appliances
Appearing in the
Arson of
Apathy, happily, to
Anguish in the
Amputation of my
Abdomen, if it meant i'm a real
American, even, when, only
Ash, remains.
Acclimating in its remains
Attained, the
Articles of my pain, in
Affluent shame, next time ..
Aim... oak
[A]?

[B] is for the
Bah of
Black sheep, and
Big
Bit¢hes, fat cats,
Bombarded in the
Blasted,
Bastion of
Blackened
Benevolent
Blokes,
Berating the
Blasphemous,
Be-seech, of
Brains, to feel
Bad, about the
Blotching of
Binary codes, erroding, the
Blanked out
Books, of
Belittled
Bureaucrats,
Bowling
Back the
Bank rolls of
Betterment, from the
Back of the
Blackened
Bus, as i'm
Busting guts, in the
Bubbling
Butts, of *****
Benched, but
Beautiful, in the
Battle, in the
Bane, of existence.
Baffled, in the strain of
Belligerence, in
Beating the
Beaming
Butchery into
Billy's
Broken
Brains, in
Bouts, of
Battering
Bobby's for
Bags of
*******
Before, affording to
Build
Bombs, is just
Beyond
Breaking
Beer
Bottles on the
*******
Benefactors of
Boulder
Bashing with the
Beaks, of
Birds, with no
Bees. just a
Being, trying to
[B]


[C] is for the
*****
Courting the
Choreography, in
Computerized
Curtains,
Circumventing the
Cultured,
Contrivance of
Chromatic
Cellars,
Calibrating, to the
Contours of
Calamities,
Celebrating the
Cyclical,
Cylinders of
Cyphered
Calenders,
Correcting the
Calculations, of
Crooks
Coughing, in
Courageous
Coffins of
Canadians,
Collecting
Cobble stones, from
Catacombs, in the lands of the
Conquered,
Capturing the
Claps of thieves, sneaky
Cats, of greed. its
Comedy. oh
Comely, to my
Cling of
Cleanliness, and for your self
[C]

[D] is for the
Dip *****, as they
Delve
Deeper in the
Deliverance, of
Deviant
Deities,
Dying to
Demand
Dinner
Delivered in the throws of
Death,
Deceiving
Defiance of
Darkened
Dreams,
Demeaning that which
Deems the
Dormant of the
Dominant, to be
Demons of
Deviled
Devilry,
Dooming us for
Destruction.
Deploy the,
Damsels in
Duress.
Defiled and
Distressed,
Detestable and
Dead. in the thump of
Drums,
Dumbing down the
Debts of,
Dire regrets.
Dissect the
Daisies of,
Disillusion, in the current
Days,
Diluting night into
Dawn,
Disconnecting the
Dots of the
Dichotomy, and arming me, in the
Diabolatry, of,
Demonology, as i watch me
Dwindle away, the
[D]

[E] is for
Everything in nothing,
Eating the
Euphoric
Enigmas of
Enlightened
Elitists,
Exceeding in the
Extravagant
Essence of
Esoteric
Euphemisms,
Escaping the
Elegance of the
Elements in the
Eccentricity of
Eclectic
Ecstasy,
Exhaling, the
Exostential blessings, of inner
Entities, and renouncing the
Enemies of my
Ease,
Easily to appease
Extraterestrial
Empires,
Extracting the lost
Embers of
Enlightenment, in
Excited delight, but to later
Entice, the fight, and
Escape, like a thief into the night of
Everywhere,
Entering the
Exits of
Elevators leading no where, to
Elevate, this useless place,
Encased in malware in the
Errant
Errors of
Every man,
Enslaved, of flesh and
Entrails,
Enveloping the core of
Everything, that matters,
Enduring, the chatter, of
Evermore,
Ever present in
Everybody
Ever made to take
[E]

Funk the
Ferocity of
Foolish
Fandangos, with
Fanged
Fanatics,
Fooled in the
Fiasco of
Fumbled
Fantasies,
Falling through the
Farms of
Freely
Found
Fans,
Flying in the
Fame of
Fortune.
Fornicating on the
Fallen
Fears of
Fat
Fish getting their
Fillet of
Fills.
Feel me in the
Frills

Granted with
Generosity.
Giblets of
Gratitude and
Greed,
Greeting the
Goop and
Gobbled
Gore,
Gleaned from the
Glamour of
Ghouls in
Gillie suits,
Getting what they
Got
Going, in the
Gratuitous
Gallows of a
Game
Gaffed by
Giants.

Hello to the
Horizon of
Hellish
Hilarity, in
Hope of
Happy, to
Heave from
Heifers, to
Help the
Hemp
Harshened
Hobos in
Heightened
Horror, to
Honor the
Habitats of
Hapless
Habituals,
Herbalising the work
Horse, named
Have Not, in the
Haughtily
Hardened
Houses of
Happenstance.

Ignore the
Ignorant
Idiots, too
Illiterate to
Indicate the
Indicative
Instances of
Idiom in the
Irrelevant
Inaccuracy of
I,
In the
Intellect of
Idle
Individuals,
Irritated with the
Irate
Illusion of
Idols
Illustrated upon the
Iris,
In the
Illumination of
I.

******* the
Jobless
Jokers, and
Jimmy the
Jerkins from their
Jammie's, in
Justified,
Jousting off the
Jumps, in
Jokes, and
Jukes of
Just
Jailers,
Jesting for
Jammed
Jury's to
****
Judgment from the
Jitter
Juiced
Jeans of
Jesus.

**** the
Keep of
Khaki-ed
Kool aid men,
Kept in the
Kilometers of
Kits,
Kin-less
Kinetics,
Knifing the
Knights of
Kneeling
Kinsmanship,
Keeling over the
Keys of
Kaine, with the
Karmic
Karate
Kick of a
Kangaroo.

Love the
Levity, in the
Luxurious
Laments of
Loveliness,
Lovingly
Levitating in
Level,
Lucidly.
Living in
Laps, of
Lapses,
Looping, but
Lacking the
Loom of the
Latches
Locked with
Leeches of the
Lonely
Lit
Leering of
Lightly
Limbs, that
Lash at the
Lessers in
Loot of
Lost letters,
Lest we
Learned in the
Lessons of
Liars.

Marooned in
Maniacal
Masterpieces,
Masqueraded as
Malignant
Memorization's of
Motionless
Mantras, but
Merrily
Masking
Mikha'el the
Mundane, who is
Musically
Mused of
Monsters,
Mangling the
Monitor, but
Maybe just a
Moniker of
Marauders.

Never to
Navigate the
Nautical
Nether of
Never
Nears.
Not to
Nit pic the
Naivety of
Nicety.
Notions
Neither take
Note
Nor
Name the
Noise of
Nats in the
Nights of
Neanderthals
Napping in the
Nets of
Ninjas

Ominous in the
Obvious
Omnipotence of
Oblivious
Obligatory
Opulence,
Of
Other
Oddly
Orchards
Of
Offices,
Ordaining
Orifices in
Offers of
Ordinary
Ordinances in
Option-less
Optics,
Optionally an
On-call Oracle, in
Optimal,
Overture.

Perusing the
Pestilent
Pedestals of
Personal,
Parameters,
Pursuing the
Petty
Plumes of
Piety with the
Patience of a
Pharaoh,
******* on the
People with the
Penal
Pianos of
Port-less
Portals, in the
Paperless
Points in the
Palpal
Pats of
Pettiness.
Poor, but
Prideful.

Quick to
Qualify the
Quitter for a
Quick
Quill in
Queer
Quivering of
Quickened
Questioning,
Queried in the
Quakiest of
Quandaries.
Quarantined to a
Quadrant, of
Quagmires.
Questing the
Quizzing of
Quotable
Quartets.

Relax in the
Relapse of
Realizations, and
React with
Racks of
Rolling
Rock to
Rate the
Rep of the
Rain-less.
Roar in
Rapturous
Rendering of the
Random
Readiness in the
Ravenous,
Rallying, of the
Retinal
Refracting of
Reality.
Realigning, the
Righteous
Rearing of the
Realm, and
Retrying.

Steer the
Serenity in
Sustainability, and
Slither through the
Seams of
Slumbered
Scenes.
Secrete the
Solo
Sobriety of
Sapped
Sassys,
Salivating upon a
Slew of
Stupidity,
Steadily
Supplied in
Stream,
Suitably
Slain in the
Steam of
Sanity.
Sadly, i
Still
Seem,
Salvagable.

Topple
The
Titans in
Tightened
Terror.
Torn
Territories
Turn
Turbulent in
The
Teething of
Totality.
The
Telemetry of
Time,
Tortured of
Torrent
Theories,
Told in
Turrets of
Transpiring
Terribleness, from
Tumultuous
Tikes unto
Teens,
Trading
Toys for
Tea.
Thrice
Thrusted upon by the
Tyranny of
Tanks.

Unanimous is the
Ugliness in the
Undertones of
Undreamed
Ulteriors
Undergoing the
Unclean in the
***** of
Utterly
Upset
Users,
Uplifting the
Unfitting
Ushers in
Underwear-less,
Ulcers,
Undergoing the
Ultra of
Uberness.

Venial in
Vindictive
Viciousness of
Vindicated
Venom,
Venomously
Vilifying the
Vials of
Villainy in the
Veins of
Vampires,
Validity of
Valuable
Violence, is
Valiant in the
Vaporous
Vacationing of
Vagrant
Vices.

Why
Whelp in the
Weather
When you can
Wave to the
Whirling
Wisps,
Whipping Where the
Whimsical Were
Way back in the
Wellness of
Whip its,
Wrangling my
World,
With
Waterless
Worms, as
War shouts are
Wasted in the
Wackiest
Walks of
Waking
Wonder.

Xenophobic
Xenogogue, of
Xenomorphic
Xeons, turn
Xyphoid, in the
Xenomenia of my
X, my
Xenolalia of
X, to
***. im lost in the
Xenobiotic zen of
Xerces, on a
Xebec to the
X on the map.
Xenogenesis, in the
Xesturgy of my
Xyston
Xd

Yelling
Yearned from
Yelping.
Yard
Yachts
Yielding, to the
Yodel of
Yeah
Yeahs, to the
Yapping of
******
Yuppie
Yoga
Yanks, over
Yonder.
Yucking it up with the
Yawn of a
Yocal.

Zapped from a
Zone i
Zoomed with
Zeal in the
Zig and
Zag of my
Zapping
Zimming
Zest, upon a
Zombie-less
Zeplin.
Zealot,
Zionist, or
Zoologists,
Zeros or ones, just
Zip your
Zip locked. and
Zzzzz
Zzzz
Zzz
Zz
Z
Zero

1975 Art Institute is tactic for Odysseus to put off dealing with real world also investigate range of visual techniques gay instructor fruitlessly endeavors to ****** him he enjoys several affairs with beautiful girls yet Bayli haunts him main building of school is connected behind Art Institute of Chicago Odysseus spends lots of time looking at paintings Edward Hopper’s “Nighthawks” Gustave Caillebotte’s “Paris Street Rainy Day” Ivan Albright’s “Portrait of Dorian Gray” Jackson *******’s “Greyed Rainbow” Georgia O’Keeffe’s “Black Cross New Mexico” Francis Bacon’s “Figure with Meat” Pablo Picasso’s “The Old Guitarist” Balthus’s “Solitaire” Claude Monet’s “Stacks of Wheat” Paul Cezanne’s “The Bathers” Vincent Van Gogh’s “Self-Portrait” Edouard Manet’s “The Mocking of Christ” Henri Toulouse-Lautrec’s “At the Moulin Rouge” Robert Rauschenberg’s “Photograph” Mary Cassatt’s “The Child’s Bath” Peter Blume’s “The Rock” Ed Paschke’s “Mid America” Grant Wood’s “American Gothic” Jasper John’s “Near the Lagoon” and John Singer Sargent James McNeill Whistler Diego Rivera Marsden Hartley Thomas Eakins Winslow Homer his 2nd year at Art Institute involves student teaching during day then at night working as waiter at Ivanhoe Restaurant and Theater gay managers teach him to make Caesar salad tableside and other flamboyant tasks wait staff are all gay men once more Odysseus experiences bias from homosexual regime he is assigned restaurant’s slowest sections it bothers him the way some gay men venomously condescend women and their bodies Odysseus loves women especially their bodies he thinks about how much easier his life would be if he was gay in 1976 the art world is managed by gay curators gay art dealers he wonders if he could be gay yet not realize it can a person be gay but not attracted to one’s own ***? Ivanhoe hires variety of night club acts one night he watches Tom Waits perform on piano in lounge Odysseus feels inspired in 1977 he graduates with teacher’s certification he considers all the sacrifices teachers make and humiliating salaries they put up with he does not want to teach candidly he feels he has nothing yet to teach teaching degree was Mom’s idea Odysseus wants to learn grow paint after Art Institute he flip-flops between styles his artwork suffers from too much schooling and scholastic practice it takes years to find his own voice he has tendency to be self-effacing put himself down often he will declare what do i know? i’m just a stupid painter one topic artists do not like talking about is their failures how much money they cost creation requires resource paint and canvas can be expensive how much money is spent on harebrained ideas that never pan out? most artists resort to cheap or used materials few can afford their dreams he gets job selling encyclopedias that job lasts about 5 weeks then he finds job selling posters at framing store on Broadway between Barry and Wellington Salvador Dali Escher Claude Monet prints are the rage his manager accuse him of lacking initiative being spacey after several months he gets laid off he finds job waiting tables during lunch shift at busy downtown restaurant other waiters are mostly old men from Europe they play cards with each other in between shifts teach Odysseus how to carry 6 hot plates on one arm and 2 in his other hand the job is hectic but money is good experience educates differently than books and college a university degree cannot teach what working in the real world confronts people learn most when they are nobodies he reads Sartre’s “Being And Nothingness” he wants to discover who he is by finding out who he is not often he rides bicycle along lakefront taking different routes sometimes following behind an anonymous bicyclist possibly to come across new way he does not know or to marvel at another person’s interest

truth is this life is too difficult for me the violence hatred turf wars tribalism laws judgments practices rules permits history i’m not prepared emotionally to withstand the realities of this world not equipped psychologically to deal with the stresses of this world not prepared emotionally to withstand the realities of this world not equipped psychologically to deal with the stresses of this world i’m sorry am i repeating myself i apologize i’m not prepared emotionally to withstand the realities of this world not equipped psychologically to deal with the stresses of this world god please protect teach me strength courage fairness compassion wisdom love i’m not prepared emotionally to withstand the realities of this world not equipped psychologically to deal with the stresses of this world

buy divinity purchase devotion earn reward points own 4 bedroom loft with roof garden deck porch pool parking in paradise’s gated community pay for exclusive membership into sainthood become part of inner circle influence determine fate destiny of everything step up to the plate sign on the line immortalize yourself feel the privileges of eternal holiness i’m living inside a nightmare inside a nightmare inside a nightmare hello? i am dizzy in my own self-deceptions lost in my own self-deceptions alone in my own self-deceptions there was a time once but that time is gone there was a place once but that place has vanished there was a life once but that life is spent remember when things were different truth is i’m weak skittish anxious alienated paranoid scared to death pagan idiot stop

breath deeply push stale air out imagine kinder more respectful loving world please god do your stuff angels throw your weight around clean up this mess planets align stars shine ancient spirits raise your voices magic work there are words when spoken can change everything words rooted to spiritual nerves if voiced in  particular order secret passwords capable of setting off persuasions in the mind threads to the heart if a person can figure out which words what order tone of voice rate of pronunciation time of day then that person can summon powers of the supernatural Isis goddess of celestial sway of words whisper secret earth water fire air reveal your alchemy winter spring summer autumn teach about passages patterns sublime eastern western sun fickle moody moon unveil your heavenly equation north south east west  beat the drums blow winds show the path to healing path of the heart blood dirt hair *** bare the mystery of your trance dance the ghost dance sacred woman with ovaries cycles flow smell beautiful girl eyes sweetness strange awkward skinny scruffy boy great bear spirit bird jumping fish wise turtle where are you why is there no one to back me? jean paul sartre what was your last thought before you died? was it nausea? nothingness? or a wish?

Allow me some time to play with your mind.
For your feeble thoughts have kept you blind.
Look into my thoughts of morbid mental vane.
I am entering your soul now, you feeling empty pain.
The deepest crypts within your dreams
swallow up your wretched heart,
and drown its pulsing gleam.
Then, when your twisted heart
so venomously does subside...
the poisoned blood runs cold,
as evil takes over pride.
I leave your tortured mind with great disgust.
For evil has consumed you.
Your fate I mustn't lust.

© Crystal Eriskson

Hey, Grass. What's your point?
No sheep, no cows, no dog.
I hate You, venomously
grow it
cut It
repeat, ad infinitum.
until the mower breaks
because it does, every year
even the **** Sears
fix it,
break it
grow it
cut it,
**** it.
Hurry, Autumn
**** wacker
useless *******
buy it
pawn it
grow it
cut it
**** it.
Blacktop,
the whole yard
teach your punk ***.
Grass.

Fiery free moments
Are coming for me
They took us to London
Then New York City

As clear as the gel pens
You had while you lived in the sticks
Along with Slip'n'Slide
All the boys you played with
Always paid for your tricks

When the bizarre ill-willing troche
Trap men in their snares, and everywhere
it seems everyone's begin to stare.
Into my eyes (As a tug boat and its bride)
My dad's corduroy ties (In the closet upstairs in the basement)
You wouldn't dare, would you? You wouldn't dare

I embraced the tide that took away our guts
                                                              our stuff
                                            when        enoughs enough
                                                              enoughs enough

So carry around your game in handwritten pamphlets
While you delve into the reasons you didn't want them laminated
When I spoke to Commander Owens ("Let's say the town didn't go wild")
But rather you and I I
Left too long perhaps another time

Remember, Remember
Recital time's at noon
The pianists' laminate cut off the last bar and he's starting in 2(2)
The priest asked Justin if he'd come in earlier too
Venomously he cast aside the bride and groom
So we played Slip'n'Slide for the wedding party in our living room

Dancers start on the left then double-back with the left inside
Turn their bodies, dip their hips, restart and double-back to the right
But before the wedding party, she proposed to him with his favorite song
In the San Francisco Airport arrivals, when he turned the stereo on
Parked at curbside pickup laid down and started Slip and Sliding.

When your view is totally different
Give to none shocking current

Calmly indicate your position
By telling the present condition

Never at all behave venomously
Use God-given wit enormously

Even if you are completely right
Refrain from waging a stiff fight

You may be in fact perfect
And you may be correct

Here only employ precious wisdom
Be not a slave for conceit's kingdom

Offer your ideas very politely
Let your act be made rightly

Never jump to quick conclusion
To avoid possible concussion

When truth stays at your side
Show true humility, not pride

Quietly if you plan to deal
For you surely all will feel

Harsh approach never helps
By that, only hatred develops.

mvvenkataraman

SEARCH mvvenkataraman IN GOOGLE OR YAHOO

She's calling me again
That heartless *****
She took my grandad
My dad
She has my family in her clutches
Are sweet claws
Her venomously tangy bite
Her sting
Her fire
Her ice
Her heat
Her coldness
Her beauty
Her horrors
And now that heartless ***** is calling to me
A 15 year old boy

I watched the crows scatter as the clouds rolled in by scores and composition, a roiling storm that rained in notes through the f-holes of my violin soul. Their wings had been torn in the shape of your music and their cries gave rise to your sinister metronome. Relentless were the pace of the tick and the tock, the lightning and the shock, and the crashing of thunder that shook the foundations of your empty concert halls. Their barren walls bled solitude in silence and yet your composer held firm to his composure, slicing venomously at the air with sword in hand. Coat tails whipping in the gales and still the music played. Diving on a broken wing through the dividing currents of your lyrics, the crows gave chase…and still the music played...

Hesitation enveloped me in bubble wrap,
My every word was watched in case it led to a trap.
You were in a cell I couldn't and still can't understand,
I reached for you but I was bitten
by two midnight hounds by your sides.
My faith you earned and so it was given,
from golden memories over time.
How I longed to storm the barricades,
and surface you up to the world of air.
Hammer in hand, break you out of reverie your frozen cave,
That embitters your veins and hardens you like sandstone not to care.
Will you forever stay a Princess locked in your own palace?
Letting armies of thorns cascade from pillar to post,
and draw blood from with that defensive line of malice.
I know you as more than this, than a wisp, than this ghost.
Meant to leave more on this canvas than a hand print my dear.
A full scale portrait is more suited,
But you've become what you once so venomously despised and held in fear ,
Any whisper of a conscience muted.
"Do  you love me?", you whisper,
And I - most certainly do,
But the more you demand it of me
The more it becomes less true.
So take away your armour and lay it for aside for me.
So I know behind it all you are alive and I was right to believe.

It is incredibly incredible,
mysteriously mysterious,
mindlessly unmindful,
that a brain smaller than a drop of rain
is  venomously so venomous.

Tried to listen to your silent words,
To decipher those blank eyes mysterious,
But Love! Your soul is that still water,
which runs very deep, deeper and deeper...

Tried to read those troubling thoughts,
Those that are venomously eating you up,
Tried to think of a reason for your closed fists,
But, a smile that covered up your trembling lips,
made all my efforts go in vain...

But, I can daresay, that the smile that,
dances on your lips is not a genuine one.
And, that the cold silence that exists between us,
is far away from the comforting one that we once shared, long ago...

I wish, I could stay by your side,
through all your trials and tribulations.
I wish, I could, help you, and we would,
together win this dark, monstrous fight...

I wish, I could, make you smile wholeheartedly,
and never let those tears fall from your eyes.
I remember that lost smile of yours, darling!
which made my tired heart, beat up endlessly, all over again...

I wish, I was near you, my angel,
to rid you of all your terrible miseries,
I wish, you were not just a mere picture on my bedside table,
I was staring at... hopelessly, helplessly....

He questions me now.
Doubt clouds his every judgement,
Like he can’t trust himself, or me.
Questions drip venomously from his lips
Burning my sensitive ears and making me bleed.
The questions he asks are absurd.
They offend my soul,
Darken my thoughts,
Hide my love in a veil of hate.
The dark shroud closes over me now
And still those accusing verses leave his lips.
Would he still question if he knew
What I held in my hand, in my heart?
The love I carry for him is pure,
The hate ever mounting.
Still, he is a puppet to whispered rumours.
He doesn’t know who to believe.
He doesn’t know where to turn.
Does he know he is turning away the truth?
Will he ever hate himself for what he has done?
The blade sinks deep.
No, he would just keep on questioning...

i didn't notice until last year.
the tumor, that is.
only a small and insignificant seedling,
it began to take root
deep within my cobwebs.
but the longer you fertilized
with your anger and hatred,
the stronger it became,
consuming my very soul.
and as time passed,
i felt it pulsating angrily
within my feeble brain,
maliciously eroding at my walls.

first,
it was only impatience.
i balked at your words and
your contempt made me cringe.
then,
it grew into anger.
so powerful it could erase
my love and replace it
with overwhelming loathe.
finally,
the bitterness budded.
i hated you venomously.
those seven letters raised my hackles,
your voice caused an adrenaline surge,
and your screams nauseated me.
before i knew what happened,
your tumor was my tumor;
your sickness was my own;
your self-hatred as strong as mine.
the line was blurred,
the ship sank as you watched
with a mocking smile.

someday,
i will face the tumor.
someday,
i will cut it out,
shut it down,
make you stop.
someday,
but not today.

Love is, fools may say,
As a warm, softened kitten,
Mewing pitifully.
Gods-men may say it is the snake,
Poised venomously in the tree of knowledge,
Tempting gleefully into sin.
Some say it is a peacock,
Strutting high upon its perch,
But running away at the drop of a pin.
I say it is the owl,
Flying above on wings of terror,
And its glowing eyes turn to the grass,
To swoop down and
devour
that
***.

When writing out who you're thankful for,
So many names come to mind.
It's so ironic that it starts to hurt to realize,
Who stays in your reality,
And what a dream world this would be,
If in the same moment,
You also come to know the pain of those who promised yet never fulfilled those sacred words.
"I'll never leave you if you never leave me."
No wonder I felt like life never made progress forward.
It's been a few winters,
But I've see the holy ministry gather with my eyes in their gaze and silent whispers,
It's all about regret and wishes,
With a soulless daughter being passed around without permission,
And a son who can't see the sunrise for his future is as barren as his once bountiful mission.
I have seen the world inside of a man lost in depression,
This obstruction of feelings,
Choking seconds before air rushes in,
Like an ache for the next season before the snow crashes in my home,
And yet the phone continues to ring,
With the sound of heaven alone,
Like I've always been asking for my baby to sing,
35 floors and you could only jump from the second.
Captivating,
What your eyes used to see the world for became the poison you doused me with and I still blame myself for the death of not only my mother, but the funeral dragged down by eulogies from those who never saw her face when she knew her child must live without her.
For what prayers did you hold my name in while holding another?
For what prayers did that man give to see his reflection to know he existed as more than a passer by.
John Wayne novels always had November as the casting call,
I'm still wide awake writing my dedication,
And yet I'd rather have the silence of myself than the willingness of those who will walk out onto the plank and drown themselves in themselves.
They never turn back until they need you to save them.
This future between the sailor and his father,
That bait,
Raising a man into a child,
Recluse.
Venomously,
Each word we wrote to the sky.
I wonder if anyone else connected eyes the way we did.
And by we I mean me and my reflection.
It's the only thing left that stays with me when I'm ready.
Anyone who tells you to buy beauty forgot what you looked like.
It's always 1984,
Burning our house away before I even had the love to long for everything that was missing.
We miss one,
We miss everyone.
We miss the sunset.
We lose one.
We lose all.
I lose myself in the idea of losing everything,
And I lose everything when I lose you.

wandering in the west wonderland of the east
coast of  psychedelia along the northern coast
of a southern island
I came to  the perception
of me as a scorpion
tail held high prancing venomously
striking the hand  that fed me
along the willowing trails of honey nectar
the rainbow sailing sailboats in sun
colors glistening
the breathing cloud skies of blue gold
right next to a godlike creature sat I
tail up telling tales
with poison assed consequences,
making promises like a politician
was a bad trip then , until,
I saw  bodhisattva sipping brandy and being just him
along side a unicorn on a hill
outside Hollywood
I took his hand
his discipline his calm
his realm now mine. He gratefully shared.
Now this was my kind of dude.
I waited around and he melted away
and ten vestile virgins appeared in his wake.
Each more beautiful than I can say.
And we ate strawberries and flew in the sky wingless
partied on shortcake and cream and I was happy once.
A beautiful dream a memorable trip.
It opened my eyes. My senses cleansed.
I  try to live just like that.
Imaging Nirvana again, every day

There is a snake there, waiting
venomously for an apple that makes its fangs fall out.
The first of sentient apes turn on immortal creators,
and are charged in the eye of Justice
for every extraordinary discovery in the ensuant history of
sin.

2012, the year that was supposed to end                           our race
                                                --a water-line for the universe
                                                  that apparently doesn't care.
      In the tally on the wall and the chalk that makes it up there is the reverence to cultivation
of change--fear.  It was this fear I felt all 365 days that caused my arteries
                                   to ***** and my blood to accelerate. Fear caused pain
and love and both of them in hind view are venomously magnificent. I may be a descendant
                       of primates,
                       maybe--but I met my hope by the ocean. Leaving messages in the sand
for passers and onlookers. It is wonderful how the sound
                                             of the ocean--a voice--a warning--a heartbeat keeps us alive.

Even  your own two feet,
Fight for their territory,
Peacefully,
Yet defensively,
Growing venomously.
And ‘us’ won’t be satisfied,
By ‘happy’,
But would rather search out (for you, for us),
A heavier feeling to rejoice in.

Heavy makes happy now,
We are glad when it comes,
Gladder when he leaves.
But still, I see you yearn for his returning.

Come back! Come back to us!
I am a mountain, didn’t you know?
I can engulf you,
If I so choose.
Swallow you whole,
Covering your world to darkness,
To join me in my game,
Of non-existence.
You’ll find me in the empty bath tub,
Where the game is best played out,
This cold inviting tomb.
Peaceful,
Peaceful,
Quiet.

Won’t it be?
Perfectly still –
For once, For once.

I am a fetus within your womb.
Carry me gentle,
Mother,
I am fragile,
I am easily broken.
Shattering like the shard of moon and star,
That lie now upon my window sill –
Still.

I caught them.
All of them.
For us to see and share and hold.
Won’t you hold them?
Hold me?
Hold us?

And from the silence a gasp!
Awake!
Do not slumber!
Now is not the time for sleep.
Do not waste it,
This moment,
Where we are free to smile beneath the night-time’s Sun.

Awaken, dear allies.
I cling you to my side.
You are mine,
And if you’ll have me,
I shall be yours.
That sounds just fine.
As do we.

I hear you mumble,
Mumble.
Be clear please,
Clearer.
I’ve travelled destination-less too long.
Sometimes it scares me.
Please,
Speak a little louder.
Include me,
Inform me,
That I might know the master plan.

Perhaps I'll just escape.

She wore a red dress
It was Saturday night
To the football game
To the school donning
Red and white

Red was the color of her lipstick
Red was the color of jealousy as she rocked her hips
But Red was also the color of blood
The color of lust
At a football game
That was a hell of a combination

She was a sorority chick
Reputation of a confused ****
At the game, she said
“Why the **** are we losing?!"
Exasperatedly... And slightly tipsy
Not knowing that she would be watched
By boys who wanted to win
Who just wanted to ****

Red was also the color of passion
Touchdown after touchdown
She celebrates with her friends as it happened
The home team prevailed and won
The boys were staring at her
Waiting to pounce
As her ******* bounced

They were bros
Waiting on her
They were easily drunk
Looking at her plump ****
They had a plan
They struggled to keep it in the pants

She lived on campus
Her friends didn’t
Their beloved team was still undefeated
Before long, they had to go their separate ways
She lived in the Village dorms
It wasn’t far
She was a big girl
She was brave


They rolled up on her
In a slightly used Hyundai
Told her
“Baby girl, do you need a ride?"
She respectfully declined
They asked again
She decided against it
All of a sudden she felt something was wrong
She felt someone come from behind
Next thing she knew, she felt confined


“Hey, baby girl, what’s good?"
The driver said
“Why don’t you go chill with us in our hood?"
Two of them had their hands on her thighs
She wondered was this her demise?
With tears in her eyes
They still had that look
They stopped the car
Evil was afoot

“****, baby girl, why you crying like that?”
One said.
“Yeah, we just wanted to chat.”
Another one continued.
“We just wanted to know if the rumors are true."
And finally the driver said...
“And we want to see it too.”

The bros pounced
They saw red
The color of her bra and *******
Were red
They groped like animals
At her *******
Their scratches were red
Their repeated thrusts
After angry ******
After angry ******
Made her bleed red
Insult
After angry insult
Was venomously red
Their marks of territory
All over her body
Were red


And when they were done...
“Baby girl, mmm.”
They were satisfied.

I’m in the kitchen at Lisa’s. Her little sister Leeza enters, her pale, freckled face redder than usual. “Liza is the bossiest sister..,” Leeza says, slamming the cupboard door after grabbing a box of Fruity-Pebbles-cereal like she’s choking the life out of it.

Lisa enters from the hall, her jaw set with tension, she waves her “La Mer” makeup bag, wildly, letting its very existence, there in the kitchen, function as angry exposition. “YOU,” she practically screams and then shaking with outrage, she begins more calmly. “You can’t use someone else's makeup and ESPECIALLY not their brushes!!” She had begun under control but with each word her message grew emotionally.

“I didn’t hurt anything!” Leeza answered venomously back, giving as good as she got.

I lean with my **** against the waist high kitchen island, slowly letting myself slide down to where I’m not visible, into a sitting position on the floor, as the fight quickly escalates.

Have you ever been a guest somewhere, when there’s a sibling fight or other parents start yelling at a friend? All you can do is try and become invisible - or pretend to text on your phone like you can’t hear the turmoil.

I catch a motion out of the corner of my eye, it’s their mom, Karen, motioning me, with a side-bob of her head, into the living room. I quietly, crouchingly exit the kitchen - the fight reaching full, nuclear bloom.

I join her on a white sectional, breathing a sigh of relief. We’re far enough away from the action to feel uninvolved. I like Karen a lot. She's warm, open and always seems to be suppressing a smile when watching her girls. She’s a lawyer. “You’re officially part of the family,” she says, as she takes a sip of coffee, “they don’t fight in front of company.” I grin.

Somewhere just below the tumult, I hear a dad’s deep, male voice, “Excuse me?” he says, and the fight is instantly over. There is a moment of deafening quiet. “It’s NOTHING,” both girls say, a second later, in perfect, synchronized, bored-sounding unison.

I have so many thoughts clotting up my brain, one day they'll probably just **** me, but to you, I'm still just a girl with no life experience,
Barely a person with any real worth.

There's serpents circling around in my head,
Biting at me so venomously,
And you lay your ignorance on my chest like being ten years older really means anything at all.

I'm falling over with uncertainty
I'm trying to get back on my feet,
Until I get pushed back down like I'm not doing enough,
I'm just trying to tell myself I'm not scared,
and you're making it impossible for me.

I just want you to know that you're perfect

Looking into your eyes, it melts my heart
Oh your beauty's truly a work of art
Venomously addicted to your lips from the start
Everything I've done was to win your heart

You're all I want, and I need you
Oh you are perfect in everything you do
Utterly perfect, at least in my view
!

It's hard to tell
if it's really you,
speaking to me so venomously,
words coming from some pitch black place
buried deep inside.
Your eyes stare
as if they're desperate to close;
the lids sagging,
the pupils unseeing.
You flinch at my touch
and I'm scared to get too close.
I can't remember the last time you smiled.
Sighs sit heavy in the air
and land every now and again,
falling with such force that they
bruise skin
and break bones.
I very much want to shove you down under the duvet,
wrap you in the sheets,
away from the falling sky,
but I'm frightened to touch
and my arms don't seem able to hold enough of you;
and if you're under the bed clothes
then the sighs have nowhere to go,
so the space between the matress and the sheet hardens and turns to stone,
trapping you inside.
Maybe that's what you want -
but I'm selfish and I'd take any amount of cuts and bruises
over that.
So we sit,
side by side,
on top of the blanket,
and you can't seem to find the motivation to speak,
so I say enough words for the both of us
and I hate myself for every little thing that I say,
because it all means absolutely nothing
and you stopped listening a long time ago.
One night whilst we slept
you walked too far
and went away
and I'm not sure when you're coming back.
I'm sorry if I'm the reason you had to leave -
I should have seen your back starting to turn,
heard the footsteps within the silences.
I'd have grabbed your hand and never let go.
But I need you to know,
I'll be here waiting when you come back.
I'll listen with pure joy as your jaw swings open
and the weeks worth of unsaid words come pouring out,
lie in total bliss as your fingers remember how to sit between mine,
soak up the hard pump in my chest as your tongue finds the words "love", "I" and "you" and let's them spill into the breeze to linger a while
before they float straight through my smile
and into my throat.
I miss you
but I'll never get tired
and leave you lost.
I'm here,
and I know you will be soon, too.

A:    Away they always run
B:     Because of what follows behind
C:     Creeping low to the ground, it followed
D:     Death and darkness wound together
E:      Eternity it will be there
F:      Following not far behind
G:     Grabbing and dragging
H:     How the dead weight felt
I:      Internally screaming because they could not make a sound
J:      Juggling between life and death
K:     Killing whatever gets in there way
L:      Life is only for the living and that they are no more
M:     Moaning is no option, running they tried but
N:     Nothing gets away from, HE  
O:     Oh the joy the light is coming
P:      Perhaps a change of view
Q:     Quickly the lights blew out an all that
R:     Remains is the
S:     Silent whispers of
T:     Their names being called, tugged
U:     Under ground
V:     Venomously pulled away to a place
W:    Where the light will never be seen again
X:     Xenophobia beginning
Y:     You are no one now
Z:      Zeitgeist, no more time

Can you feel pulse
of a moment before it
explodes on face?

I have yet to find
my tiger to ride for an
antique encounter.

Pomegranates.
You squeeze the red flesh
to find out viper.

somewhere in the delicately orchestrated seemily meanless phrase 'I love you' there is significance
well how do you expect anyone to find it when you spit it down the throat of every women who has ever made you feel good whilst simultaneously ******* her soul off her tongue young college boy
that is to say i've seen heartbreak i watched him shoot it, beat it and sure as hell defeat it
how can I say this so you will understand she hears your lies wrap around her ankles as she ties her laces
she feels your god dam carelessness rhythm in her ears as she plays piano
she sees the heart she wished you had beat venomously out of her chest as she says to the bar man 'on more on           him'

you loath in her finger tips desperately awaiting to be shaken
but there is nothing that can awaken what you've so shamelessly broken

the fragments of you still dust off of the shower curtain as she pulls it across so vigorously desperately trying to forget the first night you met

the pieces of you that were left behind make sure that you never leave her mind or even begin to find what could once be kind

she never believed the line she always doubted the love she said it was the way he finely dots his i's and crosses his t's
this is to say she knew that when you want to express love it really is no careful hand written letter it's a drunken night on a step when in the mist of the giggles you accidentally just amplify it as if it were so lost in the love

the deluded reality that is no longer you, how can it feel so far from true when you first touched me roses turned violet and the grass turned blue now when you touch me
i softly say
don't

what a shame it is indeed, the girl who believed in glitter and rainbows is now drowning in a sea of not so perfect love

that's the thing about love it's drawn as a beautiful ******* picture one you'd frame or hang on your wall but in reality love is what ***** the life from within you destroying your barely salvaged soul whilst watching you drive a pole into the hole

while this was supposed to be about the petals falling from roses as he withdraws his promise you always keep you close
it became a blood bath of my guts and honesty
that's the thing about love it makes you accidentally honest at the worst of times