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My call's a cellar door
That unlocks my fears
With no rusty hinges
With no wheels to squeal
My call's a cellar door
With vascular veins
With featured fringes
It rules and reigns
Over all other doors
Drawers, attics and stores
Like cards in a deck
What was on bottom
Ends up on top
What was on top
On bottom
As fate shuffles
And shuffles again
Those with spades
Become kings
Those with diamonds
A mere single digit number
It can feel like the gods
Are playing a game
With our lives
Betting for
Or against us
Dionysus bluffing, again
Zeus folding with fury
Hera going all in
Hermes quickly
Taking another card
From the deck
I heard that
the end is nigh
all you need is love
the Russians are coming
and sneakers make your feet stink
blondes are stupid
Jussie dindunuffin
the Arc has been found
and Michelle Obama is a man
vegans are healthy
broccoli cures cancer
spinsters are fun
and plaid panted hipsters are as cool as they come
the earth is flat
craft beers are good
sluts make fine brides
and pedos are misunderstood
nazis are everywhere and the KKK
the SPLC is not biased
I couldn't find a way to post
a poem
so I chose a Blog
This is the state of senility
when you think
you have reached the zenith
of your poetic mastery
Just damn care
if any one scans it
'tis your level of incompetence finally
and emotionally
think it's your best piece of infinite poetry
Damn all emotions
if ye wish
All poetry
is not really fit for society
no 'tis not any more poetry
from Lovedly
you need each other like a vampire needs blood
you've always loved her ass
those long legs
unexpected arguments
the word no
fantasies of make up sex
make up sex
late night sneaking farts
off spring
springing
debt and drudgery
till half dead
weight gain from a sagging liver
and retching love
labyrinth's of desire and anger
divorce; the sword of Damocles
a mad hatter chandelier
Don’t open the cellar door!
Down in the depths are dark dreams.
Satyrs have been known to enslave the angels
Making them perform erotic madrigals.
The stuff of loamy foam hangs on the walls
Like a moist sheet of sperms, like spears,
Waiting to dive in the egg.
You will descend to be trapped in a spiderweb
Of steel wires to be devoured whole.
Do not open that door!
Cellar door
Matador
Spanish bullshit
Crap
Toilet bowl
Scummy rim
Dirty meaning
Stop!
Start again
Repeat the name
Cellar door
Once more
Cellar door
Cellar door
cellophane
And pain
Lock me in
Shoot the bolt
Down the stairs
Again
Red cape
Flies
Planes above
Looking through the
Crack
Cellar light
Burning bright
Shouting out the
Night
Take this city rat’s mind
That’s always sniffing
Nervously
For cheese
Running for cover
Racing and
Racing
Clicking and posting
For likes
Hustling and posturing
For approval
Or money
Or whatever crack
Is in my veins
And turn it into
A country dog’s
Lying on the floor
In the sunlight
With the same old bone
Excitable
When it comes
To happiness
Without guilt or fear or materialism
Enough
Fit for a king in his castle, a strong cellar door.
It leads to the basement floor. Built by an old wise man using the finest cedar wood. Three metal hinges and a crystal knob decorates the door face.
Shutting out the rest of the house, no one dares to enter
through the rectangle shape door. In his secret place gramps keeps his skeleton key that locks the cellar door. to his workshop. Each day he tip toes down a pair of spiral
shape stairs where he builds creative rocking chairs.
During the lost hours of your dream seizure
Orchid jewels wormed through
your nostrils, hearing the cuckoo clock's
deep song of absented colors,
simmering in the slow half moon
blinking in its belly. The panning Bermuda
angles, the roulette angels coupling
bodies tin crowned and bodiless fleece.
Scalped dreamcatchers and an oblong eye
blinking, pale wrinkles, green and bold.