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These roses speak of truth
love starts from early youth
till it exposes the real truth
as it buds...
roses
within you
so
this is love
as this lovely happy couple
speak only of love
as they dance
you can see above
oh what is love
so many ask of me
tis it... tis it... tis love
felt the bulbs upon his tarnished skin
their heat their glow
studying their faces
his own in the fading glow
the little room
the tiny house
how his hunger
grows and grows
the acne ravages
stealing the bold
but the kind
the powerful
stand to show
their interest
no love
their stories
no part
so he acts
the hero
villan fox
walks the vaudeville
gaunt and haunted
I learned a new word today
gentrification
to renovate or improve
conform to middle class taste.
I stumble on this word
in a news article
two armed gals
forced three tenants,
one girl two men,
from their apartment
by gun point.
Old friends after all these years.
Time lost, draws us near.
Like precious stones, from years past,
You lost your memory, your stones were cast.
Heaven didn't need you, on that grueling day,
When your truck veered astray.
Our path was broken, you wanted to remember,
To repair that which had been splintered.
I reminded you of each stone, how precious they were,
Like alabaster and myrrh.
The years may have passed
but I'm still haunted by the past.
one which compels me to grow stronger
to strive until time turns me to dust
and another took my place
to lay the corrupted to waste.
Gotham is no longer the same heaven it used to be
it reeks with despair as parasites
suck the livelihood of the hepless innocents
,who have no strength to fight for their rights
synthetic our world
wrapped
like the glass
in the snow globe
precarious a balance
the growling station
its visage blazing
filling the room with
its violent light
dirty feet on cold carpets
sticky stains
and bottles with sideworlds
distorted
the door to the bathroom
canted
the shower a black wall
like a great tunnel
the winds surf full of crystal
snow in the cold
biting like a vampyre
the steeples
full of gargoyles guarding
“Excuse me sir.
You shouldn’t smoke
Especially in the Subway!
Did you know last year
Approximately 450,000 people died
Prematurely from smoking
And related illnesses?”
“Hey listen lady
There’s like, 300 million people
In the United States
Which means my odds are nearly 1 / 600
I’ll be just fine.
Why don’t you quit your preaching
And use you’re random facts
For Jeopardy or something
I’ve been smoking my whole life
I’m doing just fine over here”
Haunted
Solemn stares from recent dead occupy the now
drifting past the threshold of despair
alone, I ponder what their eyes are saying
fast and loose, beyond abuse, without quite knowing how,
bringing dreams of what they cannot share
but leaving silent clues that are dismaying
Alise: What then shall I leave for you
when I am dead
Michael: The pillow beneath your lovely head
for it holds the essence of your tears
the lingering fragrance of your hair
Alise: Then take it now before I am gone
my plan is for my soul to go on
Michael: Do not speak of such horrid things
what would you like me to do with your rings
Alsie: Give them to your new love to be
from this moment on
I set you free
A little bit of humor makes the job easier
if you know what I mean?
I sometimes make a bit of a joke to myself
when I kill someone.
Like the time I stuffed the electric-guitar
up this musician's ass and turned it on.
The way he tried to get away from it,
made me think of the way 'Elvis' swiveled
his hips as he sang and danced across the stage.
That put a smile to my lips and I danced a little
myself.
The time that I stapled the teller's lips together
at the bank was also a little joke.