ruse it clever baby

fuse it with your cleaver

the hard candy receiver

drenched in your fear and sweet sweat

wet slather and yes

I would rather

Pump it Pump it
Nitro scene
the fabric crawls
its taut obscene

the broken glass
like glitter death
expound the drones
and fuck the mess

Born from dust we paint a picture,
Time turns and the wind blows
the picture we create is our own.
For some solitude is a DEMONS LECTURE,
For some solitude GRACE
For some it's simple ALONE
For some its MADNESS
For ME it is the essence of SADNESS

.
with cadence of a mournful, howling hound
the whistling wailing wind torments the trees
a ghostly shriek, a hungry, haunting sound
with cadence of a mournful, howling hound
who lies upon a new dug mound of ground
and whines lament, for missing master pleads
with cadence of a mournful, howling hound
the whistling wailing wind torments the trees

.

Taming Of the Beast

this creature lives
inside of me
feasting on
antipathy

the naming of
my dark twin
I hold at bay
just beneath my skin

it lies in wait
below the seeming
of my flesh facade
of my distressed screaming

its foul breath
could etch tempered glass
a poison brew
could kill en masse

still on its chain
I give receipt
of paper and pen
to spew dire deceit

love him
many women hanker
in the twilight for they desire
to see the sunrise effect
from last night's sojourn
but they can't reconcile
where the manliness of man had gone
and
left the warmed up oven forlorn
the morn of a dying kind surfaces
when some go in for IVF,
at least small mercies
God's gift to unwed moms
at times prove best

see the sun as a rising one,
its setting too somewhere that's true
but a positivity
I'd wish to imbue, in you.

From somewhere the question comes:
how so?
There's ink in my saliva.
I'm scratching the surface
of the moon with a poem rising.
Do not mourn for me, never yet born,
don't you hear my silence out there
in the stardust, expanding infinity?

I am only a figment of your imagination,
locked inside
your living perception, isolated by needy words.
You'll never know the real me, unless you know
the real you, waves that touch the sun
must first unclench
their grasp of sea.

Ache dulls my heart,
my sensations.
With air I inhale
blood's adoration
all around
I could only see limbs
and tossed cut- heads.
No sound of birds' chirps
None, but of bullets'
Then when I come
to rejoice the petals
of the red rose,
to my disgust
They bleed.

Cradled in innocent fairy tales
Misery makes impressions on her audience
Ever since ancient times it crowds the stages

Every dream broken like the hopes of yesterday
Victory seems sweet, when surrounded by defeat
No white flags when your enemy is within
Failure’s voice seems so paternal
Until you realize passion’s gift is eternal

Growing sick of this realm , so we build our own
No kings to serve only the appetite of a soul
The snakes of corruption grow in number
As the priests of honesty cower away silently

If i sit upon this magic carpet
to explore worlds untamed
and travel far into dimensions
to be bewildered by the unthinkable
would i long for
the days spent idle
in my wooden cradle
when existence was the drive
to open eyes and strive
to be another bought into humanity
guided by warmth and love and sanity
of the ones that adored me in all profanity
And as time wastes into days
my bones will ache and laze
as my flesh is sure to deteriorate
to give it back from whence it came

the distant cry
from within
desire to sweep the past
with sunrise’s fast arrival...
to
let the time’s tolls be due
let flowers reek, perfume somehow
red, crimson and blue
wipe the sweat of my brow
forget the loathe-some
of a long distant occurrence
with demise of thoughts of desperate dreams
manifestations
of things gone astray