I can't give you pristine white
my dear poet,
you pissed on it
when you had your say
and there's blood on the ice
from head wounds
words you
clubbed to death like baby seals
on the cover of National Geographic.

The morning comes interrupted the night
this unholy war
into the heart.

Only one songbird sings into the darkness.
And that is enough sometimes,
isn't it?

On such a lovely day as this
with closed eyes warmed by the spring sun
although such thought might be remiss
I'm not yet READY to be done

Eye for eye is what they say
so even now I'll owe two more
'cause when the madness struck that day
'twas not my AIM! to kill that whore

That pimp, though, I meant to kill
he deserved my lethal ire
he'd pimped my child against her will
and thus deserves to feel hell's FIRE!!.............

images swirl in my mind,
the past, the present
mashed up in one continuous rewind
Magnetic tape
analog escape
from digital rape
the cassettes
lye stagnant
in a box
under my bed
buried,
as the dead.

Herculean I ask,

This being a modern day malady, Thor,
squeezes every pound from the frail and old,
Odin angles to act the goat as he squares
their operation, claiming it as being Ms sold.

Alcmene an unfaithful wife tends to the
borders of her vegetable’s garden,
While Hercules his muscles as well
as his resolve he does harden.

Where to now says Thor, to bring
down my thunder and reign rain.
Hear the mortals speak out against our names,
why o why can’t they accept our pain.

He stood on the cliffs at dawn,
breathed in the salty air,
before the light had broken,
before the breeze had stirred

He’d come up from the never never,
A million years asleep,
And was awakened from the dream time,
in the land he was to keep ,

With dreams of golden sunsets,
and lakes that overflow,
mountains reaching heaven,
the dream-time let him go,

What is this stagnation I see?
Where did these vultures come from?

We open up our mouths
And beg our own dogs to spit in them
Gather up dust and throw it
In the corners of our eyes
And tomorrow we turn around and point our lean fingers
Towards history that has forgotten itself!!

Eager to tell tales of accusation…blaming
The very wedding party we sent invites to!

We pull out our lips and get them pointed sharp
To pierce through songs, words, acts
That create a larger vacuum

In piss and shit and filth we grovel deep
Our masters grin so smugly at our plight
So helpless we abase ourselves in sleep
Yet knowing that there is a way to fight

On Wall Street and each other sign of wealth
Our presence can’t be lied away as mad
There is no longer any need for stealth
The fight is a political jihad

Our toys deflect us from our thoughts of truth
ipad, smartphone, facebook, ‘puters lies
in the end they mean we’re fools, our faces blank
and political action is just a bother

As I walk the streets of the East Village
a bag full of paper, pen and a pocket knife
the tight fright upon the face
obvious I'm in the right place at the wrong time

band of banshees
sadistic meth heads
one possibly could be the next vic
tomorrow's daily news

tonight unhinged
faux fear; I'm really scared
an alley cat timidly stalking the dark side
near the watchmen of life
wait to harvest unsettled bones
rattling along Village streets
marking their tombstones

Able to understand.
Listen. A Whisper.
Secrets known but unearthed.

Help me to be what I am not,
Myself.

Truth revealed, only seconds to heal
Stop. I can't be
unbroken.

It's what you understand
that keeps you
Able.

Listen. A whisper
Secrets known but unearthed

Help me to be what I am,
not myself. Truth revealed, only seconds

Stop. unbroken,
I can't be.

morning pearls
By: now not off the track poet

the ecstasy expressed by rose buds
desires unfurling in the morning dew,
the lovers eyes
await for her silkiness true
and
caresses the sweetest lips
how I wish we all do
to express a pint of happiness
a burning desire
at the warmest mornings welcome.
I wasn't any poetic material,
but now dare to induce pearls of wisdom,
hope in a friendly way
you will continue to take
as you always did.