.
He hurts himself so purposely
to see if he can summon pain,
and carves her name for her to see.
He hurts himself so purposely,
and numbly, proudly, bloodily
surveys the damage with disdain.
He hurts himself so purposely
to see if he can summon pain.

He loves to play the martyred artist,
nails the role in DeNiro style,
stigmatas the tune like the matador,
maligning his own equator ...

and she,
she prefers the cause of the underdog,
weaving words to suit convictions,
well formed trickery, spellbound witchery,
and meaningless just the same.

The prima donna agenda
the need to feel splendid
pole dancing Sabbath
center stage habits

and those two,
they got to have it.

A shimmering tower filled with light and love
is off in the distance hovering up above
I walk until my poor feet are sore
As the pain recedes I think I can walk some more
The Earth is dry, thirsty for the rain
I feel bad for all I can give is tears from my pain
As a single tear rolls slowly down my face
it seems that I,unknowingly, changed my pace
My walk is fast and the pain I do not feel
I'm asking myself if this is all real
The sand completely covers my clothes and hair

cerrulean steptic
dissolve this
the slender notion
daizemul dream

choke the ballad
of hemerocallis
laced in the splinter
eye
traced in the broken
womb
cradlegrave smokey
ebb

they wore their work well
while the song of the spade
sang through the rain greased
shale

Well look there off the old roadside
a white bloom is greeting the new day
by spreading its white petals wide
almost as if it wants to say
cold weather is now in the past

That dewberry took me by surprise
appearing so early in the spring
an hour after pink sunrise
as insects hum and wild birds sing
their joy that winter now has passed

Come bring me your berries,
Your plums, your cherries,
Bring me your applesauce,
Carvings and Chairs,
Bring me your paintings,
Your sculptures and wares.

Come with me and grow,
To barter, to trade,
Whats fresh and beaded,
And fancied with braid,

Come join me and start,
To save and begin,
This is a war,
We all can win

Buy from your neighbor,
Have built by your brothers,
Start eating fresh bread,
That's baked by your mothers.

regrets fall in rain drops upon the glass window
sitting in retrospect, life on dissect
the thick air conditions my body
into calmness
a mnemonic key
allows me to see
a flash into the past
when life was material and fast
i was all in pretty pictures in pout
walking streets to the beats always out
the filth and power the city nights devour
let alone the view is marvelous from titanium tower
closed then open eyes
self reflections as i look to the skies
a destined gamble, roll of dice

RATS

Rats said the Jess,
swatting at a passing allusion,
if things don’t improve
I’m going to cancel my subscription
to Nihilist Weekly.

Double rats said the Jess
as a skinhead materialised
out of a pile of dogshit and,
having left his sledgehammer at home,
was forced to soil his hands tearing him limb from limb.
If things don’t improve
I am going to have a great deal of difficulty
rationalising my already untenable position
with the adventurist left.

at some corner of eternity
and
then as two petals of roses
in pages of books
we shall meet
to again fall apart
like autumn leaves
and
fly away towards
another trinity

that's why they say
time alone lives
we all perish

thank you friend,
for ripening my colloquial mind
excuse me for words mistakenly used,
it’s my creativity
my extempore muse...

I don’t visualize anyone,
but the hearts inner
and
compose...

Awakening

Rosebud of desire
blooming
hotly centered
in spirited passion
awaking from her dream
still looming
languidly
stretching dainty limbs
silky laughter
on soft full lips
the warmth of her voice
fills him
with all the vibrations
echoing of
strains of silken laughter