night eject
the sharp edge chamber
we finger
Out here where the black rains linger

Pass me your tastes
these needs jangling
in our jackets

slung about our souls
like bandolier fruits
ripe and bitter
volatile love

hear the shreik of the
streetcars and dazzle
with the flashbulb pop
potency

When I awoke this morning
the glaze was conquering me,
strong dark and all consuming,
inflicting its criminal, nasty deed.

I tried to shake it off,
tried to milk my life for more,
but the ho-hum shit of every day
has allowed the misted shore.

Before long I succumb,
left to wonder why I've tried,
maybe I'm going through the motions
simply because I haven't died.

Trained to the haze
and openly its whore,
gray skies, clouded eyes,
bending to this world.

I once saw a man eating chicken
It was truly a hideous sight
It wasn’t quite what I expected
As I walked down the street late at night

I watched as the victim lay helpless
I stood in the lamplight alone
Rooted with fear by the sounds I could hear
While the flesh was ripped off of the bone

I took in the view there before me
Appalled by the thing’s I could see
As the huge hulking beast continued to feast
I feared the next victim was me

Wrapped up in tendencies
a poet undressed
refers to herself
as a malcontent,
her inclinations and aspirations
are ordinary as a bitch in heat,
still she finds an altered ego
and nails it to the floor

like a pink-nosed puppy.
she follows them around,
taking notes for later transcription
she makes a mockery of things
that circle about like vultures
of the non-discreet.

a symphony of prayer
touches my mind
and in the peace
of whispered words
I soothe my heart

some are imprinted
without thought
as filigreed light
warms my soul,
they slip out
as an adoration
sung from the heart

in these moments
of reverence and love
where no pain can burn
or malice survive

I come as close to heaven
as I can bear to be

Rain Of songs..

What force is this that carries a
heart’s intentions into uncertain moments?
could a lover’s attention ever waver afore
a persons unkind comments?. I say in this
state the heart does not stutter but surges
forth scattering all such thoughts of speech
amid the clutter for on this journey there
is a rain of songs and the true heart can
be lifted by notes to heights,
where it belongs..

There's an odd familiarity in
recognizing one's own shadow,
not that pundits, patriarchs
and protagonists select one photon
of evidence over the other. A woman
in a burka, no matter its colour, usually
doesn't consider herself exploited,
dominated or persecuted though she may
be hotter than hell.

Have you ever heard the night desert
in the silence of its dunes, the figs and
the pomegranates whispering like old friends?

All fingers not equal
So are their functions
Like spaces we occupy
In the scheme of things
Surpluses spill at on end
Complete lack at the other
The hand that gives always
Not the same that receives
Blessed, the prayer goes
For the cheerful benefactor
In such humanity evolves
A law for the charitable
Not obligatory or forced
Without any gain in mind
For it to pass the tartlet test

My name is Arabella
And I’m really such a girly
I like to wear nice dresses
And my hair is blonde and curly

With underwear by Reger
And Prada on my feet
Made up to perfection
I give all the men a treat

My perfect breasts the envy
Of the women that I see
They look me up and down
And how, they wish that they were me

I’m very nearly faultless
And quite soon with any luck
I’ll have the money saved
So I can have the nip and tuck

On an overgrown path
along a road less travelled
hid the bearer of small eyes
peeking out into the light

huddled

a flicker of memory
casts a mantle over her eyes
the touch of a loving hand
her only dream or desire

terrified

she runs into the shadows
as fight or flight whispers
and paranoia kicks in
all in keeping her safe

trembling

I want to save them
all the children of the night
I want to show them love
and compassion and family

hope