Nursery Rhymes

UNDER sheets we shade horror
within skin we feel no repent
inside skulls we are liars
below are broken feet
walking streets weeping
saying, “i’m through it all,
cause i don’t need your tears.”

In the end we look inside a
mirror that tells us lies
so we suffer as god’s children
like gutter’s institutions
so we shut our eyes and pray
“Just save the ones whose
hearts are pure.”
A drink for the horror
and cheers for the apologetic
society who never cried a tear
— but set us aside.

Just save…Just Save…
Just save all the little children
and tell nursery rhymes.

:: 08.17.2022 ::


Twisted Lies Inside Sincere Love

INside this collapsed
crumbl
i
dilapidatedPoutyZ
ero
Enter
:tain(t)ed
the youth
fulMouth of Minds
UGLYsicks spat
yeLL(ow)ed sICK
names__leaning
Upon magicalMETA
sheshapes of Strength
i destroyed their
sheepVoice: -wh
EEling;at who!?,
(the fairy speaking
about that whic
hbubble ssomethin
gabou tlov
e).

:: 08.17.2022 ::


Tap Shoes for Malaguena

Ceiling above my skull
beyond the clouds
above the space and time
as silk moire, wand of ivory,
shadows of memories
as God watches the cupboard,
angels preparing breakfast
for universal morning
cherubs poke and squitter
original English of young
glutton | cap of moire,
pecker ivory, gut strings
of a guitar whose wardrobe
projects a lovely tongue
of pears she prepares
her tap shoes for Malaguena
and all the night’s fair!

:: 08.07.2022 ::


Three Disembodied Heads

The three disembodied heads on top of a heap of dolls of whom only one is recognizable as a face have very curiously looking deep-set eyes, on fire with curiosity and intent on finding out what’s to be discovered in this tub.

—Rinsing off, three children wash themselves—that’s the noise made by two old men who don’t know each other— As they creep out of the stall and escape from the flood of hot water. They strip off their white night clothes, and don’t know why that their naked breasts seem to glow.

So the clear pale skin, broken by narrow white slits, folds into the two white globes so that they’re held un a most pleasing manner; the dark nipples become large and pendulous, and in a flash the scarlet eyes—the one about five and one on top of the other—Snap open, and fill with intelligence and a glint of laughter and mischief. The other has a slightly different appearance—large white globe with a dark under eye—and his neck is bent, and his throat is thinner and shorter
and his nostrils a bit flatter—in a flash the tiny face golds a curious thing, and then, suddenly, the nose us curled up—and you can see something on the top of his head—

The last victim, the youngest, I’m sure, is best described: A pale pink globe, pale ivory, transparent, lashes like silver wings, loose curls of dark hair around her face; and, whilst the mother is resting, playing with the child, the little lady looks at you with a real face like a child and wants to play.

You will have the impression that the facial skin is loose and very clear.

:: 08.07.2022 ::


Life & Love is Precious

LIFE &
LOVE
is a precious d r e a m t o d a y / and ALL the
time is never time at all
that you could ever leave
when inside yourself dreaming
how wonderful time is while
you realize you must leave a
piece of you tic-tock believe
The life can change when you
look away ~~ tonight
or over roofs of days while
the sun smiles above

LIFE &
DEATH
are the best of friends
Both crave for your Soul
and all your Friends
so believe me | love and forgive
| allow everyone to Live the way
they Are and Time tocks and
ticks off stubborn rabbits who
never crawl down into Alice’s
burrowed Hole so believe!
Life can Change your Life
TONIGHT TO-NOW and while you
pick up shattered thoughts
time tics-toc eternal walk
so believe in you
so believe in me
so believe in us
so believe in all

Nothing matters but
love.

:: 08.08.2022 ::


Slaughtered Animals

FROM upon the top of anguished heads
the red lining of pink throats SCREAM
in dark secret the monster cries

I am devoured.

And the ancient earth’s rocks cry
singing, “Scream! Scream!”

While I wait for the effect of Life
the moment’s scent of poison
is destroying my heart as a demon
spits bile out by the slaughtered
animals.

:: 08.09.2022 ::


Placed Into a Box

I sat and wept at a brightness that was you: an autumn sun forlornly pouring
light on the corpses of the flowers — a thousand blossoms dead, with no roots.

Grave to decay, and no dreams.

I saw the artist paint his portrait, and wished to know how your eyes
grew clear and darkened at sight of his canvas, and how, at each stroke,
they searched for the clear water of your eye: were you thinking of me?

Or what?

Your poverty brought many, many gifts, which the artist and I,
having explored together that barren wasteland, as tourists through one dead spring,
took to Bali, for a holiday, that morning.

The darkness of the vacant land was covered with blossoms and yellow fruits.
The blackbirds that flew from tree to tree folded like aprons.
The birds all looked, above, like spiders’ threads.

I tried to imagine the inside of that bee, searching for the flower
with a tail, that flew away from him, yet who with it had already disappeared:
from which dark was a fire (Light in front, fire in back)

Or was it an illusion that would be blown away by the wind?
The honey-like fruit of the wild apple, turning dark
as the bee drank, or was devoured.

We all died that day, one after the other, and how they died, I can never know:
like the drop of water that is misted up and creates a sea of salt in the skies.

I saw it, and wept, for you were killed, and I thought of how much
you’d longed to go to the honey.
But how it must have been for you to die:

As the bee, all writhing,
Eaten away.

The bee, is what I remember most.
The bees were only like us.

They were trying to do the same thing as we did:
to make it all better.

Like me.

So I put you into a box, and wrote on the lid:

I shall go now, it is time.

:: 08.10.2022 ::


Give Me

TELL me: where does the wind come from?
where do the stars come from?
what are these wings and walls that they take
around, around to be happy and straighten themselves
to return from what?

And for whom they carry around everywhere and the desire to return.

Give me the smell of their body

The smoothness of the body the sweet grassiness of the pellet
and the scent of their eyes, the road underneath that they keep marching
all the time in pursuit of each other.

Give me the softness of a human spirit and the weight of her soul.
It’s not because I ask for that I desire the animal,
that’s all, I’m only certain of what I seek.

Like eyes that sleep on the shoulders
like the fragile set of the hands
that are always looking for contact
and they might not find it, in whom they could be.
because the animal is too weak to survive the scouring flame.

Give me the makeup of their being
and the sound of their music
The bird that is like a triangle
that hangs like an anchor
The shadow that burns by going
into the sun and comes out of a hole

Give me the tree that grows in pensive sleep
The heart that lies by the feet
the lips the lungs the soul that dries up in its eyes

Give me the leopard that cleans up in it’s corner
and the jackal that does kill within its sleep
the bar that cleans up the wine

Give me the god who buries his hair
in the thunder that’s shattered the whole Earth
The pig that’s eaten all its world
The father that sits within the wall of fire
and the wing that does not flap

Give me the mother of a demon that reads its own novel
The sky that flies towards nothing
The roots that destroy everything
The post that does not reach the Sun

Give me the light that is being the light
that’s been in this world a long time

Give me a cave that seems to come out
to a party that is going to come out
of the garden that is being the womb
of the mother of the dead and the desert
and the mountain

give me

Nothing.

:: 07.27.2022 ::


Cherry Blossom Heart

THE moon slid slowly from the light
to slumber in the crepuscular shroud

An illuminated universe lies
in the silver light’s glow

The mighty golden note slumbering
in a valley of undying silence

The distant crimson light’s whisper
Causing butterflies in its wake
The song of the moon played so sweet
as the golden sun faded behind

Now hear the bitter mocking warble
of the bitter hermit’s chant
and ghosts watch me leave you further behind

As the dirt drips down bedding your heavy box
the front of your funeral dress all shadowy lined
And droning iridescent crickets throb in time
within your beatless heart

Cry, Pink White
Cry, Pink White
Cry, Pink White

Like a needle in the pinball machine
you don’t know what you got till it’s gone
If you’re the only one to hold me in your arms
Baby please don’t make me cry

Say it with me now

Cry, Pink White
Cry, Pink White
Cry, Pink White

My Cherry Blossom Heart

:: 07.27.2022 ::


The Beggar

As there is beauty to be south
And then as rain beauty seeps into soil
from skies through mortal eyes weeping

A beggar not egging for food but for
compassion

Is the truest love when given.

:: 07.23.2022 ::