Monthly Archives: December 2015
COME, SWEET DEATH
AND i should become this sweet death
that i may have failed you!
As breathing as faithfully as angels
weeping upon my arm slowly with pinkish
ponderous slender clawing fingers
it is my heart that aches but my
mind and body trembles for such lost
With her breathing as (lost) faithfully
her low necked soul-dressed within flowers
as silent shoulders
wishing a deep pause of terrible dreams
dreaming love and tenderness spreading
through spring’s fields of this heart
that never changes : i am Summer!
and as my dreams come
come, sweet death!
:: 12182015 ::
HER LOVE LIKE FLOATING CLOUDS
Ahh, when i sleep i sleep in my heart
within the song of dead rock-n’rollers
ahh, when i sleep with sheets
i sleep with the dust of kings
feels so good — like a summer’s sun
like, /will out of this kindness\
of all hearts a few broken hearts
tell me it feels so good
while i smile i see the imagery
the clouds of grooms floating
above me as clouds and it feels
so good it feels so good!
:: 12182015 ::
A TENDER HEART SPOKE
my tender heart speaks
and i listen but cannot
believe those words:
“the building of my life
was upon fire and i
had no escape!”
:: 12182015 ::
IF A MONSTER WITH A SOUL COULD SPEAK!
So, what if my childhood was full of drama?
Did it (maybe) twist my soul into a pretzel
or a mobius strip of confusing mental traffic?
Anyway, who the hell am I talking to, maybe you
but more likely myself while I’m trying to loosen
these ties around my body (mental hospitals of
the mind are worst than physical ones).
And how long my skin has contained my brain
but never my mind — a strange roof, thinking of love,
words, and sex.
And my mother — a fish that swam away and her heart
resembles a touch of frost like a frozen lake within a
forgotten mountain range and within my most
sacred dreams everything is beautiful and nothing hurts!
And Bradbury swears, “it was a pleasure to burn”
\and flesh of 1.61 feels it’s a bit dramatic to think
beauty is over-rated by any golden ratio but the most
tender lover would never say to her that nature is by
far the most beautiful creature!
:: 12182015 ::
BANK ROBBERS
THERE’S a joke in the smoke from the burning tires
a philosophical popsicle melting on the sidewalk
(like, who knows) and frankie from the land
of yankees is a bit cranky but rita hayworth says
she wants to rob a bank to steal all the steel
magazines that hold the souls of the old
— fools who held up the silver screen long ago
Hollywood, Florida not SC, AL, or Maryland
Hollywood, Florida uh huh
and sophia has a 30 millimeter
lester holds a steering wheel
within his calloused hands
me and rita have blood in our
burning souls and this version
of this poem will not be here
long — already gone it’s already
gone like the last moment when
i said this is a story about a
story so true within a story
of truth in the middle a story
full of lies.
:: 12182015 ::
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