my MIND is of blood, coal fires, so many

deaths — aquilon as a warm blanket across

my heart — with no image of hate nor

vengeance!  Oh, never! 

  And yet corrupt souls embrace it.

      politicians, high priests, and

senators:  die!

  A common soul;  a common person controls

the fate of all things.  And who wishes

blood?  Blood flowing through the streets?

   If so, if so, then my soul wishes war;

vengeance; terror!  for the children and

women who are slain for this madness! 

  As nations writhe in its bite:

enough republics!

  enough of emperors and calloused kings.

     so be it if we shall be crushed

so be it if America and great nations

vanish.  The voice of an any poet shall

spread vengeance across cities and over

oceans!

:: 08.31.2020 ::

The corner of Despair and Regret
with a gray thought her singular tale
a distinguished title of blood and foam
Fetus of feeling no more
eyes never looking aft but
oblige a tree auditor
across the street
footfalls across
wet streets
hellish regrets of
that unknown giant
of all words i stalk
is despair the trembled unknown
whose slippery body is Death’s
greatest pal; a young woman within
an older male’s path –> sweet slow
animal fearsomely who do keep her
Sunday flower.

:: 08.29.2020 ::

with a pinkish red slender tongue
and a singular set of balls i do
not lift a foot from the bed
but bury my duties within
the flesh of my woman:
harlequin vipers around us
and a terrible urgency to
finish what we started after
saying, “hello.”  The angel
of modesty fled with a precision
that buried a tray of common sense
while two human bodies melted into
one flesh – spiritually and physically
: we forgot we were human/feeling as
brilliant light\ from mistletoe and
sweet kisses.  we were the origin of
fire.
I passed through your sprawling hills
and you turned off the lights without
sowing terror – riddles forgotten.
  Your thighs a desert and my shaft
a delight.

:: 08.22.2020 ::