THE night crashes like a dagger ///—\\ THE winds turn like falling rains
the night is absent of light; the day is full of maybe’s and
the night is closing but it’s not too late. It’s not too late.
Like Mars the atmosphere is leaving
but i am not fearing. So, oceans rolling like thunder and
it’s not too late. I shall not fear evil.
As city structures fall and turn to rust Our lives turn
into ashes but it’s not too late. Not too late.
Within an atmosphere so lethal and evil but i shall not fear
— i am a ghost like the day breaks. the darkness the darkness.
Others will feel my touch, they will see me and then they will die
and their very lights will fade. I am a clock.
It is in the very language we speak.
In reality we are now aware an experience to be experienced.
“My feet are your feet. I am what you were.
I am the wind.
I am light.
I am the moon.
I am what you should be.
I am everything.” i got to go like ultra ultra pain — feel the rain/
Destroying all the negatives before the black
mass of media takes hold of all meaning.
Boys be drinking genius juice
women confused. It accentuates the positive and destroys negative.
Get a hold of it. Women smelling the frog powder/devil beating
the zombie land\ if you want to be a star i will eat the original
art from the fallen ones___ just me. Black op zone all alone.
This is the true story a true story based upon a deep lie in history.

:: 10.08.2020 ::

WHAT is Life when a landslide clears clarity? What is a word? A scribble
upon a frowning face? What does the ground speak? hungry– wishing to
shake the Earth around me…
i threw up / swallowed my youth \ screamed, “i knew not what was up
knew not what was down” but the wind blows :
“Hello, i am no one yet so damn sweet when anyone who, some
(preferably sends shivers down my spine
) kisses me || to love || i worked my bones to the ground
i died standing upon my feet and never had a chance to see
myself in a mirror — because, somebody loves me, yea.
i worked myself through the 70s and 80s and 90s and 00’s and now
i iive by a principle that somebody loves me — if they can find me.”
yeah. Oh, working hard when i was boney little boy in the 60s!
Ah! Hendrix! Hippies and serial killers! — hey — i tried i tired!
but then everyone wants to put me down
so i got a hold of my brains (yea yea yea)
i need no one to love me i need someone
to love me i need no one to fight for me
i need everyone to fight to fight to fight
to fight (find me) for LOVE! SOMEBODY LOVE me:
within the dimmest of yellow and the feldt green
little buds in the lost woods (she could care less)
just waiting for the light of dew (bees in the doorway)
goosebumps on my wrists and acne in my armpits
pierced (caviar) confusion in my mirror — because
somebody loves me — if they can find me.
somebody who steals my smile and like royalty tells me the cosmos
is a round, kind world i was just a little wobbly baby
in this life and like a new baroness now my eyes (see what
shines) they say, “Bing! there she is look again
“every single! she’s got so much to give so it just went wrong”
i became a woman & seems you never stop growing
in sadness/ was part of my makeup/ i became a (whispers), a witless man
sitting on the steps reading letters from his mailbox with his cat —
of the public library: well its where i felt most alive
but some little BAD, BAD, BAD CHILD got his hands on me
slashed my heart then there was pain stubborn and apathetic to
beating my head, I heard in my head — go to Bethlehem, then
to Egypt — there i read — “here’s a break in the cloud,
its rain over Bethlehem –” —

“now it is the 9th hour (a new day in the city of night) these words go up |
on my palm, you wanna be somebody?
go right! go right! go right! you gotta go right!

it’s worth it now or be a stupid step that somebody let in you were somebody
(youth comes and takes you away)
somebody (loved you too)
somebody did not understand
somebody loved you (someone cared)
somebody who held you (surely there’s
someone left that remembers)
somebody somewhere is
forever glad you were born

(the angels sing as they sway at your birth)

you’re not so bad
you might’ve done better if you could’ve kept your bloody hands off me
but alas, someone loves me
somebody (they’re longing)
somebody like you love
somebody who takes you
(like when you pick your teeth)

“That’s not a pretty thing to see,” i say and you say, “it’s you, i thought you looked good
when we were going out and then you got fat and got wrinkles and stuff and all that kept happening
and you got old
and you were alone
but then you met me
(you’re not nobody
i never wanna be nobody no more)
and I made you fat
and wrinkled
but now you’ve got some pep
(yea!) to your step
you still look good
so can I go out?
can you tell everybody how to approach me?

Well, have you learned by now how to approach the one you love?
cause if so, don’t tell nobody
cause I’m staying right here
with my arms wide open (momma’s
got a tap and singin’ voice)
well, go tell the moon
don’t let anybody keep you apart
by holding on to somebody
you can’t even stand and you don’t feel that way anymore (to feel this way again)
that’s sad
that’s sad sad sad
and we’re all bound to die so come on now
whoa whoa
tell the right one how you feel
tell the right one
how you feel

that you want to be somebody
betcha don’t let anybody know how you feel

Well whoa whoa tell the right one
how you feel
that you want to be somebody
you just lost your mind well whoa whoa
give your love to the devil
if you want to stay together
if you want to get rich
so go to Cairo
and see the pyramids
dive into the Nile (bend down and drink from the River)
learn how to swim
befriend the pharaoh
see how things have gone
well i ain’t so good
but i can dance.

:: 10.07.2020 ::

The sun has sunk, now it is calm yellow before the beast of the Moon
gives us silver light!

My cock runs down 15th street looking for the hen — she lays eggs
beneath the moon summoned in a strummed guitar-life sound! The
world swirls for her; it is time-space eating moments. Women’s breasts
swell with the moon’s tide and mensturate.

Men are totally unaware of a female composition.

Upon my tongue: sweet fetid dust of her
breath lingers upon my lips.

I am the PRINCE OF CALM.

Her female beauty cuts my arms.

My Master the root of Love.

I cool my baby — the pure blue footsteps like a waltz. I once thought I was a great painter but now know I am a poet.

Within the Month of October the police begin to cordon my words for they speak of Love.

I sail through space and time.

How funny you are today WORLD.

I eat v-jays and misuse my talents.

 MOTHERS of the WORLD
                allow your children to 

read and learn and never forgive them for
their precious born talents — it will DEVOUR
YOU!

:: 10.03.2020 ::

A COMPROMISE.
THEN? Eternity.
It is numbers
beneath thoughts.

A tower of Souls,
a weak cry.
Evening dying
A day that’s on fire.

Souls with mouths eat
their throat —
in their common way.
Defile the trickster
you stole away.

The body’s skin carries
the satin embers of
this brilliant glow.

To apprehend the thorn
that twists within your
side — what? Eternity.

It’s fled with the sun
and gone to the sea.

:: 09.03.2020 ::

MY heart and mouth so full and loaded
my poor mind dribbles at the brain stem
— caporal! women squirt love and gleem
within eyes (no dirty words) under the
full pregnant moon and marshy land
i felt this gift — such a blessed
single laugh, my poor mind dribbles
at the stern of my spine___
in the night time we go
so entertained by o abracadantic waves
so hello hello! so lewd, so ithyphallic,
a wheelhouse a whorehouse a heavenly
undeniable pleasure of corrupted pleasure.
i ask the porcelain woman to take
my hands Bacchic hiccups and her slim hips
i swallow my heart inside pleasure
she is over me and assured as all i know;
heaving and thrusts of love and meaning.

:: 08.31.2020 ::

In fright of voices she spilled a torrent of tears
of a frozen sun, like new born babies so,
today a mysterious desert day: we serve the servants
in the end with a body by eyes of excidium sweat
an aroma imparted within effervescent hearts.
Painters, poets and politicians
; gods, demons and angels —
we pull the fish from our nets
and our own spears of terror —
hey my accountant forest green
fans of longing death attracts
divided thirst and i love the
sound of morning birds singing
over my cold grave of stiff
drinking paper signs.

:: 08.24.2020 ::