ATE a memory of all my life & despised my refrain: how soil and seed brings life or death
your back turned (i feel blessed) deciding style and finance
were your gods so eat what you sow & throw away wheat & golden strands of souls
If inside mysterious feelings
you feel stupid and contagious
it’s best to feel a little sick
and always will do oh do
until End / hello \ hell no |
Inside light sounds dangerous voices and touches vicious
:a baby a fetus –| we tend to forget what makes us smile inside
our horrored MINDS. Hell oh hell oh hello WAS a mysterious tasting of
stupid feelings worth the pain?
worse or worst is all a gift even though Life must be better
before it all Ends.
:: 12.17.2021 ::
PLEASE GIVE me my pardon
written by God’s own Holy Hand
don’t say no |i’ll leave right now
nothing wrong mental health
if you give me fantasy now
ALL upon shark clouds
beneath butterfly waves
goes destiny into oblivion
twice upon sunny days
as the sun burns the ground
empires steal stars from
lover’s steely eyes
Into the night goes my thoughts
a broken crib of ancient jewels
peeling paperwall of forgottens
it pains to learn____stepping stone
of beauty called Life.
:: 12.17.2021 ::
Hey boys go get yourself a soy drink & cut the bottom of your pants
so true so sad
betray the roots of all that’s nature & lay down the dog and drown.
As you were; keep yourself in the dirt and create castles of mud
cause you don’t know what it means you don’t know what it means.
We can have a chore; some say nature (like more)
is more — whose song sang drowning the right way?
Sometimes i scream so hard
i shoot myself through the throat
and take words and ghosts and make
baby-paste for women.
oh right. haha. so right.
So lonely i cry at night all the time.
Wee can ask for more fate is more
(nature as a whore) who is fruit
who is poison? aaaaaah! This is a
song about losers and losers gain
so much more. Especially when you have
no idea what is more. Righteousness is God
and Righteousness is horney wanting more.
:: 12.30.2020 ::
WHERE are my poets? I wish to play
a game known as, “Exquisite corpse.”
It also goes by, “Cadavre exquis.”
We should collectively gather
our words and images so lovely.
I cleaned my parlour for this game,
and have wine and foods for all!
Let our hearts and souls gather!
:: 08-30-2014 ::
Listen. Today i lost my voice — it left upward looking for my mind.
sometimes the strangeness of Life becomes reality and nothing more.
today i found myself within a garden of snakes and meat-devouring
plants. If not for the purple skies it would have been a wasted
experience. Meeting God was an experience before i found myself
inside a fetus that became my physical body.
the doves sang a brilliant but sometimes somber song;
peace of a piece so small it became nothing before i could
touch it’s sharp and exquisite edge.
Today i lost my mind.
and my voice flew downward looking for sanity.
:: 09.11.2020 ::
THE embryo’s skinny fists reach the skies
and hides a face yet born
in this summer of burning children you
call a name and the world is asleep.
the fitful swings the stuffed animals
the tired friends called warm winds
have long thoughts of buried snakes
and within the many undreamed thoughts
of a lost world the embryo’s skinny fists
tear the skies apart — the revelation
of new nails grown for 2 months that never
had a drink of the blood you spilled //
some hang their hand and drown within fear
yet, and, with unborn eyes very open, to pretend
a gently passed hand over a baby’s head —
THIN new hair that does not die, long nails
within a soft chest — licking the bloodless
wounds of survival.
The sound of the surgeon’s scalpel.
:: 06.20.2020 ::
INVISIBLE and broken
unknown to our own kind
indefensible and ruined
Our life is mystery
Our life is heartbreak
Our life is evil
Our life is worst off
No heartbeat between us
divided between day & night
gazing from the gutter
of a private dark heaven
is our life
Getting closer to god
Getting closer to life
Getting closer to meaning
it will never be
it can never be
those unlike you and me
We are the creatures
of the Night.
:: 09-29-2018 ::
WHAT fear that burns
that all the eye can see
the morning bird upon a tree
such burning truth that melody!
sweeping morning clear the night
erasing visage of thick-white fog
and the mortal soul
who is lost within last night
upon this beautiful day
of mourning light!
:: ~~ ::
Today I threw up breakfast and my platypus licked it
a regurgitation of heartfelt platitudes on the floor!
Today I kissed the toe of a gnarly God who likes
to burn ants with stolen lens
somewhere within my swamp-born brain
I have almost a clear thought; like the chimps behind the
clear-glassed walls that angels see through
and I’m ashamed — a diaper upon my head
a shit stain on my heart like all the horrors
on two legs begging more
:: – ::
Today it was the, “short-sharp” pains
of a 5th Avenue-dressed-like soul catcher
that teased my spirit to life. Tomorrow
I believe the Southern attire with bare teeth;
a Mississippi-mud soul variety who will greet
me. The crickets have clamped their thorax-
heart and swamp frogs bellied up in boiling
bayou of THAT ONE. There’s still Southern
:: 03-23-2015 ::