Categories
Blog Poetry

broken sun

a drop of blood in the stars
divides the blue against the broken sun,
the fiery light passes from hand to hand,
gnawing on our bones in a corner of heaven

Categories
Blog Poetry

ignorance

can be yourself
don’t bottle up the body,

keep it open.

when all self-identifications remain
get rid of

god.

no self-definition, i am
energy and bring nothing
reality here, can i

demand nothing when you
want nothing, seek nothing
expect nothing

unexpected!

a man engrossed
prescribed by his scriptures
will get wrapped up in them

so many saints
words may be true
independent of ripening time

stay open and quiet
you seek no place
know that

don’t burden yourself
names seeking ends
desire for truth, this is
your profit

seeking at

Categories
Blog Poetry

god be sitting on a fence

god be sitting on a fence

up the road i saw him peering
at the traffic passing by then he

wandered over to the tobacco shop
said something to the barelegged
boy leaning on the countertop

adjusted his spandex shorts and left

Categories
Blog Poetry

no glory

so i lay there
playing with splinters
in the late red afternoon

the angels of paradise
hidden in the mystery
of my days leaning
on warm wings sang to me

sticks lie broken
dead leaves gather dust
i am homesick here
in the ashes

all i wanted was
glory found only
strange sadness instead

Categories
Poetry

night’s leaves

on a pristine
october afternoon
i applied for a job
begging at the ports

all for the sake
of feeling my way
against the ghost
of your truth

my lies limed
and loaded flowed
easy riding the night’s
last flicker of hope

i was young
i tried to capture
you with rhymes
and exotic suggestions

touching myself
pretending to be
a poet of all things

you were a tourist
picking through
the constellations
looking for something
behind my falling words

you found nothing but
a boy from jazz highway
rustling night’s leaves

Categories
Poetry

rapture

on the radio
the buzzing world
whistling

blowers moan
the clack of
balls clicking

so well straining

a high thin monkey
woman begging for
rapture

Categories
Poetry

before the beginning

in the moment she answered
formless in-between states of grief
shadows dancing underneath her eyes
she did not recognise me

darkness
dull and desperate
before the beginning
began

i caught myself staring like a
chimp caught humping another
chimp, never would i be better

imitating the ways of the master not to
create but to destroy the beat of her heart

Categories
Poetry

the pulse of 3am hits me

I have to quit being anonymous inside the machine…artificial space in a dreamlike dimension…the pulse of 3am hits me inside the unconscious sea…a voyage below…subway empty…closing haunted spaces…this lack of a beginning divides me in the light under the flare of a system flooded by the black sun…time interval of an astronaut something stirs in the underground…52 eyes decomposing in the dark…these words cannot locate my lover’s nervous lips
Categories
Blog Poetry

plaything for the gods

i was in the desert once
lost in meditation
i was trying to get to
grips with being a
plaything for the gods

i met some souls sitting
around a fire in the open night
they were contemplating
Good and Evil
Lust and Sorrow

all of my incantations
and prayers ignored
by the old gods, i consigned
myself to the enigma of the
meek and their gospel of love

until i stumbled upon a
switch labeled universe
next to a button marked
“Boom”

in a moment of weakness
i pressed the button

Categories
Blog Poetry

Where is her glory?

outside, the rats
huddle against the
cold grey shade of sky

eyes trail behind her
shivering as she sings
softly like a morning bell

metallic breath blows
grim where is her glory?

Categories
Blog Poetry

her destructive rage

 

metaphorically speaking
a kooky dream bounces between
erotic romance turned
gripping taboo

restrained, repressive
struggling to contain her
destructive rage, she
falls unkempt in blood

slightly deranged
a killer on the loose

Categories
Blog Poetry

I’m not dreaming

This isn’t finished, but I thought I’d share it with you anyway as a sort of working out loud post.  Plus my brain is fried right now. I can barely string these few sentences together.

//

I’m not dreaming
my dark eyes see
a purple flower
next to a burnt
out tree

I smell the breath
of the Beast
hear his low growl
and snapping teeth

I remember
my youthful days
(i traveled lighter)
then

over sex drive
little insects buzzing
in my ear

The harpies were there
and the willow tree
and my mom’s friend too

purple rain fell

beneath my window
she talked about
the doves at night

Categories
Blog Poetry

Embrace the void

I was already in full nihilistic ready to self-destruct mode and then I read this passage from a strange little book by Val N. Tine called Nothing and Everything: How to stop fearing nihilism and embrace the void:

“Do you ever ask yourself, as you try and fail to fall asleep, whether your life has any meaning?  This book argues for nihilism, a label I happily adopt.  It denies that we can have knowledge of either value or the world, and that talk of objective morality or reality is meaningless.”

That got me so juiced up, I was grinning from ear to ear and ready to rip my shirt off and beat my bare chest for a while. There’s something about the world having no meaning that turns me on. So much so I wrote this prose poem:

Rabid City

words cannot save you from a mind made free
you stand there listening to the poet and the cover girl
you cannot remember where the dream stopped
where the dogs bite and the women lose their voices

hope is a funny feeling; you yield to the music until the end
drowning in a man’s flesh, you seize the town and the
condos on fifth street, the mad boys, and the mad girls
dance naked in the labyrinth of streets beneath the temple

where were you when the weird beast-like bearded mongrels
burst from the womb rubbing their Buddha bellies and
praying to the sleeping lamb, the flowering whore laughs
and blesses the night; your last words lost in the rabid city.

 

Categories
Poetry

in a view that looks the same

in a view that looks the same
nothing changes except time

the rain washed away the early
morning silence leaving in it’s passing

patches of white like tiny barren islands
are all that remain of the snow on my block

Categories
Poetry

On the fate of gods and men

Is it true
all men must
die?

How many
faces will you
meet before you
meet your maker
or your fate?

Faces of me
Faces of you
Faces of each
other as one

because

we are all together
and i am not the walrus
but i like to see them
run for

comfort
buses and trains,
run to get laid and
laid to rest

like the antelope
that couldn’t
outrun the fastest lion,
the CEO’s and COO’s
feast on their bones

Sleep now
you’ve earned it
like my father and
your father and their
father’s father

Dead of the fight
seeking solace in
the paradox of
nihilism when the

night is clear, they look
for a direct line to God
only to find he’s not there

God’s Comic has stepped
in to bartend until the
stars disappear and
through blurry eyes
and dried voices they

whisper together
Valar Morghulis
and sometimes gods too

Categories
Poetry

On Damaged

Isolated
by my own strangeness
I try to bridge the
unbridgeable
gap between

us

You with your
good looks and
blonde hair, ice-blue
eyes that

beguile
bewitch
behead

those with courage
to look longer than
a stare

I think of something
Prince would say:

“Now move your big
ass ‘round this way
so i can work on that zipper, baby”

I wouldn’t dare,
of course, I need
someone more
damaged than me

to un-play a game
I play with myself

Categories
Poetry

A Kiss Is

I’m sure if we closed
the distance between
us we’d kiss. And that
kiss would be the beginning.
And that kiss would be the end.
A kiss is never just a kiss.

Categories
Poetry

Stroke My Terror

You don’t want to go where this leads
I dropped my airpod on your breasts
You never give me your honey but
the coffee you serve is the best

I stroke my terror to find joy
Oh I’m going to burn in Hell alright
I promise I’ll burn well though ‘cause
mother said if you’re going to do it do it light

myself on fire, drop dead on the spot
i’m happy to be hurt by your mysterious
ways, the abyss is underneath the table
if you’re able to second guess my (intention)

I’ll play the role of darkness and you can
be the light that lights my perversity.

Soundtrack:

Categories
Poetry

To The Other Side

Let’s make a run for the spectators who hesitated at the moment of freedom, sacrificed all the books, all the paintings and the music. Burnt the old culture to the ground. It’s an impossible situation. The old gods formed a circle, held hands, sang Kumbaya until the lady with the insect eyes left the hollow vacant field. She wasn’t looking for this kind of exposure. She just wanted to escape the beast, get across the bridge to the other side.

Why did the chicken cross the road anyway?

We ‘dug our treasures there,’ but we can’t recall where we buried our pleasures. And even if we could, you wouldn’t believe us. You took a bite out of the apple and thought all life was rotten. The old gods settled down at dawn. You may never be happy again in our empty house of content. The DJ drops the mic.

Categories
Poetry

Archaic Values