Friday, September 23, 2011


the Zephyranthes blow in the wind
remembering nothing
wanting to be more than they are
crowded between fifteen other species
where four out of five of their flowers
are devoured

imitating compositae, somewhere between liliaceae and hippeastrum
 invisible to the layman
I heard your secrets, so deep
Through the echoes  
they reverberated as the ripples in a pond
crossed over the threshold in time
don’t say,
don’t speak,
I can see you.

I can see you for what you are.

Through you, I see the future.            


I love to lie.
Plain and simple.

I don’t owe anyone anything.
facts of worthiness and deservation
When I go to one of your art shows to be humiliated


I spoke.
 With those
who quit.  
gave up the old life,
to pursue the essence of art.
Know that I have loved

belief that is out to where no one has ever been and nobody can relate

On the rooftops
I watch the police hunt
And paint from a sense of worthlessness
dreaming that I will be something more than this
lying to myself for another day      

Tuesday, September 20, 2011


The demise of such great kingdoms
Nobody ever truly wants to see
As the last log of the forest rolls out on a flatbed truck
Every last thing, remnant, and echo of what once was
Is obliterated, swept asunder in this contemporary dementia
The compulsive activities that were once adored
Become Little more than a tragic opera
That I’ve come to memorize
Word for word,
Line for line,
In the childishness of a rerunning cartoon where each syllable,
can be repeated emulating a faceless voice-actor
Because loving strays is as charitable.
Still obsessive in pursuit
that I often recall when thinking of how far I’ll be able to get
with one monetary unit, contemplating it’s significance
harboring the power to bring empires to their knees
one friendship at a time
one vanity manifested
one impossible dream pursued
friendships implode, love dies, dreams evaporate   
I wonder often
When the last tree falls, will we use it’s timber to build homes
Or make paper?
Or, will it be used as a battering-ram
to knock in the gates of our enemies?
will we all die alone with the illusion that there was someone there for us?
a simple lie that we deluded ourselves with
if only to find a fleeting comfort
in a world where nobody ever got what they wanted

Wednesday, September 7, 2011


cinders flitter
embers of a past life
that seep from the fractures
the bellows of your deep breath
i will always carry within myself

in transitional form,
sauntering between trees of subconcious
shadows of perspective slip
between the flames



echoes of pyres and soil
within all that is
our earth gives way
absolved in ignorant depths

ashes feed the emaciated
criminal occupation of vermillion
emergence, defined in ability
foreverness spoken as ultimacy
shedding sparks to let this place ablaze    

Saturday, September 3, 2011

fail and cave

Heavy handed in approach
I felt your artillery shell for shell
left barren and evacuated  and vacant
the bitter angles of discontention reigned at the spokes of some great chariot
careening out of control in the red lights, the balmy nights that slip-
in and out of this forgettable, self-obsessed, crush.

Tear this from sanctioned structure
gamble upon this with fidgeting questions
claw at yourself, like whispers of the love you will never know again-
concrete in it’s approach, yet never submitting, never surrendering
that would be too much. too much to bear
as a ricochet, reverberate, devastation.

poetic in nature, take consolation in the secondary effect
Submerge those feelings, recalling yourself as an afterthought
your voice called to them through time, retroactively
Because perception was less than what was expected
Though permeating in soft tissue where it hurt you most
You could never cry, that would be; emasculating 

Echoing prefectures though your mind
Spilling casings in dainty, violent little steps
Damages to the forgettable forgotten
hold nothing, you mean nothing to this place and slip away
Never knowing the pungent, greasy smoke
what cataract-laden visions came defended, desperately.

They told us of some place where we could retreat
Defending a flag of no color
children dominating the world with their fractured gray failure
Shattered in a way that nothing can reconcile
Blather me your words, spin me into the fabric of your story
Until the truth becomes a beautiful, mechanical, lie.