Stark light dies gently into night

Web in the Pinhole Sky

All magic tricks traded in a smile


This mind slips for miles and miles

Down haunted highways and back again

Body shiver, blended realities

But you know I love you



Sting of the awakened dream

This kismet, a touch

Fires sparked in the breath of Heavens' fall to earth

Morning



These are things we try not to understand

In chemistry of flesh, this alchemy of you

Loneliness should never be held in honor

Wishes made on fake eye lashes



Intruding breeze graze naked shadows

Still returns, fears are often more comfort

Civility wanders, tied in doubt against the shore
  Ignited, spark against the dead dry wood called home



This cannon ball untouched

This gun unsheathed

This uncompromisable trigger

Unspoken promise sets in motion



There is but long life before us



Written across lines on occupied paper in desolate white

Theological games dissolve understanding

This, the translators spirit to scribble each design

Divinity defined in who suffers



Big moon standing still

Through the window against the cast black reflection she dances

Records slight skip, the slow song plays long

Tall candles burn past the fingers into wax, into hemp, into flesh

Blood moves through miles, drunk screams

Human incantations



Scribbled against the fallen tree

Sky blue stolen to cover naked feet

Still I get dazed when I hear rain



The Days spent to chase nights

Pleas of words blind thoughts

Ignore your insanity somewhere in the time between



Deception is a world unchanged

Mistaken conscious, well of unsure waters

And the philosopher holds his high regard

And no better is their answer



"Sewn across each thread found

Simple design

Flesh in pattern

Bound tight, this sorted nature"



And years will end till counted in regret

The ghost passes through in the scent of her refuge

Cherry wine to stained lips, still I ask for another sip



Red autumn devil steals attention from it's black ocean embrace

As thieves stand amongst us

And you, a music note still to be heard

My promise to listen

Taking tears away from each face

Spelling mysteries on the dark part of the wall

Still fears no evil, summers endure



Doors drawn on the home a rich man has stolen

Entitled to the worming trail below him

Stepping over his broken train track of forsaken tomorrows



Still I carve each effigy from soft stone and sacred wood

Spinning each grain of sand to glass

This my promised design

I pray only clarity when I seek them

My eyes and their shame



Deciphered numbers, the game of the holy

This pneumatic ideal of each cherished god

Carefully arranged in heaven's ashtray

Humanity often unhinged

Trust placed amongst the duality of every imagined poem

We are all prophets some days

Ignore the sound of being

Existence is to mundane a task for the common man

Some live fast, others die slowly and the key is to fall gently

Never let them see you cry

.. ..

Green light tints the back window

Your eyes aren’t afraid, they just noticed

Silent glances betray into a singular sin of vanity

.. ..

Words hidden from thoughts

Watching nature grow beyond a day on your TV which is VD for your contrived belief in a soul

An imitation of a still life stirs in blue glasses full of drunken sweet sorrow

.. ..

Washing the legs of life with regret

Still it is the memory of the sunshine innocents within you

Often exaggerated are dreams of home

.. ..

Life painted in 10,000 colors yet you get lost in 3 you love

Seven dancing girls smile; the shy boy bows and drops a dollar at her door

Flashing match strike gives promised direction

.. ..

One dog dies at the witch’s gate

Years are the promise that souls will share

Her head still doesn’t fit just right but you understand every single thing she does, she is sick like you

.. ..

Picasso once in love with that girl who lives by the shore

Her salacious habits outlined in fingerprints on the bathroom mirror

He thinks it is a beautiful thing, I think she still doesn’t hear him

.. ..

Sketching the day in pressed coal across crumpled paper

I would show you but it does keep changing with every tear

I keep the air moving by not noticing the patterns, they give the best direction

.. ..

Slowly pulling out the seam that binds you to that place

One more moment this breath denied a secret

Wishing has never been an effective medium, yet anger often affirms one’s belief in theology

.. ..

Go to hell, indeed

.. ..

Ostensible nudity still hides best under your cool bed sheets

Life gathers in the wrinkle of a day’s passing

Time won’t always hold its terms, and still lovers ignore its insistence

.. ..

Doors locked from the outside

Honesty is a human revelation

Drown it in honey and the medicine only taste half as sweet; lies always make a better comfort

.. ..

Surviving honesty is ethereal

.. ..

Well spent words, dressed across your body as sanity

Dangled the edge of every naughty never

Set in flight, first boundary broken

.. ..

Telling of whispered prayers and promises of safety in seas too large to control

Mistakes are often intervention

Mending in the thread of torn trust and over spoken excuses

.. ..

Lines and patterns confused into art

The wilderness of our empty bed

Lost in the search for a scent to remember at the point of morning when wishes sound like prayer

.. ..

Printed across the empty pack of cigarettes

And the green dampened yellow

Fall’s requiem is silence

.. ..

Human pride taste like insecurity       

Instability is seen as a character flaw

And still fine art is measured in the abstract

.. ..

Life imitating Living

Bees wax melts in the blue hands of enlightenment

Smothering the blue souls clarity

Rich rhythm sliding down the naked chest

.. ..

Distraction, card tricks hidden up sleeves tangled in sticky fingers

Adorned with three pipe smoking Kings holding the front door open

One holds truth, one holds trust, one hold lies

.. ..

Rich scent mixed with silver dripped from dawn’s fires escaping across night’s sky

Still spelled in fallen tree branches across the sidewalk of non-consequence

Hidden in wicked steel shadows behind locked window

.. ..

Some questions go best unwritten on the walls

Stand naked in front of dim lit windows so the neighbors might see in

Stand naked under the chandelier, crystal light patchwork across your back

Cold polished lead across your flesh, sweet against your tongue

Spying on the hidden smiles of perceived privacy

There is certain distraction in freedom

.. ..

Perception is wayward and stolen

Clicking clockwork of mechanical friction

Stand over the bent shadow of pleasure

Stand dark in blinding submission

Settled in the whispered calm after the storm

Lips once hazy with morning’s touch

.. ..

Secrets are delicious across parched lips

A word across the mind just awakened

Born in a lullaby of traffic

Symphony of artificial friction, artificial rock

City sounds, surreal music

.. ..

Under a sky stitched with white clouds

Grass in day glow green

Between each toe joined by a ring, this binding

.. ..

Kiss each closed eye shut

Each storm passes with indifference

Each day will end definitively

.. ..

Detail denied in a failure to illuminate

Drawn in black lines, opacity

Life under 12,000 night’s sky

.. ..

Sound of water crashing from the awning, a meditation

Slicing small reservoirs down dirty city buildings

Air, Water, Dirt eternally struggle, fighting for validity and space

.. ..

Ghost smile in reflections

Thoughts returned

Once again, every day

.. ..

Follow lines on sidewalks and floors

Deny distraction, white noise of people surrounds

Peace is often somewhere between a city and a mind

.. ..

Decoding the palm’s scripture

Dragged through shattered glass

Scars encode meaning

.. ..

Pressing cryptic notes down the hall

Deterred through currents

Waves shaking across a sleeping chest

.. ..

Translations best in dreaming

Reality is never as interesting as life

And still you can’t remember your Mother’s birthday

Can they capitalize on chaos this time?
Where is my “Remember the Great Depression of 2009” sweatshirt
They say I get a head of cabbage when I buy two of them

I know I don’t need another, but having one more is the American thing to do

Tips of trusted boots often get stuck in the shoulder blades
The game fails when you arrange your chips too neatly
Trust is only skin deep in the world of empowered decision making, who’s making your decisions

Kings gambit accepted

SOMETHING STINKS IN NEW YORK!
It’s the bailed out CEO shitting out the $500 meal that his bonus bought him
It’s the family who got their water cut off in the South Bronx because they had to choose between water or shelter

All men are created equal, indeed

Tip your hat to the sound of the last time the television reminded you it was summer
Did you catch chill when you went outside?
Yet you still define your life in cost of living increases

Life is the price of your cost of living raise, ain’t that a bitch?

Are you more than your 9-7 week day half day Saturday work week?
And God rested Sunday, but he needs to catch up and do at least a half day that next week or he might have had to spend time with his son and all his little friends
Do they lay people off in heaven?

5pm means nothing anymore

Hidden in the promise of the 401K that won’t even buy you a carton of cheap cigarettes
Rest in peace
Bail out your Henry David Walker Paulson George Herbert Sacred Burned Up Bush

And why did Uncle Jethro let someone else watch his flock

Hidden in the fist of the angry child named your first born American son
His welfare is brought to you by the state; he doesn’t call it Communism
His free text books never taught him that

Arrested Development Defined

Label charity as socialism
Better to keep him out of your backyard
Will your politics and ethics define you when he uses that fist to knock at your backdoor?

You better go find Jesus or ask the devout Muslim about Mohammad or the Hindi for directions to the Blue man
Raise you arms in prayer
Raise your drink in toast

Everybody’s got to serve somebody they say

Revolutionary usually, they have nothing to gain
And we woke up with nothing to gain
Don’t doubt your lasting impression; every generation is defined by its greatest failure

I would sleep this one off but Nancy Reagan ruined our promise of a drug induced coma

That demon swimming inside my head won’t hear you
It is not my conscious, but it is so condescending all I can do is laugh most days
I hope they post my picture on a billboard along the highway someday and you can send me money to be your state Janitor or Senator or someone else in the shit business

Not to offend an honest janitor with the comparison

Save your dollars for the dance
Steal the change from the street sweeper’s scum
Pitch each penny in the river till it can hold no more

We know that is a sin when we should all focus on the e-con-o-me me me


When your savior returns as the Lion grown from a Lamb to redeem you against his great Satan he will carry nothing more than a broom and a golf putter
Great men know their place
Great women know how to keep them there

Immaculate Conception could be the next big thing

Whispering at the green light at Poydras and Charters…”I have never seen your face under a green light
I am always looking forward when we are driving
I like it in the green, but I prefer it under the red”

It is such a long road home


Can I hear the next riddle you will tell me?
The others are getting old
Maybe I will just write my own
Maybe I will yell “Wake up, Kill the Gods and let us Re-Make our Own”
I pick Bob first, he at least sounds like a credible witness

Some people are better at keeping secret than promises
Poets never have angles, just well defined dark corners where they hide
They are not here to deliver you anything
And if standing at the troth of open thought you hesitate…


A poet will only shove so much water down your throat before you finally die

Swallow it all to spit it out a sin once again

Saturday starts with glaring light, awakened is the excited child’s soul to dark evening glow and the wicked temptation that defines the human adult

Sunday speaks of cello songs in the high divide of blue Heaven and dead Earth. God's voice forces a breeze somewhere between those borders

On Monday we redefine success in the Golden Calf idol of man-made theology, denied by lunch for another intentional transgression...The wicked smile one by one

And Tuesday was the best day for the green bees to make honey because they had no hope for much more than that. Tuesday, always forgotten by Saturday 

The Kings and Queens get lost in their choices and Wednesday brings hope of days less served or decided

Thursday and the poet wish themselves the muse for once. Your Hanging Christ is my Buddha...7 pieces of love

And of Friday’s long road home through the brier patch stung with each step, yet upon arrival it still feels nothing like you remember. And on that path all the homes are built of matchsticks and wood glue, better kept in their box than misused

In memories Saturday is sky blue, but today it is white and the bite reminds me of Rilke. There are puzzles in the details of a pearl, each one leads you back home. 

Haunted by words that bang their chains like some storied ghost at the foot of the bed…against the old wooden floor; still the silent walls keep my mind at peace...stealing sleep, the page you write is torn 

And Sunday is a day to serve, yet the caveman and his captives still only consume in the eyes of well scripted Gods. In it all the woman maintains her innocents

Monday begins a new struggle for the self important man yet the wild animal knows it as just another day in the sun. Sometimes civilization made no sense to the kill of crows that forever watched it

On Tuesday they all hear Dylan’s Jokerman song. They achieve simultaneous self meaning, drawn through a single line as every man was once thought unique

Pains of thirst turned the tears to scorn, turn calm waters to chaos and in Wednesdays wicked confusion, still the rain of Tuesday never fell home

Thursday was like bitter chocolate with sweet chartreuse mint, eaten till smeared on finger, Alice still felt tall as the trees

And on Friday the tortures are spent and they pray alone in the cool night of forgotten response and still the wine kills the
newly named disciples slowly

Saturday’s reminder of high grown cotton fields squared in perfect measure. Still he could only see Wyeth’s America when he looked at the empty frame, his mind 

Feet buried knee high in the Earth, the struggle reminds the dead men of their place and yet Sunday allows them to dig out one spoon full at a time

And sad as the thought, some Monday's had more hope than others. A shooting star from her smile often got caught in my memories eye; still I hear the ocean near in every whispered promise   

High in the Sycamore Tree he claimed his own, the Cheshire Cat put on new glasses today and realized he was not invisible you were. Tuesday’s toil was hidden from him only by the buzz of the captive green bees he stole for their song

Dressed in winter’s mottled sunlight, streets seem so depressed yet their whispers were heard for miles. Wednesday kept the world so hidden. Each better at keeping secrets than at keeping promises

Unstitching the seams of reality the blue boy God & his bicycle seat hat watched the 10pm news at noon. Thursdays never called for a sponsor, only a lemon tree divine

Friday fell from the sky faster than the setting sun but the crash only destroyed two of them. The astrology involved often let the rest of the world step without care

Arrange them on the wall by size

When you are finished hide under the dirty clothes in silence

Rub your feet at the door, the rug outside may cleanse of stolen affection

The doorbell doesn’t work if you don’t push it hard enough

Asleep in trepid field of blue

Fingers break the thin surface

Bent, turned; wishing back to the dream you last woke

This wishing well’s embrace

Joined by your lonely whispers

Get lost in the destruction; rip free

Stay here, never let go

Breathing close, small vibrations on my flesh

This silhouette across your shoulders

Fingers laced in fire tamed with a tug of hair

Septic kiss, half moon of a drunken smile

Mercury staining the tiny hairs of your back with moon light

Running down your back, permanent night

Secrets hidden in a doll house

The papers all smell like mold

Read the news from the floor of the birdcage 

Hide the scars given in your escape

Drained in confession to knees, once half prayer

Drinking dread of this moments end

Eyes cut dead through the haze 

Hands dance up flesh, hands still restrain

Teeth mark their kiss so hard I push you back

Standing over naked; raw, rough

Eyes open, the light that blinds from your weakness 

Traced in heat across the cold white fabric 

The flesh which binds you

Raised against human design, a sting you often taste

Drifting across the pain as the spirit almost escapes

Ripped back to your prison by the chains that hold 

Called away by air filling the whine of lungs trapped by the hand

To touched your throat, lips swirl in thankful reprieve

That is my morning when I sleep

Please find the way back home

Designed Ancient Babylonian math

Each tone transforms high to low

Sacrifice resumed, a denied Ishtar

Though the journey through seven gates provides clarity

Scratched into the clay of Human Flesh

Scratched deep with the quill of Human Defiance

Confuse the wind's voice with silence

Remain calm to hold this living tribunal

Heart

Mind

Spirit

Ill defined elements, taught religious prejudice

Watch them unfold from behind the dimly lit window

Winter still haunting midnight

This body, shelter's blessed cove

Carved from the secret emotional avalanche

A coven of this manifest essence

Secrets the tenth truth will hold in belief

Sweat paints flesh silver

Illusions of refracted light

Allowed decay

Still die here every day for those seconds

Hold tight each breath

Twisted, no broken bones

Tears, no real pain

Tension, shaping visions into form

Transcendent, a spirit consumed

Explained chemical fusion

Bound in flesh, hearts resign

Destroyed in curious discovery

God's voice once denied

Blame of human weakness in a child's creation

Despise original sin

Deciphered in clues of pleasure

Burdened with guilt

Clarity in 22 keys, shadowed against 15 lines of darkness

An ear still to the floor

An ear to the door

Warned of restitution

Step light not to alert

Greet those, your granted red lips

Greet this, angelic naked form

Greet once more destructions perfect life

Scattered letters thrown against Heaven's door

Running black lines against white light

Ink laced tears melt to the floor in shiny puddles

Four rivers flow through filth

Against sacred shores dismissal I stand

Reclaim our stolen paradise

Embrace the sandcastle of enlightenment

Absolved, our mortal sumatra

Until the day man breathes through her kiss once more

And I was born to the light of the breaking morning

And I was born to red velvet and liquid sins intoxicated pleasures

And I was born to the chord of D

In the awkward sunrise that flooded the night's sky with the waters it purged from its waving ocean shores

I was born Blue, naked, burning in the sun

Awakened once more to all the things that you call your real life

It is all just an illusion if you know how to watch the cards

A cheap magic trick played out by sly magicians and dirty car salesmen

This solar flare is my baptism, thank you for coming

I mouthed her name under the storm of sound

The eternal her

That eternal woman that we all seek

On the eyes of the boy's every unseen smile

On the lips of the boy's every unreturned kiss

On the heart of the boy's every unfound love

On the finger of the boy's every unfelt touch 

On the soul of the boy's every undiscovered forever

These are the things that you first know in your birth

These are the things you pray you have peace with at death

These are the unfit puzzles pieces that resurrect you from the last life

Perfection in the sounds of the enlightened man

The intense crack of each feathered wing against the thick nothing of air as the bird passes above you

Do they know that every animal envies their power?

The grinding scratch from the belly of the caterpillar's last climb to his last exit before ascension

Can you imagine the excitement in the final steps to your fulfilled destiny?

The perfect cadence of the ants marching across your freshly mopped kitchen floor

They are truly enlightened; they serve the servant…will you ever?

Will you ever?

Stricken in man's true inadequacy, you are mere mortal

The brilliance and perfection of a being allows him no purpose

Manufacture your meaning, choke on your suit and tie

Enslave yourself to your caffeine laced cigarette butts and your expensive Italian suits you purchased with your bloated credit accounts that indenture your best years to your tribal lords  

You have created your own false Nirvana, it's judged in your credit score

It's judged in your net value and your mortgage interest rate

It's judged in how beautifully you build your perfect façade and fool your miserable neighbors that think you are the perfect husband with the perfect wife and the incredible kids with the great smiles in the expensive house that we all want to fucking be, that we all want to fucking be like, that we all want to fuck, that we all fuck, we are fucked

WE ARE FUCKED

I want a year of green lights

I want to laugh at your hesitation

Stuck at your flashing yellow caution

Stuck in your four-way stop hoping some greater sense of human order overwhelms the moronic self importance that the human animals feel some fabled GODS blessed them with will set in and make them allow you your turn

Stuck!

Stuck while I run through in pursuit of my purpose

No longer envying the flight of the bird…that equals freedom

Freedom was granted the day you were born

No longer envying the pious path of predestined beauty granted to the slow and steady caterpillar

You were granted beauty the day you were born

No longer envying the clear purpose of disciplined ant

You were granted discipline the day you were born

You don't want to die wondering

You don't want to be one of the million prayers said in eerie regret to whoever you believed your maker every second of your every last breath

You want to be the omega man

You want to be the one who shuts off the light the day it has to be over…eventually you know it has to be over

I am not talking about the perfection of a Buddha or a Christ

Be mindful of that perfection because it might just kill you

It is good to walk on water in your own divinity

But be mindful that the sharks beneath your feet hold no regard of your importance

Be the man born 20 times within a given life without having died once

Trap the fireflies of your youth and light the way to your death

And when you face it grab its shovel and dig your own hole for your resting

Owe your last debt to yourself not the gravedigger or oarsman

Spend that debt away on yourself in the next birth, spend it on living

It's will be your last passage, it will be the cost of your soul