“he exits death…”

he exits death as they punch in electric sequel codes-ready to distribute more of last year’s garbage in our minds-unable to cope with clinging stench of filthy sex-I found the meaning of life when I peeled apart two pages stuck together by semen-there isn’t a word invented for the feeling I had when I betrayed her-enough with my suffering let’s talk about yours-blood caked legs walking into the rain-man’s face-fire’s corrupting touch-let’s all leak out of our bodies or even better leap from this physical architecture right now why not-I know you know I should’ve know you’d want to do things slowly-you’re suck a killjoy-meaningless dull android repetition-earning no credentials with alien reputation-I hit Gabriel with an eighteen wheel truck-if he could die so easily I wonder why he was an archangel-give me a light there you see the joke is on you-I was drenched in gasoline not water-ha ha ha the joke’s on you-I’m dying and you helped make it happen-no don’t extinguish me-orgasm so powerful a transformation occurs-within deeper thoughts there is now the seed of macho man madness-

“Brief Poem”

living on the edge of this shot glass

living on the memories of a broken past

the lines cut through

sever control of the present from my hand

blinding flash turns me to ash

I can’t complain if this feeling won’t sustain

if it dissolves I know I brought it on myself

it’s what you get when you let feelings come down off the shelf

forget so easily to not show it

one second of satisfaction, one lifetime of regret

let no concern over this manifest yet

did I do well or was I always a bundle of mistakes?

“Killing Methods”

An image of lust:

My heart splits open in the sky.

Lands bleed across our eyes.

(the blade!)

Night ejaculates on to the sky.

I will down at you as you die.

You fall into the oven

and BURN!

(the fire!)

Visions of fear fill my head.

You seem so distant from me,

so broken yet whole.

Implosion, explosion!

You are dead.

(the pistol!)

I sit in a chair

surrounded by the naked dead.

They are my children and they love me.

Their bodies turn to liquid.

My heart closes up for good.

(the pressure!)

“The Boy at the Corner”

She took a step outside

as the sun lost its place in the sky.

She checked the flowers and the gardens

to make sure they were all still there.

Then she started to walk,

passing the monsters hidden in the walls that were

closing in fast on the plane of her mind.

She passed a man who was killing his wife

and they shared a smile,

then waved hello.

She went by the old judge in front of the liquor store

who was as blind as Lady Justice herself,

and up ahead she saw it was only a block away now.

Day became night at the exact spot

where she saw the boy at the corner.

She felt her heart bursting like bubbles.

Her face felt like nothing more than three holes.

She felt his muscles, strong and bulging under his skin.

She kissed him all over

and groveled at his feet.

And he said, “Be on your way, woman,

for we have never met until this moment.”

So she stood up and moved on,

watching his memory fade

over the edge of the horizon.

And he still waits there

for another woman to come along

that he can summarily dismiss

once she falls in love with him.

And so he waits,

the boy at the corner.

“Solemn Eye”

There is a door

and a window

that I can’t open at the

same exact time.

They implode with the force of

a cloud of flies.

Darkness fills the room

as nature swarms in.

I should have been Wading through the

mesmerized by them, waters of the deep

instead of looking at reflections of and always

my solemn eye. solemn eye.

A man is just a boy

in wolf’s clothing.

He stalks his prey

like he’s engaging in a religious ritual.

His nature is so common

and so commonly misunderstood,

in a world where no one knows wrong from left

and right from good.

I should have been Oh please don’t take

mesmerized by him, away from me

but I was focused on my one and only

my solemn eye. solemn eye.

And now it’s time for another tale

on another trail.

I’m surrounded by the sound

of majestic planet dreams.

All my thoughts seem to soar.

I toss and turn with sheets of rain

draped over me.

I swim in sweat, trying to

escape this ringing nightmare.

In the end Please, I beg you

I have learned bring it back,

when you leave, you lose my one and only

your solemn eye. solemn eye.

“I Met a Girl”

I sit in a chair.

A knife makes love

to my throat.

I hate you.

Get the fuck away from me.

You deserve what you spread,

the disease that you give.

Wounds fester in my eyes.

They shrivel up and spit out

their insides.

Come closer.

No, a little more.

You drive me insane.

The ax in my heart

was replaced by your face.

I said get the fuck away from me!

Ugly

(bitch!)

I will stab you.

You should bleed, you damn bitch.

You should just fucking bleed

to death,

death,

death.

I hate your guts,

freshly ripped from your broken body.

They taste like poison.

In my mouth they squirm like snakes

because that is what they’ve become.

(what they’ve become)

I hate you!

My knife loves your throat to climax!

You are dead.

Dead!

DEAD!

“Gods Are Devils”

Softening a glow,

plowing in a field of mines,

I saw the last circle of hell

stretching my bruised face

across a misunderstanding.

Falling over my memory,

it thrashed me sensible.

Came upon a lonely morning

darkened by my force,

stunted by the growing weed

planted by myself,

trapping my own bravery

and causing my thorax

to become my mouth.

It’s hard to leave a world

where gods are devils

and anything is pain

in the absence of pleasure.

Aching, my face pulls away

from the blistered skull,

so swollen with brains.

The messy remains leak out of my eyes,

pouring down my nose,

but that is of no concern.

It’s only when my feet

get stuck in your quicksand

that the trouble begins

and funland dissolves.

Dropping into the foreground,

moving forward into the background,

you were the only heart not there

to lend me any support.

Changing ways,

being magnified,

there will be days

when gods are devils,

and devils are gods,

and no one can tell the difference.

“Filmmaker”

The camera fills with the image

of a woman being deflowered, but

her loveliness is maintained

within her lengthy cries.

Image skips to a faded man

as flowers crumble in his hand,

clasped by his wicked fingers.

Dissolve to a naked sun.

The transition hurts like hell but

I’m still growing at an even pace.

However, I haven’t learned to run and

I can’t follow what you say,

yet I know it is important.

I shiver as the spine curls inside me with a

fear I cannot read or reach or dismiss.

My army has turned toward the city

and they slice at anything in sight…

men, women, children, buildings, cars…

using swords I made for them.

We see a group of trees in the foreground

while a couple makes love upside-down.

Nothing is visible other than the emotions

they are exchanging via bodily fluids.

I am directing the scene but it’s not going anywhere.

None of the actors understand that this film

must be made on schedule!

Otherwise the project is doomed

before it even exits the womb!

And I say, “Hey, don’t mind me. I’m fine.

I’ll just sit and pray

that maybe someday this will all start to make sense

so we can finally get paid.”

I threw the celluloid in the trash.

Never knew how hard it was to get the actors

to say what I feel.

Now my typewriter sits before me

as it did when a screenplay

floated in my mind.

I connect myself to the typewriter with two

wires, plugged into my brain and heart,

and I tap the blank plateaus

of the gray keys.

Finally I can say what I really mean.

The light and water drop gently

on my deprived mind.

What was once so hard to enter

is now easily penetrated, and my words

spill out of the exit wound.

“My Dry Ocean”

Soft-spoken and

so dreary.

These oceans are

dead and weary.

I am speaking words.

Upon the waves, my

lips are leaking birds.

Feeling like

a droplet deep inside

my dry ocean.

Calmly

I will cut myself,

shedding blood

across my dreams.

Look here!

Now I am moving,

and mother

sits there sewing.

Your image

is descending

into my dry ocean.

Feel me.

I am emptying out,

moving through you,

softly creeping

to my dry ocean.

“Uncalled”

All his life darkness was a friend,

respected and understood.

Both caught a glimpse of the real world

then split each other apart.

Years later they came back together

with all messages healed.

They sat back with money and boisterous laughs

even though their mouths wouldn’t open.

Their lips had been sewn together.

And all night long, their distress calls went unanswered.

Scissors went uncalled.

Blood dried on kitchen walls.

And the sad truth of it was

that none of them cared,

not one at all…

not one at all.

Ceilings crumble, skies collapse.

Nuns and priests will be appalled.

All the good ones trapped

in puppet limb strings,

caught in the thoughts

of someone else’s mind,

ready to die when war arrives

and power of will dissolves.

Funny thing is, I just realized

that you are the one

and I am the other.

You are me and I am another.

And all night long

our rescue is performed.

Scissors went uncalled.

Bandages went uncalled.

And the sad thing is

none of us care.

No, no one at all.

“The Fake Hate Tragedy”

while reaching for sexually stimulating acid-flesh cubes I spotted a sky blotted out by clouds-the horizon was a mystery of tangled skin-aching legs and a chainsaw smile-open up the metal gates-try to make the word “love” reverberate-your face is punched wide open by blood-drooling skin holes-images closed down like a department store-screams of hunger and voodoo pain-flesh cube dipped in liquid metal-marked and turned into a pacifist-then gone stoned in a sweet memory-less abyss-no train to paradise-it all must end here-forgotten tales of the drug lord’s ring-somewhere deep in this town comes the cry of brittle flesh breaking snapping tearing-dead echoes in a grindhouse forest-light near Asian countries-tired limbs crumble-leakage in fourth quadrant hole as sounds like derelict noises pour from tape recorder organs grinding like cogs and gears-unrelenting pain of fake hate and wronged flesh-hate that exists for no reason-created out of fake feelings-will often turn on its creator-make him hate and eventually kill himself-I studied this fake hate effect while I was living in Atlanta for six years-believe me I know the pain-this hate steals the forgiving power from others-friendships destroyed melted off for good-what other tragedies are in your neighborhood?-touch me-at least I’m truly real-not a replica-the other position would be better-I leave pain hate tears and wasted trust in my wake- a life I could have sworn wasn’t so bad now has turned my views around so that they will one day drive me mad---

“Love from Hate (from Love)”

tearing sounds beneath the metal flesh-wasted breath on winter windows is the saddest thing-the entity that serves all skin melts into twisting barbed wire masses and we are naked-times of the crab universe measure out the rays of invisible perverse light-coming from all this are the grindhouse claustrophobic microchip inventions crossbred with the gods of Swedish chefs-I am brutally honest with a woman about sexual sweat spasms and then God punishes me for it-He makes me trace the angle the derelict spaceship’s path follows as it leaves its anti-heaven world-political corruption is the virus that you and I devour-flesh tears beneath their battlements-they are such primitive designs-their destroyers unleash a horde of electronic laughter-all my worried thoughts about mental deterioration will be useful someday-then they will collapse as well-the power I wield turns into a drill that penetrated unchecked skin-help me mother I am dying of wounds inflicted by Christ’s nails-they melt into my hand and become solid again-they have transformed into rivets-at least the pain is worthwhile-we open the door to God’s cell and the sun witnesses nuclear fallout when November comes-you waved your hand over the flowerbed and each life turned iron-gray so we listened to the sound of their metal limbs and joints creaking in the wind-they were bent and twisted by this unoiled air-grimy skies dangled behind them-take my metallic hate-take my red-hot flame of pain-and please slip out of the broken God image you so desperately cling to-I know your true nature for we are of a relative age and a common denominator-we need each other like hydrogen and oxygen must come together to form the air we breathe along with the trees-can’t you see what I mean?-although I hate you-I need you-I need you-I need you---

“5^th Wheel”

I am a worthless little fucker.

I am a scalding mirror.

My sun is bleeding

and so am I.

My sun is ugly

and so am I.

You try to ask if these visions are real.

Well, I’m not going to answer your worthless tongue.

You waste,

you scum,

you excrement!

Here I am, a young man who is

FAR TOO FUCKING SWEET, HONEST, AND GENTLE!

“What is you big crime?” my cellmates ask.

I WAS TOO WONDERFUL!

Here…here, take this gift

while they unearth my monument.

A broken toy,

a bored nothingness.

I was born that day

when phallic symbols fell,

tumbling from the domino sky

(celestial dominoes)

like bleeding orchids.

They affected me more deeply

than I originally thought.

You know, sometimes I wish I were

a buff and brainless bastard.

Then again,

would I be any more appealing?

Would it really be worth it?

FUCK NO!

Do I say that too much?

Do you want to criticize me because I swear?

I don’t care.

Your life’s colors are looking sick today.

If they touch me now

they will stain me forever

and ever

and ever.

I guess

it’s time

to dissolve.

Another Bible must be written because

this one is outdated.

I need one that has some action because

my adrenalin is flowing way too slow.

I want these tears to be acidic

so they can touch your soul.

shut up shut UP SHUT UP

I want you so much.

Shut the hell up.

I want you in my bed.

Shut the fuck up.

Life always bleeds.

This place is dragging me down.

Such chains are unbreakable.

I wish my limbs could crumble,

my bones could snap

1,000 times over.

I will feel no more pain

or sadness.

You think you know depression?

Well, well, well,

you should try letting my blood

flow through your veins.

Now I have lost my path.

My feet are disappearing.

My body becomes a gray mist.

Then it is scattered

like seeds.

flying

landing

hitting the fertile earth

what kind of beasts will be brought forth?

No one can read the soil.

Guess we’ll just have to wait

and see

and hear

and feel

and smell

and taste

all these beautiful worlds

that the future will make.

Spiraling rainbows will inhabit our eyes.

She will pull this string

to make a world come undone.

It will be my world.

I gave her a present

because she was once

an angel.

Then life made her tumble.

(help me out here.

I’m making no sense.)

If I had a paintbrush

my world would be black.

Depressing is deep.

Deep is depressing.

Therefore

I must be

DEPRESSED?

Now when do the stars come out?

Their light will illuminate your face.

Maybe it will be celestial whiteout.

Oh, hopefully so!

You could be pure once again!

My eyes could see

you as

pure.

“I love you,” she once said,

but her words crumbled even while

she was building the stone archway.

Yes, her castle has fallen.

And who cares?

All my cathedrals are empty.

And who cares?

These sacred buildings now serve as apartment complexes.

We traveled the valley’s edge.

I met so many lovely black women,

and they all had the name Rita Mae Jesus.

They couldn’t bring themselves to love me,

but then again no woman can.

Once again I have proven undesirable.

So I will deny all women my flesh.

Men cannot possess it either

I will just keep it to myself.

I make no one smile,

no one laugh,

no one happy.

I am far from special.

Sometimes I examine the men

to which women always give themselves.

I am aching inside.

I am lonely.

Now would you please GET OUT

and close the door behind you

because I don’t want you here.

Not now, not ever.

Keep your shafts of black light outside,

where they cannot harm me.

No, I was lying.

I was wrong.

Don’t listen to me anymore!

My words are precious crystals.
you do not deserve to possess them.

Once this realm had ancient splendor.

Now it has been removed.

I cannot wait to see it.

See how much I don’t know it.

Different pictures invade my eyes.

As I look around I notice

water rising,

wind scattering the fallen leaves,

no one being friendly,

words not escaping my lips.

Hello, hello.

Just say hello.

“Write to Survive!”

Write to survive! Remember those

days? Ancient but not forgotten, the pure

innocent joy of a closed bedroom door

& poetry running rampant-the

madness the joy the seclusion

the I the me the you the us

the we all flowing in a circle

unseen by the common eye

focused on objects too small

to consider & I have lost the

simple days to beer & women

buttfucking in an alley so

stained with urine it’s a wonder

anyone can even get a hard-on here

love me love me magic in my hair

my rose garden blooming into

syphilis my love magical

explosions of godless light-I am

crawling back to teenage years &

broken peers who fuck me dry

& never connect or understand

the effect they have on me

“Too Short to Be a Short Story, But It Doesn’t Resemble a Poem”

I don’t want to bring your world crashing down. Don’t want to feel the guilt or the pain or the relief once the dust has settled. No, there is no way I want to accidentally enjoy myself as I wander through this world like a ghost.

Empty head and emotionless pit.

Grit my teeth. Show an artificial grin. Find some technique I can use to fool people. Deceive them so they will think I am happy. But then again I wonder why they even bother worrying when they suspect I might be sad. They don’t really give a damn about how I feel. The only reason they care is because they want to rescue me so they can feel better, so they can feel a sense of grandeur, so they can say, “Hey, I am the savior and you are the one who needed to be saved.”

“Lovely Little Number”

The price you pay is coming to this fountain and drinking acid once every century. Under the weight of this dawn that has stretched too far, too thin, too fast, I am fading like an adjective that eludes the searching tongue, reaching out so desperately to expose a memory with words shining like spotlights, trained on the mental pictures. In the season of your dreams my eyes crumble under your stare. Aging me like wine so you can drink me down and piss me away. Dreams are growing in my veins. I can feel my intestines rotting away. My blood turns into locusts. They are scurrying through me now, tickling me…torturing me…and there is nothing I can do to stop them, nothing I can say to convince them I don’t deserve this.

“I…I wrote a story…”

I wrote a story. I. I wrote several kills crossing the US under my feet. I. I wrote the devil clowning his way to oblivion. I and you. I and you showed the world how to invade the sun as if crashing a party. I wrote several pretty poems to send to you. I did. I most certainly did. When you were I and I were you and everyone else had an identity crisis to spare.

“On Remembering So Jung Using Me Like a Pillow”

I like it when I get like this, when my memories are all good ones…when I remember times in my life when I felt such a tremendous, comforting warmth inside me that it made my flesh tingle. What caused this feeling? Who knows? Personally, when I imagine the source, I think of a tiny flame burning somewhere deep inside me. This flame burns away all the memories I no longer need, all the tragic events that transpired. Instead of agitating me, this fire leaves me feeling rather peaceful. It burns just enough to keep happiness flowing through me. Beyond that it has no purpose. For once, the flame doesn’t have an antagonistic nature.

“I wish there was a day…”

I wish there was a day when I could take you down to the vision field. It is a fantasy that runs in circles in my brain. This path is scratched into my mind forever. There is no greater longing than this.

I would take you down softly. The sunlight would burst open and the stars would disappear. Your echoes would no longer tremble. It is there where the spaceships grow that I would lay you down. An apple tree hovers over us. Cool shade covers our bodies. My hands probe your face. So beautiful. Smiling and happy. Bronze eyes reaching up to the sky. Pearl-white teeth lined up to form the most perfect smile I have ever seen. Ruby lips so sweetly open. Ready and waiting.

I fasten my mouth to yours and taste the sweetness that is lying there in wait for me. Whenever sunlight blossoms to reveal oceans I will remember this sensation upon my lips. Now we are swirling, changing course, my hands exploring your body and running through your hair. It flows like honey and its beauty will forever cling to me. Your eyes are the windows through which I see the daylight. They refract and twist these visions, separating them into different colors. You create a rainbow, turning and turning it around like a kaleidoscope prison.

All these daydreams are mine to behold, and all I have to do to possess them is look into your eyes.

“Epilog Prose”

two cars heading toward one another where the streets are neat and the pavement covers the sky with jewels two cars must share this fate crash heat skin tearing gasoline flowing as the tension starts to build a figure moves through the flames now the movement stops nothing can be heard only crackling as flames devour the corpses a moment passes pedestrians scatter all these events continuously flicker in my mind because I possess loop control I never want this scene to end I wish during each viewing that I had been driving one car or the other maybe now my limbs would be burned away to black stumps and I would know peace as the story goes I was just an observer I could smell the burning hair and flesh saw the flowing gasoline and blood wanted to be there so badly because I hate this life only the weak commit suicide why can’t fate’s hands grab hold and tear my life away pluck my mind from this shell it is so fragile and pitiful car crash car crash echoing the past my dream to awaken so I can feel the flames as they devour me just to die that would be sweet sweeter than the flame’s kiss to never wake up again because I am already dead ich bin tot ich bin tot er/sie/es ist tot all revolving a pretty decaying circle of death death always death

“Song 1”

Now I am watching all my lies turn gray,

standing on this memory while I become a dream.

One vision left to share. I have hidden behind them well.

One moment left to live, one last morning sky from which I can drink my fill of

the virgin sunlight. Even now I can taste it running down my throat.

This is my last chance to apologize, my last chance to…

“I’m a lonely star”

I’m a lonely star.

My body wants to fly

high, out over the edge.

Echoes on the image.

(I am falling)

All kinds of kaleidoscopes are breaking,

all forms

and shapes

and sizes.

My eyes are split

like bleeding fountains.

They see what they can seize

and meditate.

The world is a blur.

Fashion boys blew out the chemical plant.

A lonely whisper

drowned his toys.

Inside the mailbox

your mouth flips out backwards,

a foreign tongue. Now your teeth

are painted orange. I wonder how

the burden will ever be lifted.

So scar all these philosophies!

Just don’t expect the image

machine’s backlash to have any

positive side effects.

Slaughter everything that isn’t you.

Even now

I know my words

mean nothing.

scanner image brain drain

(they’re silently

taking

pieces of me

away)

foreign languages burst my bubbles

Japanese characters inside my house

I have seen it,

I have seen it…

everything you would like to be.

I have killed it,

any hope I might have had

of making this life work.

What am I then? Just a waste?

Back off or I’ll scar you forever.

burden breathing broken bloody

Another version of me chops wood outside,

working in the hazel-colored summer house of God

and Satan.

Each garden can be seen from this window.

Toss it all away.

(underground skies, burning blankets)

I have no fancy,

I am no martyr.

Against your wisdom

she chokes me,

her fingers turning purple,

and the world is washed away…

another layer to overcome

talking talking talking

(screaming in my ears the

wind the world these words

break me into pieces)

Each morning the people

awake to hear the white-noise death

as rusty gears start turning.

Their heels scrape the sidewalk,

each one too tired to live

and too bored to die.

My eyes are strong again,

struggling to filter out

these hazy perceptions,

to break the world upon this rock

and say my gifts are always

vulnerable, my foundations

always weak.

I’ve got 1,000,000 ways to love

and they will shape themselves

to fit those almond eyes.

Now it’s all a sinking ship.

So disillusioned, so tired.

I can’t even set myself on fire.

Remember all the golden days

when the flame burned forever,

even when I slept.

Hatred knocked aside any barrier,

but now this demon slumbers.

A smile very rarely cracks this skin.

empty shell

Pain register as the generators wear down.

My body is a mirror

affecting the hollow earth.

golden leaves falling

violins breaking somewhere

what poetic noise

so much better than my voice

what a wretched sound

my voice

I’m hovering outside my womb,

testing theories and postulating,

wishing for love and masturbating.

I think the world is stained.

My body damage is a vision.

Now if only my eyes remained…

“The Light”

In a time

when trapeze artists

framed the world,

I was nothing.

I was bare bones.

Then skin spelled out

a hieroglyphic pattern

and settled on these sticks.

Uncharged muscles,

weak tendons,

so weak

you could hear them creaking.

Slowly waking up,

winding down

and stumbling out

when sunlight carves

statues out of the sidewalk.

This creature

was once

a rainbow until some

freak shattered its teeth.

(Once they scraped

the blood out of the bones,

they saw their error.)

I was born.

So the mist

on their shores

echoed dismal sunlight.

It crippled rainbows

until the earth

could stand the tension no more.

It snapped

like a spine

and emitted

silver-shadowed vines.

They tested

its resistance and unwound

the stars.

“Tis here, where those

beasts devolved, that

the magma poured out.

In the west,

they could not hear

any sacriligeous screams.

But we knew it.

We see everything.

And I am still a window

looking out on the dismal skyline.

Earth will never tense up again.

It is broken.

My delicate fingers

arranged Stonehenge from

the sky so

this tale could be retold.

So we wait

and test the fabric

and share our scars.

Nobody recognizes us.

I could unfasten your vision

or complicate your stones.

Dare I ask if

I may do so?

On the seashore we find

celestial shards of glass.

These were once

light bulb stars.

Someone popped them all

with a hammer.

But I know it wasn’t mighty Thor’s weapon.

I was born

down where boats sailed the hills

and trees were my temples.

Never worshiped there.

Just burned incense

and laughed.

They will

never know

if you taste my ocean.

(I will never tell.)

Bleed me dry

until I slip away

and touch the bottom

of this empty well.

Disintegrate the wall.

Leave something

to putrefy there.

I can detect your scent in this cloud of rot.

(No, this is not a love poem.)

Later on,

this will

purify me.

So they wait

and wait

and wait some more.

They never feed the bats

to the alligators or bother to

exorcise their demons.

Just one glance

to make sure

they’re not approaching me.

One hour left to dissolve

or become a river.

This won’t

change anything

unless the sundial breaks.

They want to smash

every clock and burn

every calendar.

Disassemble Big Ben and then

we can govern time ourselves.

“Buddhism”

Leave a message. I’ve gone away.

Going to a fro,

Traveling a different circuit.

I wish there were a place where all thoughts could be foreseen.

I wish there were a place where no one spoke.

Archetypes die when the grass grows high.

Wait here, watch them wither,

Dying when the light is frozen.

Wait, what was that?

A sunshine sparkle, a fly on the windowsill!

Tremble, tremble, tremble now

As her soul comes closer.

I am leaving you.

Don’t tell me if you call out my name.

Where is this? Another life?

Reaching for shadows, brushing past shoulders,

Nothing is special anymore.

Nothing glows here.

Don’t touch me! Don’t love me!

Sitting here waiting to rot away,

My world closes to reveal the future.

Demons swirl in my memory and I cry.

Maybe not in this world or this life,

But somewhere I can gain self-esteem.

Another day stalks my weary brain.

Why must this world be crushed?

So that I may gain respect for it when I go to the next realm?

The sun is my one true god.

Shaking, oh yes, shaking as she approaches.

I am shaking.

Something deep inside, unidentified, has cut me

Open…wide open…

I am bleeding.

The wounds look like drooling mouths.

Let me seal the gap.

Who cut this world?

What has made it so sad?

I want to crush the beast

That makes me desire that which I cannot have.

I read the sign that said, “Welcome.”

So I entered and felt anything but.

You are a dream I cannot have,

A dream that slips away like sand.

My mouth is too cowardly to tell you this.

Let me go for a walk.

Get in a fight in the rain.

Have my teeth kicked in.

Let me choke on them.

Choking, choking, choking!

In my dreams I am choking.

Leave me in peace! Let me sleep, let me die!

Let me fade away as memories do!

Now I have blacked out.

No visions can bother me.

I feel safe here. I will call this place my home.

No one can touch me or hurt me or bother me here.

This is a good place.

Wait…I hear a noise.

It forces the fabric of reality to ripple.

Like a lake whose skin is broken by a stone.

A gate shrieks as its joints give way

So the sunlight may enter

And I may be reborn.

I open my delicate petals

To taste the wind.

They devour life and love.

Where am I in this new life?

My eyes will not open.

They are drowning in tears.

Someone should come to my rescue.

Fingers unfasten my eyelids.

Perhaps you can help me.

I got lost when I became angry.

Now I have received another chance.

Do I deserve this? Can I improve this time?

There is only one other person who believes me.

Would you tell me…is it you?

My first life’s memories fade,

Crying as they slip away,

Screaming insults that shake these skies.

They make accusations that disturb the universe.

And all I can say is, “I’m sorry.

I’m sorry I cannot help you.

You have to go, and take these ancient sorrows with you.”

Here I am, slowly being reborn,

Parting my cocoon.

And who could help but wonder

How much will they know the second time around?

My eyes open up.

Everything is bathed in beautiful harmony,

Glowing with its own light.

Is this the same planet?

Well, don’t tell me the truth.

You never did in my first life.

The gaping wound I made spelled more than “seppuku.”

When my blood flowed freely, evenly,

It flushed out all the impurities,

All the dishonorable deeds and thoughts.

Realizing my sins had left tracks on my flesh,

I was granted a life as a flower,

Drinking in sunlight and air.

There is no way I can cause shame now.

Lustful skin will not begin a new downfall.

The bumblebee brings me pollen,

Fertilizes my seed.

I feel the roots beneath me

Forming a maze several feet under the dirt.

This is the puzzle life must conquer

So it may surface and announce itself.

Rejoice! Rejoice! Rejoice!

Though my body is rotting, I am not dead.

If you look, if you search, if you reach out

And use every particle of your being to feel,

You will find me again.

Just believe in yourself.

I am scarred where your faults have bled me.

Sunshine clears away faded dreams,

Earth, sun, wind, sky, God, universe

Trembles, decides, breaks, whispers, cries, shrinks.

Something is coming this way.

Trust me. I can feel it

In the ground, where the roots tremble.

I can hear it shake the telephone wires.

As the leaves whisper

Half-naked branches chatter.

Some awful force approaches.

Then the sound begins.

Tell me: what is this humming noise?

Why does it make the trees scream?

They plead and holler and rebel and cry.

No one tells me what this means.

The trees talk as if to appease an angry god

Whose face is unknown, whose power is untested.

And the humming grows louder still.

I think I can see it now.

Sunlight pours over the metal.

The earth shakes as I catch sight of

Glittering teeth, running in circles.

This is the source of the noise.

Only the senseless cannot smell the stench

Of anger that now covers the forest floor.

A dense fog sweeps in, smothering all life.

Choking, choking, choking!

In my next life I am choking!

Some young sprouts deny doom’s presence.

But I recognize the danger.

Feel the trees trembling, losing leaves

As autumn winds snap their contact.

This beauty is blotted out

By the blanket of fog we know as anger.

Yes, those shiny metal teeth are violent.

You can hear it as they start to growl,

As they start to bite into the trees.

Their bite is worse than the trees’ bark.

Save them.

Please, someone save them.

The ground bleeds.

The clouds cry

The tree has fallen.

One by one

The others follow suit.

Their beauty is eliminated.

The fog starts to dissolve.

When the veil parts, I taste sour emotions

Because all I see is murder.

The earth scarred,

The forest gutted,

The beauty raped,

The flesh mangled,

The bark scattered.

Nothing left

Except silence.

No life

Except mine.

Nothing.

The sun loses its interest,

And the golden hue pours out.

Sunshine turns gray.

Cold, so very cold here now.

No honor for me to relocate.

So lonely in the forest

Where the humans have tread.

They were once my race,

But now I despise them.

Why did they take my second life away?

What right did they have?

Once again I am fading.

There is no reason to stay here.

My will is crippled by this massacre.

I don’t want to view this tragedy any longer,

So my petals wilt…

My liquids leak out…

“For poor Kennedy on MTV”

your adorable beauty often dances across my eyes-and slips into the complex circuitry of my mind-you are the sun and the moon-floating parallel to yourself through liquid outer space-every night your bed is a different arrangement of roses-growing eternally and unleashed by your maverick touch-the web you’ve woven entangles many and yet they do not realize-they do not see-how very boring this life would be in your absence-their words are harsh enough to shatter windows-they bleed clear fluids on the pale horizon-their votes cast you as a nonentity-a cipher-they say they do not love you for yourself-they love you because you resemble someone else-namely my former self-I remember kneeling in the cold-shifting my shape to insert myself as a piece of their puzzle-and I could never change fast enough-gradually I let go of the dream of fitting in-I threw this fantasy into a fire I had made to warm my hands-this fire continued to grow-it made my molecules break down and I melted into the place I’d been looking for all along-what I mean to say is your loveliness paralyzes me-and I cannot say all I wish to because you may laugh at me-call me a fool-and eat holes through my pride like metaphysical acid-what I want to tell is knowledge you might have already received-and my message is: you don’t have to worry about what they say-eventually they will come around-right now they are blinded by the light of some fake person’s sun-when that heavenly body crumbles they will see the truth and they will know you contain more beauty than their foolish prophets-they will want to partake in the sharing of your glorious life-of course I am thinking now that in your mind this problem is nothing-but to me their act of rejection is hard to follow-in closing I would like to leave nothing unsaid-so I may as well let you know-your face echoes constantly inside my head-and it rotates in one single space-which it possesses on its own-like an ancient undying sun---

“I Was Hit Too Hard to Laugh”

the woman’s belly drools blood of her own and her baby’s-eight and a half months old I snagged him from the jaws of life-ready to open between her legs and vomit out this child-regurgitate the sperm the jaws had swallowed-there is nothing I can do now-no apologies will be accepted-cash only-I’m sorry-no it’s too late-you’re fucking already dead-diseases slowly fade away-for each one that leaves two more enter the world-it’s too late for this-I’ve pissed her off beyond recognition-I guess all it really meant was a big joke on me anyway-but I can’t figure out why I was the punchline-they lost me in a maze of veins and needle whores-they come and pull me back into the group-we try to find the lamb-but instead we find a horde of dominators-beasts with microchip skin-shards of light cut through the trees-“you’re not my ruler” she said-she’ll never forgive me now-dreams are like train rides across the country-you have to change every once in a while-link the dreams together-I won’t be hanging around with you anymore-one person hating me spoils the whole scene-I was hit too hard to laugh when these images came-burning flag-burning swastika-burning cross-burning star of David-I don’t know why these images came to me of all people-Lord knows I’m no messiah-I can’t even keep what few friends I’ve made-damn I really did piss this bitch off-I’m going to pay for this one forever-I was hit too hard to laugh when I realized what I’d done would make her hate me for the rest of my life-Jesus not even you can help me---

“Mental”

so many lives my fingers could touch-paint them with threes coats of my inner beauty-slipping out of my pores-were it not for you-I have known who you are for quite some time now-drifting in my arch enemy loneliness-loneliness yes-you’ve attached yourself to the back of my head-your claws sink into my brain-yet you are not a permanent fixture-I shake you away every once in a while-and then I am plagued by the presence of this habit mongrel-who makes me turn shy and lonely once more-isn’t it funny oh how very funny loneliness is-loneliness oh my word you didn’t realize the joke is on you-you’ve tried to make me feel sad-to drive me away from all possible companions-but I have you-you are always with me my dear loneliness-you are the only friend I have---

“her home (version one)”

I wish I’d known her better-before she took me to her home-she asked me to walk down that hill with her-I gladly trailed behind-watching her hips sway like an unbalanced tightrope walker-we reached a house of marble stone-with doors as large as heaven’s gates-yet she did not lead me through them-instead we walked to a smaller door located at the side of this mansion’s front porch-“I live down here” she said-behind the door was an unpaved dirt path-I insisted I climb down there first-but she slipped away before I could even say a word-as I crawled behind her I had to close my eyes-eventually we came across a square opening in the ground-we dropped through it-it was hard to think in that cramped hidden place-and since then it has been hard to regain my thoughts-but I can still remember that day-in fact memory is all I have left to myself these days-she said “come down again and share another day of laughter with me”-I just smiled at her without any vocal reply-she’d never have to drag me down there-I would go willingly-the sky opened-bursting and blossoming in her heaven eyes-she learned her secrets from ministers standing in various bathtubs-soaking wet-dripping-they taught lessons of a religion never fully memorized-never fully understood-“some things are better broken” she explained-somewhere deep inside a dark lonely night my memory sparks-there is a light she said she would keep burning for me should I ever decide to pay her another visit-and all I have to do to ignite it is say her name out loud---

“her home (version two)”

I remember that brisk cool breaking autumn breeze on the last day of October-we’d met upon a hillside located on Common Grounds-“soon luck will be ours” she said-I felt my curiosity drag me forward-she walked along the lonely bridge of dirt and grass-it slowly ebbed away-like my life-I’m never recreating her image when I desire her face in my memory-“they’ve wasted their fancy vocabulary on a common fool like me” she whispered-“the wind now owns their words”-words of teachers-words of fools-words of philosophers-drowning in pools-their last thoughts echo with burning wisdom-chiseling away at her ears-managing to just barely tap against her brain-“all of the best are gone to freezing ground” she said-the image of this worn tattered door flashes quickly before my eyes-as if it were a strobe light-whatever is behind this portal remains a mystery-because she decided to not show me-I guess I’m supposed to believe her when she says it’s her home that lies beyond that rotting wood-I can hardly think of anything else I might possibly want to say-her image was that of a goddess to me until she said the words “The scars on your face detract from your beauty”-that pure image was quickly covered by crimson stains-but when I was down there with her-it never tried to fade-everyone else’s picture vanished but yours stayed the same-today I brush the dirt from my hands-for an instant I feel ashamed-then it passes-nothing lurks inside my head-the sickness is gone-and you are the one who made it leave---

“The Back of Me”

I threw in tall and dark receptions

That I never knew again.

They fell down a tunnel

And came out of hell above my head.

They hit the back of me

And the force cut me in two.

Sliced right through my spine.

How ironic that they were my own words.

Eliminating all the wrong thoughts,

Gouging out all the evil eyes,

I need this pain to go away

In order to enjoy your company.

And what a surprise!

Here come the eyes

Down the same well,

Through the same hell.

They hit the back of me

And scalded my naked skin.

Turn my heart into dust.

How ironic these were the words I threw away.

“I Lost”

Dark, endless corners.

Where is my life?

You lost me there.

I live for this strife.

I lost myself

Then caught you in the light.

No one knew me there.

There was no need to fight.

The stars illuminate my body,

Standing here stark naked.

All these voices change to laughter

So I won’t ever feel too proud.

And there I go

Up the same old road.

I’m alone forever,

Carrying this heavy load.

I’m in your house

Looking on your bookshelf.

I wish I could kill you,

But I can’t because I lost myself.

“A Statement Standing”

Can we dissolve inside each other,

Tracing invisible lines where our fingers roam?

You try to share your lonely view,

But the world’s vision is too butchered to see

You are the only one trying to make a change for the better.

Flash a magic light bulb across the centuries.

Mask its glow with waterproof paint.

You shed a different echo each decade.

I mistake my mattress for a lifeboat.

When I drown I taste the waters of corruption,

Drowning myself in a sin that even sinners hate.

Back then my words were complex

But in a simple way, you know?

You must understand because

You’ve read my ancient lyrics.

Now I have lost the message,

Buried it under new meaningless words.

To forget is easy, when the sun is bloated

And pain throbs in your heart.

I am sulking in the dusty corner,

Wishing I were outside again.

I will never remember how to say it right

Because we all have this certain tale.

This pitch is one we cannot hear.

The words are dissolved,

And they fall out of my vocal cords,

Tumbling into a diamond cluster

Which encases an eternal fire.

I carry a dying oil lantern.

No one will commit the final rip-off

Because greed will never perish.

I want to see time flutter in the air,

Flapping crimson wings above me

As it leaves this realm of abuse.

I would ask an important question

But, as always, it would be too late.

Save this wreckage, if your strength allows it.

Save the homeless that surround you

If your leaders will condone it.

“Window Time”

Leave me alone to revolve where I can

Float this island of pain.

I want to follow this isomer’s path

As it disappears down the drain.

You want to hold the blind man’s hand

Knocking steadily on your door.

The sightless crooked path confounds you

Until you burn down what your life was for.

I’m out to be baptized in the rain,

The only way to erode this pain.

As the light hits my weary eyes

I can finally see the emerald sky.

“I don’t want to leave yet.”

That’s what everyone says to me,

But the truth is we have to go.

This knowledge settles on the mind heavily.

Lips can cure this tortured brain,

And the world can revolve in sin.

Hatred will call you back home soon,

Trying to make you break your skin.

“Reflections/Space I’ve Lent You”

You can float a magic diamond

In this space I’ve lent you.

You can break down its aura,

Dismantle its figurine tale,

Eliminate its agrarian style.

There is no limit to what your hands can do,

Because I cannot stop them.

When your fingers flutter in the air

I see a reflection, that’s all.

Only a reflection…

Stumble across a shard of my memory,

Created when my mind was shattered.

Your eyes sparkle as the sunlight increases.

Its presence gives you supreme elation,

But I cannot share this insinuation with you

Because I look into your eyes

And when I touch them with my vision

I see a reflection, that’s all.

Only a reflection…

“Locks w/No Keys”

When the night starts to sweat,

You are the person my dreams reflect.

You have bought stock in my fantasies.

Their worth will continue to rise

As long as you are placed here.

I would like to tell you it’s all over,

But I just can’t seem to hang up this phone.

If I could change once more,

I’d be the same as I was when this began.

This golden chain remains unbroken.

It glows when night-shadows cover your heart.

I wonder who locked you away.

Yes, on rainy Sunday mornings I wonder who locked you away.

“Loose Ends”

my bones shiver.

(I am radioactive.)

my skin shatters.

(I am electric.)

god does not deal cards

when his hands turn to stone.

if you shatter his kaleidoscopes

they bleed ancient liquids.

when the colors run away, the

tapestry of the sky is painted differently.

don’t mistake it for an ordinary rainbow!

such auras spill jewels

(crimson and emerald cobblestones)

when you wander heaven’s streets.

I devour all the chalk drawings

that you scrawled on litmus paper.

“Wait”

No starving wisdom now./Hand me the silence back./I want you to need this./show of energy,/want you to need this/emotion I cannot feel./When you are whispering,/what do the shadows say in reply?/When you’re still with me,/what does your conscience say?/Flow back into the years/when you were young and whole.//

Release into the night./I have been dreaming of this for ages,/so long ago I can barely remember./Blood runs down my hands/and stains the razor’s edge./Who wants to know/the pain you feel inside?/Who cares enough to let you show your tears in the light?/I’ll show them all out the door./I’ll teach them how to recognize pain.//

I know no other way/to make them steal this anguish from me./Vacate their bodies,/vacate their heads./Each face is a mirror on my life./I’ll break this trance faster than the sand can pour from your fractured bones./We have nothing in common/other than this moment./Come down on my head./Wash me out of this ecstasy./Shut down your disbelief./Burn these seconds away./Teach this one to stay down.//

Metal comes so clearly through the haze./The glare stings my optic nerve./Bathe in this glory,/this build and release./And in the seconds that follow/this tear in the skin appears./I wait/to feel the mystery/reconstruct itself again./I have spent your ages in blood,/holding back these thoughts./They infect me,/my self-serving disease./I want you to know this,/the way you’ve made me feel./You’re not the last one,/but you will be my latest song of blood and flesh./You hide the pain away./Don’t let me suffer./I want this to be over./I fall asleep inside you./My pain is just an empty body and a ringing phone.//

You can take everything,/my dreams and questions of wisdom,/my life and missions for learning./Take all these crystal medallions./You would even if I didn’t approve./I find my death in your hands./But I’m capable of taking it back/without you crushing me./Do unto you/what I see fit to do./I am your master now.//

Keep these worlds for none to see./Explosions inside me,/bruises that no one knows./I’ll hit you harder./We’ll see who is stronger./Please don’t shed a tear./It will be over soon.//

“Injure”

I’ve just been waiting not,

just been stealing your misery.

You know

how I feel

all too well.

Deep inside this mystery I

cannot hide these dreams,

cannot lock away these

shadows for too long.

I need to let this go.

Your burden has to make me feel.

Let no more wisdom fall.

Let me be what I am.

Share this with all of you now:

heavy breath on this diamond

and blood across this new vest.

You are dreaming, but don’t fear.

All of this will be over soon.

Collapse and embrace your ancient fears

trapped inside your Stonehenge days.

I need to pull this

trigger inside of me.

I need to burn the scroll

on which you wrote this pain.

“Writer’s Block”

And here in the open

Are the words not meant for me to say

For 1,000,000 years.

The cement block won’t break

Not even if I hammer it with these words,

But with those words it’s a different story.

Fourteen new tales

Are all I have the chance to count

Before another block forms.

My eyes are untied

Yet my brain is knotted.

The block falls on my head,

Crushing my thoughts.

Now it’s inside my brain,

Pressing down on me.

My sanity is powder

I will never think again.

Never will I think again.

“Breaking Apart”

Very rarely hot,

I feel like a drug

coursing in and out of the drain

of a drunken mind.

I couldn’t feel her sweet touch

but when the window smashed into me,

I felt every sliver of glass slip into my skin.

The wind blew cold

and it carried my spare clothes away.

so I’m walking through this place naked.

And I’m so cold that I’m frozen.

And I’m so frozen that I’m brittle.

And I’m so brittle that I’m breaking apart.

Breaking apart…

The chill rushed through my spine

and I was awake again,

floating on a raft.

Adrift on my waterbed, the floor had become an ocean.

I look into the depths

and cannot find a single form of life,

but my hand is held high

and I manage to tap the ceiling of the sky.

It opens to let in the light

which melts the ice off my limbs.

And I’m so hungry that my belly growls.

And it hurts so bad that I grab my gut.

And I grab so hard that I’m breaking apart.

Breaking apart…

So I’m tumbling up into the blue and gray of the sky.

I mistake a cloud for food

and nearly die in the eating process.

But once I swallow, the sensation passes.

I feel like I am hotter than the sun.

Now it’s nighttime and I am beside the moon.

I push it and watch the high tides

wash the sand.

I drift down to Earth, letting the tide

crash down on me…

a new baptizing

under the horizon

of the night.

And I’m loving so much that it hurts my heart.

And I’m hurting so much that I cave in to the pain.

And I cave in so much that I’m breaking apart.

Breaking apart…

“The Open One”

I am the one who made these stains

When metal made tunnels through my wrists

And countless needles

Stuck into my forehead.

Wounds opened all over my flesh.

My arms are stretched out to my sides.

My legs hang down straight.

A nail has changed my feet into one unit.

I am hoisted up to look down at laughing mouths.

Death calls to me, and my body lets go.

Pushing at solid earth.

Light creases my eyelids.

Darkness is my only companion.

The tunnels still mark my feet and wrists.

I emerge from this tomb.

People make a fuss

Just because I appear like a lamp.

Gates open at the end of the day.

Behind me they stay that way.

Come visit me in my home in the clouds.

“Beginnings Are the Key”

My love is for no other,

And that is how it shall be.

Every day I see her, she becomes so much more

Beautiful than she ever was before.

My love was made for no other,

As everyone could see.

Even I can, as blind as I am.

Voluptuous dreams

Sew up these busted seams.

My God, could you help out?

Please see fit to answer me.

Eagerly I await

To hear her voice.

I sit here patiently listening

For her next words,

Which she will say at eight o’clock tonight,

The time when I shall love her the most.

“Wonders He”

And night closed in

On a young man’s brain.

He switched off the light

And nestled in the drain.

It started to happen

When his dreams woke up with him

To get a midnight snack,

Which consisted of

Stale bread and toilet water.

And now there is a shattering sound

Distorts his ears, his sense of peace.

And the light of the refrigerator

Casts its glow down on the city streets.

Wonders he, “Who is in my home tonight?

Who might linger in the shade?”

Wonders he, “What will happen next?”

And then his world starts to fade.

Wonders he, “What is it that stalks me

Tonight?”

“I want…”

I want a fast car and a clean vision,

I want a rattlesnake and a cure,

I want a clear conscience and a happy ending,

I want a black baby and a mangled puppy,

I want incense and alien jargon,

I want lesbian sisters and two scoops of raisins,

I want anarchy and ecstasy,

I want to erase myself holding twin mysteries,

I want to excavate myself eating ugly windows,

I want to burden myself flaunting dead fashions,

I want to be buried in strife with yellow pants,

I want to be the punchline to the joke of the universe.

“Turn Around”

Carve a crooked star

Where the air is vacant.

The needles return to attention

When the deed is done.

I tried to call an ancient place

But the earth divided,

And I was peering down at its core.

The antediluvian kingdom released its wisdom.

They built an updated Stonehenge.

But this creation reveals truth to us all,

The fact that this version’s power isn’t here.

Its strength is crippled.

The time changes when you’re gone.

The sand pours through the cracked hourglass.

The wind loves itself and laughs

As it carries each grain away.

You can try to create the mind you want,

But your plans will crumble

When you desert your one true self,

Leaving it to die in the desert.

Your body will turn to dust under the sun,

And the wind loves itself and laughs

As it carries the remains away.

Turn around, turn around, turn around.

Don’t abandon yourself now.

It’s never too early or too late

To turn around and embrace the wisdom behind you.

Yes, turn around to reflect the sun

With the mirror of your heart now.

Dry a tear as it runs away.

Dry out the sky of a brand-new day.

Take me there, where your sun is blood-red

And its shady gray light paints the sky orange

As we float our hazel mists through the world.

We drift over the grass.

Each blade is sapphire when I look

And turn each naked eye in revolutions

That can make a world of difference.

When the sun breaks its light,

Shattered slivers of nothing slide over the ocean.

Every river is reflected in your turquoise body.

When these visions are no longer visible,

The world will correct itself slowly.

There are so many ways and not enough days.

In this time I have to leave someday.

Of all the shapes that she takes,

I think her undercurrent flows more easily

When she is a resurrected diamond.

I know today is a sorrowful occasion for so many.

The world has dropped its colors.

You must remember these final hours.

You have made the correct decision.

When you leave this evening, I cannot cry.

The nothingness highlights your empty space.

The telephone wire is radioactive.

The stars are too bright

On this perfect night.

You’re near me on the ground

But my fingers cannot reach you

Unless they fall apart in the mirror.

I increase this volume and my realm shrinks.

Carve mystic ruins into the sun.

Share a grave with everyone.

Turn around, turn around, turn around.

Don’t abandon yourself now.

It’s never too early or too late

To turn around and embrace the wisdom behind you.

Yes, turn around to reflect the sun

With the mirror of your heart now.

This diamond’s skin pulsates as it breathes.

It is struggling to connect the dots.

They will reveal its inversed reality

When the Mobius strip is shattered.

Time will unlock, the chain will break.

When Earth rotates, all this will be yours

For the taking and breaking,

The uncalculated heartaching.

It will dissolve today when you say,

“I want all this to go away,

To vanish as I look upon it.”

Your feet coined imprints, duplications

As you stomped through the mud.

You can turn into mist, then

Disappear in the tracks you made.

The rain helped to create you.

The sun went ‘round and ‘round and ‘round.

The moon cast refracted heat upon you.

And then came the time when I told you

To turn around, turn around and see it:

Your demons heading this way.

Can you make them vanish,

Or will they take over?

All other songs can play upon the wind,

But your tune must stay here.

I will deny it no longer.

I cannot do this on my own.

Put your hand on my shoulder. Apply some force.

Help me to turn around, turn around

And face this misery.

Perhaps my words can divide this pain.

Develop a quotient that will soon come forth.

Slice hatred in two with my poem-knife.

The steady hum is fading, and I know

We can change the way the world is now.

Skin’s importance is destroyed.

All country borders are demolished,

Gone when this map is set on fire,

And I am the one holding the torch beneath it.

Turn around, turn around, turn around.

Don’t abandon yourself now.

It’s never too early or too late

To turn around and embrace the wisdom behind you.

Yes, turn around to reflect the sun

With the mirror of your heart now.

Another moment dies in the distance,

Another nameless victim made,

Another century put to shame.

Another batch of lies born

When the old one fades.

To believe your future is planned,

That a destiny exists,

Is to say you will give no answer

Other than a fist.

Treat yourself to a Carnegie Hall

Or a winter wonderland,

Or a lake in autumn.

The fishing rod perched upon the shore is mine.

It reels in nothing-fish once again.

So pointless and full of pain,

Yet I cannot destroy reality

Because I cannot fail myself.

“What do you love the most?” she asked.

“The art of living,” I replied.

And that’s the only response I will ever give.

Now I have the ability to turn around,

To swing my eyes in the right direction.

Another world longs to split your mind,

To lay it open for all to see.

When the time comes,

Your heroic motions will be recorded.

“No, you cannot fail us!” I scream.

The words die before they can touch you

Because the bullet comes crashing home.

As your head explodes to announce your failure,

Three of us hear it and cry.

Static pours out of my cup.

I sip wine out of my radio.

Its flavor changes as it rolls through my blood.

And the time has come to turn…

Turn around, turn around, turn around.

Don’t abandon yourself now.

It’s never too early or too late

To turn around and embrace the wisdom behind you.

Yes, turn around to reflect the sun

With the mirror of your heart now.

Feed me your light source.

Bring yourself immortal truth.

I will share the treasure with each species

Because we are learning to turn around.

We’re teaching one another to turn around.

Throw your soul like a slow-motion snowball.

Let’s see who will receive its beauty,

A tense moment only one person can shatter.

As we wait and watch, I convert the planet.

I help it to turn around and face its fears.

And now I use this chain to lock it in place,

So it can never turn back.

Now that the healing has begun, I wish one thing:

I wish you would turn around and see

How much you truly mean to us.

I cancel this world out when I go to sleep,

I wake up panting, breathing deep,

Having a nightmare about some future time

When the planet has once again turned away.

“Baking in ages of forgotten dandelion fields…”

Baking in ages of forgotten dandelion fields,

I’ve almost lost track of myself, it seems…

almost forgotten the pleasures of pastured sadness.

Iron bells of drawn-out tears ring cheerlessly

across empty church parking lots where I sit

moaning and groaning on an image of Jesus,

his eyes up-turned and frozen in mid-roll as he rolled

them so delicately at me, the same me who holds the key

to salvation, and it’s already stuck in the lock

but I’m just too lazy

to turn it.

“Recursive Angel”

Fantasies fleshed out

in gardens,

in deserted railroad yards,

on a staircase running up and down eternally,

buried in your backyard but without a flashlight.

It’s a guideline for insanity

that mocks all the misery I’ve endured.

Carefully-stretched bones,

created under the pressure of centuries,

crack somewhere in the shadows,

giving way in mere seconds

to the madness

of your sarcasm.

“Another Step Apart”

the clocks in this house all say something different-but they read time the same-is it any wonder the earth soaks up the sky-my hands clasped tightly-blinded by the sun-trying to grab the seconds that go by-it’s so futile I don’t even know why I keep trying-let them open-let my fingers separate and deposit a seed into fertile soil-lies and factories fade away as the flower blooms- there is nothing I’ve found on this road so far that I haven’t liked-so I’ll keep on wandering-keep on walking-the only drawback is that with each new discovery we are another step apart---

“Like Mounds of Clay”

I’m so glad I returned to this town-the people and places have all changed-but their lies and mine are still shared-still the same-the lace curtains embrace the pillars of sunlight-we sit still before the fireplace-this cabin is surrounded by a forest that is as unfamiliar as a freshly-created maze-I climb out of the desolation and the factory dirt-fall to my knees and push my fingers into the soil-mold its beauty to fit my soul like mounds of clay-and I watch as the sunrise grows stronger to announce a new day---

“Always Be Close/Memories”

this time is mine to keep for certain-although it usually slips away like san these years are solid as stones in my hands-and in my mind-the hammer of Thor couldn’t break them-your image is stamped upon these memories-no matter how far away you are-you will always be close to my heart---

“Summer Rain”

it is time for me to rise-I know the boulder blocking the cave is heavy but the real trouble is all in my mind-what is it like outside?-is it still the same?-I cannot know unless I get out there-the boulder crumbles at my command-and I see how the world has endured a rather significant change-so I step outside-into the warmth of the summer rain---

“Drying Already”

they say there is no life exterior to time’s garden-the needles line those tree limbs with philosophy-each new religion obliterates the old-and a needle has to fall-dead schools of thought cover my living room floor-but every time that orange halo scorches the air near my ceiling I can only honor them for their bravery-I cannot cry for them tomorrow-when tears born only five minutes ago are drying already---

“Happy Songs”

coming out of this autumn harvest is a surplus of love-its value is not diminished despite its overabundance-warm shallow mists hover beneath the shadows of fists-way down drifting into superficial matters of skin-rising now-the weight upon my back depleted-watching the importance of external beauty crumble to dust inside those that surround me-I sit alone in this room-sunlight pours over me and the guitar I hold has decided to play happy songs these days---

“Beauty/The Moon”

the moon in little red London hotel pours through the skylight-it sheds its beauty in the dining room-and forms a perfect companion to the fire already glowing on your skin-I remember-oh how I remember-they found a jewel encased in stone behind the fireplace-if you buried it in 1,000,000 shadows you still wouldn’t be able to hide it from men as simple as I-no it’s impossible to hide this beauty---

“Our Children”

this beauty my moon my lovely sun-what tracks in soft earth will you leave behind for us to discover on some dark day-when the rain pours down and makes them melt away?-the dirt shaken loose now fills in the cracks you left in time-this beauty my love whose lips were so dry-she’s now gone and faded into the sky-she never needed help in any way-her traces are wiped away to leave the slate bare-ready for worlds to come-lives that have begun are cast aside into the fire-and the illumination they create helps our children find their way home---

“Silently Crying”

he sits crying in the corner of the room-she stands laughing in the middle of the room-their lives have been separated forever-her world still turns-but his is unable to-it has been set adrift in a pool of limbo-he must find a way to attach his life to hers again or he will die-the filaments of his life lash out at her-but her defenses have gotten better-she has drawn metal sheets over her vulnerable skin-his body perishes and his soul floats free-yet he is the lucky one-she still lives but this metal skin is more constricting than she thought it would be-she never meant to harm him this way-and the metal is cruel-it holds back her feelings-her love cannot reach out to him or the loves one he left behind-she cannot tell him how sorry she is-she can’t even cry out loud-so she just sits in the corner he used to occupy-silently crying---

“How Much I Love You”

I would write if I knew what words to use-to give you my message without hiding my feelings-it is difficult to find the phrases that will put everything in the right place-my life is a jigsaw puzzle that I haven’t got the time to solve-not on my own-you are here and willing to help me shoulder this burden-your fingers move to add another piece-I take hold of it when you start to retract-our fingers touch-my lips touch yours-a kiss blossoms and we bite into the fruit of happiness-don’t reject me-you don’t know how much it would hurt- because you don’t know how much I love you---

“Narrow Minds”

I’m looking at this sign. Staring at it. Watching it. It’s not doing much. What do you think about this? Hey, it’s just a sign. Just a thin slip of paper I happened to see taped to a bulletin board. And no one really appreciates it. How can they? Nobody has ever tried to open their eyes or bothered to teach them how to love different cultures. A lesson that I had to learn on my own. China, I’m speaking to you directly right now: get ready for all this Caucasian love coming your way! Do you care for it? No? Well, I’m not really surprised. Chinese and Americans do have one thing in common: they are human beings. If there are some narrow-minded Americans, then there must also be narrow-minded Chinese. Can we ever hope to change these positions? Will we ever honestly express ourselves to one another? They still won’t even share 100% honest Northern Shaolin boxing. Or 100% authentic praying mantis boxing. Or 100% authentic eagle talons boxing. Or 100% authentic snake boxing. And I wonder why I ever started writing this because it’s not as if my words alone could make a difference. Still, all these damn nations should change.

We all should change.

“jails in my heads (version II)”

NOTE: There is no more “version I” of this poem in existence. It was absolutely terrible, so I just rewrote it and scrapped the original.

I returned with a more heavily-armored view of you-breaking distant strands of misunderstood rhythmic patterns come charging at the bars-no guarantee on a bizarre left wing-a few heads splitting open-relieving us of all prejudice-grumbling old people mumbling as they scuff their wrinkled brittle slow feet in their slippers across a linoleum floor-driving me each time they take a step-praying to burn the infections out of their souls while searching for a god figure who wears a black robe-her head floats in on the air-I drain my head in that rancid vapor trail-my body is stripped to bare burning bones-and even from my place in hell you can hear me moan-metal clamps slide down over my head-it locks into place where insanity left a trace-a talkshow crowd watches as the freaks do their stuff-all brainless deity-loving hypnotized groans-my rationality escapes me-in imagination land I dream about killing them all-blowing them up-but no no no I’ll do something stupid-I’ll get caught-the fake me sets up a jail or two-I establish an entire internal police force-their mission is to keep the real me inside a jail-just pick any one of the jails in my head-because that’s where he/me belongs-so I walk around town-you don’t like fake people but you should be glad I’m one of them-if I weren’t you’d be dead-I keep the real me locked up for good inside the jails in my head-when his sentence runs out at one I have him sent to another-keep moving him in circles-in cycles-and I will keep him there-I’ll keep him in there until he’s dead-and we will dig his grave deep in the basement of one of these jails in my head---

“Holy Acre”

I stand-refusal to plan rushes past your head on an adjacent plane at sixty-five miles per hour-with something I’ve never seen-book clutched by a string tied to my waist-emptied skulls hang on hooks-the man says “I’m sorry” before the girl cuts out his life-aura of gore liked to slip inside my mind for decades on end while life scuttled by-my feet are planted on firm ground-each strand of erect grass is counted-water is tossed at me like a baptism-the razors used for suicide are delivered by train through this land-crippled when I hit the landing-fell to earth-this is the holy acre-my sweat falls into my drink-and I taste myself-the recognition of holy ground nails me to the floor-all who talk with him walk with a maniac-Jesus is sitting on the sidewalk and his feet get run over by a pizza boy on a bicycle-who the hell ordered a pizza on this day of all days anyway?-they told us we had to fast from now on-yes it’s always time to fast-when you live within the perimeter of soft earth known as the holy acre---

“Rambling in Some Chinese Lit Class”

wow whoa holy hell shit goddamn

you it she fuck you know ack

love desktop bitch cock luck eat

sour scope magnet sun weed

learn order out courageous me I

nesting world but netherworld over

skies ankles stains regions hips

your do mine me don’t skillet ugh

whisper fade about girl woman lips

fuck girl love girl kiss girl hate girl

“Oh So Brief, Oh So Sweet”

They name you Messiah

in your days of rage.

They name you Angel

when the skies are burning,

and the patterns this fire leaves

resemble the letters

that spell out your name.

“Margin Poem”

Part of me

wants to surrender,

but another part…

the strong part,

the part that lives

and breathes

and fights…

wants to carry you,

yet this implies

there is a piece of me

that is dead or dying

or forever dreaming,

never waking up

to achieve any goals…

never lifting a finger

or questioning

the world,

the rules

impressed upon its

soft flesh so soon,

no time for it to

gestate and forms its

own opinions.

Breathing is so hard to do.

The classroom

is a vacuum.