“I remember it so well…”

 

 

I remember it so well

although that time

is now far away.

 

I remember the day

that I was made out of clay.

And you pulled me apart

without cringing,

without enjoyment.

 

You ripped me up

and threw me down

so quickly,

so efficiently.

 

 

“Orgasmic Signs of Life After Death, or Secret Passions of (insert your name here)”

 

 

NOTE: This poem is unique due to the fact that it is the only one I ever wrote with someone else. The other author is a friend of mine named Wayne. My contributions to the poem are on the left of the page, Wayne’s are on the right.

 

 

TV blank, images gone.

Godless nights carry my pain away.

I’ve been driving to find the majestic bloodline,

            trying to hit that transcendental G-spot orgasmic timewarp.

You see, these head-trip colors have swabbed my brain with good intentions.

 

The vibration burns my soul.

All these broken dreams plague my fantasies.

I wish I could just unplug the inner question and die.

These orgasmic timewarps blow my mind.

I have already fallen into the steadfastness of the world.

 

My reality isn’t as ancient as your headstones.

Right now, before your eyes, I conduct a magic trick that the gods taught me:

my very essence turning to water and eroding your stone monument.

Water can penetrate everything, baby…even your iron-plated orifice.

Weave tapestries using the same needle that fills you with precious junk.

 

Even though the blackout of virginity haunts my dreams,

and even if chaos reigns,

I’ll still have my self-taught sensuality.

I thrive on the overdrive of love,

where my head flies down on the rock-hard pillow.

 

Funny demigods trip over stones in my forest.

They fall, their heads split open. What did they hit?

            Your gravestone, blocking life’s passage once again.

Soil yields no saviors here.

Bones of dead physicists don’t bother me now.

 

I play among the dead, milking their decay.

In the stagnancy under the dirt,

the creatures feed on the cold

and hide under a blanket of lust.

The orgasms of the bombshell are dead.

 

Stale photographs whisper to me

when lights fade like God against the trees.

They tell me skin don’t melt like it used to.

            The city is a hammer.

Naked windmills slash the air to pieces.

 

The pale red sunlight falls to the ground.

I feel the heat in an icy world.

It glows and feeds on discontinuity,

then falls into a bloody mess.

 

People in Vietnam aren’t worried that I might die.

Push my buttons, gorgeous. Make me squeal.

Could you shatter enough windows to make the world bleed?

A chair in my room reflects my disillusioned soul.

Psychedelic bursts of electricity scar my optic nerve.

 

I bring my ax down on the wires.

Water pours out of them, leaking all over my nocturnal plane.

It burns through me and flies toward oblivion.

Across the heavens I hear a scream: “Shut up, you’re too loud!”

I find myself in awe.

 

She broke my sacrificial altar,

tipping 1,000 golden cups

all of which were inscribed with Egyptian runes.

Once again, water is spilling over me,

enough liquid to fill every cavity in my mind.

 

White flowers drown out all dreams of purity.

Death flows along the river of silicon forests.

The dues will be paid, and the powers will fall.

I laugh at their excessive losses

and fall under the groove.

 

Excavated beatniks burn out the savage world.

Intestines spew forth from the broken TV screen.

            Here we end in circles, dripped dry and tongue-tied.

My hammer becomes a butterfly. It doesn’t smash bones anymore.

A local Mexican bar in outer space is where I sit, sipping mescal and seeing:

 

A naked woman selling herself to live.

I pity her. We don’t have the money we used to.

Transparent copies of the original just aren’t good enough anymore.

I want sustenance. I want more. My needs are too much.

I am broke and everyone is asking for payment.

 

I see all the dots and slashes scarring the air.

Her body smells of new suns rising to embrace the sky.

            Vietnam was the womb cradling this goddess.

She told me I misspelled her title.

Henry M. helped me when I used words to sculpt my thoughts about her.

 

I have returned. We will live again.

We break the ground and bring back the water.

 

Yes, water…pouring over me like Taoism’s main principle

proclaimed it would. We serve no gods other than ourselves,

burning forever…our lanterns hanging high on the walls of history.

 

 

“She Says…”

 

 

She says it’s an OK family.

            To dwell here, her soul would have to be

                        stripped naked & freezing.

 

The sun never knows how to break its

shadows or turn the dial or twist

the wheel of time here.

 

They find barbed wire and bent halos

            buried in the garden.

Each one has a serial number,

            which is faded & illegible.

Someone didn’t have the nerve to ask why,

            though their cracks do not show.

 

Stars spit out diamonds, but they

            cannot answer the first vision.

It is too pure to contemplate

            why they swirl & look fuzzy.

 

I stare out the living room window

            as shadows crawl into my house.

Yes, the original verve has perished.

            Nobody marked its grave.

 

So I shall forever plough the riverbeds,

            seeking out each corpse.

 

My mail comes when there is no way

            to organize time or thought.

 

She writes often to tell me her

            father cuts open tree stumps and

            sees visions in the wood.

He sees Christ, paralyzed & dying,

            and Mary is there.

She is naked. Her eyes are gouged out,

            held in her right hand.

Her voice cries out to other.

            But no one comes close.

 

She is writing to me as claws

            rip her world wide open.

 

They don’t know the shame.

 

            I should have been a corpse in her garden.

 

The stars leak fluid all over

            me as it is. I am only salt.

 

No shell ever captured a sense of

            pride or mourned my demise.

 

My girlfriend asked her father

            if she could blot out one (of many) suns.

He said he didn’t mind, so

            why the universal disturbance?

Her father said it’s OK.

            Why can’t she end the illumination?

 

I’m lost because this is a foreign

            port. My life has stalled.

 

Aching light reveals the meadow

            and bleeds ancient headstones dry.

 

I will never know how she used

to tolerate this or expose

the conspiracies they hold.

 

She always knew the constellations were

            caterpillars trying to transform.

 

Like it or not, it doesn’t go away.

            It cannot, it will not…

that nagging feeling that taps

            on the inside of your skull

until the entire world

            is out of focus.

 

 

“wishing window”

 

 

it’s no longer time for me to cry with you-your love is something I can no longer despise-I can just let it exist outside the house of time-now that my anger has learned how to subside-break off and die-maybe it will learn to slowly float into death-while it spends its time in the unknown background- “leave me to die” she said-and she looked so very old when the words spilled down and out in a vertical spiral-when this boredom finally topples I am sure it will wake everyone up-my love is dominant although it isn’t too obvious- “someone must have really pounded your skin to age you so” said I-she just licked my cheek and told me it was done-I remember the skylights were all breaking-at the same time a new world was born-time was so confused-that I saw Caesar in the middle of the twentieth century-how he got there I will never know-at least not today-it is time for us to grow apart-to wither and to die-then the switch will move down-and point toward “reverse”-the bonds will reconstruct and strengthen when proximity returns to this world-I can never be sure when it will happen-not when time keeps flipping our worthless visions around in a broken gumball machine-we could just sit beside this wishing window-and pray and hope that there’s someone above-although I don’t think there is-never will be never was---

 

 

“support of a lifetime”

 

 

I don’t know if I’ll ever get out of here-it seems time is a stone sundial-breaking in a nightmare that existed a decade ago-the sprockets turn and carry blank chalkboards over empty open graves-in a cemetery that was at the edge of forever-the ground is busted and we cannot comprehend why we’re falling down-there’s nothing left to which we could fasten our balance-I don’t know why I bothered to stay here without you-now there’s only women with metal skin who want to make love to me-but their touch is so cold-it’s so cold-and I wither away to nothing against their palms-leave me to drift in that world-the name of which I do not know-and never will-what a pain this is-the likes of which I’ve never suffered before-this pain blossoms in my head and tries to leave me for dead-it all sink into the ground-there’s no holiness to be found-why did I have to be so loud?-why did I have to be different?-why did I try to make a change in this world?-because this reality is a terrible place to drift in-although we all depart it in the end anyway-it’s still essential for this life to be pleasant-who would want to exist in total unrelenting pain?-not I-leave me alone-get your hands off my back-I don’t want it anymore-it’s something I never really needed-the support of a lifetime has gone away-but I’m still standing damn you-I’m still standing---

 

 

“Love Dulled the Needlepoint”

 

 

it’s just no good until I’ve been reconnected-the nerves snap as the train passes through-my eye trembles as it evaporates-the other orb turns to powder-images of the sound reverberating down the asylum hallways-the television descends into the chilling grasp of the water-I’ll jump and skip over the steps when you say it’s time-the cavern between your legs is stained and scarred by 1,000 men-this long blade sticking into your skull-the blood overflows-the back of my head falls off with the passing of the storm-you and I sit in the shade of the evening watching the sun disappearing behind the ravaged earth-we watch the line of mausoleums disintegrate along the horizon-it’s all over-there’s nothing I can do now-we’re changing-I’ve known the place where it hurts to love each other-it’s straight through the door and in the northeast corner-you must stand facing the wall for a few moments before the light appears-this illumination is so surprising that you are driven to your knees-some German writer left a sentence unfinished in his typewriter and committed suicide-now they all gather and die for the suspense-how would he have ended the phrase?-how how how?-the pain of not knowing DRIVES THEM MAD-the rooms grow orange with the sudden arrival of the acid trip-a bald-head woman is naked perched atop my nude body-blood spurts from the fresh corpse and spells out the words “sex fiend” when it splatters against the wall-I meet you and we talk and I love you so much it hurts to see you-I’m sorry-no way-there’s no cure-just go the fuck away-it’s been a few months now-isolation doesn’t love me-only you do-come back come back oh please return here to me-really I love you-listen believe me-these sounds my voice makes wouldn’t be made if I didn’t love you-go back and look at all these poems-they’ve lost their depressing sting-like an old syringe-and love dulled the needlepoint---

 

 

“I Died w/Friends”

 

 

we don’t belong-the scars aren’t healed-the night is young-we still feel the wounds throbbing-leave me and meet your destination with greatness-it would be selfish of me to remain here-or to make you stay-take it away-it’s ugly and I don’t like the way it smells-men from Jupiter become my friends-they visit only every ten years or so-by the time we really know each other we are all close to dying-help me my heart is clenched like a fist-the blood is slowing down-I had to ask a man at a gate where I was-“limbo” he said like a snob-it reminds me of that restaurant owned by gangsters on second street-there’s no way I can look back and say I hated life-I’m filled with joy-why?-because I turn around and guess who else is here-my friends from Jupiter and their friends and their friends and the whole place is crowded by people ready to become acquainted with me-we dance to the industrial tune in the background-why am I so full of joy?-because I died with friends---

 

 

“who holds the key”

 

 

crippled by hunger the tree’s remains tumble into the sea-I found a jewel encased in this stone-it was lying on the path I had decided to take-I brought this tiny burden to your dilapidated cabin so far off of my life’s trajectory-I see the smoke pouring out of your chimney-it’s generated by the engine of Andy Droogin’s peace train-he stops the vehicle and lets out a flood of passengers-they’re men and women who are all named “love”-it was just like the old days-sitting on your Oriental carpet-I remembered the days of teachers and rules-poets and fools-although it’s hard to tell the latter pair apart-my teachers bore a dual role-because they were also fools-and that’s all I could tell them although there was plenty more I wanted to say-I couldn’t respect them because they hid their potential friendship away from students-I cannot respect my enemies-sitting here in your living room-yes I feel the knowledge tear through me-they don’t know how much this truth itches-and they never will-life is connected in one great circle that never ends or begins and makes us all equal-there are men and women who sit naked by their windows-and they are all lovers-they create the love that spills out upon Latin streets-and sinks into the cement-ready to be freed by the girl who holds the key-her hands drift down like snowflakes-and she opens up the treasure chest of the earth---

 

 

“Rachel”

 

 

I am here my lover-immersed so deep in the dark that I will never emerge-my time leaks out of reach like tears melting on my cheek-life has always been like this-men lose their wisdom and their phrases lose their meaning-memories disintegrate when touched by devil’s fire-and Rachel watches all of this closely-she is drowning in the glory of another act of love-and the sky to her is a ring band-and the sun is an orange jewel-it is being fuelled by love-and her desire seeps into the soil-it makes the whole world rotate-now Rachel pulls away-she sits in the corner-her favorite clothes beside her-and the sun is smeared across her body-highlighting the precious skin-and these fingers that beckon to you glow with their own light-you join her and taste honey-she listens as you hesitate-she is patient for your love-a newsman spreads the message while you’re making love-you wake up early the next morning-Rachel is dressed in her nightgown-she takes your hand and leads you along dirt roads-and you travel with the gypsies-Rachel brings you to the forests-and you make love beneath the trees-a leaf falls from a branch and adorns her head like a green halo-“it is in this place we shall live” she says-and all you can reply with is “yes”-you travel alone to a mountain-where you hear her voice in the streams-still Rachel leads you onward---

 

 

“it’s a signal”

 

 

lots of things have happened since you left-gods have descended into the rising waves of an obscene ocean-she turned a knob on the panel of an unidentified machine-and set our existence into motion-we lightly scold her for this-we exist on an interior plane when we leave this skin-unwanted desires for stretched flesh is all I see on the readouts when this computer dismantles itself-I am surrounded by madness-I swallow broken beams of sunlight-and close my eyes in case they light up my head like a lantern-now at least they won’t scorch my diseased dilapidated brain-we don’t know how to fall down when we’re inside that temporary realm-it’s just a piece of knowledge that always seems to elude us-I can’t explain it-not this time-not in this dreary run-down poem-not in such a small amount of space and time-I’m overrun by dirt and grime-I’m not one commonly found using sex terms that have outdated their arousing quality-all I do is sit and read-stand and bleed-my vision is twisted and I look down at the palms of my hands-to see holes and blood running down-blood leaks out and sings out of tune-nobody knows I’m trapped in this tomb-we hear the sound of tambourines being shaken-and I know that it’s a signal-it’s a sign-it’s time for us to leave this skin behind---

 

 

“one love seed”

 

 

my eyes no longer fit inside my head-to tell you the truth I thought I was dead-there’s nothing like the life I left behind-this sky closes and encases my head-the screws turn a notch tighter-and shatter more skin on the palms of my hands-I exist in hell without you-I wish I knew when the garbage truck passed my house-because I’ve got all my hate and pain trapped in a cage-I am ready to throw it all away-a razor slices some foreign skin-as if it had been held by the hand of God-its handle glows with fingerprints of purity-I think you need to have a drink to calm yourself down-but all the glasses in the house are shattered-so you cannot have what you need the most-don’t be upset-neither can I-I know how you feel-I need to be loved-but the one I adore has faded into the shredded mist of another time-she is gone forever-the only one who had the power to love me-I know she could have because I planted that seed myself with my charm-which came into existence for her and her alone-it’s lost to me-an enormous tragedy-I have only one love seed to plant in someone else-now that someone left with it-it’s gone-wasted-but wait-something is forming out of the fog-I think she heard me crying-the one who wandered off with this sacred gift has returned---

 

 

“I hated him”

 

 

I could spill time if u tapped the cup in which it was contained with my thumb-the rags of pestilence would drop on to the puddle-trying to soak up time-but once it evaporates it is lost forever-and we try to forget it by standing beneath a crimson light from heaven-this disease is growing old-flesh gets dry and starts to fold-dead mailmen deliver letters written on paper turned yellow-heaven floats in a realm we cannot see-it is my choice to be what I will be-when all is lost up in the sky-the needle will crash into my eye-the room is heated by the flood of dreaded memories-while I beg on my knees-I watched as heaven turned away-and watched lies crumble in the light of day-this is what I feel-this is what I know-this is how I make it known-this is how I let it go-500 songs to make you cry-500 truths to hide one lie-500 times I have been turned-500 worlds that I have burned-let it go-just let it go-nothing can abolish the slavery within-something hard rips through soft skin-I am hungry so I must feed-I am lonely so I must bleed-ripped skin and holes in an unknown face-I tricked you into combining these words the wrong way-and now it’s time for your statements to bring you down-and they shatter your knees-crush you into the dirt-beaten-battered-bruised-maybe I’ll see you in hell---

 

 

“leave me alone”

 

 

no sign of life on distant worlds-we examine the source of his abnormal skin disorder-his life is eroded by nothing-I cannot help so I just say good bye-what is your reason for crying?-there’s no need for it-I feel the abnormality swell beneath my chin-and toss worries into the powerful turning gears that live across the street-and breathe mixed air from a rotting machine-and taste my soul so dry and obscene-I waste away on borrowed time-these broken words can make a rhyme-but that’s not the way they ought to be-I love this pain that you can’t see---I wonder why it hurts so much-I want to be told why it hurts so much---we can live our lives in truth-she sheds her skin hiding behind the door-all this composed into a beauty we all can see-a dying world’s faded history-no signs exist to point the way-I think the people I meet are all born to hate-my feet crumble and turn to sand-I could still crawl if only I had hands-my life is poured out for me to see-and I vomit sand-because I am disgusted by the truth-when I’m dissected my stomach is tied in knots-I lose-I lose-all my dreams disintegrate with you-with your hands in your pockets you disappear on this deserted road that runs through the wastelands-and you leave me alone-you leave me alone---

 

 

“Thoughts I Had in Math Class on 9-25-92, 1:18 PM (Sand Figures)”

 

 

most of my classes are attended by my friends-yet I feel I hardly see them-how’s that for loneliness?-my legs are overrun by freezer burn and I’m clutching them hard-like I clutch and claw my way toward my goals-only to have the prize disintegrate to dust in my bleeding hands-yet I swallow-I shovel the dirt into my mouth-try to keep the prize with me until I move my bowels-the dream is dreamt up all over again-I should learn to stop-I need to break these images out of my head-toss water at every person I see to watch them topple over-and splatter into prearranged clumps of mud on the pavement-which burns like acid-I must learn to spot these sand figures-and not surround myself with them-at the end of the nonsense rainbow the world will lose its crust-and resemble a flaring red hot ball of fire filled with only hate and lust and a desire to destroy-a desire planted there by humankind-an angry senseless thing which is what it always has been-always will be-and I know that even exchange students can be corrupted-and yanked out of my warm embrace-perhaps I made a mistake in loving this one-but without her here I will never be allowed to taste the sweet elixir of love from the limited space within life’s goblet-all I will taste is the pain of dying gods-she’s gone and I didn’t want her to go-yet if I’d wished her away she would have fallen in love with me-(sand figures)-I hate life-(sand figures exist)-I think I need to go-(sand figures exist only)-I’m a coward and I have no strength to go on-(sand figures exist only if we)-I don’t know how to win her back-(sand figures exist only if we let them)-my muscles are no longer in knots-they are removed from my bones-I wait and wait to see her face-but when she comes back she is corrupted in every way-her breath-her memory-her speed-it’s all left her mind-her brain was eaten away by acid-she can’t even remember my name-and last night I realized once again I am still a coward-I realized the truth about sand figures-(sand figures exist only because I let them)-such a lousy fuck-I don’t deserve the life I’m living-the garbage truck is passing by outside-think I’ll head out to it-and throw my life away---

 

 

“A Poem With No Title”

 

 

a glass-crushing pain in distant worlds-the words seeping out like blood-the scraping moral torment-destruction of all good---blasphemies are seeking to undermine-to undermine your rule-sacrifice and destroy rebellion-create the mind of a fool---looking through pain and wonder-to die beneath your king-wandering across the desert land-just to feel a scorpion’s sting---feeling the burn of napalm-fleshless skull upon my breast-expose the world to beauty’s pain-open her throbbing chest---disruption of joy in reality-the demons are slipping through-my hands have been severed and burnt-there’s nothing more that I can do---survive-breed-hunger-need---actual transition-from scorned life to incest world-met a lifelike god image-whose severed head I hurled---let me call you down-destroy your higher place-dragged through sorrow and madness-plaster insanity across your face---it’s over now-the skies and trees-wishing for refuge-while the world bleeds---dominate-testify-participate-AND DIE---

 

 

NOTE: What follows are what I call “prose poems.” They look like prose but sound like poetry. In other words this implies there is a difference of tone and voice between prose and poetry writing. As of this moment I can’t exactly describe to you what the differences are in my mind. That’d be a good topic for an essay.

 

 

“On Writing”

 

 

            People say I am a good writer. Well, no shit! That’s because I work hard at it. Every time I write, I tune into myself 100% and ignore the outside world. The happiness I get from writing is a joy nobody can share with me, no matter how intimate my relationship with that person may be. Some people write just to sell book and make money. For me writing is a much more personal experience than that. It’s even more intense than my romantic life or my sexuality. Sometimes when I write I get so worked up that it feels like a fire consuming my entire body.

            My writing voice, once it is activated, controls me entirely. This mysterious force within me commands every fiber of my being. It tells me what to do and where to go when I am lingering on a blank sheet of paper. Nothing deserves my attention more. The voice demands that the internal trinity come together as one:

            The voice, the mind, the self.

 

 

“Anger”

 

 

            Anger. There is nothing more pure in the world than this. One million things around me could be beautiful. But anger is the only concept that seems to be real. It makes me feel warm in my heart. As strange as it may seem, anger also gives me a sense of peace. Nothing is more pure than this frustration, clinging to me like a parasite. When it leaves I grow sick and weak. I am strong and safe with this rage touching my soul. This anger serves as a blanket to protect me from the world. Beneath it I am able to keep all things evil. My shield makes everyone go away. Behind my armor everything is beautiful and warm and safe.

            And what could possibly make a young man love anger so much? There are so many valid reasons. This is not your usual foundationless teenage pain. It definitely has a good starting point.

            I’m so sick of it, so sick of listening to other people’s advice when I try living my life a certain way and they don’t approve. Apparently their lives are so perfect that they can take the time out to evaluate mine. Well, I don’t give a jolly fuck who you are or how perfect you may be! Who the hell asked you to share your opinion? It’s a well-known fact that I don’t give a damn what you think of me. This is who I am. Stop trying to change me and tell me who I should be. The more you stress who I ought to be, the more I am going to rebel.

            And you wonder why I listen to music so damn loud. I’m trying to go deaf so I never have to hear you again!

 

 

“Never Heal”

 

 

            Angry, angry, angry. I’m not being myself today, I’m not appearing the way I should. Young and brutal, so very pissed off, so very fucking. This is the real me, not the shy exterior that walks the world all alone.

            I will probably never heal from this…deep thinking, exploring myself, and all this other ridiculous bullshit. Hey, I don’t need to find myself because I know exactly who I am and I don’t need a fucking mask to cover my insecurities because I know what they are too. Sometimes I feel like I might know how to fix these weak spots inside me, but I don’t repair them because I’m just too lazy.

            Then again, maybe it isn’t laziness. It’s not like there aren’t an infinite number of distractions surrounding me wherever I go. So many of these are just idiotic problems that could easily be solved, were it not for the people who allow such issues to grow and grow. For instance, why should I have to worry that your skin might be a different color or your eyes might not be shaped like mine? When all is said and done, what difference does any of that make?

            Last year I tried to tell people this. I tried to let them know we are all the same. If we had transparent skin, you would see we aren’t different. They didn’t care to hear me because they were too busy being racist. And here we come across another subject that pisses me off. Every minority in this world tries to whitewash itself, trying to fool us all and make us believe their race is full of innocent little angels while all white people are sinners, when you know damn well that a black or Chinese or Australian person can be just as racist as anyone. We all have that option. Everyone can hate everyone else. It’s an individual’s choice, and don’t let anyone tell you otherwise.

            Hey, I don’t want things to be like this. I am so sick of these walls. But nobody wants to help me tear them down, and I cannot do it alone.

 

 

“Rant”

 

           

            I am crucified inside your complex.

            God won’t pass me by.

            God won’t think to look me up if He needs a favor.

            Six feet under the sun, paralyzed and loving myself and hating no one else and enjoying every pleasurable dead moment as the negated sensations wash over me.

            I am crippled on the inside. I am sick of every wall. I am too reasonable to ignore the fact that you are like me in some way.

            I’m struggling. Yes, I’m struggling.

            Some day, I am going to find a new way to break out of this routine. People try to tell me it is endless…infinite, like God. They tell me it’s not worth the effort. But since when did I ever care what other people think? Never have, never will. Come back in a few years. I’ll still be pushing on these walls, trying to break them and tear them down.

            No numerical values left to replace the symbols of constants, no methods left to determine whether these molecules are polar or nonpolar, no coefficients left to proceed the chemical abbreviations. The value of the world has been blown away.

            When I sink, that is when I start to get excited. Because when I feel low my vocabulary starts to expand. My writing gets much better. The words dig deeper. I begin to think I’m writing so good that maybe I will write a piece of literature that speaks to everyone regardless of race, sex, or religion.

            Then I start to doubt this, and it only makes me sink a little lower. Because I know different ideas and different physical appearances are tearing the world apart. And I know we all need to get together, to realize we are brothers and sisters. Sometimes I feel this dream will never come true. No matter. If it makes me feel worse, then at least it can serve to improve my writing.

            I am going to erase your face and draw it inside the sun. You will never sing out of tune again once you hear the hum of the stars to keep your voice as pure as water.

            Fire, flame, burning rage. No more, say I, no more. We will never taste such things again. I will try to share the love I feel. There is no one there to accept, only creatures who reject. This is my fucking human condition! A human surrounded by inhumans! That must be the answer. Otherwise these beasts wouldn’t slash their claws through my guts every time I try opening up to them.

 

 

“the shade of blue that swims”

 

 

I listen to your brittle voice breaking gently beneath the waves-arms bandaged in barbed wire scream-can’t you hear them beg-these ideas are mine to hold-when the black fist of night punches the sky-we all listened to leveled words beneath a shrinking sky-arms raised and pointed toward eternity-metal screams thrashing on air awash with depleted blood-my skull cracks without you-please love me while we exist in the background of time-and forget all the crumbled castles of your mind-toss away all obscene grinding sex machines-metal screams on naked air-dead flesh exists in a time parallel to these ages-I could figure out the shade of blue that swims in your eyes but I’d have to stare at them for a while-and I don’t think you’d like that-(no of course you wouldn’t)-when she gives you time to exist she really hasn’t said anything important-so don’t think her words matter-just ignore her-let her message die as it chokes on the broken dust of loneliness-let me crumble into your flesh-that I may be one with my owner-my lover-my absolver-my isolator-my isolator-you crush up and chew dead skin in the air of your room-but it’s waste of time-believe me it really is---

 

 

“(forever) sleeping beauty”

 

 

the time is coming for my vision to shatter-my life is rolling in the dust of other zombies-this is real life-we exist and drift alone inside terrible knowledge-she takes the time to disintegrate into my mind-the aches and pains of millions dead-deal out the cards and play the game according to the rules of the inverse earth-don’t touch me like that-it reminds me too much of how things really are-don’t you know they’re terrible-it’s a creepy feeling to guess how bad things are going to be when they happen and end up not  being too far off the mark-I wander through the streets and map my progress-I measure the angle of the sharp turns I take-and dissolve into nowhere-don’t let me preach on tortured flesh-tell me to shut up-tell me to love you-tell me to rot the world with a pinch of salt-let me near you and let me penetrate the curtains of sand-let me lie down beside your still figure-so beautiful-so cold-lying there with a silent heart-you cannot stop me from loving you any longer-let my flesh meld with yours and join us as one-united into twists of blasphemous skin-the knots are pulled tight-they won’t loosen for a while-not until I see fit-because you cannot stop me-my lover-you’re dead---

 

 

“Soaring Through Eternity With These Words as Company”

 

 

To have the sea

throwing stars at me…   

that would be

my greatest misery.

 

Drowning all alone,

let my fingers sink

deep, so very deep

that they touch the bone.

 

All ready to drink my liquor,

I found a broken emblem.

 

A tribe on the nearby beach

was dancing without caution,

without effort.

A way to join them was never found,

so until we meet again

my feet will not touch the ground.

 

I love being weightless

more than being ageless

or any of the other stages.

 

Defy gravity.

Defy birth.

Defy death.

Defy the blade’s kiss

 

and bleed words

rather than blood.

 

Kiss my holy cauterized stub

burnt by angel fire.

It was kissed centuries ago.

 

You could give away all your secrets.

I’d never hold them

because they would turn into clay.

 

For me there is no heading back,

no redemption or salvation.

Now it’s time to hack away all the extra limbs,

find out where scales and fish nets begin.

Cut away their markers.

We could just as easily fumble around

in the dark to find them.

 

I joined your army once

even though my business was poetry.

Your battles scarred me.

My body looks like Caesar.

Every mouth still bleeds.

I pool my liquids together

until I build a crimson sea.

Construction at its very best,

a way to tell each day is separate.

 

So I bellow, bellow,

ho ho ho!

The red wine is fine

and makes us merry!

Ho ho ho! Spit on all below!

 

Stretch this skin.

Wear it thin.

Breathe your lover’s breathe while you

fondle another’s breast.

 

Wait for the revolution

or it will pass you by.

 

As I have said so many times,

for me there is nowhere to turn.

No castle can shelter me.

The cold can always bite my sin.

I might as well be naked.

 

I ask you to test the

furnace’s flame on me.

No bleeding skin will be seen.

 

My former companions lie here.

Rattle their bones!

They are only so much moss

gathering upon stones.

 

And this makes me so sad

to be pulling out my own teeth,

knowing there is no shame.

 

Cast away guilt!

Cast away sin!

Cast away greed!

 

My good fortune spilled the decade,

touring the countryside,

clutching the cloth

which all those years had stained.

 

Fire came.

Fire taketh away nothing.

 

Heat is the enemy!

The liquid evaporated from the fabric.

 

We make our way to the sea.

Crawl to the bottom,

watching the sun turn silver.

 

I hate it here,

I hate it here,

I hate it here!

 

They hate me because I can think.

They hate me because I can breathe.

If only they knew

HOW NONEXISTENT THEY ARE!

 

Crack this bleeding ground.

Crack this bleeding ground.

 

I don’t want to look anymore.

My search is finished.

 

They try using their

flames

to burn me out,

to bring me to their level.

 

Although crazy folks and

rejects are my friends,

I remain a loner.

People like us should not be persecuted

because we snap every once in a while.

If you only knew

how much we had to change

to fit your system

of right and wrong

you might understand our pain,

trying to support your moral weight.

 

Wooden bones are easy to snap.

Something must give way

so the system can adjust itself.

 

Your minds sway back and forth.

This entropy is spread out evenly.

Why don’t you unlock your mind?

Are you actually this foolish?

 

Primates, primates, primates!

Why the fuck didn’t you evolve?

 

Don’t ask me to believe

because I am too weak.

I am just too damn tired.

(Could we help you believe in something?)

Don’t force me into anything.

I don’t want to be you anymore.

You can leave me be!

Let me believe in myself, motherfucker!

 

Angel fire burned my hands away.

Now I gotta learn who that angel was

so I can give ‘em hell

when I go to heaven.

 

People like us are always lonely

so don’t drop your crimson curtain.

I won’t let you do this anymore!

 

Your shimmering hands

can’t feel me trembling inside.

You can’t twist my guts into knots.

They were made that way.

 

Isn’t it just a shame?

Your visions always stay the same.

Somehow you found a way

to make it happen.

 

So you see, I’m just

a lonely miner.

I use toothpicks to

dislodge the dirt between my teeth.

I use an ancient skeleton’s fingers

to try and stretch my belief.

Nothing comes of it.

 

I don’t want to hate the world,

but it’s such a challenge not to!

I can’t bleed this hatred out of my system.

No, it doesn’t work.

I need help.

I’m so damn helpless.

There really is nothing to hate,

nothing to despise.

Then why must ridicule and spite

clog my veins?

It’s like a drug.

 

Time to feed me

bits and pieces of my life.

 

Vines are rubbing my hands.

They’re encasing my limbs.

My body swells up

and cracks its prison.

 

I don’t know

how to respond.

I don’t know

how to feel anymore.

My nerves have turned to stone.

 

Skin is marble-white and

satisfying to touch.

 

Tremble,

tumble down.

Don’t catch me if I fall.

 

As your fingers crawl along my

exoskeleton, they stay dumb.

Don’t they realize

there’s no way in?

 

When I die, incense

will finally burn.

The wheel will actually turn.

Ancient crypts will open.

Seas will collapse inside them.

Seeds will be saturated.

From death, life shall arise.

Rotting flesh will deliver flowers.

In the meantime, I will say,

“Hey, God, don’t tell me

where to stash

these bleeding dreams.”

 

Found a trail to wander

beyond the oak trees.

I will find the

pyramid and the sphinx

hovering inside you.

They will awaken

only to find more dreams.

 

I watched the sun.

We traveled across ocean floors.

 

Today is strange and velvety.

 

It’s time to cut,

time to mend,

and we are already cut,

tender and silent,

wounded to the core,

seeping and slithering,

sliding away to suicide,

asking so many questions:

Where does this blood mesh?

Is there another side?

But this doesn’t even matter.

 

I can never feel again.

 

hard as the air

tender bones

powdery flesh

 

I am weakening once again,

lowering my entropy slowly,

coming back to life now.

 

Wait to be in your sacred skin

or your self-righteous soul.

Either one will do.

And now it’s done.

 

Your respect will never find you

although it illuminates

every shadow and

lifts every stone.

It will never sip the wine of the bone.

 

Burn me!

Burn me!

Burn me!

 

I want to feel your scorn.

Yes, that is perfect!

Scar me some more.

Defeat me

repeatedly.

 

I will never appreciate you.

 

Now, ‘tis time to leave.

‘tis the era to bleed.

because only the windows may feed,

and they make a feast of me,

sterilizing my only seed,

and I thought:

 

“Using these wings, I cannot fail.

The sky is an eternal canvas for me to sail.”

 

 

“Too Good”

 

 

I don’t want to be happy.

Being happy is such a chore.

Exploring cherry orchards,

sharing three extraordinary words,

building incredible mountains…

meanwhile

there’s so much corruption

to erode all that joy.

We are the 1990s children.

We should not climb

because we know all too well

a fall will surely follow.

I feel my life is

following the correct path.

This path has obstacles

destined to make me sad,

stealing happiness even when

my eyes are fixed right on it.

Want to date an Asian girl?

Okay, try and conquer this obstacle:

TRADITIONAL PARENTS!

An unbeatable foe!

I respect their stamina.

Narrow-minded people such as these

are impossible to defeat.

It doesn’t matter

if you truly love their daughters.

My argument is:

if you’re already down,

you don’t have to worry about falling.

Don’t ask me why

oranges have lost their taste.

My colors are watery,

slipping away,

staining the window.

What remains of me

streams down the glass,

following a path that

resembles the Nile River.

Would you leave this trail

to visit Egypt?

See the ancient pyramids.

Attempt a translation

while I slowly evaporate.

My mind is running dry too.

All my alternatives are taken away.

I guess

the only choice is to be happy.

Now my only choice

is to rise out of the muck.

Just one obstacle blocks my way.

One more hurdle today,

and then another on every day after.

 

 

“A Modern Thing”

 

 

This world needs to change.

This world needs to change.

Why must it burn?

Why must it burn?

                        (to exist)

Why does it have to sting?

Pain stimulates my imagination.

Still, I cannot picture some things.

                        (how many babies scream?

                        how many are abused?)

1,000 extra suns burn my eyes.

Oh, why must it come down to me?

My bones must shuffle on

            no matter how much dust

                        the joints may possess.

BURN ME, YOU LOUSY FUCK!

                                    Burn me!

                        Force out a response

            so I can know I’m alive.

Maybe if I have a sign,

I can save one poor little boy…

one cute, sweet, innocent little baby.

My internal friction will eventually hit its peak.

Then I will be a burnout.

Kaleidoscopic pain will no longer be familiar.

Once I drink this wine,

then I will be fine

on this winter’s day.

Winter’s wind carries a burning heat.

Today

more children suffer.

We waste our time

building shuttles

to penetrate outer space

like we’re trying to fuck the cosmos.

My skin has been peeled away.

Nothing obstructs my vision.

I can observe this cybernetic wasteland.

This sightseeing is pure torture.

Life can be anguish.

Children are out there crying,

                                    hurting.

Why

must I always ask this question?

Don’t prod me.

I’ll only recoil and fade away.

                        This world

                        is sick.

Each day, I see it getting worse.

I hear it coughing more and more.

            Each day, I wonder if I am

                        the world’s disease.

Each day I wonder

if I am the cause of all this sickness.

 

 

“Crowned Prince of the Positive Sign”

 

 

I can feel it

sinking down to greet the sea,

slipping through the mud and

trying to grasp the rain.

Then it comes surging back,

pushed by the wind, and

comes rising up through me.

My skin tingles as it returns.

 

It is the wind that scars the seasons.

It is the train that crosses dimensions.

It is the hand that paints hieroglyphics.

It is the heart that bloats with love.

 

Sometimes it can outcast the sun.

Other times it can drown out all

your visions of perfection.

 

Such delusions can be dissolved…

so easily, so easily.

 

I am quivering now,

anticipating this mirror

falling, being

smashed against me,

scarring my body.

 

Don’t ask me

how I made words substantial.

You should question it yourself.

I’m too busy sensing other things:

netherworld events, cosmic dreams.

They are flying between the stars

like beautiful, silent eagles.

Where is the wind that carries their sails?

 

My inquiries are always interrupted

when this entity

comes rushing through me again.

My heart literally swells, making all

other organs shift their positions

lest they get crushed.

The pressure nearly makes my ribcage give way.

 

I cannot comprehend this mysterious feeling.

Let’s just say I

am not the only one

who feels it.

 

Each page is turning itself.

My fingers control nothing.

They cannot even pluck a flower from this bed.

 

As these pages continue to flip, I

begin to understand this sensation.

The reception of this knowledge arrives just in

Time, because here it comes again.

Now it is so alien to me. The truth

has been revealed at last.

 

Shoulders, do not worry.

Your burden has been broken.

 

Now this emotion stirs the waters of forever,

circling the path I must follow home.

 

 

“For Someone, I Suppose”

 

 

Apple trees…

they get plucked

and they get fucked.

You can’t eat me

and you can’t own me.

Sand becomes wine.

Oceans become dust.

The wind is carrying my rebirth.

You can hear the trees singing.

Each one whispers my name.

My jungle is being slashed and burned.

This year, I see my harvest coming.

I want to wander your violet skies.

Peel away that thin veil.

It never disguised you anyway.

We hear some fantastic noise.

Eventually all sound fades away.

The river comes and claims us.

My rivers are emptying out.

My mouths are running dry.

You could help me.

You might hate me.

We recovered our pace.

The light finally revealed her skin.

No brittle soul could be found.

She flies like an eagle inside me.

Her love shines.

It’s the only tungsten bulb in my soul.

Every demon could be struck down.

She just has to show me where they are.

I think her fingers are blind.

Otherwise she would show me.

She would save me.

The wounds would forgive me.

Maybe they would close forever.

I’m so sick of having a unique name.

She told me I should be proud of it.

I’m so sick of waiting.

At least I know she’s coming back.

It seems like a miracle.

For hours I’ve been waiting here.

Now the wheels are squeaking.

They signify her return.

She is my only friend.

Help her out.

Who knows why she won’t break this mold.

I’m trying to break it for her.

My lungs are swelling up.

She fills every catacomb.

She haunts every cathedral.

I want to see her again.

Let me be free just once tonight.

Maybe I will find my friend.

I want to tell her I love her again.

 

 

“Anti-Rape Poem”

 

 

Hey, baby, you know

I see you wandering

the streets every day

looking so fine

and I really do mean that.

Hey, baby, where ya goin’?

Come here.

Step into this alley.

Strip me down and

give me head

while all the yuppies stream by.

Hey, it’s a great idea.

What’s that?

You little bitch!

Little cockteaser!

Ya know ya want me!

Ya know I’m beautiful

so give me a kiss, pretty girl.

Activate those electric sparks.

Don’t you dare resist me.

You women…

you’re all the same.

Come here…come here!

I’m gonna show you.

This’ll be your worst day.

Okay, scream.

Call the police.

Surprise, surprise, you silly bitch…

I AM the police!

So now we begin.

Hear this zipper descending.

            (ha ha ha)

Heaven’s gate has opened, honey.

Now you’re gonna get it.

They all see your fabric tearing.

Nobody cares

unless they’re perverts

            who like to watch other people having rough sex.

You couldn’t really call this sex.

Open your legs to me.

Otherwise I’ll break your spirits and your jaw.

You know you want this,

this blade-like pole of flesh

ripping your womb.

Turn around

Why struggle?

You know you want it,

this sweet sodomy.

Discharge on the route

where babies aren’t born.

Leave you to die now.

At least you can go a happy woman.

You know you wanted it.

Yes, you did.

 

 

“Paranormal Paranoia”

 

 

You say my language is

            my word is raw,

unnerved.

You won’t escape this

lattice structure,

hell bent on destruction.

 

Wasted paper,

no special thoughts,

everything a blur,

my mind a stone and nothing more.

 

A discarded junkie needle,

used condoms covering the sky,

plastic skies over the city.

 

Eyes study my window.

I make a move.

Someone makes a note.

These walls don’t block their eyes.

 

They are out there,

watching me

breathe

shallow and quick.

 

I miss my shadow.

It has left me.

 

My thoughts are paper.

Your hands clutch the scissors…

MY scissors,

a late birthday present

now used to cut my fate.

 

Spread this ointment.

The wound will not seal.

 

Who could be watching me now?

No one will believe me.

These hookers are enemy spies.

Damn communist whores!

I took one,

pretended to rent her services,

got her alone,

fondled her bones.

Now her skin has broken.

 

They send me everywhere

alone.

They think they control me.

Lips so shiny and red.

I wanted them as my own.

 

Got to find a way out.

Relieve some pressure.

 

My choice has been made.

Never make it again.

Stay indoors.

 

Their eyes may watch.

Their hands can do nothing.

Sleep while the gas is running.

Now the joke is on them.

 

 

“Love”

 

 

Love is the magic that makes us real,

love is the pain that makes us feel,

love is the joy come crashing through screen doors,

love is the paintings of missile silos in Heaven,

love is the moon & stars colliding or exploding w/fake shadows,

love is the blurring blinding madness of discarded days,

love is the sun tracing hidden circles inside your heart,

love is the vacuum that vibrates in your soul,

love is the volume when your lack of connection freaks us out,

love is glowing like phosphorescent children & albino women bathed in black light,

love is focusing on collecting the image of every shepherd who ever ate, slept,

            and breathed wool,

love is a healing spell cast on the immortal,

love is a mile walked on broken pride,

love is the distance between us that calms our nerves,

love is the burden that closes our eyes…

            that claws at this crevice, that grovels and crawls at our feet,

            that devours our spirits

            and makes us one,

            and makes us complete.

 

 

“Miscellaneous Piece”

 

 

The answers always come in yellow strips of angel flesh when you least expect them. Today we can’t devour it. The sun burnt in my eyes. Transformed suns into my eyes. New York City. New York City. I obsess. I obsess, my fingernails beneath the edge of sight sinking. The tarpit engulfed me tonight. Skyless fields as you wander through the ages. Man walks into a coffee shop, says, “No more, no more” I don’t lie down anymore. I don’t bend over anymore. Straight up the ass no more. You motherfuckers. You can make the sewers stink with piss and human remains but you cannot break me. Never. Window overlooking the backyard pool. A killer’s hand touching the windowsill. A killer’s eyes studying the landscape. A killer. A killer in my house wearing my garden as tender all-ages show suit. You have to dress properly to attend these events. You think too fast. You blow a hemorrhoid out your asshole. You still want to be a veteran. Your hands cramped. Your eyes gone. Quarters hitting the bottom of your empty coffee cup. Everyone else knows the sky is empty. You see diamonds everywhere.

 

 

“For All My Friends Graduating in ’93 Who Feel Sad Because They’re Leaving”

 

 

it is time to walk away-your feet are making imprints on the road you travel-which is built with sunlight and shadows-tears pour down your face and evaporate when they touch the road-if only the source of all these tears could be dismantled my world would be flooded by a mystical sense of joy-you need not worry because your memory will not disintegrate when the physical space you once filled has been emptied-because you stepped into a mirror that reflected your face inside my mind-and the sunlight poured down through two windows that were colored shades of blue-and your image was sent echoing down a long empty corridor-buried someplace where no creature had dared to dwell for years-the sunlight carried its initial strength to every mirror-splashing your face your body your mind your love across the blank surface of those lonely creatures-the echo never faded-every time your image was repeated it clearly displayed every physical and mental detail you possess-this image is one I still caress-as I hold it so close to me-so tightly against me-because I am never going to let you slip away like sand and pour into a crack in time from which I could never retrieve it-you need not cry as you travel on the road composed of sunlight-your memory shall reflect in me forever---

 

 

“Talk”

 

 

            You want to talk about demons? I’ll give you some demons, motherfucker. Here, take all the demons you want out of me. There’s so damn many of them I can barely breathe. They’re just crowding my esophagus, crowding my lungs, crowding my bowels. Let me tell you, this is no way to live. People give me trouble all day. Hey, young man, watch where you’re going! Listen, buddy, I just took a dump and one of Satan’s spawns came out of my ass. Demons chew away my self-esteem.

            Do you want to fight me, you bastard? No, are you kidding or what? Why would I want to fight you? We’ve never had any problems. Why are you confronting me now?

This piece makes no sense. There is no unifying thread. Everything is confusion. Lazy asshole! Maybe if you use your fucking mind, maybe if you THINK, it will make some kind of sense.

How dare you ask what I meant when I wrote this? You should be busy figuring it out for yourself instead of bothering me. Leave me alone so I can go and do some more writing. Yes, that’s right. Put these questions aside so I can produce more works that you will want to question. Knowing you, you’ll bring these questions to me. What an idiot! Take your inquiries elsewhere!

 

 

“Ending of a Lifestyle”

 

 

We’ve needed to leave since we came here.

            There was never a crowd for us.

The silence was the only audience we knew.

            Your quiet has disturbed us long enough.

We know we’ve caused some damage.

            It will take some time, the mending.

But by now we’ve already said goodbye

            And our lives have reached an ending.

 

 

“intact”

 

my life drops slowly and the colors she extracts from it are destined to live forever-her arms rise up to the sky and those visions are cupped in her hands-her fingers begin to curl into gigantic fists-the colors spill out and pour into the mold of a rainbow-they leak and spread to evenly space themselves out inside their individual slices of rainbow-I only wish her fingers could caress my face-their skin all stained with remains of my colors which she handled so delicately-she gave them more respect than anyone I have ever met before-the golden face that peers down upon me is her angelic gaze-in my life she is the sun-her maverick touch spins my world-her presence is the glowing polished jewel that stands out the most-other faces fade away and I am never destined to care about losing them-when you no longer call me young and insane you will understand-before there was no one I cared for-I don’t think I will ever stand waist-deep in golden sunlight-because no matter how far I go the horizon is still miles away-besides this is the place where I was meant to stay-my first true love will not join me on these wild pursuits-so it’s no sacrifice for me to stay here-seeing as how I know my hands will never reach the end of the world-they will always pull away when the sun’s heat scorches my fingertips-then turn around to reach for her soft cool skin-and all the sensory equipment will be intact---

 

 

“no hatred for you”

 

 

I think my love for you is a beautiful bird-like creature you will never understand-a short time ago you deposited a great pain in my heart-until then you were the only reason I allowed my relationship with society to live-you painted a rainbow for me across the dreary sky of my world-when you tossed that anguish in my direction-it was shaped like a dagger-it punctured the picture you created-all the beauty my world contained poured out of its shell and leaked into the ground-yet nothing grew because the soil was dead-there was no way I could redeem my loss-now you and I have been unable to make our voices vibrate to that certain pitch that announces the revelation “I am sorry”-in your mind it is forbidden-words can never spill out of your mouth again-I am not worthy of it-I have to confess I have often ripped your personality apart behind your back-my words were vicious and uncalled for-yes I admit I too have sinned-but now I tell the truth-sometimes I say I despise you-now I realize this statement is false-it’s just a façade that occupies too much space in my mind-you should know that despite all you’ve done-a great love for you still exists in my heart-this love will never grow or change or get ripped apart-I’ve felt love for you shine brightly in my mind from the start-with this realization flowers start to grow out of the formerly infertile soil-you are the reason this beauty exists-no hatred for you will ever be strong enough to cripple it---

 

 

“Loveship”

 

 

Talk to me as I’m leaving,

proposing a toast to the descending sun.

Hold my hand as I’m dying,

sliding down the glassy surface into darkness.

Trust me when I whisper the secrets of living.

There’ll never be another to tell you these things.

 

Broken tornadoes move in reverse,

rebuilding the houses they once destroyed.

 

I called out to you

but received a busy signal across dead air.

 

please let me

please

 

The pressing of this button symbolizes the creation of life.

Turn me down and direct me toward the trees,

the same ones that speak in conversation factors.

Tuck me beneath their cracked limbs.

If you want, you can come along.

 

Oh, won’t you please come see me?

Then I can show you

what I’ve always thought you needed to see.

 

The man in black walked down the hall…

his radio blasting, his gun gripped firmly.

The young boys and girls emerged from a room

and they asked the man, “Why?”

 

But he let the gun speak for him,

and he killed as many as he could.

 

It’s been ten years since it all happened,

and the man died in an asylum

and he was my father.

My work must make up for his faults.

 

I put the flame to the tip of the blade

and let it unzip my skin,

watching the blood leak out of my hand,

seeing the liquid swirl and form letters,

spelling out a message on the ground where it landed:

“You need to find love soon.”

 

no

no

 

love is beyond my grasp

no matter how far I reach

in my mind love has always been worthless

this message couldn’t change my thoughts…

 

Then I met you

and found that love has meaning.

Yes, love is alive!

 

But I could think of you as no more than a friend,

and now the ship that carried love has sailed on.

It’s dead, wrecked in a storm we couldn’t steer it from.

 

Why didn’t we look out for this ship?

Why didn’t we at least take precautions?

 

So many questions, and no one to answer them.

Maybe someone could resolve these inquiries,

but they have deemed us unworthy.

 

Maybe we don’t deserve to hear the truth

because we should all look out for this loveship

whether we think it’s likely to show up or not.

 

But we fell asleep on guard duty.

We can make no excuses.

We are guilty as charged.

 

As punishment, we cannot be together again

and we must feel the pain of those who died on that loveship.

 

The misery will exist forever

even after our bodies have died.

 

 

“pinwheel secrets”

 

 

you don’t understand now do you-I think your lesson is going to be deleted-you learn how to save your energy before I can deplete it-don’t you know how much I hate you-don’t you know how much I want you-I leave much to be desired-and your flesh overrides my frontal lobes-desire covers me as its mystical form becomes sticky reality that leaves a bitter film coating my tongue-and I long to drown this rotten taste-if only you would let my tongue caress your round tender breast-yes my words are able to cut away shame whenever the sky is leaking visions-I have no time to correct myself-I wonder how many hours it would take to make my emotions clear-to go back and make my words show what was happening to me when you and I were together-it was creating a universal fog to damage reception I’d once had-trying to block out all the thoughts you declared vile because I wanted so much to keep you near-because a look of disgust from your eyes would have been enough to make my heart burst-turning my torso into an empty cave where children dare not dwell-a dank disgusting hole that would cause several myths to be born-such as a demon lurked in the shadows and it was once a human being-but you know all this already don’t you-you confuse me so much my head swirls and bends-you show no mercy flashing the unstoppable pinwheel that you always carry-and it reflects a blinding light that burns out my eyes-if only I could find my sunglasses this madness would end-or if you would rip the petals away and drop them into the river I would be able to see again-I would like to know if I love you but I supposes it’s best if I try to find out on my own-yes I think I can penetrate this layer of illumination-you see I know how to reveal your pinwheel secrets---

 

 

“You’re No Goddess to Me”

 

 

someone laughing in my dirt face-it’s you again-you come this time with no surprises-I hate the way your moans have extracted from that room where I lie on my couch-you and the beast beneath which you writhe need not help me-I torture myself enough-criticism etched on every tiny particle of dust I’ve seen today-look what was in my hair-an old song’s lyrics carved in bloody slashes on my aching back-you’re always moving like liquid-it disturbs the lantern and muffles the voice of its flame-where did I go wrong?-when did you turn into this monster I don’t recognize?-a gaseous stench is caused by your boyfriend’s expelling motion-two pigs make love in heat (literally)-their faces melt as they grunt with ecstasy-(say tell me why I kind of recognize your face sliding off the skull of the female pig)-junk tumbles out of my gouged eyes-who could say it worse than you?-I don’t think the people in this shack love you-no I won’t drop my friends to appease you-I’m an atheist-I don’t believe you have any powers-I can’t think of you as anything more than a friend-I don’t love you-you’re no goddess to me-you’re no goddess to me-and I know you hear this-you’re no goddess to me---

 

 

“Worst”

 

the women like me very much these

last few days-and the guys are many

in number, especially the kind that

hate me-sometimes I have to run for

my life-if they would only let me

explain that I hate this way of living-

(my life is the problem-it’s always

getting me hurt-my face isn’t so bad-

it’s my heart that hurts the worst)

they don’t stop to think or even

breathe-“we get dumped ‘cos of you,

you little fuck” is all they say-they

chase me all over-they’re out for

blood-something I said I guess, I

guess, I GUESS-but no matter what

they’re still coming toward my house-

so maybe they’ve got me-but not for

long-all I have to do is sing a song-

and get them to sing along-so I can

escape before I get crucified-trick them

before I’m buried alive-easier than it

sounds-easier than it sounds-easy-easy-

yes so                           easy

 

 

“Pain”

 

I know the problem and it

is her-so boring she angers

me-I tell her she has an

offending stench but

she’s still here-I try to get

her to hit you-I hate you both-

want to see you both dead

in each other’s arms-I want you

to die so my memories of

you will fade-I get off when

you get on each other’s nerves-

and I love it when it’s all my

bloody fault-I can’t get enough

of this pain-I think you both

know what my plan was-oh well

I guess I’m in trouble now-this

is the pain I can’t stand-I wish it

would just go away-

 

 

“Gun”

 

I struck at the weight and

it kicks at me-there’s blood

on the walls and they fold

on me-there’s an ax in my

head-my only food for

thought-a gun in my hand-

one my insanity bought-I

look at the hourglass-for

each grain I bare my teeth-

the sand is so soft and I am

a thief-I steal what is sacred-

(life)-an old Arab on the beach

before me-and the universe

becomes nothing-a hand in my

mouth grabs my tongue and

squeezes-making me pull the

trigger five times-and the old man

reddens with death-I cannot see-

the ribbon around me tightens

around my neck-the stench-the

stench is my own buried breath-

and I am thinking-and I think-and

I thought about it-

gun-

 

 

“Jack the Ripper”

 

 

I am hard against her-

a knife dangling from my

hand-no one can stop me-

and that’s the beautiful

part-the part I love that

loves me back-it’s too

bad I’m losing her-she’s

such a killjoy-there’s no fun

in her life because she is

dead now-my next victim

doesn’t come along for a few

weeks-I press the blade into her-

the crimson flows-the grue shows-

and I’m a doctor who loves to

carve things up-my third victim

doesn’t have the time for

mutilation so I slit her throat-

fourth victim returns to the bloody

mess of my usual methods-fifth

victim could be anyone-hell it

could even be you-because I see

you on the corners-and I’m a

doctor who loves to carve things up-

 

 

“A Separate World”

 

okay now you tell me what he’s

done to you-there’s nothing I can do-

no one to help unless you

admit it-come on-I ran

into the psychotic priest on

my way over here-yes he

tried to kill me with his

strong belief in God because he

thinks I’m a vampire-even if I

were crosses wouldn’t harm me-

so just listen to the crackle

of your collapsing thoughts-

you’ll find inside me a separate

world-beneath this lime eye stare-

you’ll find a separate world-and it

is happy there-my spikes unsheathed-

their drains are open-the landscape

of your neck resembles barren

deserts-yet beneath the surface

lies the liquid of life-the priest is

right to fear me-he knows my true

identity-now you’re draining into a

separate world-the one in my eyes-

in my vampire eyes-

 

 

“Clueless”

 

 

I will see you-see you-on the

whining tower-searching-searching

for the final hour-or maybe it

will be the other way around-this heart’s

aching throb is outlining the cause

of all our disintegrating thoughts-

nothing on the surface of the

scaly scab-nothing underneath me

but this cold stony slab-

where is the anchor to the

boat of depression?-we’re supposed

to be shipping out suicides today-

all day-they like the feel of shattered

skull remnants-cutting through their

naked skin-the minty green breath

quickly turns sour-where am I in

this world?-right or upside down?-

there’s no way to tell-I am sending out

a call of distress-don’t know why I bother-

because I’ve always been clueless-

always clutching the Bible-running like

sand through my fingers-the blood escapes

my hand-I’m making it on my own today-

finally a big success-still nothing matters-

since I’ll always be clueless-

 

 

“Madness”

 

hoping you will stay for a piece

of dinner-I wear the rubber tire

around my neck-it’s a very old

family tradition-don’t mock me-the

priest is old and decaying as we speak

to him about Jesus-your broken

eyes reflect the crown of thorns

strapped to my soul-what are the

clouds trying to block from our

sight?-we have know God claims

no shrapnel of His existence as His

own-like something from a novel it

suddenly happens-the monster seizes

me by the chest-but someone

tickles it and it lets go-odd

words invade my thoughts and

poison me-cats with their teeth

pulled fight in my front yard-I

don’t want to pierce my skin

with this dirty blade again-

but something says I shouldn’t

stop-televisions under the surface

of the lake-images of fire going

in my mouth and then never emerging-

burning my clothes off-tell me if you

ever get a chance-when will this

madness end?

 

 

“Only a Nightmare”

 

what the hell is the matter

with you?-don’t ever push

that in my face again-I don’t

even like the way it looks

or smells so why would I

want to taste it?-Jesus you’re

so dumb-God you’re an idiot-

your brain is a sculpture made

from clay by a six year old

geek with pudgy fingers-he

left it in the kiln too long and

fried your mind-dye your hair

black because I’m sick of you-

you prove that old stereotype

is true-“blondes are dumb”-

kaleidoscope acid trip burns

in my head-no it’s more like a

kiln-oh no I’m becoming a moron

like you-I can see that same six year

old through the window-laughing at

me-he controls my destiny-wait no

he’s fading-light comes in-thank

Zeus-it was only a nightmare-

 

 

“Stupid Love Song”

 

 

the first day you came here I

thought “wow what a gorgeous little

treasure we’ve got here”-yet now

nothing seems sane-everyone likes

you and deserts me-layers of flesh

keep you out of my reach-layers of

flesh and layers of words that say I

am nobody and why can’t anyone

see no one knows me?-maybe it’s

because I lose my words at the sight

of you-I need to feel you chase me

through a fire to know you will

stay with me-I want to see you face

your greatest fear to know you’ll

stay by my lonely side-and I know I’m

not the best person to love-I know what

I’ve done wrong-I’ve written the worst

little ditty that ever attempted to pose

as a love song-

 

 

“Given Up”

 

 

you’ve come to me for

help-and now it’s time

to deny it-you’ve asked

for rebel power-so now it’s

time to supply it-I just

have to find it first-let

me see-hmmm-where’d I

put it last?-I knew it

was under the bed-maybe

my mom took it to the

drycleaners?-yeah that’s

what happened-yeah hey

wait where the hell are

you going?-I mean come on

time exists so you can waste

it-the power will come-just

don’t think like that-oh

please wait it’s here-what’s

wrong with you?-you’ve given

up and now I’m left all

alone-you’ve given up so now I

toss the power away-

and the next day

a guy named “Wrong Hands” has it-

 

 

“Wash”

 

 

there goes the ugliest man

I’ve ever seen-yeah I

think he’s some kind of

salesman and he lives

right next door to me-it’s

real creepy when I wake up-

he’s out there with a

yellow grin and he wonders

why everyone hates him-

because he doesn’t wash-

his skin has turned black from dirt

and the stench is overwhelming-

at night I’m sure he stares

at the showerhead wondering

what it’s for-

 

 

“A Secret”

 

I hear some thoughts of

yours but I don’t understand

what they mean-well can

you tell me?-say say say

it loud-because I don’t

know what the hell you’re

talking about-oh no wait a

second god meant for it to

be that way-so please don’t

tell me what you meant-no

no no I don’t want the

knowledge anymore-shut

your face-stop this constant

jabbering-because it shakes

my nerves-just like the people

staring at my back-who can

show their laughter-but not

their faces-never their faces-

oh no no no they will remain a

secret-a secret to me-

 

 

“Walking On”

 

 

I was writing a letter

and it was about some

song and damn it was like

so depressing and

gee you could have

joined me for tea to

talk about life and

being free and maybe I

would’ve noticed you but

at this point in time I

can’t really tell you

because now I’m walking on

beyond the stretching horizon

out where silence and I will play

a game of Russian roulette where

no parents can get in the way of

the eternity known as day-

 

 

“See”

 

 

there was a solemn morning,

one that I heard God misplaced-

He was very upset when He

lost it-one of his best creations-

and how I cried on the ground

where I stood-and my tears turned

red-I remember how the sky was

so ageless-on a dusty morning the

clouds will all leave-getting out

of my way-and I will stand on a

mountaintop and I will see-I recall

a park bench was involved as

they built a monument to Washington-

behind all the workers there I was

standing there with a glimpse of

the wasted future-now thanks to all

these shots of distant misery-I wish-I

wish I couldn’t see-

 

 

“Headstone”

 

 

I was standing by an old

man who could speak into

my eyes-I mean really pour

out all this stupid information

like really fast-and he’d

tell me about the headstone

that’s in my future-and

about the universe-and the

sky-and the grass-and the trees-

and all the birds-rolled into

an acid trip-and how you can

fall through the earth-

if you’re dumb you might

lose yourself in one of the

oceans-then he went on about

the headstone in my future-

yet now his tone had changed-

and suddenly he was leaving me-

something in the distance sounded

like a name being carved

into stone-

 

 

“Begging”

 

 

someone lost something

else last night deep in

the heart of Moscow-I can

feel your presence over and

over-you disappear over and-

over the wall you go like a

wildflower dead in the winter-

thinking-can’t think straight-

moving-can’t move straight-

resting-can’t rest straight-

falling like a leaf-fall crooked-

fall winter spring summer-I

spring on to its back and

go for a ride-ride the winding

path-I come to an old house

and I shuffle dust as I walk

inside-and I skip stairs when

it is time-I reach the roof-I look

at the sky-I look at the ground-

and it says “I am here waiting to

hold you close”-and it is begging-

and I fall into its solid cold embrace-

 

 

“pillow of leaves”

 

 

“broken eyes” she said-“perfectly constructed lies can leak out of them”-I knew what she meant-I told her to lie down-rest your head upon me-I long to become your pillow of leaves-I want you to bury your head in my compliments-they wither and grow old because they aren’t planted in your ears-their bones creak and groan and crack as time moves on-because you will not let them be painted upon your brain-you are afraid they will be evicted-denied access-but I can see the empty canvas hanging in your mind-I know there is a place where these words could dance and swirl until they are included in the mural of your life-bury your head in me to smother the words that deny you everything you want-rub your cheeks with all my colors as they change and spread and grow and consume whatever it is they feel like touching-stroke your mind to reach eternal bliss with my nature-let my raindrops crown your head-let me be your evergreen forest-my trees could accept such an honor-open your eyes and I promise to be the environment you long to see-listen closely and you will hear your misery dissolve-if I could only be the sunlight for one second!-one drop of orange light hung in the sky to give you life-I long to spread my golden fingers over you-so I can hold your body in my warmth for just one brief moment-it would be enough to know my compliments could bathe you in the same way-when you open your mouth I want to be the sweetest fruit you ever tasted-“why don’t you ever smile” she said-I tried to answer but the words wouldn’t come---

 

 

“erin”

 

 

you are the one I want to see-you are the one I want to hear-you are the one I want to breathe so I can survive-such a sweet aroma has never before snaked its tendrils inside my head to tap the core of my brain-no acid known to humankind has ever been able to dissolve this pain-you revolve around my world-existing in the shape of mists-all of them bending and twisting in and out of several dark shades of purple-you help me to see beyond the glare of the glorious sunrise-there is a man who claims to be “father” nature holding a lamp-the light that lives inside his glass case exposes a trail that passes through some ancient forgotten forest-twisting and curling-unloading unfurling-its emerald beauty reaches across the land-decorating what would normally be a dead dreary landscape-I look so delicately upon your face when you lay down beside me-because it is such a rare occasion that I cannot rush or force it-or it will break-and I see a silver and crimson pinwheel spinning behind your transparent face-your inner light reflected on each of its brittle thin leaves-my world is so minute and so simple that you have easily uncovered every detail of it-I look so delicately upon your face-my eyes pull away without leaving a trace-I know you’ve seen me shedding tears like layers of dead skin-I can sense there is a light in this room that no one has bothered to use-just once it is your internal beauty I long to see-a rare bird-like creature fluttering in a cage of bone-perhaps you could pardon me if I step over the line of acceptance you’ve drawn for me-although you created it with fluorescent paint sometimes it’s still hard to see-I’m so accustomed to coming here with only the illumination of artificial light-yet today the sun finally came back over the horizon-wandering back into our lives like a child who wandered off at age 11-who left no note and we assumed for dead-who left as a boy and now walks back a man---

 

 

“mein liebsling madchen”

 

 

NOTE: I took German so long ago that I forgot what this phrase means, but I think it translates as “my favorite girl.”

 

 

if I were worthy enough I would ask you to sit beside me-as I dwell here alone quietly turning to stone-I would ask you to occupy the space which time has kept vacant just for thee-I would consider your presence a precious gift-a beautiful crimson jewel-and I would polish it morning noon and night so I could see the sunlight reflecting off its surface-yes I would like you to sit here-so I may offer you the cup of truth that rests on a dining table deep inside my heart-my mind would be drowning in joy if only you would accept this offer-touch this inner goblet with your ruby lips-or perhaps the truth you taste will be written on paper-or maybe my vocal cords will vibrate in that certain special sequence-allowing you to hear the disruption of molecules in the air as I tell you the words I’ve kept buried for so long-I’m not sure I could say these words to you-when your sapphire eyes gaze at me I’m not sure you could understand what I’m feeling-your eyes reflect the calmest moments of the seven seas-but inside I’m shaking-I must solve a jigsaw puzzle in my mind if I want to convey this message-majestic unreal fingers push the pieces around-locking them in place-yet I don’t believe I’ll ever solve it-your mesmerizing eyes are like two suns shattering the darkness of the horizon-how can I help but love them-if only you would sit down-I would honor thee and pour compliments into your ear-it is time for my spirits to rise and brush this loneliness away-this complex structure of depression now collapses within me-I long to establish the foundation quickly so I may build a new house here-a house of joy-I want to bulk up on my strength so I may use more complex phrases to give you the message-until then these simple words are enough to explain the way I feel-“I love you”---

 

 

“Unnamed”

 

 

I put my best foot forward

and fell like the fool I am.

This amounts to nothing.

I prefer to stay where I stand.

Life is too short to move.

There are better ways to live.

We could both be friends or lovers,

but you reject me.

Now, as black raven eyes pierce my heart,

something shudders

and I hear you laugh.

A man with a tree stump body

swears his disapproval.

 

Used to speak to me

as if life had meaning

and like light was never on.

Colors were not refracted.

Life was dull, fractured.

Somehow we got by.

 

But that was eons before we died inside.

Social groupings deformed our lives.

Distorted beyond recognition, we fell apart.

Our bodies were cut open, our minds removed.

Never thought to use words as saviors,

but it’s too late for any of that now.

 

And as black raven feathers tickle my eyes,

a gate slams shut

and I see you smile.

Don’t use your darkness for an escape!

(Oh, I’ve never died like this before.)

 

Now as black raven claws tear my skin,

I shudder to a halt

and I know you’re watching me die.

Watch the raven belch fire,

scorching my flesh, my soul

over and over and over and…

 

I burst from these chains!

They have bound me for far too long,

a longer time than the word “freedom” has even existed.

Hate is all you have known.

Now as I stab the raven’s black heart

something shuffles across the dark room

and I hear you run for a moment

before memories trip you up.

 

Soon you’ll be nothing but one of my sweet memories.

I should take time to kill you slowly.

Yet hands of justice push mine forward.

(You bound me so long ago!)

I brace myself for the beauty of this hideous act.

Now as my sword punctures skin and organs,

something cracks beneath my feet

and I hear you descend into Hell.

 

You’re floating down, so far down, floating like snow.

Yet I float up like an angel

while you remain and burn,

a sword in you like stone,

cutting through skin and bone,

while you writhe and groan

during torture time deep in the pit of Hell.

 

 

“Grateful”

 

 

time on this earth

time on this earth

it’s time I’m not worthy of

my body is a gift I don’t deserve

my life is a leisure I never earned

give me the sin

drained from your veins

I want all the highs and lows

all you need is my gratitude

the great light will focus on you forever

unless you give up your final sin

which I am so willing to take

give it to me

let me drink it like wine

let it trickle down my throat

the sweet elixir of your sin

I need every last drop

spill your sin straight into my stomach

the light moves to me

finally I’ve gotten some attention

and I owe it all to you

 

 

“Sucker”

 

Didn’t you ever love me?

Well, considering that I gave you

            the powers of a god,

            I’d expect the answer to be yes…

but instead, “NO!”

I suppose I’ve given you

the wits to realize

that the great power I gave you

had an expiration date

and you don’t like that

so you push your hate on to me,

sitting here so oblivious

            to your anger.

You try to crush me with insults

but you have no effect

            because I’m laughing too hard.

I can’t hear you shout

because it just keeps getting funnier

every time I think of it:

            You took the powers of a god

            without reading the fine print.

Sucker.

 

 

“I Am Thinking”

 

 

I am thinking

Yet still it laughs

It laughs

Bound as it sheds skin

The sludge oozes from me

From the net of my mind

Seeping through the holes

Crawling down the drain now

Now

It is gone

Gone

 

 

“The suns”

 

 

The suns cry to existence now

is but a counted shame.

The crows and mighty sparrows here

are the only ones left to blame.

 

 

“Pornography and Jaded Hues”

 

 

Pornography and jaded hues

Loosening five of my seven screws

They titter-tatter across my mind

Leaving a tragedy from hell behind

 

He says it again to me

A word that might mean “free”

Which may, which might

The sound of 1,000 shattered nights

 

Creeping, scaling

Still, then flailing

There

See it creep up your leg

Drink from you

Like you were a keg

 

There

Now it is gone

Red bubbles drip

Upon the lawn

From these pointed tips they fall

As if answering a call

 

It is me

For bubbles dot my lips

Which have taken greedy sips

 

 

“Jabbering”

 

 

Here, they are being

Fools

Why do not they shut up

No I want not to kill

Shut up they should just

shut up

 

I am tired

Lady fingers in my hair

Pushing into my face

 

The men at the door

I think they’re talking about me

I know they’re talking

about me

They are CIA

Either that or FBI

Why don’t they shut up

shut up

Up, shut their mouths

Up

 

Be quiet

Quiet is good

Quiet is the only way to get along

 

Going crazy, am I

I am going crazy

Going, going

 

 

gone

like an Eskimo in Antarctica

alone,

and god it’s oh so very

cold