Tuesday 29 October 2013

The Dead Would Buy Ways To Eastern Promises

The Gold Is Peeling Off Her Stoic Ensemble,
Flakeing And Flirting With Potential Escape,
In The MidDay RushHour It Rusts And Waits,
For The SweepStakes To Reveal The Weakness InGrained,
Slivers In The Melting Pot Glitter Like God In EveryOne,
Quotas To Be Performed In Sacred Closet Rituals,
She Examines The Daisys First And Then The Carnations For Pushers And Baby-Faced Romantics,
Trying The Jury For The Pews,
Reading From The Cue-Card Holder's Agony For Signs Of Depression,
Another Safe Check For ReCession,
Tumbleing The Bob To Prick Her Thumb...
...
And In Her Deep Sleep Dream A Thousand Islands,
On Each Island A Hidden Valley Of The Dolls,
Ceramic UnBlinking And UnCareing...
...
...
The Trees In Their Arbor Harbour The Mantle,
For Legs To Dangle,
With No Stilts To Widow Her NutCracker Suite
The Dolls Could Speak Like The Sparrows Lost In Souls To Carry,
BeFore The Pillow Can Be Felt...
...
A WetLand For Estranged Vineards...
...
Hers Is A Minded Oblivion,
With A Make-Up Case And A Mirror,
Smoke In The Fields,
Ashes From All That Was Once Shuttered From Flight...
...
Floating On Past The Carnival Lights,
MeaningLess In The Spread And Lunge,
Bitten InTo Cheapness Like Satiny Wax...
...
Buttoned Down,
And ButterFlyed Above The Fade.








Monday 28 October 2013

The One Thing About Those Little Sparks Is That You Have To Watch Your Wick

The Monkey Bangs The Tin Drum Dumb,
OnWard To Those Blackened Willed StrongHolds,
To Those Gutted-Twists In The Confines From Liberty,
Monday Beggars On Knees Of Glass,
While Shrapnel Zips Through Ears And Lips From Ten-Second Clicks
Whitening Teeth And CollarBones With Its Tickered Parade,
Bleaching Out The Fadeing Iris From Love PreTended...
...
...
...
A Bookie Sits With His Phone To His Head,
All Bets Are Off UnTil The StormTroopers Find The Smokeing Gun,
He Stares At The Ringed Stain From His Coffee Daze,
Hypnotized And Lost In The Bitten Styrofoam,
His Hand Is Burning And Wet...
...
...
SunLight Peeks Through EyeLash,
Stillness Through That Vision In A Cage,
Is It Snowing Past That Fanged Eclipse...?
...
Or Did The Phone Ring When It Did?









Wednesday 23 October 2013

Straw Buryed Fields In November

Drawing Breath,
The Browning Of What Was Left From Family Pardons,
Emptyed OnTo The DriveWays For U-Turn Commandos To Measure For Camera
Angles And Snow Blinding Rage,
SomeTimes I Think Of Falling Past The Rooted Earth...
...
To Not Get The Wind Knocked Out Of My Lungs...
...
...
The Fire Tricks Its Way InTo The Shuffle,
But Not To Fool The House InTo Leaveing Its Thrones UnGuarded,
ThankFull I Do Not Have To Wear Bells,
As I Hit The Ground...
...
...
SomeBody Is Cutting The Deck,
Playing The Blind Man's Bluff,
I Turn My Face To Burn Images InTo Memory,
Just This Once I Could Raise The Bet...
...
For Better Halves To Split The Snake's Tongue,
Carrying Ants Back To My Home,
To Teach Them The Depth Of Honey,
As I Lose My Height And A False Sense Of Security...
...
Joining The Droneing Buzz,
Drowning MySelf In My Duty Of Worthy Pollinateions...
...
InTo Orchids And Then Back InTo Waxen Structure...
...
...
And Then To Melt As I Fall.






Sunday 20 October 2013

Manatee For The Mouths Of May

Milk Tea,
Humanity,
Open Sore Sunday Poor,
Triumphant As A Chinese Lantern,
Moon Shine Princes And Little Girls With Their Thumbs In The Dyke,
Wooden Masks,
Tree Hugging Messiahs With Their German Shepherds,
Leafy Piles Of Burning Autumns,
Fashion Statement Fridays,
Water Cooler Empires With Cone Cup Annoyances,
Paper Cuts In BeTwixt The Pinky And The Ring,
Lingering House Calls From Jehovahs,
Suicideal GreenPeace Cannibals,
Dolphin Pride Mixed Deliciously InTo The Flaked Tuna,
Free Range Free Masonry With Their Halls Of No Such Thing As A Free Lunch,
American Debt Machines Linked Together Like A Brideal Train,
Salad Bar Junkies... Junk Food Monkeys... River Rat Hobo Hookers,
Tai-Chi Yoga Lemmings...
...
The UnExpected Leap InTo Forgiveness,
LapDance BibleThumpers Who Need Love From Their Local Hell's Angels,
Coca-Cola Test Subjects With Dietary Supplements,
Actresses That Pretend Man Is A Myth,
Man That Seeks The Myth...
...
Oven Mitted Motherly Hubbard Sends Out Beach Boy GirlFriends...
...
Stock Market Crashes Because Of OverSpending On Trips To Mars,
Scientists On The Pill... To Know The Feeling Of Numbness From HandCuffs,
ClothesHanger Alley Way Strays Fat On Mystery Meat,
Surviveal Of The Fleetist... Eat And Run,
Rats Chaseing Cats Up Trees For Chippendale Rescues To Thicken The Cream,
To Curdle When Left Over... Cheap Cheese For Rodents...
...
Bottom Feeders In Their Bathyscaphes Turning The Screws,
Archimedes Pleading On The Wire To Bell For Watson's Assistance,
Ringing In The New Year With Newton,
Terrorized Of Heights But AllWays Jumping,
To Prove The Wool... To Mull The Leg... To Dragonize The Woo,
Preaching Hell On Earth... Paradise Off Its Flattened Edge,
Tilt The Hand That Feeds The Brow...!... For It Strokes The Temple And Knows Its Other's Clap,
Why Stop...?... Just Drop And Roll.
...
...
Then... To The Rope And Pole.








Friday 18 October 2013

It Is Still Too Early For The Macintosh

Sombrero Days Are UpOn Us,
GunSmoke, HeeHaws And Cool Handed Lassos,
Greasy Kisses From Those Musky Tavern Whores Whose Pale Bosoms Do Throb
For Ways Under The Table,
Powdery Soft Like A Motherly Touch So Feigned
To Fan The Flames From A Cheater's Sleeve,
Dusk Beyond The Horizon And Beyond The Dust,
Enough Trust To One Night Steal A Stallion From Under The Marshall's Runny Nose,
To Get Those Short-Lived Steak Meals By The Fire-Lit Grotto
And Whiskey-Out The Fall From A Century AWay... Washed Up...
...
Trails At The Boot Strapped Of Every Wakeing Hour,
ToWards MythoLogical ReMemberance Of Faded Documentary Stills,
Nuggets In The RiverBed...
...
Holes In The Sky...
...
...
Holes In Your Hats...
...
Holes In Your Lives.





Wednesday 16 October 2013

Umbra-3

Here Is An Abstract "Computer Painting" That I Created This Morning. I Was Real Pissed About SomeThing, And I Got So Angry That I Saw Black For A Second And A Half, BeFore I Saw This Image Form In My Head.

Strangely, I Felt Calm When I Saw It... Which Led To Me ReProduceing The Image On My LapTop's PaintBrush App.

Different From My Usual Poetry... WhatEver. I Think It's Cool, For It Being Simple... I Call It "Umbra-3".




Monday 14 October 2013

One Fine Day At The Truck Stop

If The Mantis Stopped By The Side Of The Road And Prayed For Its Supper,
A Chicken Would Eventually Show Up To Cross The Street,
Carrying SunShine And Secretive Egg Mysticism,
Scratching The Pavement For Rooster-Shaman Visionarys,
That One Future Might Be Caressed WithIn The Nest Of A Hen's Hour,
Clucking AWay The Fear Of Modern-Day Machinery,
To Make ItSelf An Example BeFore This Insectile World Of AntHills And Refugee Tarantulas,
Its Comb Shuddering With Each Passing Rush Of Monoxide And Black Balloon'd Death-Spinners,
Chrome Shineing Monsters-The Millipedes And Goliath Beetles Have Evolved InTo...!
...
How Could It Be For All The Peckings Of Young Hatchlings And The Congression
WithIn The Coop-Thought Chamber,
AllWays At War Against The Monkeys For Domination Over Humanity,
They Would Never Break A Ceremonyal Twig In Ritual For Treaty...
...
...
The Chicken Would Rest Three Quarters From Where The Mantis Stood Praying,
Spying The Greatness Of Roaring AirPlanes Over Its Twitchy Feathered Head,
Selling The Spiritual Journey Of Its Final Form To Curious Green Eyes And Tilted Mandibles,
Lifting Its FlightLess Wings To The Sky... As Spinning Death Blackness
Driven By The Engines Of Ancestral Fright Crushed Its Meaty Body
InTo The Flat Grey NoThing...
...
Beak DisLocated And Preening Hot-Grill For Kilometers... Shareing The Ride
With Equally SilkLess Moths...
...
...
"Oh Wow," The Mantis Would Think,
"If That Is What The Chickens Want Of The Monkeys,
It Is No Wonder I Have To AllWays Eat My Husbands!"





Sunday 13 October 2013

Slip 23 Catch 22

There Is AllWays Room For One More,
Off That Dock In The Cargo's Hold,
Where HollyWood Parks Its Tonsil'd Boat Of Tinder,
For Scenes With Golden Blonde GreenHouse Tenders,
Siamese With Delilah Where The Lighter Side Of Dark Meets,
With Flames In The Pantry And Blood On The Shag,
Still Competeing Against Rose McGowan's Shadow...
...
...
That Shadow Could Rise From The 70's With The Jackson 5,
Where Hannah In Porno Could Not Go-Go For Disco's Inferno...
...
At Least Not While Chain-Smokeing BeTween Takes,
Dalmatian-Salivateing And Straddleing Limo-Mafioso...
...
For The Attention Span Of A Waste Of Money
Bred High UpOn Albino Angst,
Kenneth Anger Projects And Loser Appeal,
Stage Tantrums Wearing Mickey's Ears And Rubber Pants,
Faux Berlin Burlesque And The LaVey Connection,
With Taste As Princess'd As Its Process Brought To Haste The Hand
From Its Honey,
Only The Lonely Know Why... That Jar Was So High...
...
...
...
We Were All Too HeartBroken From HomeWreckers,
I Had To Plead InSanity For A Touch Of Royalty
To Guide My Spirit Back To Its Balls.





Of Death And Tuxes

The Piece Of Cake Slices Its Wedge,
To Lodge In BeTwixt The Borrowed And The Blue,
The ArchWays Deprived Of Self-PreServeation,
Those Plastic Molded Castings Of PerFection
Hand In Hand Sinking InTo The Thinness,
Surrendering In Sacrificial Offerings Of Burned-Out Raceings
Around Precious Time And Capricious Space,
Brass Rings Grasped In Craveings For LeaderShip,
AllMost Poor Enough For A Wedding Free From Debt
Though AllReady Too Rich For The Greater Good,
Like Those Wisdom Teeth From Whence The Milk Once Hit,
Cracks Start To Appear...
...
The Silver Spoons Lay Tarnished In Their Maple Chest,
Registered In Spades To The Bride's Dismay,
While The Groom Stands Fit To Be Hung
For Cowardice En Route To The Confession's Blind...
...
No Man Be Present... The Mothers-In-Law Sob UnControllabley For The
Loss To Not Be Known,
And The Father Of The Bride Pays For His Tux The Old Fashioned Way...
...
AHead Of The Line.




Thursday 10 October 2013

InTo Greener Pastures

The Crossing Wired Division,
Sweetness Lost Over Time,
That Bridge Over Soured Waters,
Frozen In Perpetual Ripple,
Never Reaching The End Of Its Echo'd Tide,
Drifting WithIn ItSelf To Erase Momentum...
...
Signalling Under The Pull,
The Ebb Throbbing In Its Veins,
With No Need For Artery... It Will Bleed ForEver...
...
Never Staying APart Of The Pulse,
Trickleing Down Off Icicles...
...
InTo Cycles.