Serenade of a Sadomasochistic Safari
Somewhere during a sadomasochistic safari we dreamed an oasis, we married the mirage.
She dropped a disjointed strong-arm to my mood emitter, chanting hopeful hoaxes of hystoria.
As I Indian leg wrestled my bandito brothers, in the cactusy sanctuary of the deepfreeze walls.
Baby dinosaurs are born again, from the tar in her mouth and the spit in his lungs.
Perfectly preserved, I’m all vinegar for tomorrow and corn syrup over yesterday.
While this moment curls up inside it’s own insatiable rumbling and withers away.
Nearby my bedroom skies, just beyond my darkroom eyes the Isis lense is etching.
Every angle of this ragged romance, in some quicksilver, hot iron, circle dance.
And I am still one minus zero as I trip and tumble into a memory, manifest.
Staggering towards the whites, he painted, in her cat like eyes.
She barked at him, as he paused to melt the snow in her hair.
The air became sand, the water Lophophora, the earth a pyramid on the edge of a fiery fall.
An anchor I once dropped, in the shape of an arrow pointed at the eyes of a spiraling pharaoh.
Shoots Hieroglyph sparks, through copper wire veins in tin-can stockades.
Illuminating the end on the eve of it all.
Emergency exit, I close my eyes and wrap both hands around your face.
Pressing these blessed opposable thumbs against the thin lids of another's eyes. . .
Emergency exit, we dream of colors and ask, and tell
and splash meaning onto the water like light- a prism.
A prison of reason and another's eyes. . .
Emergency exit, you bite down on old dreams of the future and play the role.
Tearing at the taste of a sunrise witnessed and painted by another's eyes. . .
Emergency exit from these to another's eyes.
A Moth I Watched Discover Herself
There was once a moth who was drawn to a mirror as most are drawn to flame. At first I had thought she was pulled by vanity though quickly I could feel. She held a fire, her flight held light within self which she had never seen... But now she has and now shes drawn by her own inner flame. How delightful she seemed to have seen. For to see is to believe.
Words of savage experience
Words of savage experience
self-loathing adult life
long story quickly getting awful
Nature is just not my thing
I am used; committed honestly
like dropped encounters
I know this is how it’s killing me
right now I feel like puking
time can’t help my mind
Spanked with this guilt
exaggerating this contracted calm
the fuck down now
Adventure took a walk on
your relationship material
put yourself out there just like you
a limited shape
The only wonder to have a future
in both never and will be
I hope that doesn’t ruin it
for you catholic families
she says she can’t be with me
ashamed of my cunt
she’s the reason
for derailing a pair of
controlling ass holes
Needs actually exist?
I just think maladjusted
little shit thoughts.
Bubble's Off a Precipice
I dreamed I was blowing bubbles off a precipice, when all of a sudden one of my bubbles engulfed me.I began to float up, up, up.
I realized that I would have to dance ever so lightly to keep from popping this bubble and plummeting to my doom down, down, down.
For a moment it was lovely like childhood frolics, but soon enough I began to think and so I tripped on something that was nothing. To my dismay that fragile flying bubble burst.
Falling like a rain drop I noticed: I had breathed all the air in the bubble and all that was left was all that I exhaled.
All the mucky shit fuck that you can’t inhale was raining all around me.
Lets drink a toast
a roast to some loneliness.
With: is a place that you go
when you die.
Lets have a feast
with the beast of incompetence.
Right: is the way you go
when there’s nothing left.
So I might be stuttering
stuck holding something
but nothing that’s mine.
I’m full of shit.
I painted all this.
Why: is desperate
a dodge of the spine.
I’m full of air.
Painters are everywhere.
Spinning webs and pulling my life.
Am I just a sail?
Unfurled from a boat:
caught in my breath as a flail
A Sailor's Thoughts, A Lover's Knots
Oh if I was a sailor last Sunday
I would know this Saturday
exactly how to tie your ropes
precisely how to tether your hopes
to me and mine
to stay this time
a sailors thoughts
a lover's knots
share a boat in the belly of a whale
we’ll fight the crocodile who’s tick tocking tail
is as fictional as the big bowl moon
who anticipates the scoop of a spoon
full of second hand light
that we pulled from the night
and feasted upon
till the breaking of dawn
but by the rooster’s third crow
we’ll wake up and we’ll know
that everything once built has been broken
we’ll keep a scrap as a token
to remind once again
just before we begin
that the tower of white always tumbles
that the power of flight only humbles
for too heavy are the bones
laden with a safe full of stones
each one possessing
the weight of regressing
from the rising of feathers
to some ancient tethers
that the sailors never taught me to tie
so I wont cling and demand why
on this journey of jesting
all this summertime testing
I’ve learned how to fly
also that love’s nothing to hide
Do I still fall???
At least I tried...