words fall short

here in the wasteland of scorching heat

the plains of boiling bigotry and bitterness

where morality and kindness can be exchanged

there are dangerous creatures lurking

those who bask in the hate, highlighting the forked tongue

so often the beautiful, vibrant  allure of a well-honed predator

outshines the best of the loving, caring, compassionate creatures

we have no need for trickery

he is sweet and loving and kind

he cries when it hurts to be him

on his back are the footprints of his brothers and sisters in arms

those who promised to hold his life as their own

those who promised to hold his life as they would their beloved

in the end, he was alone, afraid, injured and left to die

come what may, because he is just a sentient being, child-like, trembling

what of the joker, the trickster, the speaker of my language

smiling through self torture, a private guantanamo bay

i don’t know what happened to you before

i don’t know what they said and didn’t say

but i know today you are beautiful and worthy and precious

despite the best of your efforts

too many before have sighed with resignation

turning fear of future failure and triumph into chains

but selling freedom for quasi-comfort is not fair exchange

when there are too many fish in a pond they suffocate

but settling is giving up more than life-that’s too easy

settling is taking your essence, your all truth, your all love

settling is bottling the space between chemical reactions

and selling it in walmart as the next teen star glitter body spray

 

hey, lady love, your overpriced social cause or mine?

we walk together guarded

because it is secret

because it is promised

because the mystics and poets

singers, swingers, dancers, lovers

summoned the gods in the tunnels

the underground labyrinth of freedom

passage and personhood granted by pantheons

long dead but still dancing the street

essence and smiles fade still the hearts beat

ancient stories detailed on concrete walls

hieroglyphs and sigils gifts of rebellion

starving artists, junkies, rebels, misanthropes

barry manilow, john wayne, donald trump, snooky

the flowers of the up and coming mental apocalypse

so kiddos roll up your sleeves

all signs point down into the bowels

shit’s about to get really real richie rich!

take my hand, lover of mine, let’s rock the subway!

 

the nevereverland

sometimes i hate you like i hate picasso

i hate the trust i see when i see you in beauty

the way the universe tries to hum me to sleep

like white noise or a wheezing granny’s cigarette breath

i hate when you let me fall down then extend your hand

i hate who i am so stupid and flimsy and frail

all the crisp white and neat 90 degree angles

it’s like a fucking birdcage with no fucking birds

just ridiculous and oddly obscene

living life in climate controlled boxes

bitchin’ and moanin’ about the rough life in uv lighting

sometimes people need to roam around

pace on red dirt roads and gravel trails going on

yellow grass littered with goat-head sticker patches

the beast of the satanic botanic gardens

sometimes i just need to hate you to hate me

like grit in my teeth or blisters on my toes

lovin’ ain’t soft or kind or sweet

hallmark and jazz-vomit for the masses

chocolate taste like shit, roses have thorns

love is pulling your guts out, dragging them behind you

it’s blind rage, arrogance and reckless stupidity

i know i love you because you break me

like a 75 year old virgin’s hymen, you break me

without thought or fear or knowledge

i hate you for making me know i am living

all i want is to stop

i love you because you are the most of everything

you are the sum of all that is ever been kind and pretty

i love you because even in the inside of a monster you illuminate

you radiate and shine casting light on imperfections

and drawing this insect out to orbit until her wings crumble

ménage à trois- faust,the devil and gretchen makes three

and then the talented scarlet harlot

took a bow, a tumbling tit exposed

lips curling into a smile, then rerouted to coyness

walking away, dignity in tact and elevated

grief, fear, danger, victim, the aggrieved

screaming for the head of another

a trophy, an object, a toy of conquest

simple card tricks for simple minds

it’s always a disappointment to watch

the reckless abandon used in circles of feminine

groups, gaggles, gossip, girl-gang mentality

there have been rivers, deserts, woods, concrete

stained with the blood of the orators, the oracles

bones, tissue, odds and ends of the once breathing

gladly sacrificed to give voice, hope, pride

to nameless people across culture, country and time

sisters and brothers killed in battle

to fuck is human, orgasm in soprano delightful

own it, grow it, discipline it-set your cunt free

there is beauty and pride in ownership of sex

there is nothing redeemable or remarkable

when regret is animated and forced onto others

to douse the soul of another in shock value words

words that can cause many to piss down their legs

strike a match and see the ruin, great nero of today

naughty naughty, wretched

the stench of your desperation

permeates the air

such a suffocating disposition

queen of the queers in little-pond, nowhere

setting fire to my intellectual property

howling, cackling laughter, shrills of delight

for every tear that broke from my eyes

finding the debasing of my reputation

delectably, delightfully, delicious

you are visible to me, the way you are

the honeyed voice and feigned compassion

cuddle huddle with those i love

and whisper in their ear tiny tears in reality

until the picture is a cheap whore

big red lips snarled in a bitch smile

you have your whores at your feet

the creme de la creme of human garbage

the risk to the lives of others

will never be equal to a photo-op

turning people away

forcing what you deem right

onto the backs of the isolated

you are the worst sort of damned

the shadow-dweller, the gutter rat

when did you sell your humanity

or was that something that never existed

you and your concubines, your big-wig way

one day the imaginary zen will disappear

and the foul monster born to your parents

will leave you writhing and screaming

the thought brings me comfort and sweet dreams

dying is soooooo boring

pills pills pills

glorious wondrous

dancing on the fence of healthy

concoctions and intoxicants

to delight the senses

and numb the mind

uninfect the infected

feed the malnurished

when the capsules fail

when the powders float like pollen

medicine mixed in hydrocarbons

anti-emetic

drug

suspended

in

substance

paraffin-like

texture

petroleum- waste

chemically

magically blended to perfection

formed into a bullet

to shove up the ass

of the beautiful

princess of projectile vomiting

waiting to take more

elixirs, potions, witch’s brew

liquids in glass bottles or plastic bags

the skin broken and serum infused

muscular or intravenous methods

isopropyl alcohol, syringes, catheters

leaving behind dark purple knots

on the skin for all the world to see

waiting to be violated again and again

waiting to smile and give thanks

hoping at every fountain

wishing on every star

begging and bartering when i have nothing

i can live with bruises

pain, nausea, falling, sleep deprivation

i can live knowing there will be tests

at any given time in my life

most involving orifices

shoving ribbed hoses with cameras

down my throat and up my ass

delighting in the bruises and the discomfort

bombardment of bullshit terminology

in hopes to shut the stupid girl up

poorly veiled threats of mistreatment

but i am at the mercy of vultures

cretins and belly-crawlers

i don’t go down the path

the one that looks so simple

and bright and sunny

i will try to stay on this path

and heal in the future

 

70 days early

for decades i saw the all of you

there will never be a moment

not a 10,000th of one second

i will not protect you

slaying demons, dragons, sorcerers

i will break the boundaries into hell

and fuck the devil himself to keep you safe

but i am fading from your mind

sometimes i can close my eyes

remembering, wallowing in nostalgia

you throwing food on the floor

your clear indication the five star dining had ended

i can still feel the stab, the nausea

the words the doctor said after listening to your chest

there was a woman screaming 

she followed me for days

i realized that scream was from me

fear boiling in a cauldron

the green tar-like goop spilling

poisoning all rational thought

in the end the elixir dissipated

and the 27 rational thoughts began scurrying 

 i have your voice burned in my memory bank

your first laugh, your five year old voice

the voice of the frustrated 14 year old

the laughter of today…

i miss you

i miss knowing you

i miss your trust in me

i miss bocce ball and late night snacks

i want to understand

but i don’t know

how many one-sided conversations

i can have with your door