MAYOR RASH LIMBURGER

The Last Word

2011-07-31T07:00:00.000-07:00

Clyde was a skeptic to the heart
so when they spoke of ghosts at the office
his face smirked between so many remarks,
he spoke of it all being somebody’s imagination
even when the secretary’s shrieked one day
and mention seeing a janitor float through the wall.

Oh the other incidents happen to some,
strange sounds in the halls at night,
voices in offices that were empty,
but old Clyde just mocked them as silly,
went so far to say he dare those specters
to come out when he was around
for he knew in his mind
there was no such thing.

On a dare he stay late one night
just to prove his point
about there being no such things as ghosts.

We wished him well as he locked himself inside
this one room that voices were always heard,
then we all went home to get some sleep.

The next morning we came to that room,
knocked on the door and he slowly opened it,
his face looked so panicked and somber,
before he mumbled about seeing a woman,
mentioned she had two heads and other crazy things,
which we would have thought a joke
until we saw his soaked gray pants
and that big wet spot on the carpet,
so we knew that the ghost
had gotten the last word on Clyde.

Drafted!

2011-07-30T07:00:00.000-07:00

My owner used to be such a nice man
worked as a chef and made me such treats,
then he got all obsessed with patriotism
signed up in the Army reserves,
now I don’t care if he wants to be
all that he can be,
but he’s expecting me to join in
with all the crazy things he does.

I don’t mind him making his chef’s hat
from white to camouflage green
or even that he somehow
expect me to help use my tongue
for doing what he calls “KP.”

Was just getting use to his idea of drilling
when he joined this UFO hunter group,
so suddenly his brain when nuts
and it is space aliens at war.

Here I sit and wear his latest helmet creation
like a melon is really laser proof,
but he’s sure got panicked
since joining those UFO stalkers,
which means I’m stuck
forced to tolerate whatever helmet he invents.

Hope he gets over this phase eventually
because when he makes me put on
that aluminum foil space soldiers uniform
all my pals on the block can do
is talk about it behind my back
and I know it isn’t to stay
old Tom is looking cool.

Monday's Checkbook

2011-07-29T07:00:00.000-07:00

Weekend trails
lead to steps
through minefields,
shrapnel festers in wounds
hidden underneath
suite of armor
made from credit cards.

Immortality dwells
within the heaven of receipts,
nirvana, the luster
of artificially inseminated
omnipotence.

Sunday's sunset
brings voice of toll keeper
doing imitation of calculator.

Face of night
comes as chalkboard
fingernails drag down its surface
from all the grasps
at ambrosia's appetizers.

Monday's checkbook
always opens by itself,
balance never what imagined,
because of unexpected changes
in banking fees.

Garlands of Jackal Diadem Anthologies

2011-07-28T07:00:00.000-07:00

8Diaries of postulated legalese legerdemain,
festoons of crowning avaricious gospels,
erected as ivory towers muffled predator howls,
where whitewashed Superman paragons
hold court behind their haloed masks
over the cemeteries of scandal.

Sleeping spirit of Neo destiny
languishes in rhetoric swamp,
while loud speakers blare
subliminal rote acquiescence.

Eyes of the slumbering
haunted by freedom's fluttering mirages,
vision flashes on landscape
told is pristine,
between the layers of pontificated fog
catch a glimpse of its lunar clarity
and the pockmarks of crater inequity,
but symphony from circus of appeasement
despoils the gaze.

Stumbling while standing on conveyor belt
to mandated lobotomized lucidity,
falling and at last noticing the plastic automaton veneer,
barely visible on the mars to nobility's raiment.

Hibernating seer awakes,
rises as butterfly for truth.

2011-07-27T07:00:00.000-07:00

Stamina

2011-07-26T07:00:00.000-07:00

Steel lips
guarding numb affections,
seeing tragedy everywhere,
but sorrow's lashes
never felt
by leathery soul.

Lost compassion's pulse
when tears never dried,
just as learned
from father.

Honeycombs

2011-07-25T07:00:00.000-07:00

They drip with honey over my heart
in succulent and savory flows of amber warmth
and bathe me in the steady hum in smiles.

It isn’t a single moment’s vivid, vitality
instead it is the feel, the sound or sight
that summons a soothing wave over my mind
so I sense the balm of peace in that encounter
as it swirls and swims inside with its sensory charms,
which rises from any thought they inspire
that takes me on a cerebral journey of profoundness.

Six Pack Sunrises

2011-07-24T07:00:00.000-07:00

Paint the morning in the shades of six packs in hallucinogens
until the day grows a multitude of invisible unearthly monsters
who will mangle the mind and ruin the quiet mask of peace
suddenly destroy all that yawns or thrives on air.

Then pause and recall Alice communed with a fading Cheshire cat
as a quintessential kiss of opening the mind to what can be
and then dance upon the herds of beast who disappear in the light
while celebrating how the world’s limitations are truly in the head.

Clustered

2011-07-23T07:00:00.000-07:00

The ways of through darkness
once lead past fun houses and candy stores
they burned so bright by their illumination,
like beacons in the blackness they glowed
lured after sunset to be seduced on their fantasies.

But it never lasted as long as the appetite
didn’t have the pure power of potency
to bewitch and beguile as their torches hinted,
slowly left stumbling outside in the cold,
disillusioned, disappointed and stained by depression.

Wounded and bleeding from the stab wounds
encountered in those thorny corridor
thickets of feigned fantasia,
slowly staggering out away from the deception
where other bruised and broken seekers stand.

And in that chilled, silent avenue of disbelief
inside you grope for a lamp to shine on the confusion,
then strike its flame by what is remembered
as the radiance of truth that once kept you warm.

Quietly in the flare of inner radiance
finally noticing the candles of other hearts
that like your own light now shining,
happily clustered with those of like iridescent
as the circles of insight the beam their clarity
deep into the shadows of misconception.

Where Is She?

2011-07-22T07:00:00.000-07:00

Where is she,
the fairy of the night
who lands on the tip
of my nose
and whispers wishes
while I sleep?

I know she often
spends her time
among the trees
with the pixies
as they plan
on where to next
sprinkle magic.

Smiles I can’t stop
because somewhere
between these leaves
there is a miracle
they left just for me.

What a world it would be
if they went away
how I hope
that I never stop
my belief
in their wings.

She’ll Never Miss These

2011-07-21T05:00:00.000-07:00

Between noon and sunset
my stomach whines for love,
and even though this batch
of incredibly tasting cookies
was made for a special party,
they just smell so good
how can I wait
until next ones are done?

Because mother is off on a chore
getting more flour and sugar,
promised her I wouldn’t touch
these lovely tasty morsel.

She’ll never miss three,
just have to remember to clean my face
then drink something to cover
my possible cookie breath.

Now I swear this is the last ones
I will take before she comes back,
even if I said it six cookies ago.

Wind

2011-07-20T07:00:00.000-07:00

Her heart shuddered at every breeze
had so since she could remember
because she felt the breaths of many
from ages gone and lives out of reach,
feeling their tears drip on her heart
was a pain she really didn’t want,
yet it also summoned the thoughts
of love and dreams she could savor
for each vibrant passion they carried.

Being born an empathy had been so hard
for it was so difficult to appreciate
why you knew what beat inside
that eyes would convey with stares,
though lips might spill some tale
completely contrary to the truth.

Was so difficult to get through some days
when she would sense some perverted ideas
they didn’t just come with weird images
bringing such intense depraved energies,
which were like being punched in the face.

Now she dwells in her small chamber of liberty
finding refuge in ways she challenges those pangs
with all their confusion pokes are her mind.

Quiet is the mercy she reaches
enough to at times accept the breath
from one who says he loves her.

If only she could also feel those whispers
he had told another,
still he kisses and night magic
stay the anxiety from the sensory overload
so she can get through a night without screams,
which is worth those times she accepts him
into her private well of need
as it blocks out the other chaos she needs to escape.

Mites

2011-07-19T19:00:00.000-07:00

Brains were rationale, loving and kind,
she was convinced that was true
except with the mites got into your head,
her grandmother had told her about it
before she staring talking to plants
and insisted the moon was a home for witches.

If only her parents hadn’t been killed
in the car accident when she was twelve
then left in the care of her grandmother
until she acted strange and had to be locked way.

It seemed everyone she loved
ended up leaving her life,
family, friends even a love too,
they all faded like dying roses,
victim of tragedies that always left her crying
her heart convinced she was cursed.

Dead end jobs as waitresses
helped to calm the inner moans of loneliness,
yet she never forget what her grandmother said
about those mites and the insanity they caused,
it nagged at her more at nights
or when some hopeful lover
would just act nuts and she’d have to say good-bye,
somehow she held onto hope
through it all she’d eventually find happiness.

Now she has reached the end
a man she dreamed and wanted so much
had joined the memories that were gone,
faded passions that stole part of her life.

Alone in the night she started to feel
a tug on her own sense of balance
slowly her own mind felt slipping away,
but she couldn’t let those bugs destroy her
so she stands on this toes
even if all night
for those mites only could survive on your bed
just a little while
should you not lie down and let them inside.

Orbs

2011-07-18T07:00:00.000-07:00

Grandma ghosts sitting on the edge of the bed
echoing the enchantment assurances
inspiring the incense of nostalgia
feeling the caresses of phantom fairies and gnomes.

Swirling deep into the marrow vortex of belief
where they suck the mind into worlds
of pristine prevarication.

Veins bulge with anticipation
that perhaps utopia is not a mirage after all.

Inner eyes swell with solidity of fantasia's miasma
voice of the soul sings its possibilities
paradise is born with a face
giving light to one's heart.

Unable to breathe without seeing
a gossamer castle of deepest desires
erected on the horizon of the mind.

Reaching for it with such burning fingers
grasping it with all one's energy
until the day comes
when you stand where you dream.

Her Release

2011-07-17T07:00:00.000-07:00

She spent her days languishing in sorrow's womb
a simple soul of plain features, but a heart so pure and passionate.
Her only joy came from feeding hummingbirds
in the garden of the estate where she worked as maid to a tyrant.

Each eve she would stroll out to watch them
speaking her heart, letting the sadness flow across the air.

Then one night her drunken lord found there
in rage in started to beat her while she pleaded and sobbed for mercy.
Hummingbirds flocked around the man pecking at his eyes violently
until he lay on the ground bleeding and unconscious.

Fairy spirit of the garden suddenly appears waved her dust on the girl
transforming her to new creation where she flew to where tears are no more.

Messenger Moans

2011-07-16T07:00:00.000-07:00

Was just to be a cyber hello on yahoo,
nothing intended or suggested,
unto that coworker in the next cubicle,
merely a few words of informality,
using mere customary phrases.

But she mentioned her child’s sickness,
I spoke of my wife’s distance,
suddenly loneliness came up,
two lives trapped in sterilized dreams,
snared in box with a wedding ring.

Can’t recall what made the fingers type,
that provocative hint,
then shocked by her reply.

In the middle of the day
deadlines breathing on the neck,
our keyboard became our mattress,
words burned their desires,
faces growing red with lust,
sweat starting to form beads,
squirming in the seat
from the flames in images.

How she added those emoticons
the type on those adult sites,
was something I couldn’t say,
but the pure agony of craving steamed in the view.

What game we played,
intimacy to the raw level,
just to see which of us might groan out loud
and expose our secret.

Mind so lightheaded with the inferno created
hunger so in dire need of satisfaction,
afternoon spent simmering,
our spouses both surprised
why work had inspired
a ravenous gaze in greeting at home.

A Simple Quiet

2011-07-15T07:00:00.000-07:00

Moments without dread and fears
where debts and repairs don’t burying the heart.
A simple blessing of enough provision to purge
the days of every overwhelming urgency
and to wake up the next day without any rewards being a dream.

Detours, Discoveries and Decisions

2011-07-14T07:00:00.000-07:00

Times is a teacher of vivid instruction
only the lesson often come
through trial and error, detours of impulse,
discovering you aren’t as smart as you imagine
and the eventual decision to at last
accept you do have to read instructions
rather than just do thing by whim.

How long it takes between the bruises and errors
in order for the truth to really sink into the brain
depends on how many layers of pride and stubbornness
have to get worn away from you illusions
just to finally embrace that reality
not all solutions in life that you think are okay
are achieved through simple applications
of effort and dumb luck!

Maturity is the wisdom
that comes once you stop lying to yourself
then finally listen for a change
to the facts you ignore
from being a consumed with the arrogance.

Reanimated

2011-07-13T07:00:00.000-07:00

Hell's succor,
a scalpel shaped like cross,
severs reason's cerebral cortex,
cadaverous spirit
entombed in pews.

Conscience's formaldehyde
served for communion
causing logic's rigor mortis.

Sermonizing Dr. Frankensteins
reanimate thought's corpse,
sutures of prevarication
give life to monsters of extremism.

Wrinkles

2011-07-12T07:00:00.000-07:00

Bedspread tales
from sultry chases
of the heart.

Midnight passion wrinkles
felt next morning
when lust's promises
turned into mirages.

Nectar

2011-07-11T07:00:00.000-07:00

Slowing squeezing the landscape's
sangria of its rich full bounty
out of the blades, the bark and watery face.

Let it swirl its rust bouquet
in ascending visions ever rising
as the immersion of serenity’s drops
from each effervescent claret aura
felt coming from the tree, grass and lake.

One gasp, one breathless blink
and suddenly comes that awakening,
a soft and gentle mental leaf in flight.

Oh sweet hush that drinks the nectar
from bliss’s gossamer decanter
full of such deep intoxicating flavors
moving into the stillness
as the swim through life’s exquisite kiss
of calming ascension.

Copper hued caresses and dark emerald strokes
drift across the eyes
like a master’s paint brush
skillfully stroking the heart’s canvas.

What journey inward in tranquility
among the gods' banquet table,
lost in the quiet amplitude
where beauty begets its chorus.

This is the second of winged dreams,
the pure balm of inner revival
where one lies naked among the natural tapestry
because its textures are a tonic
fermented in a creator’s winery.

Inhaling the droplets with incredible peace,
a rush flows through the soul
and it has a floods through the cool tints
until eternity is the wind combing the spirit.

In once private moment of succumbing
forgotten is the cacophony warring in the self.
Replaced by the delicacy of something everlasting
so the day flees and light burns within
as an awe and euphoria
utterly drawing one
into the very center of the cosmos.

Miraculous Deliverance

2011-07-10T07:00:00.000-07:00

once the secret of pugrdome was uncovered
for centuries its miracle powers
where kept guarded by the sacred Hiotic monastery
in the Himalayan mountains.

They guarded their rare herb
that was made from the Aeulith plant
it was so magical in its unthropede healing gift,
one drop place beneath the tongue
would complete cure any illness or disability.

Now thanks to the inzepidicous efforts
of that diligent effort from devoted government agents
this precious substance
was smuggled out of that distant land
in tiny silk sprendleth boxes
each carrying only a single leaf
and attached to the back of ravens,
who were hypnotized by a spell
of the monks with a donesquette technique
so they could soar so far and high,
never stopping until reaching
a small castle in France
owned by a Duke.

There some skilled physicians
would practice the art of miastification
to draw the vimuosity essence
out of the leaf.

Then it was collected in a rare quevipode chalice,
empowered through a thousand hours of pray chants
just to conjure divine favor.

Afterwards this chalice was placed
upon a cargo ship bound for America,
sealed in a silver terpretude
until it arrived at a underground glabreth.

There scientist would refine it
in a laser beam cothornium ,
working for 48 hours without stopping,
finally completely the coughnuscient process
and allowing for its amorphtility.

Now, that incredible essence
is kept only for the few
who learn of its existence
then are able to visit a local Laundromat
give the sign of the bird
that allows for them to receive a dose.

Whirlwinds

2011-07-09T07:00:00.000-07:00

I saw the whirlwind in your eyes
when my heart was a twister of passions
and blew us both into love’s sky
like being caught up in cyclone,
heads spinning and feeling so dizzy
from the beautiful touch of its power.

Together we held each
until our sighs and kisses
took us upon a hot air balloon ride
so totally aloft on that amazing airy encounter
all because we were totally in love.

Before was a sky filled with clouds
of every dreamy night we could imagine,
blissfully stripped of every care
except how long a kiss would last.

It’s heaven we never want to leave
that incredible sensation of happiness
far from the earth where problems rule.

What else comes before us
for this sweet time of soar
we know the magical drift of our embrace
as it lifts our hearts so high
beyond what burdens.

Marble

2011-07-08T07:00:00.000-07:00

Ivory pillars illuminated by spotlights
form two rows of columns, like some Roman architecture,
that lead to double doors of a mansion in Hollywood Hills,
scents of gourmet cuisine blend with expensive wines
as naked bodies heap together in writhing ecstasy

It’s a party that happens every night
overdose deaths never even remembered the next time,
they’ll be buried with loving phrases on marble headstones,
which no “friends” will ever even see
because it would take time away for the next orgy.

Legs in the Darkness

2011-07-07T07:00:00.000-07:00

Mind flutters in eve's shadows as the soul soars by sorrow's wings,
alone, the heart rides ribbons of recollection's many mood colored streamers.

Night calls forth memory's butterflies from flights where love's wind once flew,
voices of those lost and missing kiss their song upon grief's scars,
walking by feeble legs of hope to find a day without need to sleep in a cocoon.

Pressing Buttons

2011-07-06T07:00:00.000-07:00

Esteem's membrane, cold and bleached,
always seeking affection's sun,
to feel the warming tan from passion's pigment.

Transient vows of redemption scrawled by fancy's quill in diary,
mind gazes at tomorrow through hope's foggy window,
riding life's elevator desperately praying for chance seductive encounter,
hiding the hollowness haunting inner essence,
shell of truth within covered in denial's masquerade.

Pressing button for expectancy's basement
while praying another rider's heart will take her to penthouse.

Little Nibbles

2011-07-05T07:00:00.000-07:00

No angel's flight is ever dreamt in the glisten of its glare
over the rapture's rush that the eye regales in fancy's visionary lust.
Sugary effigies from annual recycled ritualistic rites
have tradition's talons to slither through soul.
Reason's priest and desire's strumpet waltz a tug of war,
brains screams its righteous NO, but heart murmurs, I will.

Soliloquy of inner scribe's sagacious light tales
beckons with candle shining on path towards spiritual nutrition.
But flesh has fingers, which obey the spider sighs of sweet seduction,
gobbled haste of impulse's treat always ends with divine dentist bill.

Chambers of Screams and Sighs

2011-07-04T07:00:00.000-07:00

Primal passion's slasher
lurking in the cerebral catacombs,
closeted compulsions clones
stalk with carcinigen cravings.

Chained obsession's goblins
hiding their conscience suicide kits,,
waiting for opportune seconds
in illumined decay
to cut the bonds of moral nuptials.

Fiery stabs of their carnivore sickles
filet the shrouds of presumption,
until in the darkness
where trepidation thrives in shades of gray,
shooting stars of revelation
explode with a twinkle in epiphany's pinpricks.

For in the midnight of our secrets
where our dragons drool their vile spiritual acid
there flickers the candle of ethereal flame
never fully quenched, though oft does it smolder.

Dwelling within a circus tent of stewed reality
not swallowed whole by black behemoths
rising from their vile nests,
nor able to sleep in surrender within purity's cocoon,
heard is hell's whispers in sync
with heaven's hum,
adjusting volume of mind's stereo
until harmony of listening to both
doesn't end with insanity,
unwilling to stop appreciating the howling tease of vile song
or completely be capable of only enjoying a harp's chorus.

Hail Holy Round

2011-07-03T07:00:00.000-07:00

Divine light coming to the vacant,
at least that was their revelation,
since numbers shrinking
and complaints growing that things were too dull,
so decided to broaden their appeal
with more liberal traditions,
why have only wine used for the communion
when any brew would do
providing they gave it the cross sign.

Now sisters free to reach out
to the community visiting happy hours
though mother superior often stands watch
for times the drinks flow too freely,
because even a nun can look way too tempting,
being so tipsy to remember her vows,
after too much scotch or bourbon
makes them want to do more than pray
influenced into wanting
a whole different kind of heaven!

Juiced

2011-07-02T07:00:00.000-07:00

On life’s tree
hang those hearts,
both bitter and tart,
rejected for their sour disposition,
were born as seeds
of acid inclinations,
just grew in the constant flow
from acerbic sap
rising out of roots
fed from lips to tainted and defiling.

But love’s farmer
sees beyond the obvious,
aware with the right sweetener
even a vinegary rind inside
can have a juice to drink.

How often
with the right care and effort
will one life
seemingly void of sugar
become a nectar
refreshing another’s thirst.

Love Finds The Zipper

2011-07-01T07:00:00.000-07:00

He prowled around in mighty terror
the beast who caused so much fear,
day after day being the source of panic,
nobody daring to come close to his raging from.

But the lovely Hafsa was unafraid,
because she saw something beautiful in those monster eyes,
while everyone ran when he came by,
her heart just stayed where she was.

Then he stopped, curious over her courage,
roaring to prove his fierceness,
yet Hafsa still remained in her place,
not allowing the legends to make her run away.

Slowly he held out a paw and she took it in her hand,
before her face donned a special smile,
“I see you in there, Sabir, my love.”

“How did you know it was me?” he asked.
“Because real monsters don’t have zippers.”

They both laughed and went back to their cottage
as he slipped out of disguise,
“Happy Anniversary Hafsa,” Sabir said,
“hope this was enough different for this year?”

She gave him a kiss and then replied,
“it was fun, only next time pick one
where nobody can see
that place in back you zip up so easy.”

Together they moved of to a quiet celebration
as beauty savored her own heart’s real beast.

Marble

2011-06-30T07:00:00.000-07:00

Ascending

2011-06-29T07:00:00.000-07:00

A stroll on sky steps,
mind full of feathers,
moving upwards breathlessly
while fearing falling.

Silvery Snares

2011-06-28T07:00:00.000-07:00

You can’t climb out of a hole
when it is the chasm in the mind
from a vacuum in self-esteem,
left feeling you are never good enough
to escape the prison in the mirror.

The lock on that cage
is made in the head
sealed by so many memories
forming bars over the image
not ever seeing who you really are,
but can’t find a way to break
their iron that was made
so many years ago,
they are the puzzle never solved
a riddle in a maze
that has no exit nor map
because it was built
over a lifetime of painful experiences,
totally keeping one prisoner
unto a view of self ,
which agrees with all the criticism received.

In the heart throbs the longing for more,
but that decreases the blood to the brain
so can’t think or imagine
ever being free this crippling restraint,
spending time watching the world spin by
sometimes crying over how much missed
and the suffering incurred,
having no one to complain to
since it is self-inflicted.

Drifts

2011-06-27T07:00:00.000-07:00

July can’t thaw the snow on her soul
the drifts in icy words that froze her heart,
she can’t escape the memories
of the cruel, sadistic snowman who held her hostage
when she was still in her spring
a fragile rose waiting bloom,
but he was filled with frostbitten sayings
always blowing his blizzard over her garden
until it died and nothing would grow.

There is no summer for her life
to melt this harsh bitter air she breathes
utterly keeping her hibernating
in a mind of perpetual chill.

Tonight she slips into a freezer
the only place he can’t reach her any longer
just leaving the thermostat on her thoughts
adjusted to the cold death of January hopes.

Perhaps there is a landscape
somewhere beyond her nightmares,
beyond the icicles clinging to her insides
for they leave her numb
unable to feel or care,
it is only future she can imagine
with days spent swallowing tears
shaped like ice cubes.

Bed Bugs

2011-06-26T07:00:00.000-07:00

Anxiety's thread talons tear at the night
they even infest the light
diffused by veils
held over eyes at sunrise
when the paradise insects in the head
keep crawling over the skin.

Vultures hide between the sheets,
vampires roam under the bedspread
as the subversive cerebral moans
of mental spells mean to alter the past,
create new plots by placebo phantoms
who slither as brain serpents
through the slumbering sands.

There’s no cure for those claws
because they grow inside,
monster when misunderstood,
but fairies hiding among the pillow pillars.

Perhaps there is a flyswatter
that can squash those nagging specs,
only they will never die
since they are fleas of inspiration,
which bite with their toxins
you either feel as visions
or the creeping urges towards darkness,
always left screaming
when you only lie on the mattress
rather that kiss the cotton
and give into the cravings.

Splash

2011-06-25T07:00:00.000-07:00

She swims the waters of night,
softly submersed it is liquid dreams
of being in the depths
where love lurks in such tidal sensations
and she can discover
that spellbound crashing of eruption's waves
when kisses splash their crest
against bare, begging skin.

Somewhere in that sighing cerulean current,
which flows in the cravings so incredible baptizing,
there is a shark,
a hunger of the heart
who will consume and devour
her every naked need.

So she treads in the ocean of her desires
just hoping to see some fin appearance
from the one who will feast
upon her skin
and let her float to ecstasy,
utterly dipped in the pleasures
only known from trolling for predators
who make her discover
the pure, stunning encounter of satisfaction
found while riding the waves of sheets
in the arms of the one
able to navigate her flesh,
gently giving shark bites of writhing thrills.

Playing Innocent

2011-06-24T07:00:00.000-07:00

Feigning
amnesia
over car keys,
until mother
remembers
park trip.

Lips

2011-06-23T07:00:00.000-07:00

Innocent's kisses
pressing trust
never removed,
unless love
not returned.

One

2011-06-22T07:00:00.000-07:00

One
second
spent soaring
crimson currents
of love's sweetest streams
gives the soul flight towards
skies where the heart surrenders
its pulse unto a greater light
until bird within finds dove above
renewing bond with eternity's plumes
kinship's feathers sailing sanguine lightning
discover eagle's nest inside mind
where life rises to heights unseen
no longer just fleshly veil
searching as a seeker
looking for needy
feeding them
with care's
seed

Swells

2011-06-21T07:00:00.000-07:00

And the heart feels immersed
in the surfing sensation
riding the moment like a dream,
thinking the high is an endless crest
until it crashes uncontrollably
while you watch and sink with its fall.

Suddenly drowning in the truth
of how fortune’s tide never lasts,
so to surf is to cherish the time
without worshipping the swell.

Because when it expands the head
with the current of pride
you always fall victim to force
that moves through time’s sea.

Surviving is the challenge
to not think a given cresting second
is your blessing for reward,
it is understanding
how each wave comes
unto many swimmers
just find a way to celebrate
what joy comes from being on top
while also finding the means
for embracing when it crashes.

Scissors

2011-06-20T07:00:00.000-07:00

Little snips slice deep into the mind
they create the image of cookie cutter lives
expected to always be like a paper doll,
one dimensional and so fragile,
never able to think or feel
other than by some pattern.

How those tailors only follow
the lines they want
and if some part of you
doesn’t fit inside,
it’s trimmed away without care
so you lost part of yourself
in order to appear
as they want you shaped.

Toss away the scissors they offer
I can make my own design,
one that won’t kill my identity
make it sliced, diced and in pieces.

Would that there were no cutters at all
and no blueprints for being
someone always dictated as necessary.

So sometimes we just have to dwell
beyond those razors and blades,
where we can craft who we really are
from what we see within
instead of what others view without.

Resurrected

2011-06-19T07:00:00.000-07:00

She prayed for a spell of scorn
unto dark forces for their help
to end the pain of being violated
before drinking that glass of cyanide.

From the grave at midnight with a full moon,
her corpse came alive again,
possessed of incredible strength
so she clawed her way out beyond the wood
dug through the soil and worm,
finally her rotting cadaverous flesh
broke through to the surface
where the moonlight touched her flesh
transforming her into hell’s whore
with her emaciated gray face growing fangs.

But inside she burned with a demon’s lust,
while she moved to fine the man
who had butchered her heart and trust.

She found him in a motel with a hooker,
her teeth biting the woman’s juggler
those red eyes flaring with such rage
before she drank all that bitch’s blood
then ripped and mangled her body
carved up her breasts
and mutilated her love nest.

It all froze her former male lover with fear,
his naked body sitting on all fours upon the bed,
mouth gaping in pure horror
when he got a whiff of her decaying flesh’s stench,
only unable to move as she stepped his way.

He screamed before she stuffed the gal’s tattered dress
through his lips and silenced his protest,
forcing him to lied down on his back,
eyes so wide and terrified
since her powers had rendered him unable to move.
First she gave him a long wet kiss
through that fabric
then managed to bite off his tongue and eat it,
his convulsing body reacting to the shock.

Sucking and kissing his body,
taking out chunks along the way and consuming them,
his blood pouring out over the bed.

Slowly moving down to his manhood,
moans of fear included the shaking of his head
as her mouth engulfed his throbbing manhood,
snorts and grunts come from his throat
incredibly able to ignore his pain and wounds.

Suddenly she spreads her legs and gets on top
takes him fully deep inside,
hips moving back and forth
his mind so wild from the incredible pleasure,
but then the fog lifts as he cums
with her howl from her own explosion.
At last realizing the fact she had died
while her body turns so hideous
that he eventually vomits both his stomach juices
along with that rag of a dress.

Something inside of him clings to a strange peace
for he knows he’s about to die,
which will eventually end this nightmare.

Only that is the end he never experiences
because when you violate the daughter of darkness
it is forever you must pay,
kept alive in his coffin forever
in between times she opens the lid
making him satisfy her again.

Quiet Elegance

2011-06-18T07:00:00.000-07:00

Her eyes stare with a light of confidence
though never tainted by arrogance.
They are full of love and pride so radiant
who has stood calmly through many storms
with a courage to face trials and not quit.

Through every tear and test
how her heart seldom loses
the exquisite composure of quiet elegance.
For in poverty or prosperity
she moves in a grace that resides inside.
It is a silent lace of dignity and refinement
so she walks through life
always composed and adorned
by a feel and appreciation
of what is artistic and expressive in life.

Because her mind can totally know each morning,
can embrace with brilliance and passion
every moment of the day that comes,
totally sensing what makes it magical.

And even when life falls into some hole
this doesn’t kill her serenity or enthusiasm.
Within there is such a spirit of pure obsession,
which will not spend a breath
in a way that lets it exhale
lacking any awareness of all it possessed.

Thus she strolls ever alive and vital
always with a glow that is so infectious.
Refusing to surrendered to accepting
less than her dreams as her existence.

Pass The Ketchup

2011-06-17T07:00:00.000-07:00

It comes to me in strange flashbacks
this short trip to the twisted land
of pain killer induced visions
that I had when recovering from pneumonia.

Now it becomes like an old sitcom rerun
as it keeps replaying in my head
over and over on a regular basis.

What is the fabulous, bizarre dream,
something other than peaceful perhaps,
at least I can recall to share.

There I was lying in my bed,
my first night home from three weeks
spent in the hospital.
Suddenly this yellow
and red striped circus tent
appears at the end of my bed.
I know it is impossible,
yet it still seems so real.
Then it gets really peculiar
because out of the opening
a line of penguins begins walking
towards the hall.
Each is wearing a white apron
while carrying a silver plate
on which are located a huge hamburger.

If it hadn’t been for the sound of calliope music
plus I swear I could smell those burgers
perhaps I could have treated it as possible
instead of the consequence of taking Vicodin!

The Ways Of The Crab

2011-06-16T07:00:00.000-07:00

Each quality mentioned is there in my heart,
It rings out of my soul in throbbing chants,
I feel them deeply, stroked by their presence,
but it is all trapped in my shell
the dome of distance where I hide,
where I retreat to reflect on life
or twist reality into a twine of thought.

Inside I bleed at a word,
nearly die from any criticism,
have skin so incredible sensitive
to the slightest prick of my being.

It drives me to want more for others,
thought I get wounded so deeply in the process
then when I hurt I can’t forget,
just move outward and away from the enemy,
no capacity to deal with those
who stab me at any point.

I will hold onto those I love forever,
give them every ounce of my spirit,
not ask anything in return,
yet weep alone when they don’t say thanks.

This is the way of the crab
hard on the outside
far to soft within,
never unwilling to help another heal,
even though I will not broadcast it
from the haven of my shelled existence.

The Doors Of Night

2011-06-15T07:00:00.000-07:00

Darkness never smothers a dream
for the eyes can see so far beyond a tear,
can drift and float and hover
where the body is trapped in the shadows.

And inside there are the keys
to open every door of night
that often hides in the ebony space,
just waiting for the mind to locate
each place that offers escape
out of the sorrow’s cumbersome cage.

Yet they are there,
always able to be found
if one hears the keys jingle
with the ears of the heart
for they speak to our deepest need,
tell us of what we’ve lost and crave,
what we truly want to bring joy again.

So in the times of midnight’s rule,
to pause and search inside
will take this time of murmurs and echoes
and let it have its own way to light.

Just pausing in the sadness
totally reaching outside its realm,
allows laughter to hint of its presence
behind some nearby door.

Whirlwinds

2011-06-14T07:00:00.000-07:00

The Seductive Spill Of Fall Spells

2011-06-13T07:00:00.000-07:00

Limbs of isolated woods
sway in the wind and release their leaves
in a shower of rust hues creations
falling, ever falling towards the earth,
but it is the wisp who shakes the trees
of October’s celebration and haunting,
which reach into the brain and seduce
with visions of goblin figments
so the hearing suddenly gets attuned
to listen unto the incanting whispers of witches.

It’s more than the fall of the year
because it grows in the heart with its array
from the emblems of magic
until we are easily induced to ride that imagined wind
let it take us beyond the boundaries of a day,
walk among the pumpkins and hay
where we slip in the dim glow of jack-o-lanterns
while they dance in the mind
as we are sure they are held by ghosts.

Oh blended before us in this time of change
are a bounty of what we suppressed at other times
while nature slowly strips away
the living ornaments of summer,
but in the shorter days and deep rich colors
how we ourselves descend into a trace of creativity,
allowing the cool, soft layers of what was reaped
a chance to move and entice with such charmed possibilities.

What heart isn’t subtly caressed by the dark kiss
Halloween brings with its festive suggestive lips?
Beneath the waxing gibbous moon
can we truly ignore those urges to unleash the monster inside,
yet to ever just dangle on the fringe of reality
apart the staleness of any morning
in hopes that perhaps we'll stumble into a liaison
offered by some mystical creature
who will take us to a bedroom visit of trick or treat.

It all prances through the head
during the call from fields so fertile in what is reaped
that we always secretly wish are possessed by some entity
able to turn midnight into a writhing feast,
cringing or creeping have we dreamt
between the lulls of autumn mysteries
just leave us shuddering in excitement
about what might eventually rise out of graveyards
or exist behind a face that is really a mask.

Candles

2011-06-12T07:00:00.000-07:00

Waxy elations melting under a flame
heat inspiring a tease to the mind,
wish glows inside by the spark
phantoms appear in the light.

But I’d rather have that fire
even though it fades
for in its shine I am radiant,
sunrise flickers its new rays.

Whirlwinds

2011-06-11T07:00:00.000-07:00

Shopping

2011-06-10T07:00:00.000-07:00

Legions gathered in the heart,
hemorrhaging the dream plasma
spilled over the skin as a garment
making you feel every sensation
of a surreal sky’s veiled secrets
as imagined by the eyes
stinging from the blood letting
which awakens the vision
to the sea of possibilities
and all the mariner wishes
hidden in the mind.

Sitting on the edge of sanity
and burying the clone
you were on the inside
from the tyrants feared,
where it is cold and rainy,
but it stops hurting
because there is a sail on the horizon
it will arrive soon enough
then on that vessel of fantasy
across the acid waters of doubts
will be sailed to the a harbor
buying a white robe of peace
to replace this stained garment
with one that doesn’t hurt.

Sublime Snacks Of Succulent Zesty Seductions

2011-06-09T07:00:00.000-07:00

What moment of ecstasy epitome
when a single wedge of cheese layered ambrosia
avails itself upon a tortilla core.

And in the whim, the inevitable truth
the heart fills with salsa,
an exquisite spicy impulse,
then we bonded to the reality,
one precious moment craves its focus
its power and passion
as we travel the lairs of condescending
until finding a liberty to devour.

It is an oasis of mouthwatering flow,
a second in true inner harmony
where the animal inside is release
while a chip becomes like a diamond,
one of many gems silently lusted.

That bite is so bewitching,
so beguiling in its hot, steamy seduction,
for once the smile doesn’t have to veil
what hunger rules inside.

Oh victory is the tarnished inclination
of subtle nuances that get to bite
upon the frail fruit of deeper groans.

My Own Place

2011-06-08T07:00:00.000-07:00

I had so many dreams
about how I would
decorate my own place.

Had catalogues and magazines
with all the perfect suggestions,
only it was so much work
to repair all that was broken,
walls and plumbing needed fixing
and there was something else
that always ended up
being so much more important.

Oh I kept marking on the calendar
the day I would finally start
it would be so perfect,
a palace to behold,
such an eloquent utopia,
one all would forever admire.

Yet my hands never touched the foundation,
my mind simply was trapped
only seeing it in my sleep.

It eventually become condemned
and was torn down,
forced to move into a location
owned by somebody else.

Wasn’t ever the same as my freedom before,
but at least everything worked.

Some days I walk by that old spot,
it is now a castle,
truly is amazing,
can’t stop wondering
how it would have looked
if I had done more
than talk about construction.

Baking

2011-06-07T07:00:00.000-07:00

Trust's oven
baking innocent's soufflé,
served to lips
claiming craving
one's desserts.

Adding love's icing,
dreaming
of wedding cake appetite,
but empty plate
of broken promise's crumbs
left at altar.

Her Parasol

2011-06-06T07:00:00.000-07:00

Clothed in
claret passions.
Her valentine lips
offer love's candy.

Memory's parasol
shades
from fingers
craving sugar,
but never hearts.

Oh For A Working Pump!

2011-06-05T07:00:00.000-07:00

Our company fleet of white vans and trucks
stood ready to serve our delivery needs,
but they were always thirsty and had to be fed,
and how those moments of pumping gas
over at our own private pumps
inspired so many to wish for some option
to sitting and waiting for the gas to get done
for it was to us a haunted pump
sometimes wouldn’t work at all
drove us nuts when vehicles were on empty
where not a drop would get dispensed
because our stupid computer monitor
was having a fit again.

Oh the ways some tried to get gas
once that occasion took place,
what extremes it inspired
since so many assumed
after our building being haunted
that the pumps also had spirits.

Now the suggestions abound
in a plethora of possibilities
from sacrificing a life chicken,
prayers to any kind of deity
even using Voodoo dolls
shaped like a pump
with some bizarre conjured words
in hopes the stupid machine would work.

None of those brilliant plans
summons a drop of fuel
still it did make for entertainment
when some driver was standing by them
waving his hands in the air,
screaming some insane words
before jumping up and down.

Those Little Secrets

2011-06-04T07:00:00.000-07:00

Smirks that suppress their truths,
eyes looking away to deny their snickers
from those little secrets
nobody bothers to admit,
when someone enjoys seeing you look like a clown
because they decided to give into
a very twisted inspiration.

So you sit in the midst of a crowd
some mark left by a sabotaged seduction,
and everyone has a reason to enjoy the show
while you are left the jester
who never knows the joke
until the mirror reveals the truth.

Then comes the silent war of vengeance
as you only know the winner
after that other person
gets suckered into the same trick.

Oh how the laughs of prankster plots
make the day pass at work,
each time someone asks
what’s so funny
you always know
it is a question that has an answer,
once again you can’t hide
from being a buffoon.

Which is why when those grins begin
the wise one rushes to the bathroom
with lips restrained,
quickly looking
for the trickster’s stain!

I Understand

2011-06-03T07:00:00.000-07:00

They echo of the lips in mindless meaning,
eyes stare off into space in silent emptiness,
mind is trapped in a closet that it can’t escape,
but the words still drip like molasses,
slow and almost slurred as if it gives more drama.

But the heart is dipped in a paralytic fudge sauce,
sweet and succulent in sensing life’s honey
unable to taste vinegar or bitterness
as it spills in pain from another’s cry.

Today the impoverished soul that lies in anguish
will toss that form parchment on the desk
of that supposed source for relief,
it will be stained with tears
like a grief stricken poem pen in deepest suffering.

After reading that artistry of agony
rich in the cold gray tints of despair,
the minion of entitlements who decrees
if this life deserves assistance
will utter the two words, I understand,
before stamping the paper,
declined.

Duly Noted

2011-06-02T07:00:00.000-07:00

Oh magnificent pearl of poignant poetry
this five year occasion has sired such light,
a drift through the chasm of surreal thought
to the abyss of reverie’s night and flares.

Now to commemorate this occasion
we have conjured the finest in bureaucratic assemblies
so you might be endowed with the gold
of legislative’s pens in their profound purpose.

For you shall be graced
the wondrous feel of being aptly admired
with throngs of those who suitably discern
the exquisite brilliance of your talent.

These are the sentinels of democracy
who will give you the attention ,
which mirrors the honor they give so many
that you could feel anointed by fame’s diadem
in a way that lets it radiance shimmer so stunningly
upon all you chose to do with your life.

So here is one of those devoted civil servants
spending time prepared your award of acclaim
you can stand with pride flowing in your chest
because once this effort is done
then you shall feel as adorned of attention
as countless others that have been served,
naturally you name was added to their special list,
the one marked audit by the IRS!

Brittle

2011-06-01T07:00:00.000-07:00

My feathers drained of wind in the heart
like a dying leaf’s last fall to the earth,
only silence to blanket my ebbing throbs
thinking life would descend only to dark demise.

But in the sunken abyss of morbid dreams
instead of landing upon the bitter soil
I reached a place with meadow silence
and clutched at the beauty of softness felt.

Living

2011-05-31T07:00:00.000-07:00

I saw dawn
drank it fully.
Saw night
and inhaled
its demise.

The Veils Of April

2011-05-30T07:00:00.000-07:00

Something felt so strange to my mind
seen in the suddenly
muted flares of stressful eyes,
like they were holding secrets
and had some pain to hide.
Yet they forced a smile to pretend
this nagging that suggested
there was more to the month
than anyone cared to imagine.

Funny how a inkling
can expand in your head,
it makes you aware
of things you ignored in the past.

So April had come
and all around me things were out of place,
only found in little ways
like signal lights that stayed red too long
or cars stopped along the side of the road,
which seemed to vanish
in the rear view mirror.

It was Spring’s spell that had no answers
by perceptions that grabbed the throat,
perhaps there were explanations,
but no one was talking
plus the newspapers always lie.

Just keep on driving
did my best to look for that hole
where reality seemed to have fallen.
Then held on for May
as a dream,
doubt the puzzles would be gone
only hoping my sanity would remain.

Of Moments Luminous

2011-05-29T07:00:00.000-07:00

What bulbs burning in the darkness
when the mind lives on lightning
until it flashes and flurries
through the volts of fantasy
where thoughts have energy
and ideas ignite so powerfully.

One touch that star in the head
can radiate visions to amazing
like they shoot from within
to explode in the sky,
revealing such incredible sights.

How sad are the lives
who dwell in their own nights,
move and stumble on slumbering strolls,
give and take in questions and groans,
but never feel a dawn in their hearts.

It’s the sad storm of inner torment
where you can hear the sounds of laughter,
are unable to feel the warmth
of what inspires such vivid expressions.

Doesn’t take a single step
for walking on paths of candles
that were made from insight’s wax,
each is lit by some match
carried in the creativity.

Those flames can burn such life
in the cracks and fissures of one’s heart,
truly give joys and hopes
once we pause long enough
so those seconds of lamination
because a sun for our day.

Suffocating

2011-05-28T07:00:00.000-07:00

Blood rises, body feels in a cocoon,
tightening, constricting,
heart pounds from fear
there is not escape.

Door to the mind
slammed shut by stress operator,
air grows stale
lung find it so hard to breath,
taking the chamber
up the levels of success
always carries the anxiety
about the supports snapping
then crashing to oblivion.

Can’t stop to get off
might end up on a floor
where assassins wait
to make you disappear.

But it is so crowded
so many passengers wanting to ascend,
question nags in gripping dread
who will get pushed off first
before the top is reached?

Riding never a joy
hoping the top will have a great view,
without having to see the corpses
lying on the ground.

Exchanges

2011-05-27T07:00:00.000-07:00

I don’t recall life coming with a warranty,
some guarantee my heart would never break
nor my brain wouldn’t slip a gear or two.

But didn’t keep her from having a manual
where I was measured and my actions directed,
molded and trimmed,
unable to equal the paragon
of her fantasies.

Had a yardstick for my behavior,
if I won a single victory
shame on me for not winning two.

Pushing me into a pit,
covered in slime and told it was my fault,
showing pictured of air brushed models
that were to her the norm.

Tried to survive in my depression
until finding somewhere to exchange my being,
get a transplant and new image,
so I would be worthy in her view.

But every change brought more complaints,
nothing ever gained approval,
hate grew on inside towards my own existence,
surely it was my lack of quality,
otherwise I would have appeased.

Then one day I found someone
with a different measure rod,
growing so much height
when inches were checked by love.

Helping Hands

2011-05-26T07:00:00.000-07:00

How come love for some
requires the use of pain?
There’s nothing worse
than having the one who holds your heart
cut it out with a knife,
stomp on it till it is crushed
then say it was for your own good.

To have your frail sense of trust,
so delicate and thin,
be shredded in the name of improvement
bleeds you more
than an enemy’s hands.

Sitting in the darkness
totally alone in the loneliness,
agonizing over the reality
death won’t end the misery,
only time you get relief
is when the “helpful” person arrives
who uses whips and torture
as their idea of comfort.

Danger comes when you become convinced
you are the one who is insane,
accepting the beatings they say is beneficial.

And even after you escape
that devil still visits your head,
reliving the image with same intensity,
grateful when morning stops the invasion,
some times still left shaking from the flashbacks.

Midnight’s Call

2011-05-25T07:00:00.000-07:00

I’ll hear your moans of needs in the blackness,
smell the deep taboo cravings simmering within your heart,
before I enter through your window at midnight
to feast on the secret hunger you hold inside.
Utterly stripping away with seductive traces by my long finger tips
all your fears and apprehensions
until your naked vulnerable flesh succumbs
unto my every vile pleasure,
then I will take you in ways beyond your dreams or nightmares
until your body lies soaked and tired of screams.

Spent and defiled in every forbidden manner,
my juices filling more than you could ever imagine
as I lie on top to give you
that unholy kiss of the undead.
My fangs slowly sinking into your neck
while you groan your approval,
arms wrapped around me in such clinging surrender.

You’ll never complain
once I begin to suck your blood,
or when I tear out chunks with my teeth,
instead you’ll beg for more.

Even when you are a bloody, mutilated mess,
with your last thought you’ll gasp in plea for more.

For my lips do more than drain your life
they bring you into my world,
tonight you’ll be apart of my cold dark existence,
another living corpse
who shall forever have a thirst
and satisfy it when not sleeping in a coffin.

My Peter Cottontail Pain

2011-05-24T07:00:00.000-07:00

How will I ever survive
after the Easter Bunny stole my internet service?
Now He’s hooked on all those rabbit sites
and selling last years jelly beans on Ebay!

It’s such misery too me
since he’s even taken my identity at AP,
hope he gets tired of writing poems about plastic grass
because I sure am suffering from contest withdrawals.

Been appealing to the Muse for some help
only she’s not willing to risk losing out on her share of Easter eggs.

Holding The Clouds

2011-05-23T07:00:00.000-07:00

Sky bound soul drenched in droplets, forever baptized in rainbows.

Let’s Deal Here

2011-05-22T07:00:00.000-07:00

Now I have a certified and notarized
shopping list of frowns, smiles, giggles,
sobs, shrugs, hugs, bugs and mugs.

All I need is for you to give me the price
for each throb of your heart.
Trust me I’ll make it such a deal.
Why you can even get a bonus
providing you can lie.
So what will take here
a bag of cash just for you?

Perhaps you could put a price tag
on different photos
in order to show me
how much each will cost.

This is simple really,
unless you want to toss in love.
Well the price is negotiable
even more so if you are “flexible”
about the intimacy part.
We can discuss details,
but I’m sure you’ll be satisfied.
Course I have tips available
providing you can really scream
when I’m having one of my sadistic fits.

Should keep you content,
with the money at least,
after all they say money
can’t buy happiness,
yet have you ever tried?

By the way do you take credit cards?
Receipts are helpful too.
Now are you ready to get hired?
All it will cost is your conscience.
Who needs that anyway?

Esculent

2011-05-21T07:00:00.000-07:00

Exquisite expression in easily engulfed essences
ever eaten in equally enormous entrees,
which wrap and wound around the tongue
as the zesty snippets of succulents

Oh to be an esculent gourmet of culinary excellence
just let those incredible portions in tasty teases
make the mind alive by their servings,
then to pass through the doors
of that memorable haven in salivating ecstasy
where the word that epitomizes edible efficiency
has a vivid flair in vibrant and luxuriant morsels
totally embraced for its quality and appeal.

To sit and browse the menu of this establishment
is to delve so deep into the lair of luscious layers
until the palate is appeased in tantalizing tongue thrills,
so dancing the taste buds with their caloric ballet.

It is all the ravenous romp in that festive bliss
happily visited that joyous reunion with the seductive delicacies
that are carefully prepared by hands who are masters of kitchen
and wizards of oven fantasies.

Click

2011-05-20T07:00:00.000-07:00

My lens sees the world in its simplicity,
but I can feel what it doesn’t always show
for eyes of people posing
speak their secrets of pain and love.

So I am trapped as a box
to sit in some hands
while the mind looks through
my viewfinder’s site
only seeing what it wants to see.

Before I can stop sensing
every feeling that comes,
suddenly there is a click
and darkness visits.

Then the one holding me
moves on to the next photo
or stuffs me into a bag
while I must dream and know
what the person didn’t see.

Shards And Stains

2011-05-19T07:00:00.000-07:00

Juggler’s contest,
success decided by attrition,
champion is the last to drop
the jars kept in the air.

Exhausted winner
lets go of the pottery
in order to grab crown,
staggering over shards
that causes wounds to his feet.

Conqueror’s wreath
placed over eyes,
because can’t endure
sight of blood
and all the broken pots.

Said I'm Okay but I know how to lie

2011-05-18T07:00:00.000-07:00

I spun the lips tales again
just like a sitcom rerun,
my heart was bruised and battered,
but that was love’s baton once more
beating me senseless
like I was some kind of punching bag.

Echoes of practiced phrases
have I passed on as expected
for nobody really wants to know
the answer to the question
“how are you?”

Unless it is okay
that’s the passport to their mind
and we all live in the same hole
groping in the darkness
with the light left somewhere
none of us can reach.

Time for spilled seconds of song,
time for inventing the truth,
today doesn’t matter what goes wrong
since ears only want paradise
to keep the mind from dwelling
upon the pain we all wish to forget.

A Small Crown

2011-05-17T07:00:00.000-07:00

Wasn’t really a big problem,
well didn’t start out that way,
just the idea of my own little kingdom,
perhaps an isle somewhere,
I wouldn’t have to put up with all the crap
bosses love to dump on your life,
customers who are way to grumpy
expecting miracles for a little price.

So I imagined being a king,
oh I figured I would be fair
not really power hungry or insane.

Then I started really thinking
what if too many cause me problems
just have to expanded my realm?

My brain slowly got more demented
figuring every way to get peace
decided it meant eliminated complainers
and having more territory.

Got so angry over imagined enemies,
plots I knew somebody would try,
became insane like that Queen in Alice in Wonderland,
“off with their heads,”
kept rolling through my brain.

Clutching the desk corner
how I wanted it all,
the whole world, every inch of soil,
mine, mine, mine, nothing else would do.

Slipping into rage of plans,
dreaming firing squad solutions,
governments blown away,
would be the emperor over the earth,
sounded so perfect.

But reality kicked me in the butt,
can’t even handle the guilt
of thinking about cheating on my income taxes,
how could I take over the world?

Went to lunch at Burger King,
at least a paper crown felt good for while.

She’s New

2011-05-16T07:00:00.000-07:00

Mom and dad this is Usepia,
yes, I agree it is a unique name,
that silver space suit she’s wearing
is an new type of jogging suit
and the emerald skin
um, that is this special make up she uses,
kind of a tradition where she lives.

Where does she come from?
Oh, she’s an alien, not a citizen here,
they do lots of things different ltthere,
but she really is such an amazing person.

Oops, sorry about the couch,
I realize you just got it last week,
you know how those cans of mace keep improving,
hers just happens to disintegrate things.

Why is she floating around the room?
There’s a good explanation, really,
see she’s an acrobat
and learned it from this circus performer,
really is fantastic don’t you thing?

Darn, sorry about the fern in the corner
guess she’s sort of a vegetarian
must have been more hungry than I thought.

Look here comes the neighbor, Edith,
everything is fine honest,
bet she needed a rest anyway
wasn’t it thoughtful of Usepia
to use that ray thing for rendering her comatose?
It will wear off in a few hours.

Well we are off for a date,
have to admit they are out of this world,
hope you are glad to meet her
because next week her whole family will be moving to town,
should be interesting and so much fun
why they love to help,
er, you have anything against sometimes being green?

A Petition to Father Time

2011-05-15T07:00:00.000-07:00

Dear master over every hour of history
could you make them extra special this New Year?
Let my family be touched by days
without some many tears.
Spread our grains of time
across the world,
helping those who are suffering
slow the problems causing so much sorrow.

Sprinkle some hope
among the sands of seconds,
let me see it bring more blessings
than emergencies.

Toss some of your miracle dust
upon the winds
so each person might have dreams
from the sandman’s pouch
that you can make come true
during the day.

And put unhappiness in slow motion
with love felt as if it will never stop,
send some of your endless breath of comfort
to dry so many sobs.

Wave your sickle full of way
for creating joy
until we all have hope the year
will be the best one ever.

Party Hats

2011-05-14T07:00:00.000-07:00

Dancing as if rainbows showed in any storm,
see the clock as a serenade without a dirge,
is to wear a party hat over the heart,
able to find that music in monotony’s vacuum,
grasping with melodious clutches of festive fingers
at the stale air of somber and suffocating, stagnant seconds.

Inside the clown sleeps amid the circus
where the mundane morticians of the soul
perform their lobotomy
to remove the laughter that chuckles in times of silence,
intuitively practiced before somebody said make believe
was a celebration vain and foolish.

Oh if eyes only can remember
how to gaze with a child’s fascination,
replace boredom’s pauper with the wealth of discovery magic,
then we shall have be rich in the treasure,
sparkling with happiness in any junkyard.

Each day becomes so precious
when minutes are gleamed for their splendor,
holding onto what gives life its luster in any dullness.

Footsteps

2011-05-13T07:00:00.000-07:00

The season’s spirit
comes to mind’s office,
even when buried
under sadness’ blizzard
a visitor
with footsteps
you can’t ignore.

Surprise

2011-05-12T07:00:00.000-07:00

Summer in the heart
suddenly shattered
by icy confession,
one night lover
is under age.

Click

2011-05-12T05:40:00.000-07:00

Sight

2011-05-11T07:00:00.000-07:00

Eyes
cold and alone,
bereft of beauty's gaze
has ebbed in the pulse of hope,
hollowness smothering the spirit,
life toils in solemn silent tears
dressing tomorrow in funeral's thoughts
where nothing thrives nor teems
in a promise of intimacy's paradise
until every cloud seen
only brings a risk of storms.

But when love
comes by fate's transfusion
it pumps the blood throbbing ecstasy
as every breath taken
rumbles with the thunder of passion,
leaving mind struck constantly
by infatuation's lightning.
Vision flows from the soul,
angels found in every corner
able to view even dark threatening skies
with expectation it is alive with magic,
knowing you will share it with another,
inhaling inspiration's aphrodisiac
that gives flight unto the heart.

A Beautiful Affliction

2011-05-10T07:00:00.000-07:00

It was Tuesday and time for a debate
about politics, the weather or anything
that would inspire an argument
for in the wilted petals of their lives
there was only faded dreams
and vanishing fantasies
left to bloom in a spring,
which has long since lost
any hopes of being stunning.

Theirs was a wasteland
where beauty existed in the dull décor
they were mementos of wishes
before their flowers had more thorns
than the fragrances that gave joy.

But in their stale moments
so far from what they once wanted
the cemetery of their home
felt amazingly comfortable
like a prison with murals on the walls.

It might have been lacking in love,
yet it was all they had left
just spending their time
tried to appreciate the beauty
of what was bizarre and unappealing.

Still embraced because
they fears escape
would leave them
with never finding another person
to share their lives.

Running Up A Tab

2011-05-09T07:00:00.000-07:00

Who counts how many drinks when you refill the same glass?
And gravity is to blame once the bar top suddenly
is all the higher than your chin can possible rise,
if resting it there keeps the dizzying sense under control
then I can’t forget those times of lost hours on the bar floor.

After all, it is a nice rest among those cigarette butts
plus the smoke is thick enough you can’t notice the smell of booze,
just ordering on that tab saves noticing each new drink,
which won’t matter since my brain is soaked and numb
with the credit card receipt the only way I remember what I drank.

The Chamber

2011-05-08T07:00:00.000-07:00

Steps across the marble floor
in solemn reference for the sleeping souls,
whose names are written up the walls
of the mausoleum’s chamber.

Each one has its voice
that speaks unto my thoughts,
lives that call out to be remembered
beg to have their memories told.
Dates speak their generation
while I see the flashes of images
come into my head
about peoples, loves and tears,
which dressed another time.

The farther I walk
more sounds arise from behind
those sealed away stories,
let them enter my thoughts
until my fingers fine the words
to turn them into tales.

They creep into my night
sit by my bed
await for me to truly listen
so I can write what they say.

Masterpieces

2011-05-07T07:00:00.000-07:00

Oak wood paneling covering the executive boardroom walls,
part of the plush and luxuriant decor in the Dracula den of profit blood suckers,
each day a confessional conclave for clandestine cravings,
the wet bar their well for drowning guilt's echoes during leech rivals
as they plot another feast of greed using power's fangs to drain lives.

Alone, the head of their corporate coffin for the conscience sips his bourbon plasma
sitting in the room, gazing at collection of art masterpieces that surrounds him,
attempts to adorn with beauty a soul that died when first victim was drained
insides never numbed to stakes of stress, bank account no solution for lack of peace,
silently subduing the secrets of the heart, which longs for spiritual paintings never painted

Is This Decent After life Etiquette

2011-05-06T07:00:00.000-07:00

We live next to a cemetery
so every time there is a funeral
our home gets a host of spooky sounds,
eerie shadows on the walls
and things moving by themselves.

Now I don’t mind
the times when pictures end up crooked
or there is a sudden chill in the air
in the middle of the summer,
but what is with things
such as turning on lights at midnight?

What?
Do these ghost
have no idea about cost?
Just because they don’t pay
any darn electric bills
does this mean
they have a right to cost me bucks?

I mean a knock is sufficient
to let me know they’re around,
give me a break spooks
since I get it, you’re there!

If only they would listen
because they could at least be creative
or does that die when you’re a ghost too?

Oh I’ve tried talking to them,
darn specters don’t even muster
some howling reply,
just keep on flipping switches
like they are afraid of the dark.

All I get to do
is prepare each time somebody is buried
for its going to suck me of electricity,
thanks a lot dead people!
Wish you could find a way
that you could flip the switch
over at the house of someone you hate
instead of running up my bill!

Exiting Screaming

2011-05-05T07:00:00.000-07:00

I love when somebody
puts a deadline gun to my brain
then tells me Russian Roulette
is a prove of loyalty.

It isn’t the pressure cooker
simmering in my gut
that drives me insane,
for it is when you know
some megalomaniac, anal retentive Nazi
has control over your stress control panel
and is a sadistic fiend
who thrives on seeing the lines
on my face
grow tight and stern.

How exquisite is his skill,
the power to plan that perfect second
when he can inflict some intense anxiety
so my nerves become bare wires
exposing my insides
to sudden shocks
like little strikes of lightning,
causing spasms to my muscles.

My chest grows tight
as I dream of strangling one tyrant,
then knowing it would be pointless
since there are even worse monsters
in the chairs who rule his behind.

Biting my lip and smiling
while gritting my teeth,
fingers pounding on keyboard for relief,
finally surviving until the end of my shift,
exiting screaming.

We’re Not Alone, What Now?

2011-05-04T07:00:00.000-07:00

When my world became a shatter vase
all around was nothing, but shards,
I asked in mournful tones of pain
why did this tragedy befall?

But there is no answer for the sadness
only my heart isn’t in solitude
around me are the other victims
the survivors who stand numb
wondering how we undo the misery?
How do we find some jewel to hold?

Now is the hour we weep,
yet we do it as a crowd,
someone passes the hemlock
it is an inspiration of grief
then we celebrate by singing a dirge
while waiting for some lighting
that can shine some solution
since we are all too shocked
to think beyond this sorrow.

Where Our Words Failed

2011-05-03T07:00:00.000-07:00

Between our hearts a gulf grew,
we gazed at horizon with different sight,
not always seeing what the other saw,
not always kind in our thoughts,
but now as I must slip away
through all the faint echoes of memories
and despite the tears that fell too often,
it isn’t the sadness that will remain.

For in the embers of trust,
the precious gift of being
where we held a moment together,
love is the glow that is always eternal.

Save it now, cherish it always
what faded and failed is a mere vapor.
When we cared and truly were genuine
unto the feelings inside,
how that touch of joy and tenderness
is the rock we truly stood.

Though our lips failed at times to express
the seconds of passions adequately
unto me there is nothing
that will be my wings forever
as much as the feathers
of that love,
which spread even in the dark.

Wisdom

2011-05-02T07:00:00.000-07:00

Wisdom is living long enough
to learn from your mistakes
without a need to lie
over explaining being a fool.

It is finally discovering
honesty is a better partner in bed
than guilt.

Gems Of The Heart

2011-05-01T07:00:00.000-07:00

You always know when love is a diamond
for it shines so bright in your lover’s eyes,
a sparkle that is just for you
and will never dim or fade in time.

Then lips no longer have a need for words
there are not questions left to ask,
life just glows in that embrace,
all you can see or want
is felt in that caress,
which you just long to seal
with that ring of stones,
a simple band around your thoughts
ever consuming and utterly overwhelming
so expressing how that person is your very existence.

At last comes the day to brings that finally question
when you know its answer already so deep inside,
hands reach out where desire already stretched
aware the response that was given
so long ago in the private moments of nights.

Happiness blooms its brightest
once that word of yes comes
because for once dream and reality are wed
in the coming celebration
that you know will last a lifetime.

Equilibrium

2011-04-30T07:00:00.000-07:00

Legacy's level
glued to top
of one's head,
unable to read
its measurements.

Harmony taught by those
who've never seen
their own tools.

Eyes always facing
mentor's lips,
so no one notices,
they are standing
on a hill.

Happiness comes
from perfecting balancing act
instead of posture intuition.

Walking

2011-04-29T07:00:00.000-07:00

Strolling
by soul's feet,
heart not chained
to other's opinions.

Peace

2011-04-28T07:00:00.000-07:00

Molten cerebral scalpel
carving into mind's canvas
etchings of dissected tongues
whose fabrications
infected as lava's maggots
in my veins of trusts.

Now my orbs see hell in every face,
a demon in need of slaughter.
I used my fingers with precision stabs
at the pressure points
of their charcoaled stress marks.

Only feeling peace when sensing screams
behind eyes of those
wearing a magician's serpent mask.

Barbecue pit stirred inside my heart
coals from molesting sages
that tattooed their cruelty upon my dreams,
are stirred with acid
so when they flare
while cooking my violated faith steaks,
I shall feast on the bitterness
for strength to hunt
where jackals in suits
wait to gnaw on my marrow.

PAX

2011-04-27T07:00:00.000-07:00

The roar of cannons booming from pride’s artillery
set before the world in patriotic armories,
aimed with fervor to defend a sacred soil
as warrior’s hear their thundering sounds
to follow them through smoke and shells
on that bloodied path unto a white cross medal
worn forever as glory’s ribbon.

How those craters and corpses
never still the storms within the soul
who stir the fears over invaders
until they only calm to beset the heart
comes from raising shield and bayonet
against any dreaded, menacing plight.

In the safe havens far from those muddied fields
were bodies fall to never rise again
flags still caress in their silky windswept allure
preserved in the mind as the cherished emblem
though it can’t caress away the concerns
over those who would shred its fabric.

Ever on the soil with those claret stains
of the sacrifices unto attempts at national security
is the illusion they will gain a peace.

Yet they are always dipped in irony’s paint,
which never dries to cover the land
and silence the ghost of the slain
who linger in the minds of those still alive
to prevent the pax that was their dream.

Little Nibbles

2011-04-26T07:00:00.000-07:00

Succulent morsels slowly salivating in their seductions,
softly streaming the lurid honey of coos
deeply into that well of moans,
taste buds flaming in the sampled suggestions,
rising inside with trembling tremors of quaking quivers.

Body hums in the eloquence of drooling desires,
thoughts flows in a cascade of pure lust,
this little nibble taken with the mind
brings a bubbling brew of a palate’s
pure sweet, syrupy flavor in cravings.

Just a snack offered that swirls within
as a buffet with ravenous expectations,
allowing its temptation to feign a restrain in curl of lips,
ready to explode when one bite promises more,
while the dam of need is ready to burst,
drowning with the unbridle release of appetite.

One more exquisite second of forbidden teases
happening when you see that email subject,
hinting a feast of promises
awaits to satisfy some secret hunger.

A Glimpse

2011-04-25T07:00:00.000-07:00

One stare sealed the shards of my shattered soul
for in the flux of vision from a myriad of misgivings
I rose out of that dark shroud of sorrow
and once again sought love’s frail fragrance.
Refusing to dwell a mournful sleep
within that dire cocoon of dreadful malaise.
Still wounded to the point of feeling slain
over having caressed the elusive gossamer dream
that my heart could truly find
a pure and precious touch
of sublime alabaster quintessence
so I would know and believe
even a wretched life of wrecked ways,
could at last have the supplications of Cupid’s target.

Then one gaze unveiled a new hope
like seeing some inspiring sight
in a cerulean sky that says the impossible can happen.
So I longed again, breathed and yearned
all from a single look at a goddess
who I knew like some truth suddenly accepted
making her the fated passion jewel of my destiny.

Time now to cast aside the fears
break those old and burdensome transoms of doubt.
Reach for my happiness and win her for my own
then deny those ugly detractor's words
from that store manager
claiming her name is, “mannequin!”

Words

2011-04-24T07:00:00.000-07:00

We dream of some durable testimony
left behind that will immortalize our life,
feeling emptiness over the dull hours of vanity
where the fruit of ardor fades in life’s sunset.

Rewriting the hearth of our dreams
altering a given choice or second
won’t change the pattern of our times
since money, fame or love
just feed a vision, but never change our destiny.

For me, all I want is a single vivid verse,
one poetic treasure that causes echoes
so it remains a diamond read and cherished.

Is there really a better dream
any writer could truly have?
It is enough for me,
enough to sleep content
having penned something unique and profound.