Tuesday, April 26, 2011

Claim Silence

Throwing away intrepid involvement
meaningless gages minimal obsidian women.
Obsolescence is iridescence ridiculing formidable shame.
Counterclockwise intuitive blame
asunder shadows in blind light.
Holding the knife encourages power
to be on prowl of what scares oneself in the night.
Deeper the protrusion is an inconclusive
pain wiped away at the windowpane.
Looking out into silhouette trees
mirroring threshold endurance fame.

Monday, April 25, 2011

Dreaming of a Wish

Lake water is a dream
sparkling in sunlight seems
all your days doing.
A horrid face that your eyes
look out from
derange the vision with tears
acidic lullabies corrode the skin.

Destroy Me

I know you think you are
All that shines
Warnings are precious
Zoo screams memories
Pendulum decays
What is new
These trippy days
Past the get away
Trains in yard
Killing is hard
Have you heard
Fearlessness is kind
The soft bunnies hop
Grass becomes greener
Clouds are stone gray
Spring is slow in arriving
I have not had my fill of cake
Drive me off the cliff
Fulfill my thoughts of rope
Dangling about my neck.

Kill Me to Kill You

A lonely gun has no voice
and mystery ants march on the trigger.
Laughing sparrows pick at the barrel
and the mice sniff the handle.

Death death death death death death death death

Deals of lead
shed and twist
melting pigs
discuss twigs
the vines wore
the flowers
sniffing death
lurking upon
open flesh.

Years of Waste

I learned not living within the spider web
would catch me cruel beginnings.
I never thought I would care so much for
empty bowls of singing.
The guilt tore down the bridge of life
and at the beguiling site
destruction is near
had me by the ears
snarling linen tears.

Friday, April 22, 2011

Weird Dream

This dream involved spiders that sat upon my floral sheeted bed. There was this gigantic fuzzy tarantula spider. The spider was very still. Two other spiders that I called babies rolled out of the tarantula in crab shells. I touched one and the legs and a head popped out of the shell. I brushed the strange spiders off my bed. On the floor between my bed and my roommates bed was a pile of mess. One spider still in the crab shell got lost in the mess. My roommate and I could not find it. We are both scared for when it morphs into the tarantula and it will bite us someday. However, we did get the other crab shell spider and the tarantula into a container. The spiders didn't even try to crawl out. Then on a pile of books was a weird beetle. The beetle had human teeth. It was hissing at me as it smiled. It was very strange. But that is the end.

Thursday, April 14, 2011

What Summer Brings

Hydrangea spoils soil
sun drenched green leaves
snake sneaks amongst the weeds
potted plants knocked over tease
the mole thats come out to breathe.

Plan for an Artwork by Poetic Thoughts

Minimal colorations collaborating poignant lines.
Delicate marks, a dead stale image reflecting life.
Gray figure there
black dots swarm
until psychedelia ensues
performing mindful magic to
emphasis form.
Shapes are guided to and fro
little words meaning they show not tell
keep repeating the tactful playfulness, a wit so diverted
it arranges itself as a puzzle unmatched to the naked eye.
Alas, a clue to her heart
a dazzling sophistication is a start
to gear her art to a newer meaning...
Planning is difficult if spontaneity is the
art to creativity.
Perhaps, let the moth lead the way
to a glowing lamp amidst pools of darkness land.  
Flight is a new deal
to unravel is a scheme
peeling off the awkward feel.

Shooting off dust into the sun
burns off like citrus in a rush
to become a new team.

Helping out old seeds
flowing up a tube
pubescent feeds off culture.

Lost without sarcasm
dealt with trauma in truest form
a unique deed to break them.
Somber cocktails lending the stars bled onto the ceiling.
Rising from the floorboards, and elderly saint,
creating safe sanctity claims.
Nothing could be done
In chilly houses on the hill
Bullocks slid past June.

Wednesday, April 13, 2011

Everything is expensive
and my mind is only so expansive.
If I were to map out my thoughts
it would become discorded images
and text
all nonsense
and death.
Yearning laudanum and stroking the libido,
yeast is sweet deep virginal cerebellum vortex.
Crammed up tight till no longer breathing
heart is swooping and speeding
landing on a field of mines.
A vision of mimes mimicking  
my art, freedom, and restraints.
Love is nowhere till you get there,
cannot find a simple dream to scream.
The birds screened my dreams
and angels scanned my body.
Soft cows and long towns
Leaning shacks hung in clouds.
Children crowd around a grave
And mourn to greet the ghosts
Of their future
Twisting plastic air
To feast the fresh flesh
Of dying kids.
Swerving swords save personalities
Drowning in the rivers

Saturday, April 9, 2011

muffin magic

the ideal time to eat a muffin is when the sun is high in a clear blue sky and you are sitting on a bench at the beach. While you take a bite until every crumb is eaten by you and only you (do not feed muffin to seagulls though it may be tempting) you must contemplate all your worries. Every worry per bite resolves problems because you swallow them away into your stomach. Stomachs can handle your worries better then the mind because stomachs are weird.


When she lacks, she learns to laugh.
When she treads, she learns to fend.
When she crawls, she learns that love has no walls.
When she sneaks, she learns to be free.
When she swallows, her hearts becomes hollow.
And when she hollers, sweet notes become ferrel.
She becomes depressed and learns to regress.
The tears she sees is in a land without an ocean.
It's too far to starve beyond a notion.
The nights gather ghosts that she hosts.
Parties of death, her sword consumes more flesh.
She, who kills all her guests, must indicate unworldly
responsibility of innocence to go unnoticed.

Untitled Idleness

This dry life is waiting for spice. Empty vessels contradict the shadows you had assumed were there. The decapitated ballerina tainted love's spring flown to show the guiding light as if I had been one all along. That death predicts us to move with the stale air. I lost hope.

Saturday, April 2, 2011


Be still, insect, do not move the branch. A languid universe is through all the hours of noon. I have told you once long, long ago that a vast star ship will eclipse the sun. Our journey starts here upon this branch. Open your ears to opportunities. Alabaster and shale, Trinidad to Tobago, lonely eves for cold halos. Which would rather have, a hand for art or murder? Lovely insect, you fear the birds. Their sharp beaks are an unsettling mind freak. Gather your steel and heavy artillery, we have strong defense so as not to melt the ice. Buoyancy depicts the thrilling events take positive control over the wind. This means wonderful time to fly. The branch quakes from the chilly breeze, a lady lost her gossamer scarf. For it was not a gale force wind, yet the lady lost her grip. The wind almost flew her over the edge of the forest. An insect like you is too small to save her.