Friday, December 28, 2012

Thursday, December 27, 2012

What if this is what i ate for breakfast?


I feel as though I am a wound on this earth. Yes, I breathe, but is that living? A caterpillar is never dusty unless that creature has innate sensitivity to be afraid. I feel as though I collect dust without being aware of what I collect. It is not a hoard a psychological innuendo. Maybe the dust is a soliloquy. A dismal beach is better then a desert that contains oil beneath the loose sand. Take me to that dismal beach. I can find the joy inside a rotten oyster shell. That shell may not hold a special pearl, yet at least that shell could act as a temporary home. However, when certain families own a house, the house should feel like a home. A home is more complete the a dismal shell from a dismal beach. I am collecting dust still.


J'aurais oublié votre nom. Voulez-vous me dire votre secret?

A hippo-pot-o-pill
gives me a thrill
when the cat-a-cream
sniffs thy shoe.
Weave thee a building
of basket breaking yarn.
Yearn not for the stars,
but for the nebula of lust!

it is a debate or
a testimonial.

Cantaloupe dignitary,
east coast fibbery,
list of jib jibbery.
I trivialize murder!

In the case of an emergence
see the last page for
the reinforcements.
Install the powder in robots
deeply significant cocoon.

I list these on to you
because you make me sneeze
and the light from the screenplay
hypnotized me.

With or without help,
a gargantuan trampoline identifies me
and wants to eat me.
Haven't you ever found out how I fluctuate in
a temperate landscape!
I devastate myself.
I am a rebuttal.
In any sense of the means
a clown can eat a cake
but does that make me a rapist?
I forgot my Brian Ferry.

The cantaloupe is still on my trail,
he senses the bounce breasts
and the entrails of thyme,
not rhythm nor rhyme. 
A story told in order from which it goes;
a video store lost the race,
they close and sell the space.
Such is the so forth of frothy foam on waters edge.
Let us eat a scone
and leave him alone.
She is a loner.
Him or her, they are loners.

A budding arena in a testimony trait,
trick the candidate!

Teach me the game of Bridge or canasta. 

My brain is too tired for chess.

Take me to Laguna. 

Speech to me the lines of Wordsworth for old time's sake. 

I can't handle the date!
Save me from going insane!
Try as I might,
the lines build and build
how is an artist to be a citizen candy cane?
If this poetry of words
crashes and burns
remember for what I have never written.

The purgatory is the place of the bull.
Menacing watermelons triple a squirrel.
Meals full of diamonds for dear Mr. Bowie
and lucid are the soldiers that have just been pleasured.
A relaxed army is a gracious army of Vishnu.
Tackling mysteries,
climbing up mountains,
charging the queen with pretty rhinoceroses. 
Belittle the bell court with petty rags,
dress the ambivalent tigers in trousers. 

to be continues..... methinks...... title is pending.......

Cannibal Cruise, You did Snooze, Now Go Find a New One.

A demanding public appeals as the
the most innocent reveals
a lacquered subject imbued with red.
In all the dismay,
you did lay
across my bed
hoping that I could turn you on
and again. 

We WIll Try and See

Negativity is a spork
in an unforeseen convention
of Boy George's convenience because
he simply stood there.
Please blow your horn,
tinker your crystals,
bedeck your bosom
with all the adornments.
I will undress you soon.

The Sequel to the Misunderstood

I dropped the cement block onto to
the freshly cut lumber.
Why I did this?
Nobody cares.

Oil of Mislay Maiden

Slayer on to me,
I speak none of these.
Lend me your ears and
grasshopping sheers...
we shall be in Spring soon.

Monday, December 10, 2012

Aren't We Al Just Squandering?

In the pieces perceived of this month,
as expected, the pole vaults repeatedly crash.
The intergalactic mingling.
You stop the jingling.

Sunday, December 9, 2012

Flipping Dust

A coroner regrets the test answers.
A crooner devalues lyrics when the words convey emotion.
A crown adorns the correct head.
A corrupt individual lashes out.
A cornfield grows as per usual.
A crowd follows the popular vote.

Snow Falls and Cold Temperatures Climb

I keep my struggles
to myself
as difficult as that may be.
I would very much like to brag
of all the impossible tasks I face.
I want to create artwork larger then life,
I need a job for money to pay off loans,
didn't get into grad school.
Friendships disappear.
Am I resilient as I think I am?
Now I told some struggles
and it won't make a difference.

Sensational Cravings for The Otherworldly

As an alien I am constantly debating
the rights of the hemoglobin
crashes and breaks down.
It becomes an irrational hemo-goblin!
The goblin shall wreck the past, skip the present, and target the future.
You are so fucked.

The New Blitz

The best at what they do,
is a statement we should trust.
What to do, what to do, but they must.
A bad day shook the building,
a howling wolf took a lemon,
and the box ate the humans-
transported them to a sports bar
in Bolivia to watch soccer.

In a Blaze

The microns are numerous,
too overwhelmed to count them all.
Ambivalent drudgeries contest them
and we try to destroy them.
Triple power dimensions reform
the contingencies of the norm.
I release the others that saw the
trauma of wolves.

A September to Forgive, A November to Forget, A December to Get Through

When will a chance be given to those
that work hard,
but seem to get nowhere?

Thee Ornate Experience

I am the only one in my mindful exploration
of the passionless wind.
Tree limbs are only animated when the gales
force them too.
When you take invisibility as a force to be reckon with,
then you shall surely loose.
A guide to life,
back down with pride and
loose with dignity.

Semi-Quasi Gossamer

Trembling the pearl beaded necklace,
a haunting warmonger publishes lists.
The lists contain subtle reprimands,
constant demands, and avid shock treatment needs.
The horror that remains of my life is a movie to behold.
For in the essence of entertainment, I put my life on the line.

In My Humble Bumble

I ride the sea foam gracefully,
the pearls cleanse me seductively,
in the relative nature versus nurture.

It Depends on the Strangeness of Humanity

i miss the way we would eat potato; you would take the first bite, chew it, and then put in my mouth, i chew it, and pass off into your mouth, and we eat the rest of the potato this way.

Monday, December 3, 2012

Oh Sloth is a Sin

I just feel bad my poetry blog is so empty with a new 2013 year approaching. I am working on those illustrations as such a slow pace. What am I waiting for? Stop thinking and just do.

Saturday, November 10, 2012

Tuesday, October 9, 2012

Established Granite Sins

In the near future
I will be no closer
to the place
I wish to be.

Imagine a spirit of a girl
sauntering over the decaying
summer garden that succumbs to autumn.
She hangs over the withered leaves.
Her ombre appearance disturbs
the quiet scene of a vacant
backyard she grew up in.

October is a Bomb Shelter

Being alive is burial procession.
A slow underground ooze,
slothfulness for the drifters of dreams
procure all tidings onto me.

If the dove flies with hesitation,
become the magma adoration
we consume in a grand feast.
The spectacle is the demon
trying to beat the heat.

Of course the progress
grooves ever slowers,
a neat kite holder is now a
soothsayer to say the least thoughts.
If it wasn't existentialism, then
I wouldn't know what was.

Thursday, September 6, 2012

Just leave me alone, but don't leave me alone

I have been alone everyday.
And guess what my reward is,
more loneliness!

Lapin of Lapis Lazuli

Covered bridges duplicate.
The government detests this.
Immediate action is taken.
Render the power of nature
to prove the brides incorrect.

In the middle of the Atlantic,
a whirlpool forms to eliminate
the encroaching bridges.
As the bridges dissolve,
mysterious bunnies of jewel
tone blues are ejected from
the whirlpool.

The bunnies hop along
the quickly dissolving bridges.
The bridges contain the bunny
tsunami controlling their
concentrated magic into the
seaports of America.

The bridges are completely
destroyed which leaves the
bunnies beached on land.

Edit This

I scrutinize my every word
before I make my choice
of thought.
Amuse my imagination
to believe that a sentence
of mine can stand the test
of time.
In gardens I flourish, in
rain I wait, relish the
encounter of something
Abstain from eating
abbreviate hatred
a warring nation
never got love.
Without hesitation,
my grand salutations
as a newer breed of
provocation. *

Tour de ma Chambre

My room is the ambiguous melodies
fashioned to grief, forgotten thieves,
mischievous tea leaves.
Dried roses in glass soda bottles.
Dead and dusty moths scattered about.
Creative clay bowls filled with nature
subjects such as rose petals, crystals,
seed pods, cicada shells, ancient coins,
rolled stones, screws, bolts, and buttons.
I have a very large glass bowl dedicated
to my ocean nature collection.
The contents include crab shells, sea glass,
whole shells, shard of shells, common shells,
manufactured shells, sand, rocks, a dried
lizard, and a tiny plastic lizard.

*I might continue this. I lost steam.
I really just got bored. Bye!

I Only Wrote This, Not Spoke It.

How do I say it just perfectly? I ponder about the three words that I could easily speak. If I write them down, they do not contain the power I envision in my mind. "I can't see your face in my mind," Jim Morrison so hauntingly sings... I feel as though I am at the point of sorrow. I shudder at ever soft whim of his breath that slides the words so perfectly from ear to ear. "Baby please don't cry," he continues to sing. Crying is difficult, perhaps the lucid memories will seep in at the correct time and I will recover.

Impact is as Degrading as Memory Loss

Delaying the sun from sheering
the tops of the roofs enduring
all the cost of burning
to make the phoenix rise.

Tuesday, September 4, 2012

A Moth

Fluffy on top,
goo in the middle,
short lifespan,
mother moths grow fat
with eggs
then they can no longer
Mother moths are so delicate
and dry.
I crept upon the little fat
crawling about the lawn.
I became angry,
grabbed a stick,
and impaled them
I am so sick
I am so mean
I am unattached from puppet strings!
This is all my own doing,
I killed the bugs,
the ones I love the most.
I murded the future moths.
The mothers were performing
their task.
I have ruined their lives
and what do I do?
I sit there observing
the crushed mother moths.
Their eggs fly out like
little dust specks...

Spinning into Tizzy

Do not allow yourself
to forget.
Always remember who
you are.

These words are placed here
as more of an encouragement to me.
But I do not know where I am going.
I am driving myself mad by excluding
myself from people.
It's all my fault.
If I try to convince you otherwise,
then it is all a lie.
It's all my fault.
I got myself into this hell.

Out There and Floating on a Raft

Raffia in a traffic-stand-still.
We no longer hear the buzz of monitors.
Our faces capture the glow of the setting sun.

I write out poems containing
groups of people because I am
lonely. In my head I picture
myself surrounded by humans
that enjoy my company,
that laugh at my jokes
and allow silences to be taken
as a peaceful conclusion
rather then an awkward
Alas, these are reveries.
I wish dreaming could
lead me to better times.
At present, I am stuck
in a house and forgotten
by the outside world.
I barely exist in the minds
of others.

I am what my title explains,
out there and floating on raft...

Sunday, September 2, 2012


The bedroom stunk of horrid flesh,
moisture leaked in from a different guest.
A tongue as the pendulum swung
from ear to limb,
dizzy asylum neighbors crawl
about the metal floor.

Lurched inside the thicket of my brain
contains ill remnants of a radioactive train
that flew out of a narcotic buzz,
landed in my post-apocalyptic slugs.
She withdrew her maggot demeanor
toward a swiveling fan
growing out of an October scarecrow man
belted down to a hospital bed.
The IV tubes are empty,
crusty blood clogs at the holes entry.


I am never exposed
but light nor shade,
my poison teeth remain
frightening the lookers away.
I take my life for granted
each time I cross the street,
encounter a bulldozer in
my night's dreaming sleep.
Catacombs are my fantasy,
a golden reward for the poor,
the flamingo wants more.

Tuesday, August 28, 2012

Explosive Device

Demonstration cannot be spelt
without demon.
Lemon and demon do not rhyme
yet they have the very exact same letters.

Sitting at the desk in a schoolroom,
the teacher takes off his winter coat
to reveal a bomb strapped to his torso
on top of his button-down flannel shirt.
The rest of the class reacts and screams,
all the doors and windows are locked.
The teacher announces this is the last
scientific demonstration in class because
we all shall die with a flip of a switch.

This teacher is a smart man,
he rigged the school to create a dead zone,
cellphones cannot receive signals.
He's unplugged the telephone service as well.
He is fully prepared to kill us all.

At the Gallery Indigo of Night

Switching sidewalks
left to right
licking an ice cream
wind sweeps the hair
from shoulders
solidarity is key
to being free.

Skipping stones
till eight at night
feed the duckling
before bedtime
and stare at the ceiling.

The imagination is
a canvas.
The mind is always
re-stretched, gessoed,
new layers of paint.
Be your own gallery.

Debutant Tantrum Tarantula

Curse the pricker bush
and in due time
an earthquake shall rhyme
with fortitude and thunder.
She is confident and trivial
yet when events are asunder,
the house will rumble
Screams bellow from a petite
body, lusting with hot air
and anger.
For she did not possess
the correct colored heels
to match her favorite dress.

The Exhausted Lotus

In water it sits,
above water it cries.
It carries a scent divine.
Many a lullaby is sung upon it's leaves,
willow trees rumor it never sleeps.
Lady by day,
howler by night,
frogs use as shade,
humans use for display.

Thursday, August 16, 2012

My Heart as an Eggshell Continuously Cracking

At a modular speed
our emotions decline
growing bitter near a grape vine.
I ask of your words to speak
kindly to my ears
but all I see are the typed out words.

I cannot help that my brian ties knots
around a substantial trail that soon
will rot. What am I doing?
I have done it all wrong again.
Every wrong answer to an
intelligent, thoughtful question.

Give me an encyclopedia on emotions
and human interactions.
I will study.
Nothing can compare to the true
confrontation to an intimidating figure
full with a face, a bright complexion,
and complex reactions.
How do I read you?
You have no pages.
Diaries are hidden from view.
I give up so easily and you mistake
that for abuse.

What do I do
when my smile disappears?
I am overrun with information from this
digital era.
I cannot cope with what society spews,
like sewage and grim interlocking with mine.
A book is what I crave,
but the bright screen of a laptop
is tempestuous.

I am an inner-workings of a clock,
an unfulfilled pile of glum.
Please refer to the top of the poem
to read again....

Wednesday, August 15, 2012

Tortoise Shell Ricochet

I have a horror movie for a brain,
and heart that constantly bleeds.
When will a voice consume me?

Tuesday, August 7, 2012

I WILL be that Man

Interim travails
cannot communicate in such noise.
Television grumbles,
athletes fight
to rid themselves of memories
held in childhoods.

My Neck Vibrates

Rattle snake tails
sway like tree limbs in the dark.
Why is there night for evil
occupations to arise?

Get @ Me

A storming stomach
in a zebra confusion,
we all alight to the very best.

Prolapse Crackle Flakes

Pretty pros pry.
Crafted collars cry.
Freakish fools fry.

Saturday, August 4, 2012

Sun Dried Tomatoes

I elope with you
to wedding street
to feel the love
and freedom.
Lip balm turned on.
Coin toss never dropped.
From a cloud to another
we leap unbound
like a dancer to a flamingo
once said, "It is I who shall
not die unless the porcelain axe
accidentally slices my neck."
We believed in fairy tales,
we hired a maid,
nursery rhymes never made
sense to me.

If You Cannot Believe

A bell child in a floral field,
a cow lurking on grasshoppers,
a boiling pot of water for tea,
sleepy kittens in a basket of meat,
daydreamers killed by axes,
stray arrows murdering children,
young adults spreading deceases,
wars starting for no reason...

Then breath.
the end.


Blooming feathers of smoke.
A billowing pillow of darkness
to cloak the life-giving forces of a
sun so powerful.
Smog erasures the insurance of glee.
Ash is snow from an evil deed.
(Ash is snows wicked cousin)
And we all know that if we dare to
breath, a masked demon will be quick
to follow you into hell.

That is me! That is me!
In my dream I die.

Larval states magnetize the salmon roe
lava is an amazing flow.
A volcano in perfection forms to a peak
almost to create an upside-down V.
When the eruption occurs,
it has androgynistic powers.
Adrenal rushes my ectoplasm
is create terrific orgasms
it is sex during menstruation.

3 Three Third Place Please (Bronze) aka Looser/Not Good Enough

I have eyes of potent desire.
Heed my knees, watch the keys.
Pick and eat the berries for me.

The singularity of layers are
accustomed to presume the perfume
for obsessive yet apparent reasons.

For the most of the joy and sorrow,
one may only barrow a barrel and bell,
a bucket of whisky to pass the time.

The tin can clanks as I keep loosing
faith the dinner shall ever be served
on a plate in my favor of flavor.

Well deserved credit is an
unsubstantial letter that includes
neatly typed sentences.

Supplement transparent behaviors
and attitudes toward institutionalized
traitors and tailors, they are menders of slime.

Salivate at a rubber tire,
loosen the three tiered wires,
columbine the amassed followers.

Restructure the mindset the instant
he walks into your path.
You need to be better.

Thursday, August 2, 2012

Today is a Day of Voiceless Talent

A day so calm, secluded,
stuck on chairs
chin buried in food.
A worrisome day due to
a silencer attached to a
voice box.
It is all the same.
A day creeps up like
seashells to the shore
pulled away with the blanket
tide, the salt mingles in my ear.

Tuesday, July 31, 2012


A crestfallen panther
carousels a pyramid
a minor pyrotechnical
disorder of immediate
actions in acute hours
of dawn wrestling the
sunlight of injury to
cause a reaction of
jubalee and misty
gratifications gradual
of doomsday spectacular
in cell devision madness
without the peach,
without the seedlings
spare, a piece of ass
of laid upon my hand.

A Few Minor Instants

In gems they lay.
Spherical experiences,
a buoyant event.
A sermonized recipient,
a flirtatious eye dancer,
and a cautious cactus pie.

A Miracle is like a Mirage or a Myriad of Imperfect Circles

Think of my mystery that I leave.
I give away less then what you believe.

Clumps of dirt are squirming,
perhaps they are filled with
They will break loose,
crawl toward your sleeping body
encased in plastic wrap.
All but your head is covered.
The maggots love to feast on eyeballs.

I Forgot that I Deserve a Pontoon Party on the Thames River

If you will,
if it please the court,
if I may,
I begin.

I would like to sing again.
Not a soul to listen to my voice.
I shall sing anyways.
I will take my invisible guests
for a night on the Thames.
I shant hurt a fly.

The way I have been treated
is irreversible.
Complaining is irresistible
yet not a soul listens to my voice.
So a night on the Thames will be
splendid full of food and vodka.

My way is the lonely way.
Out on the highway,
numerous accidents.
Out on a river is a serene event.
Let my voice spread it's wings
and harpsichords thrill at the end.

If you have eyes,
if you care for words,
if you live in dreams,
That is where I begin again.

I am the Woman, You are the Road

Within an alternate universe,
Bernard thought of a verse
so precise and clean
like that of a dove
freshly drowned
in the waters of
a pond.
But on the opposite end
of an envelope,
a girl is licking her lips.
Bernard tries to not sway his thoughts
from the locking of the door
and the walk down the street
to the convenient store.
He must concentrate.
What if he says hello
to the wrong person?
What if that person returns
his greeting?

At this time, he stands on his heels.
Keys rattling in his loosely formed fist.
He feels too sick.

The girl snapped the rubber band
Her hand travels all over him
and her other hand.....
her other hand covers his mouth
so he does not screech.
Clementines do not mix with limes.

This is the day he had dreaded of
the most. Today is that day
to worry the most.

Black smoke smudges the
musky atmosphere  of the compact
apartment building stairs littered with
condoms and broken toys.
He is carried away and shoved into
a trunk of a vehicle.

Men laid out the road
as paths for freedoms
taken for granted.
Bernard looses his
battles and today
no one ever knows
how cheaply he ever
lived to pass the days
away till death arrived
in a most obscence and
unexpected way.
The police force and
investigative team
concluded, "He was
asking for trouble."

Saturday, July 21, 2012

I Cannot Forget That I Am A Girl

When I douse my clothes in
lighter fluid, I second guess my
chances of being looked at again
and again. The make-up is gone,
not a curling iron or blow dryer in sight.
I rarely comb my hair, for it puts up a fight.
All I want to do is leave womanhood to
the women that plan to give birth.
I loose control of the real me
and what society makes gender roles
to be perceived.
Though I am a girl, I disagree with
many of the "girly" traits and mannerisms.
I want to be me without a label.
Disregard my sparkly jewels,
pink shirts, and friendly smile...

Candle Floating, Ghostly Owl

~Girly dress up game~

I Freed the Delivery of Basket Weaving

It is late at night,
a saddening intercourse
locks my eyebrows and what
is that breeze about my my wrists.
I will cut them if I have no choice.

Friday, July 13, 2012

I Based The Tower, An Aluminum Numbing Machine, In Penumbrae Pleasant Street

Upon discovering the discord rags
of the broken car engines
manufacturing plant, this is where
I was birthed. From mother, to
hospital bed, to arms and eyes that
weep like grasshoppers that cheated
their furniture made from plastic leaves.
It was a pure indication of an
indecent time lapse that
our memories have been switched.
I thought I was an automobile,
and you thought you were human.

Horizontal Diamonds

Implement the torture scene
like a pigment in an outer
magazine time zone.
Colliding the dust of here and now
is a preserved palpitation of an ill
scone out to score just like me.
At my own will in my own town
throw a tin and hit a cow.

Thursday, July 12, 2012

I Orchestrated an Orchid and Collapsed the Lighthouse

What am I found privy to?
I detached myself of all worldly
reasonings, except those having
connections to you.

All The Others Are Not Me

I am hanging on
as much as tires can grip
to newly paved road.
If I cannot cover
your footprints,
then you will be found
guilty. I will beguile you.
My spider parts are tingling.

Try as I Die

Circus brutality
in vast galaxies.
We munch on clementines
and watch the sun do it's shining
upon the incorrect roof.

Wednesday, July 11, 2012

Ragzagonal Anbsential

Rethink everything.
Petticoats are special when
the dolts depend on
the horizons.

And You Say...

And in all of the stars
I have heard this before
calling out like hardships
on lady ocean's breasts.

The seals slip in
as we ride the waves
and the voice still shelters
the seashell horn.

And again with the
ocean freezing sometimes
you singing all the time
and me crying half the nights.

Isometric Insomnia

Blue, magnetized faces
of the fifth degree...
measure me and make me see
the hands that hold the
golden cup liquified
into millionaire dust.
What is the most expensive
dust particle on this planet?

I have been awake since last
week reciting over the garbage
recipes, reciprocating the tables,
and replacing light bulbs in
the next houses showers.
It is a weird job
but it still pays.

If you had a balloon once
then you can agree
the arrogance that leaves
me breathless in a heliocentric


I am revealing the reeling
of the lighting rod.
Perhaps the bee hive has
forgotten that we lack in trust
but are an assembly of God.
I had a vision regarding
the future. The future
is full of combustibility
which may or may not be
a good thing. The future
is bright not only from
the fire, it is bright from
the liars and cheaters.
They are grimacing with
revolutionary white teeth
reflecting the sun as if
humans teeth in the future
are mirrors. I have not
bowed down from my
position, I have administered
the poison to the government's
mentality on dentistry.
For in the future if our teeth
become mirrors,
we have nothing greater to
look forward to then our
selfish habits and beauty.

Me, Myself, and My Vertebrae Blues

The presumptuous bend
of an obligated story
has held my hand
and broke our bounty.
The immediate rush of
all our luck has
subjected you to
Your eyes protrude a
luminosity that sets my
horseshoes blazing with fire.
And you hand me the bottle of glue
to sniff and get high
while your eyes become more
engrossed with pain and slime
I cannot look at you.
Yet, we are a team so
I am with you.
Even if you are the heavy
harmony that burdens my back,
I shall carry you through and
through torments of lonely nights.
The mornings are intimidating
and we face them together.
Huge wasps lurking behind
tree leaves slippery with dew,
the sun has yet to dry away
the comfortable moisture.
I remember why I came to
be the rescuer of recursed demons,
the troubleshooter of miscommunication,
the longitude studies of the
misrepresented clans of New England,
and the imaginary priestess of my
lepidoptera friends...
we revolve around the temporary light
within other souls.
We are attracted to the melancholy of
uncertainty and exchange that
for  shallow fun times.
I know you, the answer that grows
invisibly upon my back, because I
have dealt with you and ignored you.
And this has gone on long enough.
It has been so long,
I might give up again.

Saturday, July 7, 2012

"Thank you oh lord for the white blind light. Thank you oh lord for the white blind light. A city rises from the sea. I had a splitting headache, from which the future's made." Jim Morrison (Hidden track after Ghost Song on the American Prayer album.

Thursday, July 5, 2012

No More Mister Night, Guys.

For the oriental rugs that
are shipped from the east,
the west has become increasingly
reassured that the ground will be
covered and the dirt will be
ambiguous and obsolete.
I am not so sure how the
Palestine princesses feel about
this. Advancing suns,
lolligagged gardens,
bound feet, and blistered
breasts from the heat.
We eat snakes and freeze
in mid-handshake because
that is the woman's prowess.

Tuesday, July 3, 2012

Surveillant and Covalent Bonds

Multiple jungles disapprove
of the last stick stuck in the
groove of the rock.
Ungrateful shipyards shock
the stick as if to calculate
the immeasurable slate.

Monday, July 2, 2012

Gliding Gloves

Gliding gloves glue
gilded glaciers onto glabrescent
glamours glutting glandular
glades of glauconitic glebes.

Friday, June 29, 2012

Hypno Photogenic Flotilla

For every tortilla chip,
there is a mouth to eat it.
Short and stocky hip pain
can capture the spirit of heaven.
Did you know that every wolf
in outers pace howls
toward the Earth?

Murder John and Betty. They Are No One In Particular.

I format the sleep ratio of humans.
I do no simply moderate, it is formating.
If humans never slept, then frogs would never
elongate their tongue to catch insects.
Do you see how weird life works?
I am the make of it all.
I feel as though John and Betty shall die.
They are no one in particular.
Do you have the right to stay alive?
Please agree or forever hold your soul
to the devil we call God.

All That I Do

All that I do or will say to you will be transparent and alarming paradoxes full of appraisals and mayflies. Do you and your Doberman pincher concur as well as I do? Of course you do. Now thus begins the joint custody of my paradoxical-rheumatoid arthritis!

I make pink things such as splinters pursuing down an infants back, exploring the many regions of peach,soft skin and liquid fresh blood like that of an early morning grapefruit diet. The splinters shimmy their way in puncturing the child, like pins so easily enter fabric. I mould my visions into voyeurism is unto you via television screen. I hear you screaming. I know you would like this torture of sight to cease. However, it must continue for the paradise of paradox, it bubbles up like boiling waters in a cauldron's mystery brew. You and I know what that mystery is. We have held it in our hands before. Yet, the rope slipped away from us. The Gods play tug-of-war with our human hearts and genitals. Our own becoming blooms in our head. None of which you see is real. It is all the hormones.

Thursday, June 28, 2012

I Want To Make

I want to make a poetry book. A book of my poems. Poems with illustrations. My strongest poems will be chosen for this project. I will choose 50 or 100. It will be worth it.

Tuesday, June 26, 2012

Blurring the Aftermath and the Amateur Portraitist Together

The cycles of the wild wood fires
must burn day and night to rid
the humans of fear.
The amateur portrait painter
paints night to night to rid
the galleries of smut.
And that's enough.

If Is And Is And Not

Burning feathers of glorious Iscariot,
the ratio determines the multiple factors
of lobsters ringing the bells!
From ear to ear of human and goat,
from feet to feet of human and frogs,
from eyes to eyes of human and flies,
We journey farther till we collapse
at the sight of stupid wonder.

Incarcerate the Incarnate

You heard those words blaring from
the stone-cold speakers
that had once long ago announced
air-raid sirens.
I believed all the words,
but you took them to heart
and fainted to forget the whole
ordeal. You, being unable to recall
such words, made me think you
might despise against instagram.
It is a shame that we cannot be friends.

When They Were The Way We Saw Things

You actually thought
that I'd shoot the glowing duck
when we all knew too well
that I am too cool for shit like that.
In the end when bridges murder
police men running bikes
over with steamrollers is the time
we will end up dead in a ditch
with dimes planted in our teeth.

Glossing Over the Hinge

The blue muscle scattered
and startled the tree stump
about a half a mile away
from the swamp.
To everyones surprise
the alligator melted the
ice cream so no one
could ever eat it again.
The moral of the story is,
that no moral is every a good
one and therefore no longer exist.

Wednesday, June 20, 2012

Glove Obsession

Sleeping frog hung up
the fire
eradicated the lumps
in your other shower.
Wingtips glossed over
like humans on a cloud
we never knew how much
you could hold down.
A woman with a glove
worn on her left hand
misread the article.
You became very angry,
so you took her glove off
and ate it in front
of her poor, decaying

Gloving all around Town

What have you got to do today?
The bunny thumps it's hopping
feet to a snack of a different kitchen.
Table top cats lick spoons off rats.
Kindling the teapot for all that is has got,
yet it has not got a glove to do you harm.
A man with a harem holds a grudge.
You must try to delude the feud by
gifting to him many gloves in all
shapes and sizes.
Reinvigorate a slummy gray
because this is all that you know.

Crispy Glove

The children intermix races
like that of an ant with many faces.
I cannot explain the stove pipe
because it created a mouse trap.
Transfixed on an other worldly bliss,
I free myself to beat up you with great joy.
The hounds of triple dolomite towers
infringe on my benefits and eat my

Classism Ombre

In ombre appearance,
the transparency slips away.
Not only deceiving the individual
with gray silken warriors,
but the eye of the gator too.

In the hollow jeans,
reckless skepticism trends
allocating the capers turning
three this coming eve.

No fluff of goose,
no eggs to hard boil,
no trace of blood,
and necks to slice open.

The red Saturday wins
over all the champions
loosing their footing in the soil
because we attempted the brick oven
to tip over someone else's
begotten horizon.

Sunday, June 17, 2012

Trial of the Fairy Fish

My masculine cheat codes
have all been beat-boxed
in and out of containers content.
The intent of my groupies
were to release the guppies
into the sea far off from shore.
The malevolent horns attached
to the soft creatures of toads
met the soothsayer whom reluctantly
told them to bide by the law
of the honeycomb shay.
Rebellion struck up,
angering the fish.
The fish lost their right to their bubbles
and therefore threw a fit.

Poignant Lioness Fish Desire
brilliantly swam to the rescue,
collecting the bubbles
and harnessing the power of
poison fins.

Why Would You

Disambiguate the lost baseball
into think this object was safe?
This lousy life of a fish battling
creative distress tangles gum
and fumbles o'er flossy love.
Have you got it wrong?
Why of course you do.
Your ambiguity alarmed the seeds
of watermelon when once
they could have grown with ease.

It is Just Like Me

To appear so soft
with a side of weathered
anger to become a scoundrel.


Source of sacrilege
radiates from my very own,
one of a kind, bizarre tail bone.
It is so strange that a stunted tail
could do such harm
as to kill a man
and break an arm.
I cannot remove my tail bone.
I have nothing to do with it's
ill deeds.
Shake my invisible tail.
Foster up the ants in here.

I Hide The Towels

I enter the bathroom.
I open the closet door.
I steal the towels.
I hide them inside
the meat grinder's wife.
She feels cozy inside.


I share my wolves
to chew on the hoof stock.
Lumbar flexibility is interchangeable
and smitten with glove-like joy.
Reflexive are the nouns
that pose as verbs
and act as adjectives
to create adverbs.
I, myself, am one of them.

Saturday, June 16, 2012

My Rawness

Spanish flies, their buzz is something
I do not understand. It is a Spanish buzz.
It may say something like, "viridi vitae est odio."
Oh what is going on.
I feel dizzy and queasy.
My lungs are tightening up.
I hate you! I hate you. Hate!
No! I can do whatever I please.
I need a release.

*~.This poem obliviously is stupid.~*


In my eyes
saw the cutting of a fleshed
up demon hazed in terrible
all calmative regret!
His eyes were soothed
by power of breath.
My breath!
I breathed. Yes, I breathed.
Did I swallow? Yes.
I am glamorized as well
as shadowed.
I am deep.
I am tight.
You may not know
because you have yet to
experience this sensation
of my disaster sex.

I am contemplative.
I will tip you over the edge.
I am demon like you.

So Many

There are so many mistakes
I have made.
An oval encapsulates me.
I am driven very deep
into amassing the strange
occurrences of shadowed figures
following me.


I often quiver as well as shiver.
I trust my blanket
to warm me up.
I trust my blanket
not to suffocate me.


I am small.
I do crawl.
My wings wish
they could take me higher.


Though if were not to be here
in and on itself I grow.
I am antler to foreign bodies
such as none that are not my own.

Portable Potatoes

As if I shot myself,
I myself, am shot with holes.
Wrought in and in of seconds.
Disbelief the believable.
If who cannot be trusted
is to become a trustee,
I advise thee to captive me.
I squish worms with force.

Trod and trove

I plodded placid places.
I plucked platitudes of bones.
I pithy, I'm skinny, I'm plugged in.
I plucked the eskimo
from a hole.
I divided a great nation
into thinking they
were two.

Piecy Particles

Piety bleeds.
She said it would not matter.
If nothing is for free, why
would I flee?
I tried to beg a different way.
As if to ask for raise on my 
pay check by pleading insane.
That however, did not work.
She said she had nothing to do with
the way I go about my days in endless
loneliness when we know very well
the fact of the matter is completely
She says I am completely oblivious.
And to what > For what > 
Now I am just creating tension.
The facts should all be there.
They coexist with in out creature breath.
I am leading my life as an enthusiast of
blood-sucking sickle cell anemic vessels
of wine! 
I cannot create misfortune,
but what I have created so far
is a prodigal line of car crashes. 
I curdle at the sight of me.

Saturday, June 9, 2012

Misinform the Main Informant

Mantillas risk the tidings change,
brew the maniac potion.
Ring my bell with great ease
and lead me to an ill foreboding breeze.
That breeze is blowing from the east
where the moon grows strong
off the eves of trees.
I know this because of the lantern bugs.

However, I was wronged.
The lantern bugs read the words
of anti-empathetic skin of pandas.
The pandas fur had been shaven
from the deities novel ideas
from nonsense land.

Tuesday, June 5, 2012

Chris's Poem

In the distance, the sun fell. Replaced with another, it grew stronger than what proceeded it. The cascading tangerine streams bled like rivers into it's fallen brother. Lifting his brother lifeless and ill, he let him fall like leaves to the wind. Below him, the city lurched and bowed to the fallen. Contorted in the mourning and distorted in agony, the city fell to it's knees. There, as the fallen was buried before it, the city roll over dead as if to show was only mortal too. Watching this, the new sun wept. it rained tears of mercy for one thousand years. Until all who understood felt the pain.

*Chris, my boyfriend, wrote this. I feel it should be heard in some way.
I am afraid of others to read my poems
because these are the most truthful creations
I am ever to create. If I am fully opened,
then there is never going back.
I'll never feel good about myself.

Loser Poetry

AT late nights such as these,
the flood gates are open.
The brain maids sweep up
the dust of clattering moods.
All the dust is mostly anger.
I am too lazy to deal with it.
When I am alone, it haunts me.
The dusting maids set it on fire
to watch me torture myself and
the others because my eyes
open to the landscape of hell.

Brain Noise

If the contour reached
a height that questions
illicitly illustrate the
impending chimes of
lonely house dwellers,
then my space of mind
is in your line of moods.
I am in disbelief that the
heart is located where us
humans reckon it to be.
I think the heart is all
inside the brain.
For me, I feel my heart
at the forehead or the very
The center is the gentler
The forehead is the angry
The forehead is where
my horns blossom into
daggers to stab the eyes
of the other who finds
themselves in trouble of
such a blunder, why do
you not leave when you
I suppose that is my center
heart that draws the other
back in.
And I dislike the back
and forth of my love-like
I am terrible, unpredictable,
and hurtful.
Why can't I straighten myself

Terror Pin

I dared myself to sow
pieces of cloth together.
However, when the thread
grew longer and longer,
time elapsed in a feather.
Now, have you got the spoon?
I yearn for a mind boggler.
I need something to churn my
demons from bed-kicking,
ripe-sniping, and floozy-finking.
The river is but a joke in a tumor of
eruptions subsuming the everyday fate
of a television viewer.
Have I wronged myself?
Why yes, of course I have.
I am too dramatic.
Everything is not a crisis situation, yet,
that is the only why I know how to
handle things.
Unfortunately that is how I
Am I gone? Am I almost gone?
Am I going? Has she left the
building yet? Will she return?
Do they even want me back?
I do not ask these questions.
The blowout my mind
everyday I wake up.
I am depressed.
There is no escape
because I don't do drugs.

*the title is inspired by Syd Barret's Terrapin.


Alleged trust of the miss conduct,
detour the emotions into a jar
fitted amongst the fleas at the bar.
Time is an enemy
and our hearts are attacking
the brain into combustion.
I threaten you to move,
but that town has got you trapped.


12334534546: simple is insanity as much as my complex aesthetic stretches out intense passion to art. Avant garde and haute couture fashion is what I seek. My desire to stand out amongst a crowd is infathomable to comprehend. I am numbers, a faceted personality that is lonely.
Pareidolia - a psychological phenomenon, wherein a person has the notion of seeing faces of people in clouds, hearing hidden messages and other such unusual feelings.

Monday, June 4, 2012

All the Faults are my Own

Carcass beaming light
to flash that no longer work.
The grass grew alarmingly well.
We will see the fog rise until
it thins out hovering just above
the tallest dandelion.
Because I do not even know.

Virtual Tea Time

Sunshine history,
zig-zag sponge work,
look in mirror,
unoriginal origami
to the post man.
Insufficient shine
like seasoning of thyme.
Groupies disperse due to
the uninspired cupcake slime.
You are the unusual suspect
because the man said so.
It is not I to decide the porridge
contents. The contents of the
porridge are hotter then hell.
I skipped a stone across the
sparse water.
I happened to activate the
busy trouts pulling leaves
directly towards me.

Postmortem Nonfiction

Burning in the bright kidney bean sun
i twisted my navel upwards.
as it grew like flower stem,
a sterling blossom quivered
at the pinnacle of perfection.
my words only congealed
and my words only sparked
flames like that of a dove shot
down by red hot arrows.
A burning dove is a real phoenix.
To see a bird burn is a bad omen.
It is ever so rare.
Just like the rarity of me smiling.
It is even rarer to see me parasailing.
And yet, one time it has been done.
I'll not lead on to say more
except without no words
that burnt my navel's bud,
is Icarus to flight is
love is to mud.
I slip between grass blades.
I suffer like rocks buried
beneath the dirt.

Thursday, May 31, 2012

I Hate My Real Mind

I'm not going to even try.
This is all honesty.
A true complaint.
There is no one out
there to read this

Remember all the Other Bad Times

The rude, impending pressure
of those you no longer see,
they protrude a sound of snares
and horrible laughter.
One files themselves under the
category of "non-existent" and
"worthless" because the trial in
ones mind is on-going.
This worthless person with a mind
illustrated to you previous to the sentence
is the author of this poem now.
The mystery is gone.
Is this no longer a poem?

Review the Past Months

Posture eyes
locked upon
a heated opinion
of what it takes to
be me.

She is the Sad One

The corner of the new square pond
responds to light in amusement.
Be proud of the thankful clouds
that supplement your hair with
mounds of white, luscious lumps.
Lighter then air.
I am thinned out to something like
butter melted on a pan on a hot stove.
I am soon to completely melt and
dissolve into nothingness.
I am already easy to miss.

Wednesday, May 30, 2012

Attack the Others

Do not touch me
in the afternoon
when it is time
to do the fruit.
Dimming lightbulb
is human frog legs.
What did she say?

Dimming lightbulb
is human frog legs.

Horror and Jelly

This is nothing free,
we aspire for trophies
and we tremble in juries
in a hurry to capture
realistic mercies.
In a sandwich anatomy,
it's very own ecology,
an ecosystem so dynamically
sound that we forget about
the bread and we think about
the jam.
A car crash resembles our
world more then a flower
bed ever should.
A broken mess
unlike that of a refined
coat of a well bred dog.


No, two, three, no.
Yes, four, six, no.
Answer traces time
too slow.
No more fur on
caterpillars back.
I sneezed and the
world was over.

Chalking in the Broken Ceramic Shrapnel

I take my wrists and I leave them
down by waters edge.
The swan of sword fights and spears
ties them round her feathered wings,
carries them off in gradients of shadows.
Beneath all that color of which my
eyes can see, I hear a witch tiptoeing.
Without my hands
I feel no reason
to render myself of any worth.
I am not proud of laughing
out loud. I am not capable
of brightening anyones day.
I am all that I have got
in such remarkable days
spent on whims of
time erasing sun rays.
Double thoughts triple
stackable contradictions follow,
more dreams create explosions
and I have no hands to explore
them with.
I deserve just as much as any
other lolligagged, smitten,
heavily influence girl of
life by failure!
In nature I die,
in cardio at rest,
sedentary life is all to end.
Come the days of swooping
robins to rob the sweat
I have worked up to get.
I received silence from friends
and ignorance from strangers.
Is there more to my life then
erasure? A blank page
ensures a new start
don't be tempted to blame
events of which you have
no control over.

Morpho Zone

Constant construction
monotone sunrise.
Give me but a chance
that breaks the frost
upon a freshly blossomed
Around the garden,
unnaturally sugars flourish,
humans swallow much of it,
the air lacks in positivity because
of it. The siren sounded off
in residual incandescence
in literal fire no other then
the morphing tiger.
From tiger to dolphin,
to dolphin to giraffe,
black to white,
pure to dirty,
a muffled scream
and intruding humor...
have I got your eye
is it just this type of summer?

Sunday, May 27, 2012

Dancing Conquest

Unabashedly total disaster
introduced me to a pasture
in deliverance for the pain
held within the same shame
take with wind, leave with
flies tied to strings such as
kites unbound with kinks.

Saturday, May 26, 2012


Belittling the clay
breaking down the soluble earth
mold it into girth.
Expand it's walls
it breaths
it feels like you.

Tuesday, May 15, 2012


Aimed in upon my heart
stab poetry break through
dry my watery eyes.

Breath Light of Neon, Steadfast till the Green Light at Oasis Past.

The stick pounded upon the garden gate
no human holds rakes or hoes,
the shovels are wildly digging ditches.
The sound of pounding kept
on sustaining until my daughter
laughed at the crows with hay in
their feathers... the farm hands
grew short their wits,
their pits all soaked with wet,
and the pounded shrieked louder
The sun hung passed the clouds at 2,
shadows began to lengthen
and all I could do
was to receive the nodding
of a rifle turned off to on.
I approached the pounding,
feet fumbling on rocky ground,
the sound of a pistol struck every ear,
and pierced my daughter's heart.
The culprit pranced away
as I stand tall as decrepit tree,
fire erupted in the east...
the smoke annihilated me.


I call myself anonymous for
the sake of my lack of confidence.
I like the sound of anonymous,
the ghost is a whisperer and not
a gimmick.
For those who try to whisper back
need never get a reply,
the dagger comes forth
slashing your port
and your head shall soon
roll after.

rapid acid deterioration

What was the cause
for such rapid deterioration
of a young girl?

Sunday, May 13, 2012

landline lakes

Land in fields,
valley earthquake feels
shivering dust off trees
lemonade frees try
to reprimand the seed.
If justice tries to file for
in denial, we must seek
the nearest space shuttle.
The human race must flee.
Flinging ourselves into space.
I do not want to be parted
from you, oh lord, oh grace,
oh the immobile state.
If you are my roots,
I have become nothing more
then floating algae or spores
or mold. And I cannot derail
the undesirables. I try, I really
try. I am unwilling to break.
Please help me!
I thought it would be best
to tie my ankles to a chest
full of trickery so that I may
trick death to believing I
have always been like this
before the maddening
covers of a crowd took
me down to a cellar.
Yet, I do not know
where to take and
leave this. This has
all become about me.
This was meant to be
about you.
If I continue to go
through life concerning me,
then where will I be?

Crackling Egg

My head cracks open like an egg.
What bursts from it
is nothing ever seen before.
Rocks of turns and twists
malleable bliss, private eyes
seeking ties into sparking
wires to create raw fire.
Hazardous acid teeth roll
free as do toxic beetles
in gushing fevers fit
fights against growing tigers.


I can't do this anymore. I just need someone to see me. I have someone. Is that all I get. I can't see. I don't know what is coming for me? Is anything chasing me? What is there to happen? What happened to her? Or him? See, I am not selfish. I have concerns for others. Poetry is such a selfish act to create. I don't feel good doing this.
Tadpole slop
and the style century
of candidate replies
not another second
haddock reclaims
meals of disdain
briskly carry the
newer coats to
affordable laundry
makers of mats retract
all that you know and we
do not see.
Stop itching me.
My scratch hath sacrificed
it for me.

The Lucid Chains

Encumbering binds
branding me with all vines
will not rest until the
devastation settles into
my soft bones.


Immovable mud
mutable and
the least beautiful

Thursday, May 10, 2012

I Want More. I Don't Want To Have To Ask For It. Just Give It To Me.

How can I be so selfish?
My head is my own.
And when I lay down
to the ground, a pillow
alludes me.
No, I do not want to move
or play games.
I accept that I am difficult
and have the reasoning of
a mineral rock from snow
capped mountains.
Tension wards off others,
but you can break through.

Al Fresco is a Rezzable Solution?

Dissident in mean time
as meat flies swallow our evening whole.
The bluegrass days are over now.

I can't kill time,
yet time can kill me.
How to stop the nursery.

The equal incisors strength
is an illusion to debate.
Let us not waste this cake.

The Graduals

In post-modern plots
where everything goes wrong,
I regret to inform you
that the hair is has been
transmitting radio waves
out into space
to warn the aliens
we are an ugly human race.

Thursday, May 3, 2012

Misinformed are the days
benediction spellbinds
the gratuitous amount
paid pound upon pound
to lengthen the highway
till we run out of moon stone.
I pronounced marriage
in these difficult times
due to the stress and lack
of reality.
It pains me to observe this
culture of vultures
squeezing every lemon
to the last drop.
Every juice is watered down.
Oceans water will never
lack the salt of malevolent
beneficiaries. The fish
understand the struggles
of the trust of women to men.
When will the last corset
be woven?
The difficulty in this era
is overcoming the hate
of our own self image.
We debate amongst the
ones we trust.
It is poured out into the masses
to prove how much we hurt.
We are never good enough
for ourselves.
I disapprove of my face.
I hate myself.
Why can't I be beautiful?
I am the one of many
who want to die.

Sour Cream is Fresh as Wind Chimes

Turnstile is truly unstoppable
to be disrespecting the
The elderly preach
that all the cheese
is poison,
when in reality
the rocks that leak
are filled with gases.
I may look meek,
in surreal static piece.
Let us not haste to rue
the déja vu day.
Silkscreen the lantern
flies that mimic
the sizemictous beautician
as we have found an
easier method of
transferring the
The moon is but a silver
slit in the structured night.
For I have located the decals
that cause many a fright.

I Have Been Embalmed

The abler is frequent,
we dash about the secrets.
Stage coach lurches
the green dream breaches.
I snap the cords,
and leave all the containers
filled to the brim with grapes.
No, I have not ate them.
Yes, I may have ate one.
But none the less
is it not okay to ever
eat all of them.

Tuesday, May 1, 2012

Will my Dove (That Is Missing) Approve Of These Floral Arrangements if She Were Here?

I ask you one simple
question, "What did
you do to my Dove?"
And you give me no
Is that comcast of
anterior light
a legitimate cost
of disapproval?
A forlorn deer
and questionable tears.
Have you seen my
eyes beat so red?

Poor Punctual

Lexicon of intergalactic gelatin
have you found the sudden static?
Humans trim hedges to
overcome humid hums .
As for those pack mules
roaming about the grass,
well they surely deserve the
handshake of destiny.

Magistrate of Mattress States

We bounce the blocks on mattress springs
because we have sung the national hymn.
A lady has a hymen that always remains
as a curtain for the warmth of the inner world.

Registration of the Mattress State

Discord discard dishwasher socks
which one makes me filial the salt
after the table
after the mouse
after the garbage can
in the stall

my Palestine cup of tea equivocates me.

Dear Rotisserie

Chicken glorified in glazes
soaking in the heat
it is forced to die for humans.

All The Talk

The shark tank shrank
ten milliseconds past death
depending upon
the platitude of the hustle.
I ranked below average
the day that I died.
My technique of death
was combustion.
However, the papers I
held while I was in midst of flames
were fireproof.
How would anyone have
guessed that paper would survive
a fire? I died. The paper did not.
Oh well, such a life in
the moon glow ghost
world of the rapport
and Freeport sage.
Limiting me to heavy rage.
I keep rats enslaved.

Monday, April 30, 2012


Symphony at altitude.

Oh remember

I render the conclusion unwarranted
because of the grease fire.
I understand the mistakes they make.
They are made for a reason.

newer pleasures

the door propped open
and opening greater still
the framework collapsed
an instant oatmeal was refreshed
like timesheet or time-traveling-sheep.
I wonder if we could
lolling till dawn do us part
repeat and rinse the sunshine
all over again the next day till sun rise.
Roses do fall with the sun.
But somewhere in a capsule,
the squirrels sells sex for target
practice of evil hunters that regret
to gather for the greater needs of self.
Absorption in longitude
harms a musket and revolvers charm.
Intermingling moguls stark,
cheering lemons creeping in dorms.
Indirect rape is a tricky case
because the anatomy barely moves
outside the ozone layers thin as sheet metal.
Full-metal-jacket grace
Develop antelopes all the time.
Requiring more manpower ever
dreamed of before.
No will.
No hate.

Trolling Dependencies

A redundant monitor strikes again
release the bicarbonate into snails.
Sneezing fitted for no tissue,
make sure the cobblestone is dry
as a whistle.
Third man sails home from work.
the streets become canals into my
ear drum ever beating to honor the
sandman in heart full of toes.
He forgot my flower seeds and
basil shall suffice.
They suffered through worse weather
in vehicle decline of winter.
The horse will read Proust.
Our hours shall dwindle away.
Divine sanctions stipend of pay.
Ejaculate more and more into my
ear canal of misery please dear.
My unworthy pupils, paid palpitations
wandering afar in misty' shanks.
They shackled him to boulders
larger then China.
Had they shook him ever so
slightly, our combs would
combine to produce the ultimate
brush for teeth and hair.
All is wonderful when the evolution
betters the state of affairs.

If You Have Indeed Been Running Round...

Your usual arm is more cylindrical
then your cankle
therefore looses in lush detail
dipping the spoon of ash
inside the barrel
of costly silver.

I cannot take my mind
seriously when a dowry is displayed
as much as disciples are laid.

Within psychical trenchcoatqs
and encroaching trench
touchstone thousands of
gem molecules in Pandora
of exploitative boxes.

A Russian roulette of mystery.
Deceive the doves,
loosen belt buckles tension,
eat me out again.

Laid and unladen primed of prude
luxurious rouge pronounced
upon placid seaweed
her pale lips spell out Tiger.

I cannot grow told

I cannot grow told of terrible seas
surpassed the screenery
in mesh fingers
scrunch the trilobite
towns of opium
decide the scorpion.

Tuesday, April 10, 2012

Disconnected Cuttlefish

bravery on both nonnegotiable
gothics turned turtle pastries
intact is spiked letter formulation
is too late discounted tracks.
Le canard for shovel that bill
down terribly deep
it upheavals me.

this poetry for the birds

so your boots
make each other masturbate
and the brain-side-salad
for they look lovingly into the howl
on the note it stated to and fro, me and shoulder should stay away.
boots jamming jamming into the snow
and we did stay
down were the turkey lay
it is lame like death snow
away, away, away
this poetry for the birds

Sunday, April 8, 2012

My Extracurricular Encampment

Topical tape
administered a face.
Blanket caves,
brutal shark shake.
Like earthquake gone high,
I refuse to levitate.
Milk turned sour,
forget a break,
musical box broken,
wound flashes open.
Unzip my jeans
and business is open.
No one see this occur.
Seasons stir the obscure.
I structured relief
to behave against me.
A struggle is worth more
then a gnat caught in a hole.

Exclude Ultimate Clues

Illustrative hair dashed about
piano keys because
you have seen three
tulips bloom in the
intricate sun ray patterns.
I danced on top of leaves
and threw about the seeds.
The language was taken
out of the air and a placid
vine grew from my inner peace.
The place of the most secret
and true cartoon
is the doom that drew
me and you.
We ended up here
so that the whole world may be
a creeping anchor into
the void of the speechless lust.
The illusion is so strong and savory
that it repels the other magnets away.
All the other girls that wish they could have some
are hopeless and lost.
Within all my luckless luck,
I ended up lucky to just
truly not feel the whole worry of longing.
I feel it in other ways,
but not this way.
I have the love that I should receive
is that all I ever need?
I am excluded and
I feel extra diluted
a flute that lost it's chorus.
A sailing ship with only a captain,
an elaborate scheme without mechanisms.
It is as is I am an amethyst buried deep in the ground
destined to be a dream, but ever sleeping.
Such as an gem is yet a stone,
I am really colorless and
lack in sparkle.
I jump out of ones memory
and into the fire.

Friday, April 6, 2012

Dethrone the Throttle

Optimyth of restoration
deactivates the devastation
to another station of
hardcore divination.

Dark Positives

Revelations encapsulate tigers
terraforming foam.
Reticulating splines
before and after the heat.
Humans slave away at hours
unaccounted for by forces
so mean and terrible
we decreed by innuendo
to undo the mischievous deeds.

Thursday, April 5, 2012


I feel like Lucifer.
However, not in the loose
sort of fur. It is rather
in a tight-as-a-drum
feeling, yet, I have already
popped and broken
my allegiance to
the alligator of the gladiator.
I return my reckoning toward
familiar gales,
the west wind sails,
the unwanted snail shells.
The old days won the freedom.
The future wins the closed doors.
Make the troubadour release the
sequence of an atomic explosion
and I shall give you
my recursion as if it is an exertion
of an excursion.
Accept the broken and forgive
the foragers of the deep.
For they only long to
please you.
Ink squares
pinched stairs
dramatic solar flares.
I glare at glaciers
crawling stone-toothed
abiding the dignity of the ground.

Monday, April 2, 2012

I cannot let my mind wander

it journeys into foreign ground.
The travesties of hope
leave my blooming sight.
My bones lock up,
I shiver as I perspire.
My mind is split between
creatures crawling about my floor
and the other half telling
me they are not there.
I really try hard
for reason to win,
yet temptation of sight and
alterness take over.
The soft side of me, the one that
wants to sleep is all but used up
in the grand scheme of my
paranoiac- anachronism grid.

Misinformation Misfortune

Tumultuous tidings
the sea is up-riding
the mass of purity
and plighting policies.

It is misfortune you write this. 
You see, there is misfortune in the lonely nights 
where a corner is devoid of joy.

Where for the sky is burning 
lilies that lacked
sensual treaties. 
Unmasked by those of fame.

Fawns that whimper,
quails that clipper,
and nails that chipper.

Stipend is but a cost
of those that help
but loath twice or more
within the same day.

Monday, March 26, 2012

The Bunnies

May they fluff in the wind
and shine like the grass blades
beckoning toward the sun.

Monday, February 27, 2012

Lest We Forget the Sun Gardens of the East

That we steal from the North
to deliver to the West. My
locomotive motivates me
toward my livid mediocrity.
I live with this burden day
to le soir. The nuzzle must
be administered twice daily
for maximum fetish tenses.
Alleviate the relative musings
of triangular jaguars. They
meet the pheasant of fellowship.

Electric Ears

Exsibilation is of furtive petrichor
nothing being nothing
when the flag was tarred and feathered.
Ragged, gray in hair, brittle teeth...
dismemberment of limbs looks too easy.
Humans fall to pieces as time passes.

Friday, February 24, 2012


Suffocation is like a vacation.

Cuttiest Little Prick

Gusto is pure
as in name of the sea.
Le mer c'est soir.
Urchins of yolk
pupils of broke
moon of fork
doom of spork.
Fluster the feather
for shearing river rocks
making illusions into
woolen mittens.
Refine the sunglasses
with expensive wine.

Simplicity is Our Vowels

All above outer Earths, each eating
inside alcoves. Obtaining other
yellow earphones, announcing
Utah as alone. One aardvark yelled
at Elmo, "Obviate ovations or orange
outings allocate!" Eurasians are arsons
and Argentineans are illegal. Argentine
an oblivion in an olive.

All That Slanders Is Not Gold

Like a lantern floating
between the space
between your eyes
and your brain
is similar to the kiss
of a dagger
wounding your iPhone.
We wade in shallow ponds
giving into greater snobs
have we no integrity
to owe our inner-selves?
I am lost and I run for you
and I want to jump
into a chrysalis and snore.

Thursday, February 23, 2012

My Love/ Fully Enveloped to Your Chest/ Let Us Not Part/ Hitherto Fancy Green/ Have All of Me

Jaguar mist rose
above the tar on early
morning deserted streets.
My eyelashes bend for you
my knees locked
by the keys you jingle
at the ignition
to turn on the car
and drive far away
from a city full of disdain
and despair.

Saturday, February 18, 2012


Intrude the introvert
and claim his seashells over meat
he has met the clams on the other street
When it used to be December,
we starred at him and we chose to kill him.
His death was sweet, I stayed beside his rotting
corpse for weeks on end
to smell the flesh become gross.
He used to be like me.
We laughed at the same jokes
and drank the same tea.
We share bread and wine
and grape vines.
I wore his clothes and he punched me.
I would try to poison him before he would
poison me. We hated each other greatly.
He was not a brother, a sister, a friend.
He was grief, madness, and hunger
with no end. We killed him.
And unlike all the others,
it was so sweet. To see him in my eyes,
his rotting flesh. I was enticed to eat his
eyes and his bone marrow.
I shaved his hair off his skull to ware it.
He is not over yet, neither am I.

Improvise: A Good Device to Deceive the Eye

Shouting off the rooftop
landing in the fields
contain the worms for fear
save the gears for mere
insubordinate tears
giving the care away for free
try a whole bunch of teas
drink them down and away from me
I have got no ears.

Flummoxed The Batting: Hire a Deer-Mongering Saint...

Markets selling fruits
are telling of the society's
economic dissociation.
It is as if the people
chewed through the
metal of zinc to
attain the questioning
remarks of the same.
Level with the offices,
the sky-scraper apartments,
For their shadows obliterate
the literate and remake
the same minds. Clones
are nothing more
then a copy-paste cheat
as a fast-forward the
economic shame.
I would love to prove
to the world that we are
far beyond hate.
However, emotions still
brew midst the sidewalks
of cities, in the weeds of the west,
and swamps of the south.

Wielding The Power of Glitter

Lengthening shadows shall repeat
all the moisture leaves me.
The opportunity hereby succeeds
the amount of hypocrisy one must need.
This great ordeal
is none to feel
Peel the apple's skin
to begin again
the ages of October
and the skies of
July. The new word
for a new month shall be
Julobery for amusements sake.
Let us throw a party
and kill the snakes.

Saturday, February 11, 2012

Ticker-tape, Tinker Estates, Escalades in Everglades, Escape the Rape.

Paper of Payback is Untimely. After the Flight, We Kiss.

From that point forward
I travel backwards.
Committing compartments
to empty their joys.
I am a maverick of
suicide and love.
I marry the dawn to
the bones of thievery.

The Members of Squash

In the unforgivable moments of thread
I shall not give away my head.
The new Roman baths
delight by little bat
and I take leave for the country.
Centuries pass till the day we
reunite. And we tie our legs
together conjoining our minds.

Monday, February 6, 2012

Petroglyphic Confusion

My feathers of gold dust
shimmers from the glow
of your love.

Sweet Nothings Into My Ear. Like it or Not, I am Going to Unsubscribe from Horse Back Riding.

The green gay shrubbery,
I wear my rubber suit
set out for a delightful walk
and I pick four fruits.
I feel like Eve in her garden

Profound Protrusion

Please ermines the essence of all that
has been withheld due to
unaccountable translation
of the protrusion.
Alarming results encumber
the frost bitten charts.
Breathing the air does much for
the tongue tied and
heart knots that we create
from love.

Saturday, January 28, 2012

Poptart Likes My Singing

Raspberry jam
is a taste that lives up to
it's color.

Stretching the Windows

Mold is damp and gray
transforming foam to fluffy domes
medical usage goes to waste.
Keep me entertained.
Elephants dance in your pupils.
I am gently laid
as I am put to cardiac arrest 
in your sweet warm embrace.
A melody so trippy,
so completely entranced
take my quarters 
and my dimes.
Eat all my pennies.
I will sweep the floor with you.


The dribbling hours subsides
as a nauseating grin erodes.
You lurch about the dance floor
touching you index finger to your thumb.
I keep on watching you
self-contained in your internet head
and the lights turn off,
I reach for my coat
and I walk out alone.

Monday, January 16, 2012

New Trend

The new trend is called "The Bend."
What one must do is to bend until
the breaking point.
And once one is broken,
the humiliation sets in.
Society is fun when
entertainment is poison.

Pose for Photos

Avast the great divide is
a shallow mind.
Blonde is just a color,
not an idea.
Ginger is a railroad fire
and brunette is a
consumable mess.
Black hairs do all  the above.
What has beauty school
taught all the Druids?
To laugh appropriately
to crude humor.

After the Hurting Hours

The world messaged me
when I sat on a slab of rock
which was as bitter as sewage
and as foggy as clam.
Thoughts of pearls
enticed me to shy away
from the hip crowd.
My face has been consumed
in red strength
and my arms matched the
longitude of death.

Friday, January 13, 2012

As Do Beds

As do beds, they do go.
They let us sleep in them.
Afternoon is too early for
a slumberland party.
Rescue some old
fashioned automobile
wheels, place them neath
your bed.
As do cars, a bed
shall go too.

Happenstance of All Things that Go "Blast", Try Again for Visual Verification.

The mascara runs down your cheeks,
I have checked many times for leeks.
The leukemia is warm,
as the tumor grows less benign
dancing becomes more thrilling.
Just to get up and to move
is a miracle in the wakening
life of eyelids locked open.
I watch you over and over
again as if the ghost already
left your container,
your nails shall continue to
lengthen even when you're dead.
I try not to go there
but what the Hell
we all have fire
in the tire treads.

Pogroms Grimacing at the Site of Destination Articulation

Well retrieved and soon
to be grieved, we laughed
at the site of the bosom police.
Nothing everlasting, half passed
at last the dough was made for
baking. Partially bald
is the golden root of asparagus,
and to those who do not know
the tone of voice,
do not scare at the subjects

Tempo Consecration, Consecutive Subdivision.

Linguistically stricken,
hard tongue hath broken
in two by the raw cutting
of saw, meal, and bone.
In the morrow we shall
choose the propaganda
towards glimmering
sailboats killing the
Last divide of smugglers
chives, unsealing envelopes,
reading the manuscripts
of forlorn glove-like children.

Andrea Mantegna's St. Sebastian

Wednesday, January 11, 2012

Plum like a Lemming

Feather of a drought
if you could only scout
foreshadow the fires
to braise the cows.
Token the allegiance
of a severed government
to call forth the loudest
and idiotic machines of
war to blast apart the
insurmountable strip-tease
bicentennial feces.
Plummeting facts
screw over the fruit bats.
All they want are lemons.
Citric acid is for the best
of both worlds.
Sour are the hearts of
people, sour are the
guts of evil.

Counter Forté

A decrypted source of moss on trees
looking for the objects that shriek
when thunder rustles a lady's bustle.
There is a time in summer when the
heat returns after a rain
and mushrooms swell up amidst the damp
grass. Lolligaging in invisible shadows
throwing stones at strangers toes.
Feed the Turkish gypsies.

The Days

The days,
they are ice.
For they melt
like leaves of
In my mischief
I swallow
all the pills.
This is for
the days
when they
quietly creep
in like mice.
That is the time
for children to sleep in.
Insignificant finger
points toward
melting ice and snow
lacy needles threw
for me,
I needed these.

Tuesday, January 10, 2012

I Have Been Postcarded

Imagine those insects interrogating parakeets
while we waste away from parachutes
slipping below the average height
our heads still billowing high
in the clouds which represent our pillows.

It Ends Differently This Time

My Weepinbell washed me away
because it's razor leaf was not up to par.
The parsnips were prude
and the grandeur was rude.
Tasteless apricots are not for you.
My seeds for the garden were eaten by a mouse.
A maiden is fair and yet she shouts.
I gloat at the goats that inspire you
to stab my leg with a cute little knife.
Remove the knife,
wrap my beautiful wound with a
glossy red ribbon,
and we talk about ribonucleic acids.

Capital Innuendo

My flavor is that of a beast,
it gallops and it feasts.
Nothing more is a flower,
which follows the dead to the gallows.
The nights in Harlem
dancing out in the street
it makes me sleep, makes me sleep.
Glorious riverbed in Greece,
how thy name howls inside me
repeating, "Greece, Greece, Greece."
I cannot do without the owl from
the forest that I walked in and out
of trees that were only for me!
The trees and the leaves
and yes, they have left me.
I shower in someone else's bathroom,
I growl at another's castle,
The shovel is lifted to my face.
I deem me unfit for a chase.
The longitude of my lollipop
is less then my brain
and that's not saying much.

Crazier than You Know

If you know what is real,
then please proceed to delete
that information. Thus completing
with this transaction/transformation,
you are becoming vulnerable to
the disease of gullibility.
You are now a juvenile...
see yourself standing before
a door that enters to a candy store.
I know what is best for you,
you want to eat all that sugar.
So go ahead and eat it.
Now your IQ has dropped
an incredible amount
because you watch cartoons on
the television all day long.
I want you to go outside and
run around and swing on the swing set.
Run off all that sugar.
I am your mother. I make the mistake
of giving you coffee at eight o'clock in the night.
You are hyper yet again.
Mother takes a gun from her bedside table.
You are jumping on your bed with all your stuffed animals.
Mother walks into your bedroom
points that pistol straight at your head
it shoots and you are dead.
Now how was that journey?
DO feel as though you have accomplished something?
Anything at all?
It's just because I told you so,
that innocence is dead.
Now really go to bed.

Kamikaze Cherry Flu

Reluctancy is my price
of everything that was tripled thrice
I'd much rather a stampede to take
my life away.
In crumbs I circle the illusory fate
of a bombastic sadistic trance
that caught my love at a glance.
If my eyes were ice cream,
would you lick them?
If my hair were pixy stixs,
would you eat them?
If my knees were a Caesar salad,
would you eat that too?
I cannot handle all these "what if"
questions I pose to you in the instance of my brain.
Please just climb inside my brain
and see where I live
because this is all I have to offer
when my legs do not run from disaster.
If then, and only then, a Phoenix will
gladly rise full of grace the lord is with thee,
and never is the sea apart of me.
It was entwined with the curls of You.

Renouncing the Start of Events

Envelope the elopement
due to the sarcastic
copper scarab beetles
wrestling my beat-up
fingers snapping at
the leavers that trust
no feathers of flight.
My fancy shoes
are all but gloom
and I have no ice
to place in glass of
juice. Oh! Can the
day last any longer
then to receive letters
of rejection and haste
till the day of
Let us not linger
for more than an hour
because the day has a few
more hours for us to play.