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.