hereafter

eyes dart from stage wing left,
I know I will again be bereft.
from the entrance lines of sight;
up and out to the lightning filled night.

be still and hope you will to my delight.
appear- tall bright.
far outside the well kept by the miser.
metronomic...

back to the sound riser.
to break the arc, without said dark advisor.

well you know, well you know
well you know. herein, hereafter
well you know, Why my master-
these words, mark my disaster.

you and your deserv'ed nesting.
drifting graceful... complacent besting
planning your everlasting
impending,
happy never forever-ending...

not a chance to see it through
blush anew
but yes you did, yes you do,
still seek the things
I can make come true.

still. a thought.
"in heat I freeze."
and your voice lingers back home,
in the trees...
in the woods,
those human sounds "are nice."
like when the calls came thrice.

staged wings, broken;
left black and blue...
you remembered but didn't follow through.
the sway, the smile, the moment to say,
"oh, sinewy! last chance, what will you do this day?"

if you did, come through the door
like before
thick-as-a-thief, wicked kind grin
could I, can I, do I... again?
mother may I, should I, adore?
begging, dripping...   then melt on the floor

in a pool of tears, still fall faster
we can always deal
with our sin
in the hereafter...

well you know, well you know
well you know. herein, hereafter
yes, you know, how to, my master.
and these words, true; mark your laughter.


June 2011

      

maladroit

whose mind's eye
have I been long trapped in
that made me so inept
and atomic constrained within
me, a cell, the membrane
against your lid archaic
trapped as paint
in the mosaic
each second I feel
the earth turn
as I watch the stars
in the night sky burn
await the last sleep
to wake the dream
with flight that slips
into the eternal stream
freed from the door of our lips
gone the fight of thoughts so mean
that darkness of mind no longer grips
everything is at last as strange as it seems

April 2012

bigger

bigger than this smaller than that
when you are silent that's an attack
bigger than this smarter than that
another disappearance it's all old hat
bigger than this older than that
thinking you're hiding shows what you lack
bigger than this sharper than that
there is no outburst that will keep me intact

hours

all those lost and thought forgotten hours
hidden by the lies they did devour
still this path before you may give rise
until and to your ultimate demise

give the day the line as proper written
if freed by your compass all is forgiven
when one can be what one believes
they shall never fall upon the road of thieves

secrets are kept and they will rot
that piece of you innate but forgot
give the light within you time
be as thou ought - the man by original design

furies

your songs like my furies nest in my head,
they cradle this cracked heart when I sleep,
and drown my soul out of my bed.
words no longer mean so much me
but without them you know not how to be.

O! my savior, alas,
cleanse pure through flesh pin prick
you as a drug opiate high mass,
then in vein through blood divine, gasp!
Oh, do! please do! the past is past due!

angel with held scythe,
allowing such images to scorn your schools
a cruel high esoteric price.
building wine soaked flocks of fools.
with stolen silver forced moors to forge soft gold tools-

bring on more pretty boys and young lady crooks;
false homeland hoods, white wearing lying whore sages.
dancing, throwing putrid worms on fish hooks,
Babylon anew with clubbed feet in gilded cages

so courageous around your friends and tasks

but I smell their poisoned apples as I wander your haunt
examining their Janus masks
see how you are looking so gaunt
You sit so patient...
willful at the bare edge
where my doubts dismiss sapient.
...touch my cheek, remiss;
say this too shall pass
and on my forehead lend a pity kiss.

in a month, and ten and ten...
the sun sea and sand will sit so different.
indescribable outside the sight
of dust, ash and lent

skin, spine and heart tingle
bursts in incandescent anticipation,
eyes tear - awe and wonder, both mingle
avert to distant horror... that cracks the soul's aviation

when our days 

all become one -
what to do who to tell; 

who will hear what we say....
time will ripple lights will sway,
temperate seasons 

will change in our hands,
extreme alter in a day.

February 2011

wired

this bird on a wire
sitting pretty
but so tired
of always needing
to fly higher

looking down
on your homes
such lovely
glass domes
should I go through a window
it's risky to fly low

beat these tricks
break my neck
pick up sticks
eat some seed
on your decks where we feed
efforts to intercede

this bird on a wire
always trying
to fly higher
sitting pretty
and so tired

been told

long gone and never foretold
a room and the ash for the sea
what could be said of my mind
will I have done enough kind
how will my story be told definitely
by friends or in files filled disproportionately
codes from clerks and illegible notes in pages
from fifteen minute dealers certainly not sages
how will such things be sold
times when I was harshly told
be quiet,  just sleep! why can't you be still?!
reports that bureaucracy insists to instill
or lovers that met to quicken then to a quick end
is this on whose hands my work will depend
after all that must repeats to then unfold
in a room with no view so still again again was told
acquaintances we had barely seen
are they the ones who know what I mean
how will my story be told
after all that must does unfold