Tuesday, September 30, 2008

Love the Wounded, Cry for the Dead

Warm song.
Shine rose
wither with time.

Shade a ripe storm.
The sky.
Eden’s moon.
Spring us.
Special you.

Wilt the secret,
Sweet earth
the old day
clumps to mold.
A shadow reappearing
for verse.
Vapid torpid butterfly
vacuous wings.

Maternity air bleeding.
Wry fingers veil patterns
of wombs.
Disease for a life.
Vanity for the dead.
Benumbed sun casts
marble grass.

Silver Lake frost
crystal bird.
Lost drowsy noonday
Tears bumble like
bees on fire this
is how we are wounded
with dusted wings.

Cry for the dead.
Cry for babies being
Ask for a blessing
to a higher God.
Wake the trees
slip onto eternity.
Awake and save
your womb.
Unchanged not knowledgeable
cursed beyond repair.

Monday, September 8, 2008

Grab Feet

Slather time
Valid torpid upon her mind
beauty with a solution
Represent sound
Follow society
the tinge idea to live

Sister's Needle

You wake yesterday.
Will peace wear worry?
The salt's smile.
Fire's translucent self.
Steel hole rot.
Less eternity.
Sad sky present.
The web soft to the night.

Trust and think.
Velvet voice star sail.
Sex from porcelain.
Linger to haunt
times secret.
Sacred with morning.
Healing see through
my window?
The rain's sister.

Concrete bleeds.
Needle surrounds,
to the vein.
Gray tear.
Summer tan.
Screaming hate.
Her habit debates.
Perhaps burned a
body for disease.
Hiding eyes pale
white curtains for
your thunder.
Ash from the center

A habit closing your
eyes wild and free
as a honey bee
flying not caring about
On the wings of death
eyes that speed through
this world alone.

Memories are just like throwing rocks

Memories are just like throwing rocks
at a wall your arms get twisted, bent
out of shape sabotaging the sky.
Painting how life is before, after, here,
A bridge quotation.
Walking through a maze toes bent
backwards socks wired.
Foretold accusations.

Training notes the music
outlived a dream.
Setting sun pattered a drug addiction, rain.
Sleeping with a right hand dreamer.
Ink to the back.
Words cut you in the dark.
Parting roads.
Sighing to God.
Breathing too fast daring to know.
Below- dust, fairies, Heaven, shade.

Hearts abandoned, sold.
Crucified bleeding just like God.
Boob job.
One butterfly wing.
Colored moon.
Face like an angel, glass tooth.

Innocent not afraid.
Believing to love.
Thirsting for knowledge.
Stuck like bubblegum
against an ugly shoe.
Perpetrating anguish.
Flaring flames.
A burnt offering.
Candle's uplifting spirits.
Glowing hollow.

Memories a wall that needs
to be rebuilt.
Thrown, tossed, rigged up.
Driving down roads
having illusions.
Dare to know?

Friday, September 5, 2008

Pieces of Fall

Viola orange hues of apple seed.
Purple flowers radiant energy from sound.
Haunted nylon needle captivating colors,
millions of colors.
Scarlet rose consisting alternating
to rebirth lost berry skies awaiting

Earth's dead animal stuck like a
substance for a fingernail.
Ivory tusks resembling the moon's
drunk red eye.
Slanging teeth
Ambushing elephant bones.
Accusing the righteously stones
Ivan Colored divine proportion from
Stars clothed limb's dirt
and mercury learned to laugh.

Pieces of fall.
Earth "Through your one red eye you
have let the devil in"
Knit glass reflects
a face worn
carnival masquerading

Dog's muzzle abused
a cosmetic masque.
Lubricating bangs.
A comical drifter
speaks farewell.
Opaque border
represent exposure
it's better to crawl
naked inside a tube
looking through the screen.
Blank with no expression.
Installing intentions to love.
Painting, masking the shield
from light.
Beautiful to the right eye
frolic to showing
the real image.
Evolution from
a mirror.
Diversion to bring
the darkness.

Soiled served without
Cold wet boots "humor"
silver ink's written lie.
Behind the mask the
hidden sun's current
Obsequies rest,
for beauty
isn't always there.

Monday, September 1, 2008

To Write

To write is like white
paper living to God
ugly for a reason.

To write is like
nude pencils with
no purpose...

I hate being lost
without words
and to write again
means frames to
the pain and
a lonely heart
can begin to feel.

Mother's Words

I was driving down a short road
I asked my mother where are you living, behind Dad's doors?
Do you wish for more?
I see a hint of Mother's smile
as she hides behind her broken eyes.

Above her pictures of angels and Jesus
but still I wonder how and when Mother got
so pure carrying me inside her womb.
Was she locked up in knots,
and once I was free did the bars still hold her lonely scars?
I can still feel her heartbeat and every night is another night.
The day arrives to another morning.

Mother calls, I listen to her talk about work
and how her soul hurts like a fire without the candle.
Putting out the flame, I listen every day.
This world is hell so lets burn it
and Heaven will arrive, we can live I can be born again.

Mother's nipples battled afraid
of the future
To hold
To arrive .