Fade to Death
Lemme check this picture
and see if I look fine.
Lemme listen to this tape
and see if I keep time.
Just wanna make sure
that my legend’s intact,
before I fade to death
and they bury me.
I prefer to think of myself as a philosophical poet; an artistic historian.
These pages are my notes.
Lemme check this picture
and see if I look fine.
Lemme listen to this tape
and see if I keep time.
Just wanna make sure
that my legend’s intact,
before I fade to death
and they bury me.
The music never died.
With her by my side.
My muse and heavenly guide.
The rape queen pussed green
between leprous legs.
‘I’m a suicide machine’
(She’d say).
Tainted needles spoke to her;
she worked for them.
The ghetto boys;
pants pissing faggot derelicts;
alcoholic transients wearing muddied,
shit smeared stench coats;
treated her well.
‘I’ll fuck you for drugs’
(She’d say).
The 3-piece suit business man,
in his expensive car,
- for twenty dollars –
slit her throat.
A web is spun
catching the sun
The Distant Traveler
He is the One
A cosmic spider weaving
the stars into a universe
Place red, blue, and gold together.
Her image becomes clearer to see.
Graffiti spray-painted on the wall.
Tall buxom female; silver navel and face.
Erase blue teardrops from her eyes.
Ties of broken love; she still cries.
A lifebrain fucked
My eyes see crooked shapes
of a reality gone mad
Enjoy a trip in my mind
Chaos is an aborted birth
Metallic silver mirror
reflecting a volatile personality.
Do I know the eyes
that stare at me?
Enigmatic face changing
every dusk to dawn.
Searching to realize
the trip I’m on.
Thank God (used in the
expressive sense not the
religious sense)
I’m not like (What would fit?)
politicians;
in their worship-world
and demanding-rule.
Rumors and falsehoods
swarming like hornets.
No one reaches the
center of omnipotence.
Day ‘til me nonman
Demon lit, an many
Diamonds are rust.
If this one pebble is you.
We embezzle our minds
by ignoring opportunity.
Her eyes of a cat
fall upon me.
Stare me hollow blank.
Death.
You are a word.
But you are alive.
Because you kill.
You fucker.
Genius: One who dares to be different.
“Kill the Hippie”
Was tossed the establishment
As they come to hunt me down.
The sounddrops of
Voodoo Rock
F
a
l
l
Inbreeding priceless spiritual harmony
I never challenge Authority
Unless it harasses me
Fuck. Shit. Asshole. Cocksucker.
These are “taboo words”.
That are used everyday, everywhere,
in all walks of life.
How … hypocritical.
Sometimes I think my writings
will end up brittle paper-dolls
In the hands of my grandchildren
There is a painful tearing at my heart
When I have stirring music composed
Yet no words to lay with it
I want to build a perfect world
Not like the billions I’ve visited
Trillions of times before.
Does it really matter what
we do with our lives?
The only thing we gain,
is death.
The outcast is wordlessly
defrauded.
Loath his wardrobe, his creed;
he is the foe.
It was great having sex
with a personality
Like that
The book and the pen feels
good in my lap.
Especially confined in a cell
with my thoughts.
To correspond with my feelings
is a wonderful thing.
He’s a fucked-up nut,
Tho’ he will die famous.
Even if he ends up
lying face-down in his own vomit;
protruding shards of glass in his back.
I am made of the souls of the dead.
Therefore, I am ever - growing.
I am going to find Love.
Not a girl, so to say;
but the existence.
The true being.
I’m gonna find it ‘n’ fuck it.
In the days of old
a person seeing visions and
hearing voices was called
a prophet.
Today they are called psychotic.
I am a probe.
From alien orbit.
From you I will feed.
Part man, part demon.
In short,
one hell of a guy
To write crap is as
bad as stepping in it.
He will live in family, friends, and
neighborhood folklore.
Until they die out with him.
Describing a dead man.
A milestone of hard work
at the end of each passing day
Paves a smooth highway
to the rest of your life.
Wild stallions don’t settle down.
They ride to another pasture.
Apollyon waits in his bottomless pit.
He is the pit.
We fall into him.
He is in us.
I’ll probably die a martyr,
for I am in life.
Are my creations one and the same?
I write a poem.
If I sing it,
it is a song;
or a picture,
if I color the words.
I’m trying to bring a thousand
points of light
into one line of perspective.
I tell the stranger;
“You are incredible.”
He beams with pride.
I insist to the stranger;
“I am richer than you.”
He teems with jealousy.
I inform the stranger;
“Many people are suffering.”
He cries great tears.
I say to the stranger;
“I want your woman.”
He tries to punch my teeth out.
I prove to myself
how powerful words are.
The bass is walking.
The guitar is fretting.
The piano is all keyed-up.
The drums are bombing.
The trumpet is wailing.
After a while alcohol completely
depletes any sensible current
running through the outlets
in my mind.
Imagination is reality in disguise.
Me.
Who and why?
Dreadful, happy bliss.
Always dying in the shadows.
Always wishing to cross the meadows.
Wrong place.
Rotten wrong.
It’s here, there …, where?
I can’t find it.
Running out of fucking time.
As the clocks unwind.
Flying a rainbow that pushes hollow gold.
What on earth rests here?
That makes one stay.
Me stay.
Should go away.
Till I think okay.
‘Cause my soul withers fast;
then it’s hell to pay.
Where real is here and far away.
The nights come dawn and light the day.
For woe it’s true,
time is here and gone, too.
The T.V. says “Madman”
but it’s “Madme: in guise;
‘cause everything’s true through Linda Sue’s eyes.
a tiny crystal palace of sweet surprise.
Open her pages to dreams;
trumpet angel flies.
Unlock indeed,
answers to questions.
Puzzles confounded,
without directions.
Simple is sample,
nightmares that ramble.
Riding through circles,
of rainbow whirlpools.
Look who’s been reading
Linda Sue’s Diary again.
Wanna stay a hooded stranger
peering in from the rain.
Can’t learn or burn;
there’s no such thing as pain.
Who cares if the pages read right or wrong.
Look back or forward, we’re back at dawn.
De ja vu, are you back too;
We’ve been to skies of painted blue.
Our tongues become knots;
this mind is in rage.
You can buy the farm or
turn the page.
The bite of frost won’t let you in.
Valhalla moans for all your sin.
Something’s scratching but where is in.
Look out, it’s hungry, it ate your sin.
Tireless actions, troubles, and fables.
Endless shuffling around the tables.
Hear her laughing at never’s and ables.
Peel the skin and peek within.
I was caught in the trance again.
Sweet dreams Linda.
I know people who keep their life
bottled up inside their body.
I know people who brag about
their life that never happened.
I know people who wish their life
had never happened.
I’m not one who falls into
that form of living.
I’m just one who wants to
keep it straight and in focus.
I’m just unsure of which direction
I should focus.
I’ve never tried to hide
who I am or why.
I’ve never prayed for any bit
of forgiveness or pity.
I’ve always said; ’I am me,
I cannot share your pity.’
Embryonic sac
Death in the blue-green ocean
An aquatic circle
Stone mountains – buildings;
Metal tree – lamps; asphalt meadows
The urban forest
The thoughtmarket is where
I take my visions;
to be bought; bartered with, and sold
Gilgamesh flies with ancient angels
Tin–coated the space egg
Did I come from a golden ship
Victims of the Great Flood
Griots, Shamen, Missionaries
Relish the ceremony
Will I trample on the silent plains of Armageddon
Forever marching with Soldiers of all men
Progressing through the ages
To dance in fire, symbol, psyche
Make the heavens roar
Seeds of evolution grow wings
Fly the dream
To claim victory in the gardens of Eldorado
Alive temples battle
Intelligent mind warfare
Wordwars and Thoughtbombs
She shot an insult at him
It hit him, splattering
his emotions on the wall
Let’s get down to where it
all came from
Forget drunken barroom brawls
Animalistic warfare
In the forest’s
deep dark corridors
will be our battleground
Ancient leaders
Holding sheltered clans and
Instinctive fears
Together
Oral history; lessons, teachings
Mouth to mouth
Elder to younger
Later praised by poets
In song, dance, ceremony
Symbolic metamorphosis
To one the moon
To one the rain
Lineage descendants
Reliving feats and deeds
To keep alive
Their ancestors
Nomadic wandering
Blessed Fertile Crescent
Sumerian culture
Ur; cruniform
Home for folklore
Then fables
You can’t deal with someone
who has a
multiple–personality disorder
You’re outnumbered.
I’d be a good god wouldn’t I
You are the lovebird
that sings in my soul.
The one true masterpiece
I sought to paint.
A living poem I could not
capture with words.
Did Jim Morrison
(The Killer who awoke
before dawn)
Die with
(and put his)
boots on?
T.V. – a mind drug
Like Viet Nam
Teaching the rebels
As a punishment or
Weapon
I was one of the happy men
It’s not about proving someone else wrong
But proving yourself right
I’m just another page in a book
On a shelf
In the Library of Life
I scared him off with my mind
I don’t give a damn what other men
Do to this Earth
As long as they don’t screw-up my world
Nothing tastes better than sobriety
Sometimes, however, intoxication
hits the spot.
I have this sick love/lust for this girl
from
work/employment/labor/(?) …? (bonk) …? (bonk)
I wait for her
(It’s only ten o’clock)
No cigarettes today …;
The hallucination continuous …
Mellow dreamdrops; fluttering, floating
cascading against walls of everlastingly
(- fantastic)
(- humongous)
(- inspirational)
(- conceptual)
reality.
The black and the white.
Opposite ends (of the candle),
blaze toward the happy medium;
where death is embraced.
Each leaf falls
In its sweet time
Taste the seasons
Cherish the wine
Imaginary death is for
Old men and cry babies
Real death is for
Dreamers and heroes
Those who face it
Confront it,
Live it, and
Mock it everyday
Good and Bad
The two great opposites on either side
Of every soul as it treads the
Narrow line of Limbo
It is instilled in human beings in
Psychological terms as Hope and Fear
That excited, successful, heated feeling
That drives one to reach Salvation or
The depressed, failing, cooling pressure
That drives on into Desolation
The Great Animals of the Earth instinctively
Follow the abstract Live or Die
To eat, settle and survive or
Starve, wander, and perish
The Politics of Life
Patterns of Us and Them handed to
Citizens and Politicians
On grounds of Boredom and Revolution
The Committee pacifies the minds of peasants
With beer and cigarettes and television sets
To keep Boredom at bay
Preventing the breakdown of Order and
The outbreak of Disorder and Revolution
The Holy Men whine of Pain or Pleasure
This time the line treaded is Infinity
The universal Great Beyond
Filled with stars, comets, and Expanding and
Emptied with voids, black holes, and Collapsing
Praising the Angels and cursing the Demons
The blinking twilight of Cosmos
The burning darkness of Chaos
What you love, hate, fucked, felt;
abhorred, ignored, detested, ingested
… and threw away
is what makes you what
you are today
A black hole is the
the womb for a universe
A pencil–point sized star
Waiting to be fertilized
by a streaking comet
We bark and growl at
each other on gravel streets
“Fuck you”
Defending our territory, mates,
prey, egos
Eye to eye contact
Simply as animalistically civilized
as animals themselves
The Artist fought with painted canvases,
guitars, and words
The Governments and Religions killed me
with campaigns, crusades, guns, and bombs
“I am not a Poet”
(I resign)
Last time I found love?
As a cow reborn into
The land of Hindus
Christian Rape
I tell you of the Virgin Mary
Who was told
Not asked
Or did choose
To be forcible impregnated
Art as Life
da Vinci
Art as Propaganda
Hitler
Art as Power
Me
Hello, hello Death my old friend
I hear you come knocking again
You pound on the door
Come on knock a little more
I write a suicide note with a smile
I’m ready to walk the extra mile
Come on Death my old friend
Meet me around the bend
A story of a life betrayed
Where is the point from where I strayed
Hug me Death, with your embrace
Let me escape this human race
Death, Death my sole partner
This is the exchange that I prefer
Death, death rattling the door
I’d like to hang on a little longer
Death you are a vandal
But it is I who turns the handle
The cops surround my car at Pep Boys
Are they waiting for me to
make some rebellious noise?
The cops stalk me on the street
Because they have a deadline to meet
Ready to give me a ticket
Or take my ass and kick it
Vigilantes at best
Moreso outlaws of the Wild West
I just want to chill out and have fun
They just want to push me around
with the barrel of their gun
They got their badge and brutality
Turn innocence into a guilty plea
Your filthy laws are made of money
From this perversion you get your honey
All, right, all right you’ve made another arrest
Putting the people to the test
Prowl the highways, the alleys, the beat
But don’t touch the social elite
You don’t work for us so it
must be for them
We are the sodomized citizens
that you condemn
You are the piss boys of the
established party
Every world culture has
a form of thee
Words, swords, bombs, czars
Paint, dance, poetry, guitars
The partially erased poem
… so easy to find an excuse
to take the bottle off the shelf
The social butterfly ladies
don’t dig me anymore.
I don’t want a one–night stand
with another whore.
Nicotine, nicotine
Make me feel pretty sick and mean
There’s one girl but I haven’t
located her
They all seem so right with
my drunken slur
Anger my friend
Loneliness my foe
I need a partner that will
help me grow
I write a song about the
Her that I desire
Hey Jim, where’s the
one that will light my fire
My cock has been wet
countless times
But there’s been no poem
to stop these stupid rhymes
I target the world
A leader but not a ruler
Nobody has to follow if
they don’t want to
The perfect Shaman
Court systems, kind of like
Modern–day witch trials
Sometimes it is easy to appreciate
the mind of a madman
One who knows no fears
knows no boundaries
There is no shame in
Death, it is for everyone
You can’t escape it
Female, female may I suck
your fake cock
Clitoris
That’s the way she likes it
She’s a power bitch
Roar like thunder and leave
a big stink when the shit
hits the fan
A strange case, this hyperactive nomad.
Drifting from blacken asphalt alleys
to drunken bar scenes.
Wandering the wilderness
of repetitive small–town life.
Everyone knows this gifted, enigmatic figure;
As a name and a face who is cool with a smile.
What true thoughts lurk behind his placid blue eyes
Will anyone remember his laugh when it flies away?
Following the invisible line of destiny
that curves and staggers
through the patterns, inconsistencies,
and turmoils of life.
Retrieve moments of cartoon bliss
locked in sub–conscious memory.
Fan away the smoke and blur; I am forever.
The bright sun shoots hot shards
of golden light into
the besieged, battered town.
A sniper’s blackened bullet
penetrates the innocent flesh
of a nine–year–old casualty
as she fetches a tattered,
red haired doll from the oily
crevice left by
an exploding mortar rocket.
The shrieking mob storms
the rickety, tan church
in a crazed hail of
gunfire and projectiles.
Different creeds violently erupt
into a bloody tidal wave
of cultural cleansing;
the worshippers splat and fall
in the house of their lord.
The elderly Jew sits quietly on the
green park bench surrounded by purple flowers;
the lunch whistle from a nearby
factory blows.
He reads the day’s news and
remembers the pledge to never let
another holocaust unfold;
wondering how many family gatherings
will not take place tomorrow.
Hot digestive juices peak and rumble
inside my empty stomach.
The bubbling smell inside the
spacious, blue kitchen
fill my nostrils with the sweet aromas.
My mouth salivates over the warm, white stove;
anticipating the thick, rich soup
it will soon taste.
A disheveled derelict rummages through
a rusty, green trash can in
a littered alley reeking of
stale urine and decaying rodents.
His blistered hands tremble;
he sways dizzily
in a faint, malnourished condition.
The search yields a mildewed portion
of wheat bread;
it is quickly consumed
between crooked, yellow teeth.
The impoverished nation suffering
from drought and lacking
agricultural technology rapidly deteriorates.
Famine denies men and women
essential nutrition and steals a
mother’s milk from her crying child.
Desperate eyes stare blankly
from gaunt faces containing
the dry mouths of
a million starving souls.
Drink the cans of beer as
quickly as possible.
Carefully blend in the shots of whiskey.
Allow time for the beer and
whiskey to mix and increase intoxication.
When the senses are sufficiently
distorted stumble into the automobile.
Drive fast and recklessly down
the winding road.
Ignore all legal and safety regulations.
Lose control at a sharp bend
and skid off the road.
Complete the recipe by splattering
yourself headfirst into the tree.
Art is a semi-acceptable
release of insanity.
(Don’t we all suffer insanity?)
Everything is on the line
So completely go for broke
… Always
I forgot to pay my rent
My lease on life is up
I feel sick and tired
… lonely
… miserable
Cure me of this disease
Give me a shotgun
With a sharp bullet to inject
into my confused brain
Medicine is supposed to be bitter
Death never tasted so good
This is what the doctor ordered
I was once told that all angels have wings;
yet only the purest know how to fly …
I will always feel you in flight;
circling around my heart.
I hope the God you believed in
was there for you when you needed him most;
I wish I could have been.
I will always remember your glow;
your soft, hesitant touch;
or a whisper of “I love when you do that”
in my sensitive ear.
First as friends,
then as lovers,
and ultimately as both;
I always felt a very special attraction;
I only wish I had understood
how good it really was.
I watched it slip away;
… forever.
To die alone is so very, very sad;
but to die so deliberately
by your own hand
is so overwhelmingly tragic
that even the hot tears I cried
didn’t seem to be enough.
I will never condemn you;
But I will always wonder why.
I sense you have found peace
an am comforted knowing
you will always soar free;
because you are an angel,
and only the purest know how to fly.
The Bible is sexist
It says man shall rue over women
I don’t think like that
I’m better than God
Hell, Jesus ain’t got nothing on me
Happy, lappy, puppy;
enter my home.
So curious by day
and faithful at night;
I have earned the right
to walk by your side.
I have the dream
John Lennon had the dream
Mahatma Gandhi had the dream
Dr. Martin Luther King Jr.
spoke the dream
Adolph Hitler had the nightmare
Float in the Day-Star;
Apollo is there.
The music is golden-orange.
Words of prophecy;
Ignite the flaming gaseous kingdom.
What if I am God return?
What if I’m the one who’ll make you burn?
Your warm bay
Wet and open
A fine port
For me to dock my cock
Letting the sea men
Come ashore
I am made of the souls of the dead.
Therefore, I am ever-growing.
Tan deer lap water.
Blue pond reflects images;
Wildlife poetry.
Earfuls of bright sound.
Songbirds cry the wind ballad;
Feathered melody.
Painted rainbow sky.
Breathing forestry landscape;
Outdoor gallery.
Green moss on gray rock.
Moonlit Milky Way backdrop;
Dew covered sculpture.
Red airborne leafs dance.
Glide with grace through warm sunlight;
Swift autumn ballet.
Brown spider weaving.
Thin web spun in grand design;
Sticky tapestry.
Furry cubs tumble.
Green meadow scented with snow;
Arena of sport.
Aesthetic beauty.
Caress the senses with magic;
Art blooms in nature.
Above; mistyrose kisses drop
from soft, natural lips
Fingertips trace patterns
where light-peach skin shows
Rows of strawberry-blonde hair;
wide, sky-blue eyes blink and shift
Arching stomach and hips - gasp!
sweet breathe; warm and close
Show a toned, limber grace
muscles relax and then constrict
Mixed movement; sure emotions
mistyrose love blooms; below
Bare branches jut in the cold of winter
Yellow-green buds bloom during spring
Fresh, moist leaves wave in summer
The cycle ends with the chill of fall
Hearts must move on
An embryo forms from two heartbeats
A healthy baby grows into a happy boy
Living an honest life defines a man
An old man breathes his last in sleep
Hearts must move on
My eyes meet hers, and we both smile
A stranger becomes my best friend
Our hearts pump together from intimacy
Emotions change slowly, and she is gone
Hearts must move on
Did Peter Brown really escape the White Room?
I wonder, carefully peering from behind the Black Curtains shielding my Cage.
I stumble to the yellow chair stained in beer and secrets and shame.
My blond hair obscures the view of my blue eyes staring at the Dark Eye -
the blank screen entombed in the White Box.
The silent Looking-Machine punctured blind by my frustrated disappointment.
Cracked brick pavement winds through this town of Black Roofs.
An isolated tour through the White City constructed of many White Rooms.
The lone traffic light blinks red for no one.
The White Rooms have No Vacancies tonight.
White Death waits in quiet.
The black-and-white lamp highlights the black phone with the ringer turned-off.
The white answering machine flashes a pink signal of intrusion.
The yellow flashlight to the left is upside-down and dark.
My Black Roof repels the cold falling rain.
The silence remains.
No Dark Visitors will enter my White Room
and discover the secret
of my White Death.
“Yes” said the sparrow to the butterfly “I am single.”
“That’s nice” replied the butterfly, wishing the sparrow was dating him.
“See you around” said the sparrow to the butterfly, hoping the butterfly would ask her to go out.
“OK” said the butterfly as he watched her fly away, wishing he was flying by her side in harmony…
The morale to this story is:
Go for it! You might not get a second chance…
round ladybug
crawls across
sunburned freckles
<!-- shitty and pretty -->
I wonder what direction my Life will take
//* Where am I gonna run?
Cause my Life is done *//
<!-- This buzz hurts -->
document.write("Dangerous Games: The Ghostland of Reality")
function Life() {
if(Love = = 1)
print "http://www.spacepoet.com/mistyrose.html"
Beautiful color;<BR>
speak to me.<BR>
My heart feels safe with you.<P>
else(Lust = = 0)
print "http://www.spacepoet.com/machinelanguage.html"
Female, female,<BR>
may I suck your fake cock?<BR>
Clitoris!<P>
}
document.write("Dangerous Games vs. Brains 2 Machines")
return Life()
Love.exe > Lust.exe
1 0
0 1
110 001
001 110
1 0
0 1
alert("Virus Detected!")
print "Swoosh! Swash!"
print "The Chemicals are calling!"
<!-- I M 4 U="#FFEEEE" -->
//* …Echo (a soundshadow) whistles by…
Bonk! Bonk! Bonk!
BLOINK! *//
#include <stdio.h>
main()
{
printf("I M LAN! \n");
printf("I M C! \n");
printf("I M Y2K! \n");
return 0;
}
The stream reflects life.
Emotions frame the image.
Clear water-mirror;
speak beautiful truth to me.
I see the fairest of all.
The gray wolf marks
cold, white snow
with one leg raised.
The brook babbles on.
Whirlpools swirl the reflection.
I am confused.
Home in the forest.
Pan plays reeds for pretty nymphs;
still they dance away.
Music finds the nightingale;
she sees past the hoofs and horns.
Take my horny mind.
Your tongue speaks my fantasies.
Swallow my hot thoughts.
Starlight beams on
dark, warm waves
twirling starfish.
Spring blooms in flowers.
We grow like vines on a tree;
slow and together.
She has straight, blonde hair.
Slender curves and skyblue eyes.
Her laugh makes smiles.
I love her and she loves me.
I hate feeling the dream fade.
My secret lady.
Your voice showers in my heart;
stills my only fear.
I hear the sound of two lives
climaxing as one color.
Opening cocoon;
brush the coarse fibers away.
Solitude unveiled.
Needed secret sin.
I dance alone in my shame.
The naked curtain.
Move all-natural;
we wait with loving patience;
then a baby cries.
#include <stdio.h>
main()
{
printf("I’m a zero, baby; \n");
printf("you’re my number one! \n");
printf("Your software \n");
printf("makes my hard drive run! \n");
printf("You go download into my database! \n");
printf("I upload to your beautiful interface! \n");
printf("Nip me with a megabyte! \n");
printf("My mouse will click you right! \n");
return 0;
}
Kind, gentle blonde witch;
bless the ring you sell to me.
Grant me ancient luck.
I will be your wish.
I wish you would be my star;
the shine of my life.
I wash into you.
Salty tides pull us away.
Driftwood in the sea.
Hidden mountain stream.
Cool, fresh, clear water splashes
rocks and mossy roots.
Pine trees echo quick rapids
softly cleansing naked skin.
Heat from the fire
warms my skin like morning sun.
Stars dot the cool night.
Going down in flames;
like Icarus and the sun.
The moth got too close.
Email alphabet.
Your thoughts tap through the keyboard;
entering my heart.
Dancing orange flames
waken the shadows of night;
nocturnal rhythm.
Cut the new water;
find coves touched only by oars;
canoe in sunlight.
Breathing for the wind.
Mother Nature; she tends us;
keeps the oceans wet.
Black dots on red wings.
Ladybug, fly with my wish.
Take my love to her.
Black bears catch trout.
Soldiers shoot their enemies.
Nature verse nurture.
Big male mosquito
flies and finds his female mate;
then eats her alive.
A wet drizzle falls.
Hot coals hiss in the fire.
Elements collide.
shrilling wind
a lithe tan dog
whimpering
violet-gray candle
unlit
cool overcast sky
humid attic
computer re-boots
at 1:00 a.m.
I cried as waves fell
her sprinkled ashes dissolved
in the salty sea
two females embrace
juxtaposing nude bodies
sculptors bend moist clay
stagnant muddy
pond
deer sprint by
seagulls glide above
crashing waves
the roar of jet engines
yellow butterfly
flapping erratically
dandelions
Artist seeking Muse
Philadelphia summer
Winter in Boston?
poets like the moon
howling thoughts on white paper
like Allen Ginsberg
I am he
the sexless beast
tame and proud
singing solo
crafting thoughts
smearing colors
I wait
my blood untainted
sobriety intact
couples converge
groups re-unite
I am welcomed
humble and safe
open conversation
laughs and tears
I listen
thinking alone
waiting for her
the sexless beast
dry wood burning fast
flames flicker while bright sparks rise
tan moth flies too close
contained campfire
forest fires blaze hundreds
of miles away
thin silver minnows
dart through strong undercurrents
catfish; belly-up
Hi…
Here I am…
In all my complexity and simplicity.
Take me…
(Please)
Or leave me…
(I hope you don’t… really)
Do you recall
the long haired blond
with the thin, unkempt beard.
penetrating blue eyes,
and defiant slouch..?
You, the black leather cladded jumpy brunette,
planted backwards in the creaky, faded barstool;
eyeing me through the thick, hovering cigarette smoke
for longer than you thought I didn’t notice.
I’m glad you had the guts
to slide over the red tile
and speak through the band’s
redundant version of Sympathy for the Devil.
Did I appear disinterested?
Apathy can move in strange and wondrous ways.
You are more than I bargained for;
…it makes me feel
…proud.
I finally met a pretty, witty modern muse
who stimulates my neurons to creative action.
(But can she deal with the real me?)
Will she help me beat the god complex
but still
hold down my possessed body
when the demons come out to play…
(…because I am a Man!)
Understand my quest;
Follow the I’m-clawing-my-nails-across-
the chalkboard frustrated screams;
they sound good with a twelve-string acoustic guitar.
Do you know why I write?
(Do I know why I write!)
It is a reasonable excuse to puke
all my hatred and pain, love and happiness,
senses, perceptions, hallucinations, delusions,
paranoia’s, insanities…
(Breathe and clam down!)
…into an icon
I can capture and study.
I am so tired of testing Life’s patience;
(Crush my temple with a bottle of Beck’s
in a savage, drunken brawl)
((Fight, kill;… the cops… really hurt my wrist))
“I’m crazy; I’m crazy!!!”
‘You think you are but…’
“C’mon, I’ve driven myself to the borders and
pissholes of insanity with drugs and alcohol…”
…BELIEVE ME!!!
(Morphine, LSD, ALCOHOL, THC, ALCOHOL, THC, ALCOHOL, THC,
NICOTINE, NICOTINE, NICOTINE…)
I was fucked so hard my genitals were
celibate for a year…
(…my mind was silent for two…)
I want to experience EVERYTHING firsthand…
…My IMAGINATION takes me on voyages…
I’ve killed a thousand men in war…
(…crawled over burned, severed limbs and
bloodied intestines until a hot mortar rocket
fell and exploded and tore off most of my head…)
I mathematically (I’m innumerate)
figured out a chemical cure for AIDS.
I’m a serial killer/lover…
(I hunt presidents and kings,
not just pretty girls like you)
I am more than human…
(I will achieve supernatural powers)
So Art is my poison…
I think I have OD’d too young;
I refuse to die a martyred poet.
…And I see another pretty, flashy (probably diseased)
sexbox strutting around at work/the bar/on TV/the movies/
the library…
…I’m too old for this…
…I was castrated the moment I lost my virginity…
…I want to get back to…;
away from the manic-depression/passive-aggression,
neurosis/psychosis; loneliness and the uphill fight…
I want to know what the love you told me of
is all about…
Your mind drives me crazy;
…when you laugh, groan, and silently stare…
…are caught up in your thoughts and private prayers…
(I am moved to feelings of compassion
I can’t quite explain)
Am I feeling the first pangs/twinges of love..?
A feeling like this could only be born
once in a lifetime…
Can we grow together?
Share outlives with each other?
Be one with each other?
To this day you say I am a dreamer…
I think you might be right…
You are what I dream of.