Friday, June 24, 2011

Your A Wizard Harry

"Your a wordsmith, Abe."

Uttered in a second, not affixed to one time or place,
Instead a a state of places where we had spent moments
stares and smiles, sighs and dies,
that rolled up snake eyes as the seconds ticked away.......




The moments are rushing and my beat is pulsing.
Some electronica infused, bass blasting burning of boundaries that need not bound me.

Fleeing, running ,
And there is no cowardice,
No fear of police, only relase.

I said good night. I thanked you for the light.
That was the second time and place that I would never again disgrace.

The fox has left the building.
Slinked off back, with hands in pockets, tail twitching along the breeze.
And maybe he'll be back one day,


He has gone,....

Gone Away.


from the perpetual dream state,
The time for dreaming is too late,
The future abounds with endless posibilities,
Inifitity is beyond our sensibilities.

My brother here,
My brother so dear,
The day has come to wake.

And so our mistake,
Was dreaming our life away.

Slumbering sleep,
Was falsely deep,
The waking state,
Can be a scary plate,
Just desserts and fleeting verse,
Can never stop the chiming alarm.

The gentle hands of sound,
Wisened and raw,
Shake us...


Thursday, June 23, 2011

Random Musing

When you walk,
can you sway your hips,
Parting refined lips,
To the sweet scent of roses.

The crosses,
Of the star struck lies,
In the fields of flies,
Where once your heart did occupy,
Now the fiends choose to lie.

You are rotting,
Bulbous growth,
You are stinking,
sour note.

Someday soon

I'll meet you in the morning,
When the new day is dawning,
When most are still yawning,
I'll meet you in the morning.

I'll meet in you in the morning,
Cause a new life is dawning,
Cause I'm tired of wanting,
I'll meet you in the morning.

The day is gonna break,
The time is gonna take,
An eternity is calling,
I'll meet you in the morning.

Someday you'll see,
What I was meant to be,
Instead of always falling,
If you meet me in the morning.

Tuesday, June 21, 2011



Make your inevitable escape,
From this place of chains and restrictions,

Make your hurried flight,
From this place of stifling discontinuity,

The cells have closed the sun,
The bars have poisoned your liver,

The need to run is overwhelming,


Make your labor, you life,
enjoy the frenzied rush of the fevered revolt,

Against standing still.

Movement is life,
Chasing birds and bees,
Life, Winds and trees,

Stagnation equals death,
Necropsy and staunching blood flow.

Feel the screaming of your beating heart.
Relish the revelry of running.

Just be free,
If only for me.

Friday, June 17, 2011


Standing here ,
With my feet planted firmly,
I am stronger than the mighty oak,
That has shielded me in my growth,
In this untamed wilderness.

Standing here,
With my chest heaving,
I am swifter than the hunting wolf,
That has chased me in my dreams,
In this untamed wilderness.

Standing here,
With tears streaming down my face,
I am wetter than the flowing river,
That has drowned me in my innocence,
In this untamed wilderness.

Lying here,
With the stillness of fright,
I am quieter than the darkest night,
That has welcomed me back home,
To the untamed wilderness of the unknown.


The road is longer than our feet can bear,
And there is nothing in between here and there,
One foot continues to ride its path,
One foot in front of the other.

The time for us, continues to slow,
We have no knowing where we'll go,
One foot continues to ride its path,
One foot in front of the other.

The sores burn our beaten flesh,
We start to wish for instant death,
One foot continues to ride its path,
One foot in front of the other.

Someday the journey will be over,
Our destination will be met,
That day will come ever slower,
As we continue with the mindset....

One foot in front of the other.

Wednesday, June 15, 2011

Pen to paper and still continues the thirst, left wondering why even drink?

Hungrily, dehydrated hands grasp a a cup of glacially cold curds and whey, Wondering when will the day,
Evaporate into still mists of night,
With friends and fiends in sight,
Of the ever watching elipitical eyes,
That watch, and watch and fry,
The mind standing behind a screen,
In dozens of dungeons, miles in between,
The mountains that form the valley of the ache,
Thundering land under seems to quake,
Of non exsitant control scheme,
Ripping the clothing apart at the seam,
Of time, here in the present,
Backwards to the end.

Thursday, June 9, 2011

If I could but taste your thoughts....

Would they be greasy?
Grimy, dirty, filthy, slips of momentary lapses in judgment,
Good clean consciousness.

Would they be crisp linen clean?
A throwback to some childish notion of peace and fair games.
Sun soaked slipping and sliding summers.

Orange saturated autumns.

Glass plated looking glasses at a foreign zoo?

Would they sour?
An acrid atrocity for our fellow man, woman, and child.

The thoughtless tinkering of a sociopathic, soul sucking misogynist.
The Mormon thumbed polygamy.

Would they smell like cinnamon?

A steaming cup of consciousness.
Ramen noodle,
Spinning and swirling away from every spoonful glimpse.

Poetry, pen,
Speech, lips,

If I could but taste your thoughts,
That would truly be delicious,
But food can be bland,
Or gritty like sand.

But hell, that’s just food for thought.


Can the harpies hate filled call,
Crawl from the wings spread tall,
Towering above the sea of our discontent,
Will the end be before us lent-
From  the moment we walked away,
Landing us here today,
Listening to the harpy call,
Wondering what of it all.


When the orchid dies,
And its petals fall like tears,
Will you cry for it?


When the days temperature reaches into the infinite fires of the sun,
Blasting away from the rising asphalt,
The king of the finches flies and fusses over his dwindling dynasty.

Will you wonder where we've been?
Will you whine and wash our broken skin?

Trying to mend our misplaced mourning, for the brother that blasted away boredom.

The seas of tears that cascade upon your face,
Will wash away the taste of waste,
Of a life that seemed full of awe and glory,
Snuffed out in a scene all too gory.

Monday, June 6, 2011

I lied.

Can you answer my question?
Can you read my thoughts?
Can you make me better than I am?

The day began with begging.
Pleading and prostrating in the pitiful pit.
There was no remorse,
There was no reprimands.

A silent shrieking of silence stared back against the stealing sighs.

Warming and wallowing in the wind soaked west, the night leads us good bye.

The earth is the eternal blanket, a mothers lullabye.

Friday, June 3, 2011

Blood, Sweat and Tears

Do you want a taste?
Of the sickeningly sweet ambrosia,
Taste its rose color on your lips,
To sing its praise.

Do you want a taste?
Of the acrid amber melancholy,
Taste its rancid fat upon your lips,
To cry out in disgust.

Drink up,
cause its bitter fuckin sweet,
Taste my defeat,
Fill up your cup,
Quaff it down.