Saturday, September 30, 2006

With quickness, wispily it kissed the fists flung at it
Ducking too and darting to truth or happiness
Some who witnessed this claimed its precedence
But it did not agree
It moved in flicker quicker to change and maintain the distance
It had till now
In floundering frailty found tied down in captivity
Its soul so stifled
So sanitized in an atmosphere desensitized
Not unlike a firefly whose light grows dimmer in the jar
Its weightless brightness fades in days like these

The beach in the winter is a much different sight, a far cry from the bosom marked by tourists gaping mouths that is the jersey shore in summers full swing. There is a peace and calm that comes with the sharp bite of brisk air steaming in off the water along with all the scallop boats and bluefish charters.

Even the gulls have calmed.

The sky and the ocean meet at a color unseen in months, the wisp of winter clouds mingle like a reunion of friends from different cultures and backgrounds cast away during the warmer times.The sky that shows through blends to a perfection atop a cold blue sea.

The waves roll in with ease.

The blades of grass bounce along the tops of the dunes. Afternoon joggers and an asian fisherman pass by. He fishes this spot with assertion, claiming it. The wind cracks my lips. I rejoice acceding with it.

Friday, September 29, 2006

a feeling

driving through sunlit afternoon. the sky shattered with painful silence, cracks running light speed to seek and kill the four cardinal directions. chest emptied into the vacuum for lack of atmosphere. the whole world took on the moment and static of cocain sunrise. the lights came up fast over the credits and the images and fantasies weren't any less real, they werew simply past. now i don't know if you believe in the past, i don't know if i do either. but the decision still stands in this dull now light with the rows of theatre seats and the popcorn spill to the left. outside that fire exit door... sarte mumbling about fear and trembling.

Maria's Number two or so

I hate when bastards like this come in. We dont need a menu!!! we know what we want, bottle # 31, special package, repeating thier order, repeating thier order, repeating thier order for lowly waiter boy---you don't know kid, thats why your waiting tables. Mommy and Daddy dind't set me up a trust they kick me out then charge me rent. The special mussles kid not the common folk ones repeating thier order repeating thier order repeating thier order for lowly waiter boy---Kid we need the bottle water and two glasses with ice in em, and im the one who doesnt know. extra onions on the salad repeating thier order repeating thier order repeating thier order for lowly waiter boy---heres your food, anything else? were set. and you knew it right from the start. ill take your ten percent tip. i gotta work for this living. and ill see you next sunday.

Brighton bar last wednesday

i went outside to smoke a cigarette, I found myself in saearch of the perfect place to take a piss. The troubles I had, the dive bars ive sat on a toilet in, but no, I had to find the perfect place tonight. So I turned right and found myself in a field of grass. Beautiful oasis that it was I was distraught to find a sign saying "no parking, private property". I took this as "parking my urine, federal offense". so my drunk ass took off and found that spot behind my car and as my release was well anticipated, I slowly gazed skyward. My eyes rested upon some constellation resembling a martini glass. how befitting my situation, as I was releasing just that which once could have come from this constellation, pouring straight down from those stars. How glorified I make taking a piss.

yeah, the
sky's bright aflame
and holding seconds still
while the gravel catches a spill
of a missed drop of whiskey

coaster rhyme

Winds scream violently past ears burned by words spoken through clenched teeth
unannounced you walk through my doorway though i leave my door breached
rising past a stumbled demeanor your falter goes noticed
I attend to your needs too scarred and drunk to protest
A glass falls to the floor and we shatter into thousands of peices
we take each other home and drink wine and help each other to our desired release
I awake after the prophetic stimulation pleases and take a stand
I tell you to leave my house and a ride in mine yours demand
I take back the wine abd shrug shoulders of indeffernce
You leave my car and my mind smiles with thoughts of your splendiferousness.

Thursday, September 28, 2006

To some the magic of numbers, invisible
To some the wine stains, Rorschach
Perception and misdirection
And hungry woman’s eyes unblinking

Are these things in you?
Christmas lights
Bulls’ blood?

Don’t ask who wants to know.

I can’t tell you.

I think you may be starving
So ask for you to take of me
Lick you may
But never taste my milk and honey
That takes laps not licks
And more patience with this world

So instead you starve your soul
And make little cuts in you psyche
The abuse of the immature in you internalized

But I only offer the divine victuals through Them
And know by Them not to force
It is not Their way

So I am not the holy you are used to
And will not wait or beg for followers
Will not wait or beg for you
Sour starving bleeding child

five o'clock lush and the hair in my brush

5:30pm and I
must be getting weaker
unless they’ve made it harder
for alcoholics to be
better at what they do

forced the bottle opened
the cork slips out
like old friends
that I don’t give the time
to sit and catch a breath

now I’ve got a pair of scissors
that threaten every strand
and the redder I get
there’s more of a chance
that they carry out their plan

do it all completely
the wine and locks left out
cause every cut has meaning
and I wont let my head
weigh this heart down

i will hang by the neck to the death
short-changed of justice and breath
a smile growing
concordant with the bloating
the lips of it bursting with bastion decisiveness
i will hang by the neck to the death
never having laid in your bed on my back
and spreading open my stilts
as my eyes fill with blood and turn to black
you will envy me
you will loathe me
you will adore me

Monday, September 25, 2006

...and she could have you know.

...she rolled over the floor, sweeping with her hair all the miniscule dust particles that collect on the cobwebs in the corners, forgetting her own accumutated years of fine spun webbing like lace yellowed with age and the numerous overbearing responsabilities back home waiting. She sees her drab hands crumple around the splintered shovel once dig out of or into another hole. There was no difference anymore.

she could have....waited one second longer. Thought in that moment fleeting. A lifetime of new sky reborn under her falling lashes....

bleed that old ass heart of yours

your a little bit of a gentleman on a prostitution silver dollar
just a long book of sonnets never read but thought over
i'm endearing if you have a couple condoms

so i've ssen a grand canyon and tomorrows burst with lightnings kiss
but i'll remember for the lifetimes how you felt in evenings nakedness

drop an a flat on my minor with a topless charade
i found perfection in an open bar with fingers from the grave
and let me contimplaite addiction whilst a steel mill whistle blows
just a dreadful inhabition
that forever musn't know

by the smell of your fear

it seems you’ve simplified your life
by leaving the truth in my eyes behind
and if that’s the road you’ve decided to take
I wont blame you for my mistake

I guess I can
end as just
a flash of light
reflecting dust

lost in some
far fold of your mind
one honest moment
in that blink of time

Sunday, September 24, 2006

the cat’s been sleeping on my pillow
right next to my head
these movements
more recent
and she purrs all night through
some, you may not know of
the medicine in those
motorboat vocal chords
well cats, they purr to mend
those vibrations help repair
broken bones and other ailments
and I wonder what’s wrong with my head

drive nails through my feet
and barely bleeding
watch me walk away

I’ve got a lost mans cigarettes
and I wonder if he left
with my thought still in his heart

Saturday, September 23, 2006

comes and goes

left the night
and moon yours
was old and red

left the morning
in your bed
fresh white linens
shaking heads

left the noon
and mid-day traffic
lines formed
often tragic

left the days
that break like glass
from your future
back to the past

left you standing
swollen if that
filled with hope
and no regret

Thursday, September 21, 2006

we all close our eyes the same way....

what yall left me with

at 4pm....
you get home
i'll still be druk
and more alone
but content
under liquiors frame
and more or less
less deranged
and all the wine
on parkways time
has hit me harder
than you can define
but i'll be drunk
more than you know
more than the wistleling winds
can blow

here's to the words tomorrow will reflect
here's to the ones I wont forget
here's to the time we might have spent
on the all the minds we might have met
and the eggs we all consume to digest

now i can't even see the screen
to post the time that might have been
so I wont look
untill days break
of all to thoughts I've left at stake

here's to the spin
i fall in
and to a time
i won't foget

A Quiet Murder In A Snowstorm

detached from warm remembers
and ribboned on the throat
detached from carpal members
sacked in his own coat
detached sometime in november
and left for the appraiser
nickels turned to shackles
earth made into mud
bound for no more than homeward
but bound and spun undone

A Shameful Glare

they aren't even cold and you are molesting their corpses
it's inconceivable that you imagined yourself their caretaker
and now the only comfort they could have
is the warmth of the cum on the tip of your deepest compassion
shunned of emotion in life
showered with your tacky spiders crawling up and down
their barely completed death throes
spotted with the baptism of your saliva
and shamed shamed shamed
solely by your detestable eyes

let the cat in your mind die.

i'll bet you've got perfect tense
but stay home
i imagine you have intense vibration
nevertheless, do not drag your unsigned parchment of grand ideas
kicking and screaming through an unwilling night
particularly when your destination is a defunct morgue
and all your notaries of an imagined public are inside,
decaying, rotting,
and moreover, plotting.
stay home.

Saturday, September 16, 2006


....its never over, shes a tear that hangs inside my soul forever....

its not too late...

Friday, September 15, 2006

....if you can still see through blindness

...for what is missed and misunderstood, where your mind blinks and washes away hate down your cheeks in pools of remorse at your feet...

...where eventually after every rain even the unknown mouse it has a name, as do all the rest and the watchers too... hearts may feel wicked and souls go stale with power, the gleam off canine teeth, hour after every wretched hour of racing round the wheels like so, never fully letting go...

...the over-analyzation of gods extraordinary creations down to every last squeak and snip, the ones that don't break through the skin, just tenderly warn but firm like thorns, can be yet madding beyond the screams...

...and those will envy the whimsical shoes on the barest of feet, ones in the light, of the light they can't reach, reflecting it's every hue, the ones that can dance with a heart that is true...

...true is a heart that does not hate, free is a man who recognizes his fate, dead is a mind that has no fear, lost is a soul without friendship near...

Thursday, September 14, 2006

so i put on some tangerine lipgloss and answered the door...i was one lucky woman...

Friday, September 08, 2006

i saw old redwoods
secrets of forgotten religion
out on a california highway

enshrouded in the grey hangover
of her snakeskin eyes

they always said
there were dreams deferred
and all the old poets
died with a smoker's cough

where are the dead pirate's dreamings
like black spindles
spiders weaving

cuz the night is the ghost of the day
and the floorboards creek
with the scent of bourbon glories

long forgotten figment reflections
in bobbing eyes
and dark locked
window pains

2 short ones

marx six armed in the heavens
shaking six index fingers my way
as i labor in the sun

sunset butterflys
and the american workhorse
courting johny walker

i remember
pain pills
like christmas
and once in a great while
we wake up
in each others arms
or you
in my army jacket
or me still
pitterin around
the inside
of yr eyelids
and then
the moon reminded her
of all the things
the other self
needs to do
in mornings

you wanna talk
about forgotten dreams
and the Byzantines
with drunk old me
under these star streams
all the cosmos rushing by
you and words and me
under this meaning soaked sky
yeah babe, thats just fine

Friday, September 01, 2006


the glass in the street catches your eye and you can’t see
your mile, my marker and the sweat off a hot poker
branded faces, forgotten paces
all the places where your heart burns
and the hair on the back of your neck curls

can’t hide from the light and
your skin starts to tighten
you try to fight and
finding resistance
can’t break through the restraints
the wine crawling up yer feet
the time lost between blinks

the sunshine behind her strands of hair
forgotten there
no one is as intense as you are
silent dream stalker

background voice in a birdcage
the minor tune you just played
hair a mess
strings aflame
talking with the unknown fame

she falls to her knees
takes in a passing mountain breeze
wind through her hair
and down her cheek streams
a trail of tears that leads
back towards eastern shores

watch you take down that shot
the same as you breathe
could give you all i got
but you insist you wanna drink
could’ve been your rhythm
if you’d just take the lead
but i can no longer sit here
watching your stomach bleed
there's a door that you opened
now it's time, i take my leave