elect perpetuals
onslaught of cold requires
wise mechanics
constants
ferocity

To Superman On His Death Bed

I could hear the sirens
and it felt cold
like coming home
to a neighborhood
that isn't yours anymore
as you layed silent
in the next room
and I knew this was it for you

and I'd like to believe
that you're going on to
a better place
a happy hunting ground
welcomed
with open arms
by loved ones
wearing white linens

and maybe that is what
I believe
but this world
here now for you
is just silent pain
I couldn't believe
the shell of a man
you'd become

and I realized then
as you bit your lip
grimacing at
everything
aching and
burning and
tearing and
breaking
and miserable
that death is
a freight train with
no fucking brakes

I was looking at my future
destined for greath things
like you I think
but doomed by
my own indulgences
and bad habits

but maybe we're the stronger
accepting our fate in death
or maybe
we're the foolish ones
believing
in strong genetic coding
and bullshit
and nonsense
and poetry
and love

the only thing certain
in life
is death

so I say

Godspeed

there is a certain amount



of legend making



and story telling



that goes into



speaking of the dead

White Light/White Heat

my eyes are made to refract light
and see the street in red -
movement and the friction of souls on pavement;
the sky syrupy orange -
as the wind tastes cooler
and cooler, as gravity bends the day towards night;
tender yellow silk burning under the
morning's lens;
green tinted bottles view;
swiming and drowning in waters
deep blue;
and the sounds of the next days light
in indigo and violet;

these moments get into my DNA.
i hope you can see it through me
i hope you can see it through me

Gold in the Moment

gold in the bedsheets
and I'm chasing it
perfect heist
gold in the night stillness
gold in the end of it
street lamp widow hits a bad chord
I can see why she chose it
gold in the sacrifice
beat box junkies
beg for smokes on the ball court
gold in the charity
gold in the freedom
a bottle that doesn't brake
clinking echo from a block away
fading into the windy drop off
gold in the moment

On the Chin

she's got that hot thickness
in every place she needs it
everywhere I need it
she's got that hot soul
I'm on my knees
I'm leaning on the wall
so she can't tell
my surprise escaped
when she got too close
and she could hear me
"come here, girl."
so I lost the chance
when I lost the high ground

2006 - Somewhere Near The Beginning Of The "End"

This is the back story for the character, Mark McDell, from the other story: The End and After. This is set about 6 years before the catastrophic events that are referenced in The End and After. I wanted to try and give the character his own life, his own history, so that I could better understand him. I also wanted to do some foreshadowing, which is exactly what the dream sequence is. Basically, the beginning of this story will also be the end of The End and After. It's still a work in progress, but I wanted to get it up here and see if I could get any feedback. Enjoy.

The forest was thick, but the sound of a train was close. I just couldn't see where it was coming from. It felt like something was chasing me, so I had to move quickly. I ran into the the thickest part of the brush until I could hardly move. I spotted an opening to my right, something thrashing the thickets of branches and undergrowth right behind me. I popped out of the opening and turned right, thinking I could double back on whatever it was that had been chasing me. I was met by something that resembled a man but stood 8 feet tall. I knew it was too late as my forward momentum ran right into the sideways swing of his axe-butt into my temple. The ringing in my ears was incredible and everything just went white.

The ringing continued, incessantly, as I opened my eyes and found myself in bed. I hit the "snooze" button on the alarm clock and the rining stopped instantly. I was having these dreams more and more often. They were always different, but something seemed the same, and they felt so real. I laid there for a few minutes and let myself really wake up before getting up and ready for work.

I had settled down in New Jersey after doing some traveling. Not really traveling, I guess. It was more like running. I had left my home in California, a great job, a great woman, everything. Patty wanted to get married and everything was going well. Maybe that's exactly what went wrong. So, without a word or a second thought, I jumped in my car and spent the next year or so traversing the country. I finally found myself living in Ocean Gate. Found a job doing security at a nuclear power plant and lived a quiet life alone in a lonely beach town. It was a welcomed change to the life I was living in San Diego. I didn't really need to work, I was a trust fund kid and had made a killing in real estate development. Me, Patty, our kids if we ever had any and our grandkids would probably all be able to live off the money I had made.

But here I was, living in New Jersey, alone, working a real "man's" job...

woke up gasping
to the realization of death
saw myself lieing
alone in a bed
somewhere in the night
memories
of a life I haven't lived yet
rushing in like a panicked nurse
and the thought
that I didn't live enough
sneaking in ever so slowly

I laid there worried
about that day so far away
worried about my mother
fearing the darkness
because I know she worries

worried about not accepting it
when it comes

it's like that dark force
was sitting in the room
with me last night
in my bed

and although I'm still worried
for my mother's worries
I know I'll accept it
when it comes

reach out and
grab onto that icy hand

I'll be ready for you when you come

night brings phantom limbs
phantom miracles
morning limps

stubborn

I was tangled in

strings of reasons-

each knotted tight

making it hard for her 

to reach out to me;

to unbind me

shards of day and glaring
flash of grass

a purpose so obscure
devotion comes

I don't like
looking you in the eye
it's like the silence is broken
in that second
in that moment
and something in me gets scared
it's like
something in your eyes
breaks my heart

the morning breaks my heart
everytime
the way it
breaks slowly over clouds
or mountains
or oceans
and runs spears of sunlight
through the night
the way it
leaves the moon
like a memory
like a ghost

peel back speech
beneath pleas, passion -

beneath passion,
ashes, circumstance -

such white ascent
gleaming sea collects its breath
summer's drum paused for us
our hands and feet in the earth
like a winter, resting

if a butterfly should

land upon my head

as a mark of good luck

I would surely crumble

Song III

yeah
love gives you those
butterflies

but any man
whose been out to sea
can tell you

after awhile
that feeling
starts making you sick

lately, I'm wanting to be
a speck on the horizon
leaving all of you
in the dust kicked up
from dirty boots

but the thing about horizons is
that no matter how far you go
there always is one

you're always
right here
right now

you're always right
here right now

you're
always
right
here
right
now



you're never the speck
and you're never
the horizon

you're more like the dust
kicked up
from dirty boots

there's so much sky
and I can't watch all of it
with so many constellations
and clusters
nebulas and stars
I get confused

and you ask me if
I ever wonder
are we seeing the same
sides of the moon?

but how would I know?
I twist and bend to see
the shape of Orion's belt
but none of it
makes any sense

I'll call you
to tell you about meteor showers
and the lunar eclipse
'cause those are things
that we both can't miss

and they awaken
that little boy
that's still in me
dreaming of space

and in the morning
he's still with me

other times I'll call you
just to say hello
or I'll tell you all about
cloud formations
or movies
or bars

or about finding myself
bending and twisting under the stars
to see if I can see
beyond the horizon

or about that dream
the one where we're laying in bed
and a truck pulls into the driveway
it's headlights hitting the mirror
in my bedroom
as you begin to pack

she canceled his name from her memory.
taken, she was spent.
foreclosed, but not perplexed.

the heat of our homes behind us,
we shovel ourselves into streets
our graves ask for us

O we who sing of the sea
but are fearful of the water
we will swim with the sharks
at the end of eternity

O we who dream of the great sky
but can't look down
we will break heaven open
with the heat from our wings

O we who sing of death
but wake up gasping in fear
we will fight and we will die
we will become the earth

It Don't Die

rock n' roll can
save you and
it can kill ya' too

it can destroy
that sour taste
or make a memory
sting like hell

rock n' roll can
drive you
down the roads
of every america

it can kill
your brain in
flash floods
of nostalgia

rock n' roll can

rock n' roll can

Song II

there's somethin' romantic
'bout a train
about the tracks
and the sound it makes

as it steadily passes
heading for another place

there's somethin' great
'bout the trees
swayin' softly in moonlight

on a dusty
dimly lit road
on my way to nowhere

there's somethin' that stings
in the smell
of last winter

and the blurred
bar room memories
of a girls arms
inside my coat
tryin' to find warmth

like warmth could ever
take the place
of a heart

no, i think i meant to say poop

look what became of what its becoming, im so damn out of place in this overcoat
jungles and cities and little green men and women, if you can differenciate....theres a spot where the truth meets what you know and the in between feels like stagnant brackish funk water you'd find in the pine barrens, or in glasses at old greek diners where the waitress is always named flo or inga and has a pen in her hair and nicotine stains on here fingers...where was this going?... oh yeah, im not this angry cynical and mean because they didnt love me enough or because they loved me too much...i think alot of it can totally be blamed on the idea that the told me up was down and back was front and that has a tremendous effect on how you get dressed in the morning not to mention the fact that people are so hard to get out of once you get into them, but alot of folks forget that and dimiss the idea as being childish and ill thought out when really blah blah blah im rambling again..the best moment of 1983 was the one where i came out of another person...face up i might add. i think the point that im trying to make is....get out of my kitchen with all that soup...im either allergic or you can't cook and from a hungry perspective i dont want any of you fucking up my spice rack.

shave the important parts
under the cholora
she promised to meet him
at 7 and change

down the refinery
swallowing pills
got a fetish for impulse
and crisp dollar bills
she slaughters the moon
a wreckless disaster
holding my throat in pristine plastic hands

dust isnt sure
but the remenents lay beautiful
scattered pale memories
asking to dance

memoirs of an intangable man

i'd be lying if i said i didnt scour old haunts
for a glimpse of a ghost from a time well wasted
still i'm lying when i say that i've had better
one tuesday a thousand miles west of the middle

take it darling
im not a good man
take it easy
and get all that you can
look for flashes
of almost concern
in the fog the eyes always decieve

so watch it lick the night sky
watch them build over memories
i'll not be the one to regret little things
build a wall
and i'll spray paint my name in the cracks
im not a good man
but im damn good at it

yeah its vomit but i cooked so i’m not doing the dishes

i'm always smiling
devouring my insides
it doesnt seem to have a motherfucking off switch
im always swallowing the cancer
with a diet coke
i've got my figure to consider

all the poison in the world is mine
i'll dole it out as i see fit
dont beg for more
just come and take it

i'll be sitting on the porch
reading better homes and gardens
jerking off in a rocking chair
shot gun in teeth
with my wool socks rolled to my knees in august

thinking

i didnt do it for you
i found a rotten piece and stored it in my special pocket
are you proud of me ma
are you proud of me dad
your faggot son of a bitch
isn't laughing anymore

is it broken stolen robbed and raped
is it lost is it ugly is it swollen
does it taste like me?

sexual pleats

so im a little bigger and better than you
shes a liar and a thief and a part time crackfiend
don't worry and if i cant defend it
i just fucked your parents and set your clothes on fire


OH, she loves it
OH, i cant wait
NO, i didnt
find it funny when you smelled my brothers cock

im preganant and shes feeds me lemon pledge
takes me dancing in the lightning she pretends
shes a widow and can hold my place
a while
with a finger in my ass and a plastic smile

OH she loves it
OH i cant wait
NO i didnt
find it funny when you sucked my brothers cock

what the fuck arent you trying to say

no i dont mind
this sort of thing
the silent
sewage treatment
anti-love machine
just meet me in
the hosptial
for drinks then onto bigger things
dressed up in all
that foil fadded
denim milky after taste
you never once
complained i thought
thats how you
got over these things

so fuck me up
destroy whats left
i dont need blood or skin or breath
i dont need sun or food or hope
just cut away
just cut away
so i dont
have to fucking think about you

tastes alot
like
i could scream
if not for all
the useless
words stuck in my mouth
staple my name across your chest
and kill your family and pets
keep tabs on things here
watch the show
were better off in stereo
we're wasting time
whats you is mine
whats i am always out of breath

so fuck me up
destroy whats left
i don't need blood or skin or breath
i dont need sun or food or hope
just cut away i'll follow suit
and dig me up when
you
can
feel
this
too

I see a red line on the horizon
I feel trouble rumbling the ground
there's a ghost on the road where we're riding
I can feel him running us down

There's a black line on the horizon
running straight through to the sacred ground
ramming into the feelings I'm hiding
with the sting of an organ sound

I saw a silver line on the horizon
you dropped the answers down on the ground
making sense of a life I was devising
and the failure to which I'm bound

There's a red line on the horizon
the water's rising and soon I'll drown
in the loss of the things I was finding
and the loss of the things that you found

I'm a Dumbass and I Just Can't Help It (Stop Me, Stop Me, Please!)

It's like every time

I walk away from something

and forget about it

or not forget about it

but ignore it

somehow

something

someone

brings itself back

and plants itself

firmly

with tree like roots

right in the middle of my life



I'm such a fucking pushover

Song I

we're only four days away

I'm not sure if you're counting

six years in the making
and I got my heart set on coming
to see a California sun
kiss your skin

six years in the making
and I'm still a believer
or just a fool

we're only four days away

I'm counting
I've been counting

we're only four days away
from six years
of a romance
that's been everywhere
and nowhere at all

You (again)

when I was young
I always thought
there were castles in the clouds

that you could jump
from one to
the other

I thought that
Heaven
was right there
just out of reach

I believed
that I could save myself
if falling from the sky
by aiming for
that fluffy
white mass

and thunder
was just angels bowling
lightning was
the re-rack

and someone was always
always
bowling a 300

now I realize
You
are heaven just out of reach

You
are bowling a perfect game

but I'm not sure
you will
save me
if I'm falling from the sky

September 1st

the uncertainty
of my next address
oddly excites me.

I was bitter, she was cold.

you blew cigarette smoke
into my eyes
as i colored pretty pictures.

it stung.

yet, you would always hold
my hand tightly in the supermarket
(i tried so hard to break free).


the mist on the window blurs
my view of you today
and i can't let you in from the cold.

though i am ill,
my shoes full of wind,
it is summer wind
and i am well

let's ask for more
than a little silver left
at the bottoms of our days

Razor

Guest poem by Kathy Polenberg

for anything sharper than sweetgrass

she's present corn he picks her planecrash tears moreover
he don't nezzle when she's dishoveled wintercold
lapis in a leap year

the lion and they both good at tailgate party
eat major serius minor canines kiss
at a nebula hung off hunters belt
loop in his lap under the summer
horizon is as fast as a rabbit
and she finally did become
that kind of a game where he leans italicized still
life a question
mark her ecliptic candy cane

at the customers request

just keep on believing that its gonna get better, its a wide wide world of wacky sports and i can't seem to find the fucking rule book theres fellers dancing and fellers kissing theres a feller in high heeled shoes wearin pantyhose and i feel comfortable knowing that i kinda found the kinda folks i can relate to, unfortunately they dont have the right kinda of equipment to keep my interest beyond parties and conversation, but they know how to dress and how to have fun so i guess its a good thing i stumbled into that bar at 11 oclock on a saturday. no worries, i;m still quite interested in the ways of explosive behavior and come to think of it, the mad ones always had a place in my heart, cause well, we can smell our own..i don't know what the hell you are but i like not knowing until we stumble into a bathroom stall and explore the idea that i may have found the perfect woman, who just so happens to have a penis...what the hell are you talking about