Snake is curling round and round
And I keep wondering how you sound,
Silent, slither, snake your mind
Nether regions of my spine.
But not here, master, it is not safe.
Your warmth is tingling but cannot stay.
My eyes they roll, they say I prey;
Today I run and snake away.
You are my habit, you are my warmth,
You are the curling round and round.
Little thing that wiles and worms,
I wish more moments just to play.
Seeking an understanding
Wrestles into a blackness,
A hole of undying emptyness
Void from here to there.
Like love for another soul,
Escaping through the night
Down cobblestone streets
Filled with reflecting pools of water.
Undying breeds symphony.
Undying curls it’s mystery
Inside out, until it wriggles
Up. Up and out.
Overdose of sin
Starts creeping in,
When all life’s
Every bit of good.
Like a fast drug
Empty highway.
Animal hollers loud,
Creeping in.
You can bet my
Bouts of passion
Are gonna find me
Loosing track of sin.
My future is not to what end,
My future is of end that lacks in clarity.
For there shall be no tide
That leaves me jiggling in madness,
Clutching at the newly spent sands
Gathering about my consciousness.
Nor shall there be a whirlwind epoch
That holds in my madness
To set aside future battles
That crawl about my fingers
And draw my breath to an abrupt halt.
I am a lost lover,
And you are my sea.
Over and under
This tumbling breeze.
I arc my bent spine
In day driven toil,
To find my hearth cold
Sea driven wild.
But sailing departure
Windows of torrent,
I find my dear lover
Nautically bent.
Speak to me moon,
With eyes so wide.
Take me to dreams
And lullabies.
I coo at your vision,
Watch sun drop deep.
Your eyes, a mirage
– And I’m the stars.
Landing in an unaware time
I’ve settled in oh… just fine.
Crawling over loose remains,
Curtains and leggings all have stains.
But breath and love; inhale, exhale,
Lifeline matters align each gale,
Upward lifting passages prevail
Eyes wide upon this afternoon sail.
As soon as laughter
Writes me down as a lover
– I will be forever there,
Till the end and then I will.
Glass isn’t fleeting
And heaven’s less deceiving,
For isn’t she all for the sea?
It’s bewildering how all the
Little kids are dressed in green.
They’re wearing foreign flags and
Scrambling about in some kind of
Scatterbug formation.
It makes me think of the years I spent in ‘Nam.
– And coincidentally a delicious restaurant
Round the corner from here.
Chopsticks between eyes and arrows
And fabrics that tell me not to bring these new habits home.
I’m watching them with curiosity, the kids,
As they make their way about the grounds
Busier than all the ants of the world.
Hands flailing in some random forms of symmetry
That builds to an ecstatic culminations of sorts.
And then I get busy and pants with arrows pointing South
Cross my paths leaving home-job manicured
French poodles pissing about,
Confusing the tiny combat warriors.
Allowing punishment to crush ritual
Berating better senses of civility
Harshly, against cold stone under foot
Upon a wet and soggy day of death
Smeared between dark moist earth
And trampled, unkept grassy shag
This is not the end of an era
Nor end to a life spent well
It is the beginning of torture
Souls repentance; realization
Destruction on the darkest day of life
Standing, dripping, begging at the gates
Hallowed be thy name as birthright
Non-linear thus be thy path towards thee gallows
Distrust be cruelly written across thy brow
Hastily, uneven, unsymmetric, unceremoniously
Where shaggy be thy mane
Dies the sentence to thy name