The Wind (day 573)

You couldn’t walk away just like that; wind blowing your hair in a careless manner leaving eyes dropping memories one at a time
Yet, with the legends that crop out the clouded sky into dreams that come forward with just the right light

I have become another human
I have become the epitome of graceful
I have become the master of disguises
I have leaned so far out the window that my hat and glasses have blown off in a whirl of excitement and confusion

And I have died a thousand times

Died with the madness that grows in the spring time
Died with the emptiness of an ending shower
Died with the footprints that don’t stop in a new winter’s flurry

Meanwhile, as the sheets get unfolded and spread upon the queen sized bed
A stranger in the twilight rests his eyes upon what walks away: a heart of the softest kind with the sweetest smile and dearest eyes

I mind the rocky paths and step lightly to that path which softens under foot, void of all jetty rocks that perturb my conscience with evil glances and a mean demeanor
I reminisce about the legends I’ve read about, chest held high, knees stepping lightly over the path ahead
And I feel my own hair blowing in the wind as I reach further and further into freedom and dreams

Ignoring the possibility that these snowy tracks will be forever gone if we lose the fingertips we embrace with love

Leaving behind a single memory, fluttering like a broken heart
In a graceful dance
From the confines of my soul
Through my heavy eyes
And into the wind

Loud and Free (day 557)

Uncommon destruction
That brutalizes my soul
Cool liquid drops of sex
Pour through my brain
Featuring madness

Cannibalistic
Lavishly endearing
Blatant and
Devilishly sinful

And I bow
I bow to the lover that stays awake all night
And the devious young man behind closed doors
Sipping down 25 year old stock

I grow from deep within
Boisterously gathering a new level
Stirring up the saints in the courtyard
Slipping into a deceitful dance
Mesmerizing the nymphs

And I dance of faith
Counting on the anger to shout out my soul
Waking up the ghosts in the courtyard
Slowly. With a devilish grin
Anticipation crawls up the back of my neck

Eruption lets the gods know
Loud and free, they hear this call
They hear me curse at the moon
With the cackling birds of pray
That lay with me in lust

Regurgitating Madness (day 488)

You only get stronger when your heart is aching
G Love and His Special Sauce has been know to sing
Bright lights and city streets seem to grab me
Chase me under the bridge and seek shelter from the rain
Dying in the lost spaces that close down borders
And holding on to the empty gates that keep flying open
Unsure whether to jump off or to stay around for the ride
Unwilling to admit that I’ve done this ride before
Wide eyes and itchy noses, closes, Moses
Ran two hundred leagues to spread what he believed in
Understanding the inner voice that cared not for turmoil
Or was it turmoil that led to his prophesized greed
Did he only want a new land to live long and prosper
Then with the enemy and dire straits dead ahead and laughing
The poor stock was chosen directly from the top of the barrel
Easy pickings and lost siblings and leftover pieces of sandwiches finished
Don’t die my love! Don’t leave me here in this cold and darkened world
All unaware of my surroundings and digging a hole for the safety net
It wont provide. Only illusions. Always illusions that separate the now
From the bitter truth of the present. Ever looming present
That doesn’t present presents at all only thoughts of what has once been
But let it die, die, die my darling into the depths of an unclear and dark pool
Let it float out of sight so that even the dog staring into its own eyes
Becomes bored and uninterested with the passing moments of time
Never-the-less, don’t take my warnings for they are deaf and dumb
They lack any solidity like the passing gas of an old dog sleeping
Mere regurgitating madness from a voice hidden behind the walls I lean against
Mere ghosts lingering in the ethereal silence that closes in around me

Laid (day 320)

I’ve punished you for your sins
This task hasn’t been easy
As I’ve watched you suffer here
From my spot of total control

I’ve laid down the obstacles
You’ve fought along the way
That have caused you great grief
And left you helplessly stricken

The reason for this madness
For all of this torment
Is written in books
Laid out in the plans

But, I suppose you missed those
As you tramped forth on your way
To busy to heed the warnings
In your adversity ways

Ignorance hasn’t paid off then
Has it for you?
Do you regret what you’ve done
As you sit at the gates?

Regardless, this is the fate
You’ve chosen to face
I played out your cards
You thought you had laid

Sinister Dish (day 306)

Sweet sunsets and mangled reminders of the only stages you’ve ever stepped on that collapsed under your pressure and exploded into your dreams of the last days on earth.

Brought to you by the evanescence, the ultra cool but oh so very hot glow that recorded the passing of time with little whispers that spoke to you like a hard boiled egg or a clinking glass of scotch [on the rocks].

Deeper, deeper I desired as I swayed to the easy listening of the devil’s music that crunched my ear drums like the vibrating stool I now sit on.

Perhaps it’s the toxicity of the room that invites me to pray upon my victim with relentless desires only my dilated pupils can explain away as if I was some mute teenager sneaking out the back door a gunnysack full of father’s liquor.

Did I ever run away from that devious sight I had designed from the first time that I set a foot on your precious neck?

I’ve lost two dollars to the little man we’ve befriended for bets that I’ve drunkenly took and never intended to see through till the end like the lot would have hoped I would have.

Yet, like the flame throwing dummies burnt up in the all to familiar smoke of the madness, I too have found my glory box hidden deep beneath my sock drawer with my fifty dollar bills where no man shall ever speak of.

I salute you, tiny panther, I salute your devilish glare as you circle your pray and wait for their moment of weakness and slaughter them in a feast of all that has been and shall ever come to pass.

This is good.

This feeds both our souls.

This proves that the only thing that has ever rolled from the base of this lone tree that stands in our way was the rupture of happiness.

And forever I shall witness the spiderwebs slowly creep further into the corners of my eyes until one day they too shall bear witness to the struggling undergrowth that shall be sworn to secrecy with the stomping foots of the passing time.

Dare to lay down this sinister dish and feed upon my gravely voice and dried up blood spots.

No Mortal Man (day 250)

The world wheels it’s sad plans, and little laughter
Without any qualms of repent or malaise
Yet holds dear what soldiers fear
And keeps repetitive patterns to our daily madness
In spite all the sin, in all the hours of distress
Sent hurtling through the air like scatter bomber;
No one near is ever safe
We find a serenity in a song played from a far away speaker
Slowly winding its way down the backs of a thousand year old men
Climbing the lamp posts in an excited chatter
Rattling the car horns as they whisper on through the bright light

Sweet angels come out then, with their faces turned down
Deeply focused on a task they care nothing at all about
Yet their patience controls their movements
Their virtues calculate the proper time to set forth
When once again the music from distant speakers
Curl down the ancient backs of the fathers of old men
Nothing can stop them then, with their time in front of them
For sin is within those who stop the proceedings
No man mortal can avoid the dance deep within