The Arms of Peace (day 516)

I play with things
And I touch all kinds of stuff
But when it comes right down to it
I’ve lost it
I’ve shat out marbles
Pissed warm vinegar

On the other side of the clouds
As mountains have swarmed into creeks
Into glorious rivers with intermittent lakes
Cuddling the flat lands and
Sipping tea amongst the rocky peaks

I saw a sign
My eyes opened
My breath became easy
As I cleared my voice
To bellow out a glorious song
Marrying bliss
With jubilance

And with a smile
I stepped lightly forward
Into the arms of peace

The Layers (day 515)

The urge is to cry
To roll up my sleeves
And drag my knuckles dry

Pity that holds hands
Hugs deeper than your throat
Meaningless dripping sands

Innocence that’s bleeding red
Hunger rolling eyes
Still lying naked on black night’s bed

Cupping breasts cold as ageless
And sipping wine with fine dark chocolate
Slipping through my anonimical mess

I die with the tears of acid
Flowing freely from the stone
Black with ash smelling acrid

Don’t lie to me angel face
Licking your feathers and pouting your lips
Desire makes death tangled with lace

I’m Done End (day 514)

Muttering and murmuring and lost all control and trying to step and falling forward with an understanding that nothing is as it seems but today oh my smoke and holiday but where I’ve seen not only that lost and maybe tomorrow my mother and I could who is that standing and crosswalks that I’m into with honking and what is the matter but why have I gathered but there’s no more sense in this matter of a conclusion can we understand my control but who has the next hit I think I’m done for the night but where is home do I have places to sleep where have I come from but there is no home anymore fucking father left me to die and he can rot in a scum bag of maggots but tonight I can’t sleep for I’m dizzy and maybe here I can sit down a while will it rain again tonight I don’t care anymore I need another hit needles drugs spoons lighter fuck where’s my lighter I’ve lost it again and under the bush where was I last night that whore I lost my underwear too but that’s but tonight I don’t have sleep but crosswalks and random who’s this and what is he doing why is that there is that a camera did he just take my where did he go I was about to say something to him come back here! the crosswalk did I stop walking ok here I will send for my secrets and lay them waste upon this stone hard ground kissing stone kissing cement walk I must walk and left and walk and onto the next where did we end up with truths and endless abandoned I’m done end John smoke home

Mittens (day 513)

Blitz that awkward mother fucker
Lost in some kind of pre-pubescent bliss
Thinking the toadstools are real
Living in a fantasy world
Gamble your life away to a blind princess
Who listen with her wallet
Dying sweet surrenders
As she picks apart her next innocent victims
Don’t you watch the business son?
Lord’s saying your nickel’s no longer good here
You put your peanuts next to mine
I, who sit here with diamonds in my eyes
Falling through loop holes and digging through broken bones
You aint got no footsteps here son
Now put on your mittens and find your way home

Ain’t Comin’ Baby Runnin’ (day 512)

You’ve got the look of a prowler with your leathers on so tight
Bounded by desire and your whistles blowing right tonight
I’ve locked myself into this room and I ain’t comin out
Run baby run, I ain’t the right breed for your sweet soul
Lavished in roses and smelling like the clean springs water
I’ve run through the wrong parts of town
I’ve held the wrong kind of jobs
I’ve pissed off the wrong kind of men
Now, I’m just a two-bit gangster
Rolling around in the mud on a cold winters day
Don’t rub my roots baby
Don’t come her rubbing my roots

Soiled Sheets (day 511)

I stole your dreams last night
Midnight robbery without a tip
I rode the pony down to its knees
Dreaded the walk through the rain
I pounded the earth with bloody hands
Leaving behind my conscience
Sucked dry of all sense
Did you plow the field before you reaped the land?
Road-trips pull me away from time
Lands I’ve never bled dry
Spoiled meats and canyon jerky
Deep kisses and soiled sheets

I Know You Here (day 510)

Don’t pull on my leg man
With your hallowed out guitar
Lonely voice searching in the distance
Grasping at things that make
Tears roll off of lovers eyes

Don’t paint with that color
It pulls down the clouds closer
And fills up this glass with toxic
Veins of remorseful vengeance
Gritting teeth and small snarls

I know you when your standing naked
Loose fitting clothes beside you
No glitter, no leather
Just you and soft voices and delicate touches
Eyes closed now, I know you here

Pull Yourself Together, Man (day 509)

Pulled apart by the systematic changes dropping down upon my tattered shoes that I’ve left long ago at a doorstep, never to return to. But oh, so lonely the walks have begun to become without the trendy flash flickering it’s way through the eyes of all the girls that dress in fur coats and hot sunglasses. Don’t destroy the value lines hidden beneath the coating of champion sauce. Don’t wash off that layer of adolescent desire like a grimy layer of sweat… It’s hard work!. I’ll be happy taking the easy road from here on out without the sanded streets killing my rust, man.

Take leave. Take the bust game and bat that sand bag into the earth’s green green grass. Take the short stick and walk with a wobble. Leave the bag of empty tricks alone and forget your wineskin on the counter in a house you’ll never return to.

Foreign music cursing through my veins alone on this park bench. The night that knows my name whistles through the trees with high contrast and annoying light flirts. But the howling wind lets my hair play an un-titled orchestra with pipes that haven’t yet been replaced for the newer, electric type. Oh, you thought we’d be upgrading did you?

Long lists of grocery bills folded into uncanny piles of forgotten trash leaving customary hand-swipes along the cheap bedroom furniture that just feels like it’s wrong. These same receipts that bought me happiness and bought me bitterness and bought me bills that make my pants heavy in the crotch with depression and soaking rage against this onslaught of commercial advertisements bombarding my sensories like a blossoming orgasm that’s been building for the past 5 months.

Greed seeping in like a like button on a risque photo with blurred out nipples. Danger alerts the drug addicts that wait along the edge of the street hoping for new hits but fearing the police that roam around the corners of the danger district. Hookers down the alleys pissing in paper bags and smiling with missing tooth grins, black eyes, and a faces that’ve been turned into a potato bags. Long sacks and cold nights and wet hair and shaggy beards and pants hovering around ankles with flaps of skin showing from places nobody wanted to see today.

When did you last shower?

Southern States (day 508)

All too drearily I drag my heels across the torn leaves turning wooden colors
A light evenings sprinkling has left that wooooooshhhhh feeling in the air
Smells trying it’s best to pick my head up
But the wind is winning that battle as it charges through my vein
I’m thinking about the things I gotta do
Getting a sudden understanding that it’s been done before
I’m not walking original streets anymore
I’m a two bit pony at the stallion races
Diners and hip fashions line these streets with eager faces laughing out loud
It’s an optimistic buzz that I’ve missed sailing
It’s the flight south and I’ve been caught chilling

Then, out of the corner of my eye, I see an oasis
A spot in the middle of this barren land that’s calling my name loud
Like the 4th of July in the Southern states: IT’S SCREAMING
So I check myself and take a tug on my cuffs
I know this is going to take a while

Dull Weather (day 507)

Water drips lazily from this 20th avenue bungalow
Big windows to watch the construction going on across the street
I wonder what ethnicity the family will be
The workers are Indian
I wonder why they choose to put such a bland front
Onto their house
They spent so much money on the house, clearly
Then they barf

In the mirror an orchid droops from it’s fully bloomed weight
Gifted from an angel on the birth of flight
Coil of heavy duty wire rests restlessly upon the couch
bringing husband and wife about a foot from each other
But they’re not sad, they’re free to explore
Attached at the hip
Making endless impressions upon the fabric they rest

A guitar lonely and mute awaits its rehabilitation
Strung and strum and actively attached
Waiting it will
As music mystically pours out one tiny little speaker
Tea gets cold being ignored and fully saturated
In a tall mug that’s too tall to finish
On an old Ikea working desk with wheels
Light wood and dull gray faux metal tubes

Work begins at last
Diamonds cut deep