Don’t Walk: Run (day 875)

Deceive me without eyes beyond clicks of ancient truths that flow like feathers around the citadel, dancing nimbly about while systems shriek in glory-warrior-cries echoing through the midnight sky.

I will not be plundered, wallowed into sober thoughts while brightly colored patrons and ladies of shallow rooms get lost in their own smirking madness that filters ancient wisdom, solid grains of smoke filtering down silk sheets mesmerizing wild charletons with holy charms and glittered dancing.

Trees that flower madness can only hold back repeating chants that break shrouding silence echoing through walls plied thick with rice paper. Concubines shuttling in asynchronous chaos holding lanterns and ringlets and long slender blades through their hair pretending each step means a little more than the last.

How could I stop when I, half naked in the moonlight grasping at smouldering clouds passing through open spaces in the starlit sky. I curled up my toes and dipped my hips while pushing against the tops of my mouth. I’ll elope with whoever I please if it’s all the rage in Little Japan Town. Circling around the erect landscape staring back at me like some Hamilton at the top of the mountain.

Get back to business before light comes up over the left side of the highway. I’m on my way out and this ain’t lookin too happy with all my flowers wilting in darkness’ hour. Cry, with unbounded jubilee, cry those beautiful eyes till their bottom-of-the-shoe-black. Cry until neighbourhood dogs bark along to sorrow and malaise because they bloody well can, they can rip their lungs out and feed them down their throats while licking their lips and begging for more.

Don’t walk: run. Run until running speeds up to faster running and sprinting begins to bleed and basterds start to bleed and whispers start to bleed and candles begin to bleed and pencils begin to bleed and bleeding begins to bleed and all the screaming children yell at the top of their lungs and sit there and wallow in sorry they haven’t even begun to understand because THEY JUST AREN’T OLD ENOUGH. THEY AREN’T OLD ENOUGH. THEY AREN’T OLD ENOUGH. THEY AREN’T OLD ENOUGH.

I’m just not happy enough.

Rumbling (day 870)

Just cant sit here right now
Enthusiasm building up inside
A crime that ain’t yet committed
Sin purely built up on guilt
I ain’t been off the good track
Just living a life n’its demands
Hadn’t been here too long now
Didn’t plan on going anytime soon
Lasted a lifetime of Dogness
Becoming a Lion is zen
Mention a man and his liberties
Stuff a man up with sin
Feet are beginning to rumble
And all rumbling getting let loose

Crimson Shakes (day 864)

Waking with the burden on my back
Crawling the narrow channels of my neck
Pain so deep it speaks off the walls
And drips into my uncomfortable cocoon
I’ve disturbedly rolled out flat
Fire engine red blares in and out
Of conscious moments of reality
This is a space between spaces
No quarter for heavy thoughts
Too where light falls upon closed eyes
That slips back into crimson shakes

Crippling Romance With Stars (day 856)

I can see the stars when I close my eyes
Time flickers back to a time in space
Where long grass tickled cold toes and exposed shins
Walking lackadaisically over uneven ground
Arm in arm, enjoying the moment fully
Fuzzy groups of dancing nymphs
Flirting with mavens of the night
Desire spreading thick
Anticipating cool morning fog
Loud vibrations floating through nights air..

I can smell the essence there that night
Palpable reckoning, subtle beckoning
Tentative but raw passion driving

It wasn’t infused delusion crippling my senses
It was more romantic than that

Recollections and Misunderstandings (day 852)

I’ve heard those thoughts waft around before
Not likely reflecting untampered
Recollections filter absent minded memories
Speaking no evil for I hear no evil

And gods of the dance hall tighten their platinum toe straps
Lifting on the One-Two-Three avenue sidewalk

Until I misunderstand requesting minds
I say to my lovers: “I’m all man, I’m all man.”
Then in Hol-e-wood I’m left cement stiff
I’m left because I’m all that’s left

Cursing Vicariously (day 850)

Unspent truths cursing vicariously
Through unconditioned thought experiments
Spent in upward, vigorous motions
Passing through injected morphisms
Like seasonal growth in natures garden

Acting on un-mended realisms
Lost on battle grounds, littered and forgotten
Aside furious warhorses
Foaming with fever generously applied by spurs
Acting on behalf of triumph

Mounted on the back of the Phoenixes wings
Rebirth, regrowth, replenishing vigor
Re-soiling the fields Kings died upon
With fresh blood, fresh sacrifice
Fresh King Nothings dancing with death

Recoiling in a moments thought
Flickering through a pale moonlit window
A firmer grasp, a clutching expression
A last gasp from the old warhorse put to rest
Reaching the heavens upon slaughters deathbed

Nude Study

Vengeance (day 848)

What’s left is desire curving up and down
Raising vengeance on soiled ground
Pushing upwards against tippy-toes
Leaving questions marks as far as one throws

Thumbs make the trip in another womans clothes
Carefully calculating unending curls; silently she goes
Lips so daringly inviting, posed in a mock snarl
Spreading infectiously around an exposed eye; caught, ensnarl

And here, where blush in subtle tones enchants, nay, flutters a heart into flight
Digging down deep to indulge in a bite
These tones accentuate criss-crossing lines
Making their way in and out of my mind

Exposed breasts splayed out from a white button up shirt
There too plays a belly button housing a tiny orb of flirt
And lyrics written cross her left rib cage
Time has stopped here. Time has stopped and forgotten all age

Packed away misunderstanding and coffee breaks
Shackling the lonesome cowboy with unending shakes
While pushing up sleeves on another silver lining
Another smooth caress of subtle defining

Another asymmetrical button bridling the fire
Of an angel floating about on tips of desire
Sending all exposed reeling from an unconscious slip
That puts reason behind an eager crack of the whip

Emotional Eyes (day 846)

Shifting deep within
Subtle contradiction between then and now
Tugging at my sleeve
Asking to align settings

Fresh; fancy free
Walks beside me, whispering in my ear
Nuzzling my lobes like a lost lover
Encouraging my engagement, my desires

On a whole other level
Desire meets dreaming
Mystery walks on into horizons
Free of all maps forced to lines

Divinity lowers its lotus petal
A launching pad towards the source
Talking with emotional eyes
Love filled with pure energy