Money
Driving towards her
Driving towards me
I’m in love with her
I’m in love with myself
Why are you in peril, my love?
Haven’t I given you resources enough
To get where you need
To be free?
What cage is this that you perceive?
I gave you permission to leave
But you’re afraid to flee
From he who set she so low
On the totem pole
Calling her a troll
This woman who leads me
To light at heights
I could not know.
Let her be
Let her be me and I her
For the two of us feed
A beautiful soul
Worthy of love
And self-control.
Give her no body to scold.
It is untold how purity would act
Unsold.
Let me feed you, my love
We are safe with my Gold.
The Broken Projector
Feeding himself old films…
The ones he made of himself
Fighting a demon
Eating a demon
Metabolizing a demon
They haunt him as he feeds himself
Glory days of
intrigue and mystery
a power he had to purify his sick
body with a special spell
Old films to project on dirty walls
And clean ones
The eye taking pleasure in renewing
Blood oaths and
dressing old wounds
instigating night when it is day
delaying twilight
with cowboy duels at dawn
falling prey to uninterested vampires
He can’t take his eyes away
because they are gone
inside a black hole that ingests like he does.
Rhizome Watching
the dollar
elicits an urge
toward freedom from
mundanity
the clarity of a world
governed by a mind
as opposed to
the hopelessness of
utter chaos
that only rhymes
without sincerity
and yet it must be so
even the consciousness
of whom has the most
water boasting,
making it go,
is capable of the least
creativity towards
the just cause
of the denizens
who crave hydration
despite actions
which they sewed
they yield a pestilence
a constant drought that
oddly enough
is purely
predictable and
rational when thought out
it is the desire for control
that severs connection
to their mother’s waterfall
the thought patterns
of the thirsty
is a beat to
tap time to
relevant to
a nature
as old
as humanity is young
that clear sentience
can create sense
but cannot create
change enough
to cause the transformation
the birth of
the timeless rhyme is
like a flood of mud
that would render us all
drowned inside of
a suffocating sublime serenity
a stifling sameness of spirits
who shine transparently
as they flow
*** There is a spirit whose story is:
If someone else has won, I have lost.
*** There is a spirit whose story is:
What I think I’m doing matters as much as what I’m actually doing.
*** There is a spirit whose story is:
Everything is my fault.
Images
A silly mirror
meant for
a student of
the creator
+++
The student was first
scared always of her
shadow
but seeing darkness
was a lesson
about the night
+++
When the day came
the light of the sun
illuminated responsibility
embedded in reactions
to a fun house
+++
The movies don’t do it justice
this house —
she is just the play of a prism
and like a cat antagonized by a mouse
the student is to harness a nature
+++
To listen or to ignore is
not the point
+++
I am not blind…
it’s just that
synchronicity
is part fiction and part fact
and nothing more
.
Sunday
The sphinx riddled.
Sphere didn’t idle, it bloomed.
Now doom is upon a womb
That is but a plume of smoke.
Plunge into a water.
Poke about in the sound.
Haunted fluid around
She who is bound for home.
The dome around a flower,
Nothing is sour about
The power of this,
Knowing that the fix is here.
Steer in the direction of
A perfection, management
Of savage, arrogant, negligent, means.
The end was a fiend and now he’s cleared.
Fist unclenched in a silence.
The bliss of release
From the violent urge
To twist a doorknob.
Flow and lob a softball.
Crawl into the maw of the lamb.
Cram some breath,
Slabs are bereft and ready to expand.
Steady and true,
The blue on my wrist
Serves reminders—
Commit to nothing
That creates blinders to its cause.
The laws of nature…
Let’s feature her in the
Missing spots.
Make a lot of mess
To decorate the beast we fought.
Partnership
There is a gentle self knowledge demanding to exist silently.
This perfection that is your body and mine—
We fought to make it exist.
This place where we found that which is inane and non-toxic
And chose to love each other and let us persist
In space.
A resting place of mutual respect,
Our broken egos bound in tape,
Reactions that are grounded in bedrock,
Where we dance like we mean it,
At the earth’s behest,
Bound by blood and obligation,
Let it take.