Monday, October 31, 2011

I think

Who am I?
Who am I?
What is the game?
With the words said.
What's do you have there?
What are you holding so precious?
Sweet Gandalf and your secrets in the dark?
I have a dream I want to remember
it was something you're stealing
Raising up cattle for milk
to run from your mouth
in boardrooms clapping
out the side of your mouth
tongue lolling over-consumption
time for sleep.
Duh. With the bottle out
because you've had enough.
My tits are dry
and I'm beating my children
In an alcoholic rage
because it was never enough.
But I raise my arms to the sky
black wings hidden
Who am I?
(The many among the few)
In rain swept streets at midnight
through the fog,
the desert sand,
swimming under the sea,
with the help of elephants and Indians
Coming for you.


It all started with a desire to run
with the wolves
the sheep are baaing
and the rabbits are running
everything you want me to be is melting
into the rag shoes I tie on my feet
the shuffling homeless gait
the freedom in my eyes.
I'm sorry I couldn't abide
with your cogwheels turning
your sleeping black snake
and its crumbling house.
The woods are smiling
the sun calls my name
with every beam
breathes me into being.
There's revolution in the streets
screaming chaos
of butterfly wings
of gold falling into blackness
two sides of one coin
Marching feet turn the world
uniforms baying
to a bloody moon
the cat dances fully aware
smiling gathering forces
with a "i'll be by your side"
this time we
will not fail.

Friday, October 21, 2011


Sitting in Spain
the happiest time
two face to face
looking forward to a better tomorrow
feet firmly planted into today.
Life happened
those people we used to be
got swept into yesterday
when I look into your eyes
there isn't a part you haven't uncovered
leaving me exposed to the elements; the wrath of your will
having given up a will of my own
to continued unity.
No way out of the picket fence
the flowers carefully manicured lawn
The faint brush of your lips in passing
"Baby how was your day?"
It was a morning noon and night
nothing more or less
having nothing to say
turning inward
devouring myself each time
you forget.
I have some rocks in my pocket
the stream runs swift
i've left you my ghost
this silent gift.
How beautiful you were when I first held you
how deep were your eyes
the crushing softness of our embrace
the way nothing else mattered
all a memory of another time.
I prostrated all that I was
to the omnipotence of your presence
but my god has clay for feet
and iron spokes
for wheels turning
all I have are grains of sand
between my toes
the heaviness of my dress
the weight of my boots
the rocks in my pocket
a will resolute.
Slyvia what is it you want?
I want to die.