+ Aftermath -

Beneath these horrid ceilings I hunker

By crooked tones of blackness a slave I am taken

The madness multiplies limitlessly

With the death that is each day & dusk

“We grow in numbers…”

Yes, that was the whisper ringing in my ears

“But fewer a soul within reach stand aware

Glenn [synchronized]

The constant of torment I bare

Anonymous Voice [synchronized]

The constant of torment you bare

Such merciless tones carved so murderously

So provocative yet so tyrannical

Glenn & Anonymous Voice [synchronized]

“To taste again of foreign crucifixion we shan’t;

The grief was far too great before!”

“And but of what authorization do they carry

to smite us as callously as they have?”

“In deep thirst we have been doused;

Lastingly we’ve been branded by the dualism

this troublesome hellion displays”

+ Black & Blue -

Impregnated by a serum of disruption

Towards a crippling era we have advanced

Strangers to the eye that is atrocity we are not

Rarely is the suffering worn so fine



Into a mockery our emotions have evolved

Favoring the appearance of a scab upon a toddler’s knee

A simple co-existence far from significant

As to the unfair hands of criticism we are lent



Beneath such gargantuan clouds do we tread

Though sharpened by misfortune warriors are bred

It matters not the wounds that are carried

But the shape that eventually is taken

+ America Walking -

A full year had elapsed

Since last we came to pass

Her whereabouts I possessed not a clue

Notably I took interest in the fact

That she now was working

At the venue whence first we had met

Those sandy, brown locks wavering

Accompanied by the most provocative lips America did see

Caused me to re-visualize assorted levels of elation

She was a walking religion

Yet fearfully she was in denial

Though judging by the way our eyes locked

Ultimately I sensed that still

Something was there…

+ Tourists -

Bad blood.
Yes, that's the substance
That appears to be touring amongst us
Stains of a silent vendetta
Howling against my cranium
Classically, such a rhythm dances
With a carelessly, continuous tune
Am I but an indefinite design
In this fearsome game?

+ Traffic Lights -

Discernment often resembles a fable

When translating the language composed by women

As tantalizing as these creatures may be

Various medleys of gestures so fallaciously are given

On certain occasions it appears that

One’s efforts have been green lit

When so suddenly red flags are discovered

Dancing amidst the clouds

Gradually the entire project

Grows to be eminently disheartening

Women, the puppeteers that they reflect,

Behave as if the universe

Is a vaginal duplication

Although society may deem that laughable

The results of such callousness

Quite strangely are familiar…

+ Blackberry Mascara -

An unsound disorder takes host
In a body for years I’ve loved
Memories becoming all but ghosts
Cell by cell with blackness she rusts

In each vessel of her sclera
In each fold of her fine vocals
In each tear of her mascara
The feat of a smile totaled

From a world all but brightening
Living in walls crafted by fear
Each breath, a scream of lightning
New evenings; old muscles speared

The feat of a smile totaled
Amidst an eerie, white speech
In each fold of her fine vocals
A desire for love beseeched

Anna IV

Three nights ago

I spotted the two of you chatting

In motions resembling amplified speed

Away my eyes were taken

Over such a cheerless duration

An unwanted grievance was composed

In that moment

Quite freely I collapsed

A bite of envy monopolizing my bones

As throughout this war of longing

You escape with innocence

Ignorance made love

To the space between us

Adjusted to the scenery

There I stood---

Staring---

Just staring...

Anna III

Of all things to have existed
by herself --- a black & white picture ---
classically she scattered…

Her eyes were marked with great hunger

The sweltering fierceness of sudden temptation

deepening with each passing glance

Each moment in which she would speak

Set fire to the congregation

As beneath our feet the earth crumbled

Though from the blackest corner of the room

Nestling was an appetite ever so carnal

As If We Were Weapons 3.0

In the midst of such colossal consumption
The mellow sound that was your body

Dashed by as hurriedly you sought
A proper though comfortable seat

Within three winks you had discovered
A suitable spot by I

Ooh… no lie could be composed
Concerning those fair ankles of yours

It was then when I had begun to experience
A luxury that was almost monumental

So suave and rhythmic
The way in which the edge of your breast
Brushed my skin…

Now my hands shall always wonder
How such a fine artifact would feel
If ever it were to rest within my palm…

As If We Were Weapons 2.0

Into the line swift you arrived

Skin just dazzling beneath the elegant glow

Barely five seconds had elapsed

Before you leaned into me

Closer and closer….

(Mild beads of sweat had begun to spill from my temple)

Until my phallus brushed your derriere

With less than a consonant

Taken from the ground

(Pause)

(A sharp, fathomless breath was drawn)

Could passion be the jolt

Coursing between you and I?

As If We Were Weapons

Before tonight no woman had grazed me

In quite the manner you had established

I was but a mere infant

To what causes a woman to whine

And to the certain ways that such an act

Could be executed so stealthily

Just like a loaded weapon…

Your fingers knew the exact regions

In which you could captivate

Your body knew how

To gyrate like The American Dream

With all that for years you had desired

Lying upon the cusp of a whisper…

Anna II

During the course of that fine evening

I witnessed the way in how loosely you swayed

With a care-free skip in each step

There wasn’t a damn thing that could stop you

All the amour and elation dripping

As each bead of sweat bit the dust

And with nothing in mind

Repeatedly I continued to watch you

Though my lips won’t bring me to say

That I simply adore you…

Anna

The suitable fashion in how her lips trembled

Held a power that could obliterate a man’s thoughts

However it had given birth to an alleged interest

With the taste sparkling along the surrounding pink flesh

One may possibly summarize this untimely feature

As a prelude to a shared awakening

And as the walls of her voice broke

Swooned I had become

By the sound of countless ways

In which she could craft a story

And as the words continued to pour forth

From her lovely orifice

The animation within her eyes

Continued to build

Though the ashes of her secrets

Had fallen to the ground

Weekend Love?

Has begun garnering
simply by how she adds flavor
to days of a seemingly slanted stance
Each time I attempt to speak
In a senseless funk all vowels descend
As she passes a series of
Reserved yet, callous glances
Though hidden remain their meanings
for this reason alone
in silence passionately I suffer

Clockwork

Usually, the option of social interaction
Is rarely honored amongst my list of activities
For years such strange behavior has been
Quite the cause to raise concern

Amidst the bowels of concentration, I rest
Observing the soft exchange
Of vowel upon meaningless vowel
No relations or interests composed

To identify and sympathize
with a colorful sea of strangers
May add colour to all that might
Be missing in my life

Yet, in a constant of fear I live
Running…
Just running…
Whilst striving to fathom
The clockwork of relationships

Digest

To much surprise, with great truculence I was met

Of all things I had expected our conversation

To be predictably simple



Oddly enough some personal relations

Had surfaced within the discussion

Relations of which were difficult to digest



Finances, virginity, vehicular independence and so forth

Why should such issues be the subject of immediate scrutiny?

And why should I favor opinions I detest?





Then I said to myself:



“This is the time for reinvention.”



“This is the age to make a difference.”



“This is the year to familiarize what is rare.”



And on I carried…

Mary Michael

The air was bitingly frigid that Monday afternoon
When so suddenly she appeared
Only seconds later did I spot her peering
Upon a rather questionable piece of technology

“What are you reading?” I asked
“The book of Genesis.” She responded
This caused her thoughts to detour
Into mindless babble about the controversy
Concerning proper prayer location

It was then that I studied her
In an interestingly disgusting way
Composing not much of a difference
All else shifted to the subject of radio

A somewhat plausible means of elusion
Though as she departed nothing was to be seen
But the wake of what remains unknown

Actually...

Possibilities become ironic
Where certainties do not
Fake are the grins that flicker
As tension paints the corners
Of things we never said

For each occurrence involving your face
The elements of jubilation dissolve
To that of a stranger’s shadow
Frozen, in distance we blend

Actually… possibilities become ironic
To repair what has misshapen us
And that was when the icy twig
Had snapped in two

Side Effects

Breasts are a classic pastime

Through American eyes

Sickening shapes such oafs mime

Beneath grave patchwork lies

Debut Vowels

In brighter days she sought escape
A vowel yet to take shape
Reasons faint as loveless lips
Miserly her wicked grip

Common be the traveled road
Debuted was a fate forebode
Heavy though I did not shake
In brighter days she sought escape

Code Breakers

Travel did the ever wilting

Souls as Mother Earth kept tilting

The chimes of violins sound

Like the lips of foreign ground

+ Experiments –

The art of speechlessness
Softly took shape as well the hour aged
Elapsed were the years since nose to nose
I was with such familiarity

Quietly a scope once binded with fear
Was finely broadened by a ribbon of rebellion
The invitation was to experiment
With that project the universe refers to as (+love+)
Which in turn is often mistaken with (-lust-)
Where is it that we stand?

Speaking too soon
Has always been a weakness of mine
And I’d be doing myself an injustice
If a casual taste was said to be
“+ In-development-“
For now we can give and take
These open ends drifting through the air

Panic Albums

I
(October)
Beads of sweat trickled down her temple
Shortly, this action was accompanied
By a series of rough, jagged sighs
Each beat rippling rather violently
Just lounging upon the cusp of panic

II

(January)

The clocks continued ticking
As if all was right with the world
Disgruntled, she resigned.
Sheathing each young light
From polishing panic

III

(Present)

Washed away with snow
So was the fire brick sunset
Suspense not a moment still

Passing Clouds

Shut out all colour for a moment
Concentrate to embrace its absence
Now imagine if your existence was probable
If you were simply a soundless cancer
Just coursing beneath streetlights
Until that spot of microdeath
Blackened your blood

Recall an earlier chapter of your life
Upon which page were you last livid?
Please probe this memory in depth
Hurts doesn’t it?
That’s the byproduct of animosity and fear

Retreat! Allow the psychotic nature
That is this awareness to dissolve
For it is but a passing cloud

Continuum

Darling, awake to all that your daring eyes
Have long since missed
Draw forth a silent, sharp breath
And speak of its strangely taste

“Do you taste of love?” I asked
“No.” she says
“Is a sense of fulfillment acquired?” I asked
“No.” she says

At the climax of that single syllable she froze
Her speech had begun concocting distorted patterns
Of a truculent manner

It was thought that we were to exist as a singular unit
To become one with essentials before suppressed
To evolve from the passions we attract

I then asked her
“What event might have caused such a disturbance?”
She simply responded
“God.”

A.M. Escape Art

The A.M. has happened upon us yet again
Sunlight ascending; spreading poems
Humans walking, working, speaking
In tones that illustrate such elaborate effects
Often considered a form of the art of escapism
Dreamers, thinkers, doers, poets,
Artists, ballerinas, actors, singers,
All masters of escape art
With every venue they inhabit
New shapes are concocted
Each day, each task, is a performance
Although exists not an audience
Seemingly because we escape
Opinions matters not to us
Hell, I just escaped for the moment
Would you like to escape with me too?

Now

A collection of valiant philosophies fornicate my cranium
Philosophies that mere earthlings fail to fathom
This desire to birth from such a complex asylum
A power not of the world of which you and I speak
Neither comparison nor ability can be measured
One can try but his efforts shall equate to nothingness
Man may take from it what he wants if he must
Although the return will be of a much lesser degree
Patience is but a fallacy
Now is a gift that shan’t compose contrition

On

It was there

In the pinnacle of that darkly moment

From within all sectors that comprised the universe

That years and years on I had yet to know…

Its secrets were embellished in fancy lettering

Skyjacked by great shock I was

Before the effects consumed my well being

I scrutinized the shape of which I had taken

Finding myself that fully clothed within trench coat of riddles

To neither of the questions had I obtained the answer

Only a wink of desire