There was
apon a once time
a widow of some unreal crime
who sat upon my shoulder
who sat
and whispered make-believe
into my day to day
She told me
my prince charming
with his
disarming cynicism
was the creation
of my death-wish
(wish I could make her understand
what man could not be replaced
by a razor blade
or a hand grenade)
Tasted the touch of his heat
play-dough play
no longer play
when it forms the fate
of all desire
if dreams were real
I would have raped his soul
to shed some light
on my misguided quest
for something to still
this quivering numbness
I only beg to hold the hand
that pulls away
knows the mea
this "thing"
they call insanity
the beast,the watchdog
the guardian of my past and future
which I daily walked or dragged
(when it wasn't dragging me)
silver chain between us
sometimes,slack with fatigue,more often
taut with strong desires
and always my commands
"behave,roll-over,don't piss on the fucking rug"
such an animal
could hardly be repremanded,if
on ocassion,it's boredom turned to rage
and it leapt for my throat(or wrists)
first as ra
she is pacing a distant shore
waves lick her sandy feet
sea urges her into it's chilled embrace
with dreams of meramaids and eternal rest
another ocean but the same salty taste
tracks down her downy cheek
lapped up by tongue and memory
now waves stroke playfully at her knees
as acrid sea wind sings songs of peace
she tucks stray hairs behind an ear
cocks her head to better hear
promise of seaweed arms
that cling with lust but mean no harm
the sea holds tight about her waist
tugs her gently,without haste
sandy floor sucks on her toes
begs her not go to arms unknown
she sways between apposing forces
lacks the energy to make su
she cuts her flesh to find her soul
asking why a diamond is worth more then coal
Flesh and blood must surely bore
a lonely child becomes a hoar
she asked if he even cared
but after all,he only stared
and time drips,drips,drips
the drops obscure
the yesterdays that never were
the glance of chance
that did not occur
how hard would it be
to bundle up this imagery
and in hand,in tow
tied with a clever bow
deliver me...say,say,say
"why did you never ask
that I might have pushed away
that I might have turned aside
the advancing of the tide"
For I have swallowed security
as one who turns the dungeons key
(yet,you remain a part
It's not as if I hadn't tried explain
what "vexed" my soul
was it the pain or the numbness
mixing semen and tears
welt,welt
the blood filled my eyes
drinking your lies
to escape my fears
how easily
lost to this strangling insanity
how soon disillusioned
by the worlds inhumanity
slash self,to not slash them
(guilt refrained)
tore out my throat
yet, the strangling remained
Entwined the maggots in my hair
dance,earth dance
father,what fun would dancing be
with no soil beneath my jagged nails
Christ,you wear your nails
as jewels in your hands and feet
I wear mine above fingertips
and carve earthly demands
and holy Christ
Break the tie that binds the wound
tare away illusion's scarf
about my neck
sufficate,but
dread,dread,dread
I was still not dead
I bow and kiss the phantoms feet
some curse a man who dares to eat
I gaze,
the way he moves,the why
above my hand,beneath my thighs
ash not to ash
Phoenix takes flight
his passion swallows whole,the night
more than can be said
for those
who rest their head apon my thigh
hear the Styx flow smoothly by
Squat when there is no chair by alianoraspie, literature
Literature
Squat when there is no chair
Squatting in a bare room
smelling squatter feces
I know that I am still human
but feel like another species
my mind is always racing
like a clanging cargo train
darkness pressing down on me
I feel I'll go insane
I finally find my match's
but the candle's burned to low
it's let me see,that I'm alone
but this,I already know
squatting not a "symbol"
it's my fucked reality
another night out of the cold
but no where to really pee
there' donuts in the corner
I'm not to sure how old
I could dumpster-dive SA
but it's to brutally cold
so I wait for sound of foot-steps
of the squatters or the pigs
rolling up another smoke
almost
the father,son and holy ghost
I love to suck the sacred host
on bended knee,in blasphemy
I raise my lips to the holy three
if not done nightly,I feel hollow
my father taught me to always swallow
"it doesn't'' count if you spit it out"
my father used to nightly shout
Sometimes,I'd gag,the bile would rise
depends on the load,the taste and size
I learned to swallow with delight
now I teach my son at night
(if my putrid soul I sell
I'll suck the holy ghost in hell)
"The cycle of incest must be broken"
so called,words of wisdom,spoken
but it will not end with me
I love my darling family
I was taught the Golden Ru
You notice how she takes the time
to rouge her lips with Palintine
the ruby shade reflects her core
the trappings of a pure bred hoar
she stretches with a cat like grace
always crawling,place to place
she crawls in-part to avoid sound
she crawls for fear of falling down
you see her flesh,through black lace dress
no longer young,she will confess
a sordid taste for younger flesh
(in other words,her life's a mess)
the only job she likes is blow
indulging nightly on baked "Spode Crow"
the seeds she sucks will never grow
she lets no disappointment show
she ponders this,as he grows flaccid
nothing grows in stomach acid
she is just
He hooks with Hate
she takes the bait
He sneers or smirks
she stammers
was it his subdued indifference
that threw her to the floor
and like all the others
had her crawling back for more
he was the tantric tiger
called,Thi Chi Godzilla
moving from Lotus to Crane,
a village was decimated
(they love the grace of his movements,
it was his feet they hated)
things are not as simple as they seem
only as simple as a derelicts' dreams
the brain makes the seams
that join or divide
the heart can contain
what the head can't abide
You were the coffee in my cream,
you sustain but but also stain
you are the insanity in my sane
the man in my remain
You are the space
in a clay pot that holds
the stories of us
that will go untold
a hatful of words
mantra unformed
static electricity
creating the storm
You are the bas
I chant to you
rave and rant,at you
You,who sits like Buddhas' ghost
I spread you like butter
on my mourning toast
Your absence is filled
by pillows in my bed
(you tried to avert your eyes,
from the snakes upon my head)
I pick the ragged edges
of my scabs
(all I have left,of the times
you rubbed me raw)
In my dreams,
I sit as a crow
upon your thigh
neighbors are kept awake
by the sound of my caws/cause
I threw up
I threw you up
(well,I tired)
but you stuck
like a bone,in my throat
(I keep cawing,coughing,cawing)
I kept you in a coffin
under my bed
I hung you on a cross
in my head
I shouted you down/shout you down
Frantic drunk cries
incubate a thousand bitter shadows
manipulate my will
and leave like diamond light
Her tongue
cool fast water
pounding time still
(most easily felt urges
boil over in a moment)
sweet spray of storm,
evaporates in moans
blue green sea mist blows
his sweat smell,after you play
(Life after you
was none of this)
When gorgious goddess winter
drools smooth white music
bare-breast,like moon petal,milk dress
singing love away
sad forest,crushed by her thighs
I sit
like a shadow,
near him
he stares above me
I cook raw meat to tan
he watches the smear of TV
(am I ugly,do I have a weak will)
He lives behind an iron mask
my need,
is to lick it to rust
Every cycle,makes way for the caress
of his steel scycle
the circle is broken
the seasons are to fickle
His hallow sockets
meet my curious stare
Did I hear him whisper,"if you dare"
or was it,"I care,I care"
It's not for fashion or lack of passion
that he commands
not envy of their beauty
nor civic duty
that makes me consider his demand,
it is because...
I am the funnel,that by it's nature,can not be filled
I will not return to the man of pills and big bills
I am the funnel,whose own emptiness has over-flowed
I will not return to those sterile walls
nor pace their well worn roads
The patients are walking in circles
trying to escape the same horrid creatures
with their distorted features
that all the world sees
but are afraid to mention
The "sane",lock them in rusty hinged trunks in their attics
running down the attic stairs in panic-eyes frantic
The same hypocrits,who scoff at "native voodoo tricks"
find comfort, in a man, bleeding on a crusifix
Some spend a life time of tears and regrets
building walls of klennex bricks
The patients,foolish children
hide the creatures deep within us
all to often,even letting them befriend us
Hypocondriacs,nemphomiacs,fire mesmorized pyromaniacs
Are we so different,are
how to capture the Howl that heals
that's what Dylan tapped
multiplying loaves and fishs
that was Dylan's rap
wandering dusty roads of history
he redrew forgotten maps
he could freeze them cold with a Mona Lisa smile
the glint and spark of his bladed eye,
that cuts through your hide,(as he hides)
they did not see the slight of hand
so enraptured with a prophets cry
he rode the Zen that dwelled within
words spewed forth as bubbling magma
freed from the con-fines of convention
knew,he did,the pulpit well
to capture heaven/ridicule hell
he escaped the trap of dogma
invent he did, a self of sorts,looking for a hook
he stud
the father,son and holy ghost
I love to suck the sacred host
on bended knee,in blasphemy
I raise my lips to the holy three
if not done nightly,I feel hollow
my father taught me to always swallow
"it doesn't'' count if you spit it out"
my father used to nightly shout
Sometimes,I'd gag,the bile would rise
depends on the load,the taste and size
I learned to swallow with delight
now I teach my son at night
(if my putrid soul I sell
I'll suck the holy ghost in hell)
"The cycle of incest must be broken"
so called,words of wisdom,spoken
but it will not end with me
I love my darling family
I was taught the Golden Ru