7.25.2011

Day 96 (Am I writing about you or the alcohol we shared?)

You crawled into my door again
A soft dance through some thin vail
Your nothingness flicking
Licking me like flames
From some long forgotten fire
But I've been burned before
And I have done the burning
You loved the write and wrong
Of our fast pen and their words
This memory lives just like a past life
Somewhere was forgotten the strife
Skin torn and the bloody knife
The violence of our love and passion
The torture of our expectations
Yet you were so sweet to me
Secular in our divinity

7.20.2011

Day 95 (Things That Happen When The Tea Party Balances A Budget)


The slash
And
Cut
Through solid tendon
Ripping what once tore swift Achilles from his soft padded leather footing
 
Trampled
By quick hoof
Pounding
After quick hoof
 
And what point did your time make? Was it dug in sand slowly washed clean by the tides move in and out? 
And was it you who chose to forgo the death that came so naturally to your past hand? 
 
Dutifully did you tie your hands clasped behind small back in search of the second life unguarunteed?
And when you pass will some say you never danced pale in moon lit evening? 
 
A life consumed
Follow that which cannot be define
Broken hand that you slammed fist into the coin collection
Gilded brass plate passed and never consumed
 
Save for the savior
Leader of the wool eyed flock
Lost in the mythology
Captivated by a mortality so few come to see
 
And there you sat
Growing fat 
Gnashing teeth in search of meaning
 

7.19.2011

Day 94 (Breaking News Murdoch Ate Baby Dressed As Dingo In 1982)

Have you ever sliced thin that which life has given no name?
                                       Brought forth the running red haunted by its past blue? 
 
And is it coincidence that the cross and knife bare similar shape? 
       The simple difference featured in the clipped blunt end, but are both not used to kill?  
 
Has history not heard the shrill screams
                                                         Echo 
As the thin slice splits rib cage exposing the churning biological gears
                            Pounding away at all you consumed 
 
They tell me you paid the piper
                                      For the sweet song and dance he played while tapping soft
 
Each
       and
            Every
                   Nail
 
Into your new oaken box
                              A stylish variety
                                                   Built by the hands you would never shake
 
Lost in the interpretation of a laundry list
                                                      Priorities assembled
 
Whilst riding the backs of shaven gorillas 
                                                
But you were to lost in the touch
                                       Screen tangled information
 
Readily available to slit finger
                                  Gushing a river
 
We set sail
            Feasting on the bodies of nymphs

7.12.2011

Day 93 (While Rupert Murdoch's Empire Crumbled I Shaved My Face)

Protruding features
                           Clipped soft by time scented shears
     Wool from eye
                           Harsh light
                                         Force closed
                  Still stare squint
                                         Denying that which can be proven
          When so many things
                                         Cum wrapped in plastic
                      Nervous tick
                                          and
                                               Twitch
                                           and
                                                Twitch
                                           and
                                                Twitch
                                                         Of deaf ear
                                          Pillow soft
                                                         And unheard landing
                         Razor kisses soft skin
                                                         Seeping a soft trickle of liquids red life
                                  Cascading down
                                                          Porous features
                                                                                 Seeking
                                                   Cotton of daily wear 
                                                                                 Finding new home
                                                In blue dye number 47
Which is the specific combination
                                                  Of one natural ingredient
                                             and
                                                  It's three synthetic friends
                    Blended and diffused
H and it's two Os 
                         
While eye twitches
                            Clever
                                      Against solid reflection 
                        Inspecting
                                      Placing
                                               Each
                                                      and
                                              Every
                                                       Follicle to a precise location
                Preparing for the same day
                                                         after
                                                               day
                                                                     after
                                                                           day
                                                                                after
                                                                                      day
                                                         This is the new beige. 

7.08.2011

Day 92 (The Debt Ceiling is Leaking)

Little bit stuck,
Mud hole,
Dirt road,
Black truck,
Long faced,
Lost dog,
Backseat,
Six shot,
 
Aluminum can,
Last stand,
Firing squad,
Ill fated,
Laugh abated,
Iron skillet,
Rather grill it,
 
Ride a horse,
Tote a gat,
Full fledged,
Half eaten gnat,
Gristle's only fat,
 
Tumble the weed,
Never rolled,
Smoked,
Seldom seen,
Past relic,
What could be?
 
Sun burns,
Blank back,
Hands harden,
Tool they clutch,
 
Child's double Dutch,
Half German,
All mutt,
Call the pound.

7.07.2011

Day 91 (The Ballad of Casey Anthony)

Their was a soft twinkle in hazel eyE
BeckoninG
The leap of faith for taught leg fiberS
Broken fibiaS
CrusheD
By societal monkeY
Clamoring on the back of maN
You claim AtlaS
But need held hanD
FirM
In palms last grasP
Nails cracked and brittlE
Flake and falL
To feed the lower rungs on some Darwinian laddeR 
Climbed one fated steP
After fated steP
Expand the mind to narrow past vieW
 
AskeW
AskeW
 
Anyone who claims the trutH
Is short on knowledge and long on tootH
If only we could die short sighteD
BlinD
Simple fact of dust to dusT
Much more than the biblical phrasE
All fixated on the raise and ascenD
Some higher planE
Of existencE
But forgotten is our owN
Ex is and tencE
Closed is the fist that finds the thin throaT
To crush loud voicE
Stain palms with that unforgettable brown flakE
And crumblE
 
I had to wear my glasses so I could seE
Rain long gonE
All that's left is the same hazel twinklE
Begging and PleadinG
NeedinG
 
Justice and love lost their sight in the same bright lighT
BlinkinG
BlinkinG
Always fucking blinkinG
Stop I'm doing some thinkinG
long and hard like John HolmeS

7.06.2011

Day 90 (Rupert Murdoch goes fox hunting and fails to see any irony)

Liquid is my lust
Floating through each feeble finger of my clenched fist
Dripping to the steel forge
Tissue to scar
 
The burning
Yearning desire to wallow in your mire
But you keep distance
Prolong the chase
And without one lick I developed a taste
 
Pound soft flesh
Destroy desire
 
But simple fire licks
And wisps in visions corner
 
Taunting
Tantalizing
Driving over cliffs of madness
To pits of despair
 
Floating to the sky
On the wings of an unsaid promise
The faint feeling of something more with knowledge of nothing
 
Body's subtle whisper
Is not audible to the human ear
 
Confusion
Confusion
 
Pound soft flesh
Destroy desire
 
Sweet steel kiss me hard

7.05.2011

Day 89 (Pippa Middleton fixes America's economy)

Drenched in my certain uncertainty the blue left eye twitch would lead me face drawn empty square on square recreational activity a sand stone waist glass hips and cubic lips a lost and soon forgotten trip to here and back again pick up the pen and move the pad for this is the year of the ill gotten dad and father figure outlined in a thin pencil wind around humor's beer coaster cozy and here we find a hero of sorts sour long face experience packed in round bags beneath soft eyes just in front of the hard mind. 
Clock drawn she blinked wide and stepped forward to soft light and movie breeze short sleeved and thin torso meals next find was quick to unwind rehash and go blind this was the eternal something waiting for her to take cold hand and hold slick with fast grasp.
Chest heaves and sinks with gasp from loose lips first once and then once again to final rest in between skeletal and the living flesh and now only rest.

7.01.2011

Day 88 (Conversations had while staring into a mirror and looking at Pat Buchanan)

Mother fucker is what they called me before they took the blood test but the father in the pulpit, bitch, I have had it easily manipulated is what you call these people while you preach your own confections your an infection cancerous leach on my vascular system but I've got the razor to cut you free a simple idea loud voice and enough muscle to knock you out, but that's two for flinching no worries and no lynching I love everyone or maybe just love to hate pests in the mist and fog this mother fucking log but this was an ode to censorship and that ship sailed to far fuck cunt bitch and car I said that for a simple rhyme and here we can say time is this self reflexive clever or just a little annoying I'm toying with an idea but this malady is the simple prolific tragedy of our own existence bleak with a side of hope so you can let it float up shit's creek the boat guaranteed to leak all the time wishing I was a Siek mainly for the knife and bangle let it dangle drip and sip the eternal misfit found a fucking home.