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

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

 

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

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. 

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.

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

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

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.

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.

Day 87 (Internal Dialogue with my Boehner)

And they spoke silently to live ear and it's Medusa hair

a gentle whisper falling hard on soft skin

win win win

 

One word on loop through the listless leaves

the melted sand futures of your drinking glass

pressed to shivering lips

the gasp and gargle

to quench the unquenchable

 

Dry throat and soft palette

High hopes and low self esteem

 

You tuck your tail between thin legs

inhale and inflate calm chest

Day 86 (I Love you like Heidi Montag loves herself)

lick fast the soft wounds

nails pounded by false god and his basket of non-believers

pain stricken

blood flaked from dry skin while heart mends its broken left ventricle

tweeting with accurate hash tags

and pin point precision a compelling story

unfolding events

it is the fast gone age of soon to be relics

compiled and brought to the attention of children’s soon pregnant children

but here the thumping and pulse driven sound of a once heaving chest would encourage the soon sleeping dog to finally lie by the snap and crackle of flames long tongue and there in the warm glow we find the update of status which so many lost friends will like to perpetuate our own myth and become the atlas to our world of self.

Day 85 (Obama pullsout of Afghanistan while Weiner slides in)

Can you slip past soft hide to cut quick past life’s long hunger?

Could you take that which does not feel and steal the glass eye?

 This was the first told last stand.

The pan fried what once was meets what will be this fake faux fur neck wrap slid along the cold nape down and out and down again this was the fast drop to new lands remembered through minds sick tale of thoughts fail the tongue in cheek that drained the cavity stricken teeth this was the face that was one side of two and how the words repeat “I Love You” “I Love You” but it has no meaning in between the gnash and crack of god’s gold teeth picked clean by limp hand hanging from firm wrist this listless lost cringe and tickle the soft cheek and cold hair.

Hard beat on ear’s drum the pounding ho hum of time’s forgotten stand still lip quiver while words ring liberty’s bell “I Love You” “I Love you” and still no meaning can be had and no meat will stick to bone only gristle’s thick texture will meet with cheek for the over chew in a bleak statement of faith to the eager flock herded by a hound of unusual birth the first of a new kind sleek fur and stomach staple this was the genetic leap forward packaged and wrapped in bubble for slow  pop and joy.

And we are all left to wonder: where were you when the ball dropped and crushed the fine soul of year’s end?

Day 84 (McCain Sets Mexicans On Fire)

kissing the other cheek that was turned that should be mine you caress the small of her back as she backs into you where she once backed away just like I backed away from you after you backed away from her charming smile turned upside down as she goes down on you though you wouldn't let her before just like you wouldn't let me let you go down on me even though I would but you couldn't do it to me because you couldn't do it to her soft curves aligning to your hands maligning my memory by assigning it positive attributes when all I remember are negatives turning black to white and grey to gray grainy images suddenly turned sinister sister shell shocked stopped locked and popped my joints out loud displaying masculine aggression on my feminine frame that supports more fat than muscle than hers but still you say we look alike and that's why you looked at me like that not because of anything I did but because you saw her in me and now you're in her gazing at her eyes from the inside out looking out at me looking at her looking at you and still you're blind 

Day 83 (Bachman's Chilling Reminder to shake and stir)

Thoughts wrapped slow around your fast grown tree this was the drunk drive to know where your children are when 10 strikes past the hand that feeds.

What lives probably bleeds on a bi monthly cycle life blood life blood poured slow over quick lips this is the sinners trip to half way homes and forgotten lawns strewn with future's lost garden gnome.

Love love but not without the glove wrapped steady on quivering flesh this was the fast test on alcohols breathe we wait hate and find fate in the inevitable cover to our tale's wag and flop.

Day 82 (Things Newt Told Me At DA CLUB)

Coke cracked cane of the old mans black friday walking diaper of forgotten meals down sundays fevered hallway of patron saint heels and moralities tooth kicked in soles.

Day 81 (Sarah Palin Tells the Story Of Charles Sumner)

Cut my fist on your glass jaw to prove their is gray within the law you came and you saw and the floor you conquered no chance to save the last dance we left holding hands and soon holding hair I was here and you were there cold stare and pool forming just below where we had met I could tell you I was upset and I could express regret but truth is I was hand on tit and hormones made it easy to forget so on and on my ego flared and my chest inflated this was the ill fated inevitable meeting that started when you commented on my seating. 

 

Your blank eyed stare caught no eye while your slow chest will lie sinking in your own slow feeling there is no flash to times past just the slow fade from conscience mind.

Day 80 (Driving Desire)

Lust after the light within the tunnel foreclosure on route 64, it's the faith in your sinking vessel in the dry dock of my intention that I find the face of security turning so slowly away from the object of its desire, to be one without separating dreams and necessity, seek the stone you threw at the one who sinned, place the straw to break the back of the camel who waits for you.

Day 79 (Newt on Weiner, Palin watches in Horror)

Through the fog and mist your turn and twist has shaken loose words superseding morals
Comments on mental proximity but the love between you and me was found
On the way from your hips to your backside
Smooth slide and hard ride
The dirty mind and turned tide power play of this relationship
Between you and me
Dirty despicable
Hated you for what its worth
And through the anger and fear I grew to need you
Haunted and taunted by the slick skin this was no win win but night in and night out
I laid about your feet
Hoping and longing
For a bit of acknowledgment but the basement
Was where I stayed until you needed the self confidence only I could bring
The happiness in slavery that made you you and me
Just a little bit less than me
A math equation for the path were here blazing
Answered by the never ending decimal behind the point
Just like pi  

Day 78 (Why Gingrich Lost His Aides)

One sip for  the sweet slip into your forgiving arms the love that farms through plows in turned up soil our skins will oil while emotions boil fizz and fascinate the eye of our simple mind this was then and I was blind so yellow can carry me home to the new embrace and blank face.

Day 77 (Visiting The Garden Of Fears)

Rich textures gripped beneath hardened calluses of the potato palm and the cabbage loin, cloth to cover the forbidden fruit of our loom with which we weave a story book ending to make the children smile during a time when adults bereave amongst the smelling salts and tasty peppers of a garden overgrown wrought with the desired weeds placed by a philistine in philosopher's robes woven from a wolf in sheep's clothes first-born pup, here lies an end to a beginning that never began.