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Martian men look down
Eyes glimmering bright with Sirius raysThe Cast Of Clue
All killed Mr BodyDon’t believe what they told you to
Trust in Venus, Giver of InfluenzaTrust in Cygnus
Pulling you further from meStay Away from Orion
Sirius is to bright to seeRamblings of the day
in a ‘cold water’ flatKerouac is all that
jacked up
40 degrees SOPGods draw claws
the stars clean
out the mallssignals jet black
give word–
are hackedSirius is cloudy
Noah travelled by
star boat
found
upside downI’m a sideburn hero of the snowy west
Enourmous Dangle In BetweenDrunk on wine
with friends from my past
In this cold water flatShe’s leaving soon
my baby
I’m going to miss her
fur a long time
only got a few days
’til sleep takes her over
she’s too sick to stay
my baby
died on Christmas DayR.I.P. 1990-2005
Robust eddy addicts
reach the shoreline ’till
salvation pops winter
gooseberries in
poisonous red mouths
lurking
near the covered bridge
walking across stoned darkness
steering too close to the ridge
one false step
creeps cavernousLucifer.Eternal.Aquatic.
credit card lynchings
mob sub-standards
gruesome garbled
flinching
Mars bubblegum
free bursts
eschewed insides
lower level head rests
boredom
is a beehive
of activity
Birthday boy
Oh, Birthday boy
How shall I refrain from sending
you a copywrite
mugged
again and again
Birthday boy
Oh, Birthday boy
Soul slain, lively passed
Silverback
black slacks
boots
toys in dirty snow
hovering glasses
corner store movement
tipped over
To look back
and turned to ash
salt encrusted streets
Frankincense and mir
crystal lights
and a boyfriend
on my arm
hell did you know?Howling Minds Of Hoboken West
Bleeding Hearts of a Subterranean Mess
A Mile Squared no innocence or dare
A home of drunks rich and poor
Lovers walk down the street
Dressed in fancy coats and act for show
Fags talking on porches
Sporting incandescent colored hats
I found my mind west
from where I had lost it before
The lonesome streets of Hoboken West
Walking as a bearded savior
Prophets are hard to find past 8th
Perhaps great spirits of the past
Whose hour has come too late
Dogs are monstrous beats
Flowers grow a shade darker than supposed
Hipsters walk shamefully dull
Dressed like queers without the glow
Irish Pirates landed without making history
Pirate Pollution left out on the west
Fag’s and Yuppies don’t mind
There paid the price when they took the test
Dancing and singing on the East
New stars only to fade
You’ll find me there for now
But in the end it will be the West.
year end soon
swan say swoon
so low like flow
river shiver next
gear quiver quite
nice vice grip
quib pibb soda
sorta slow down
dig don’t seldom
scene won’t waste
weary eyes with
space paste passive
pleased haste held
offered only self
sorry sing bring
in news clues
long over dues.back no flack
sorry so stack
chips dips well placed quibs
pibbs mr. mister makes more
than music tapes tossed
toaster strudel at cost
can’t quite get it right
wrong who wrote any song
disc cover same in Italy’s game
zzz’s should catch some please
pause give our football a cause
saws or will to win wish still ears
hear all two well windy city yell
yet a week away hope here today.The only thing left
not dying or dead
inside this
[clutching chest]
dreamer’s musical
merry-go-rounda little girl’s
swirling insignia
full of loose
imaginary
shiny
beaded
togethernessCaptured
by the writer’s
dried
redintellect
[glow=green,2,300]One to Three[/glow]
Everyone gives
in their own little way
try to implicate
the dull masses
to lubricate
the cogs
make the wheels move
forward
even though the brakes
are leaking
even though the dash board
is on fire
even though the motor
is heaving
coughing up heavy smoke
even though the floor
is no more
and the steering wheel
has locked itself
outside fingers and nails
even though it hails
ice-slippery streets
crashing to greet
the next stop
a sign post
still, to manage
to keep on moving[glow=navy,2,300]Sweet Talker[/glow]
Demonic shadows gloss
Five strings crossed
Closed fingerings
The epitome emptyness
Breaks incremental:
Marauder leaves presencepresence revels presents,
sorry still not christmas,
can’t make it out quite right
wrong wring wrinkles wearily.gezz wiz where’s the mean
man at the end with the sign,
see, eye told true he’s over
there, do you still believe? care?Throwin’ some gris-gris
Someone is playin’ tricks on me
My mind? Maybe.
want so much
to believe
grievous
mistakes are made
desire is skewered
time and faces move foreward
an inch
inside
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