PATRIOT

What about my design?

What about my rhyme?

What about discovering my thoughts in time?

What about pushing the flow towards the climb

Axe we grind

Release we find

When we can keep singing

Sublime songs that chime evenly

Colors of rust and blues.

I know there’s no few clues to use

To find the new news living inside

This world of my mind.

Trust my shoes

To grind to the groove—

Lines that approve

A forward motion

A spoken potion to heal

One that feels broken and blind.

I can learn to hear

What words my days should say

Instead of continuing to drive them away

Towards silence and the pain

Of never praying

But always delaying

What is meant to be declared.

Paying fees to wander

Alone and unshared.

So what about my designs?

What about these rhymes?

Have I discovered my thoughts this time?

Was I pushed by flow to the climb

With an axe to grind?

Release to find what we can keep singing—

Sublime songs that chime evenly

Colors of rust and blues.

OF POETRY

That quality poetry I’ll never make

I do not love all those who baked

Great cakes of words

And punctuations.

I know my fluctuations

They must grate

On nerves who know

The songs of

Blake and Bronte.

In my brain I feel the grunt

As you stumble and you hunt

For a way to read these words

That stung me.

Do you feel that great abyss

A brain missing the sacred kiss

Of the muse who knows

The that and this

Of Poetry?

ANGER THE MARTYR

Anyone could do what I do

You read this and it’s like you chew

On Mountain Dew

From April 1986

Hot Pink

I am the tiger that was

Once a Sphinx

You know my song

From dreams that wicked

Your heart strings

Blee Blu Blop Blip and so on

I go

Bad Bad Bad you say

I flew

Sad Sad Sad you bayed

My crew of zombies

We had a blast

With you

We are glad to be known now

As the root in your stew

It has a bit of lamb

How sacred

I want you to

Know the ugly Beauty

That sowed

Your seeds

Made your blues bleed

Thanks to them

Thanks to me

Never forget

We suffer and we hope

So do you

It’s the least you can do

That and Boo Hoo.

EGO THE POET

Is Me—

This Poetic Gesture—

An Ego?

Or just My Brain

In motion?

Who makes this potion?

A pleasurable exercise in notions…

Is it the thrust with lotion

Of some sky god

That makes it thrive?

Or is it just a portion of free time

Celebrated by those

With the desire to seek

The rhyme in the rose

Like Rorschach

Or Bach

Or a chef with a nose

And a good sense of time?

When the words are shining like gems

I feel like I’m seeing the Thames

Where I belonged.

Take me there

Apart from these throngs

Who have never been

And don’t care to go beyond

Fences that stare

At grass that should have been let

To grow long.

NEW POETRY SHIT

Every occurrence

of a desire to

write

is an adventure

embarked

with a hope

to ignite

an engine that goes

to a place I know

i haven’t quite been

before.

It is a music of me

and I have my knee

& my neck which creates Thee

who guides

She.

My heart creates form

from She lines are born

she’s nervous and torn

the point is forlorn

it might create scorn

is this just like cheap porn?

A sheep to be shorn

Such rhyming

Just corn

For pigs who adorn

The easy

The free-Z

Pop.

MIDNIGHT EXORCISM

Who are you, visitor?

Did I welcome thee?

I felt you enter…

Did I tell you to flee?

I thought it’s just me

A passing fancy

That I might just be feeling

A little horny.

Then you giggled and wiggled

And jiggled my knee

Distracting indeed

The lightening strikes me

Invasive as weeds

And then come the bees.

Now my throat

It is closing

My heart it now skips

Is this just me yearning

For warmth

In my hips?

I feel something stirring

Prying inside

Wreaking havoc on systems and

Burning hard drives.

I wish you’d believe me

I want you to go

I really preferred feeling

That things are

Just so.

But I guess you’re a demon

And I’m just your host

In any case you’re learning

I suffer your ghost.

You haunt me because

You love making woe

You love breeding chaos

And causing a show.

Maybe the thing that is lurking

And working inside

Is a really sad person

Trying to hide

The absence of skin and the kind of pride

That keeps a soul bound

Buried and tied

To flesh that is only

Barely alive and

In agony.

Testing territory maybe you are

Sharing a body and visiting my star

Yearning to be in life what you know

Thou Aren’t

Maybe by writing to you in my Art

I’ll wake you.

Shake you I must

You demon of lust

You’re kicking up dust

Where once there was just

Someone clean

With trust in the real and the tangible.

DC APNEA

Hello to The Throat

That can’t stay open

Hello to The One

The Many?

Who speak internally

Words they don’t want to say aloud—

Cannot say aloud

And speak aloud only words they cannot hear internally

Words they cannot even Think

From their Own Brains

From their Own Souls.

The Apnea is now contagious.

Hello sickness

Hello insomnia

Hello allergies

Hello neck pain

Back pain

Chest pain

Pain.

You can’t breathe and it’s my problem

It’s our problem

Because of

The Throat

The One

The Many?

You sacrificed your inner child

To sleep

And your husband’s deep silence.

He who only spoke American before

Now speaks Chinese

And can channel

Wisdom and balance.

Hello The Throat

Who knows who you were

And who you are presently

Your light that comes in the night to give

And during the day

To take away.

Hi The Neck

The Tongue

That shuts it all down

Closes it all up

Loses power

Because you feed it none

But sloth

And gluttony

And thick hatred!

The pig nose that smells only flowers.

Hello Thief

Hello Clown

Hello Denial

Hello Fake Love

Hello The Voice masquerading

Around town in Hollywood

Stories

We now share

Along with The Apnea

I guess.

THE VOYEURS

Intruder alert

An intrusive tooth snags my attention…

I’m not sure if the demon is actually He

Or if He is actually a demon

But I do know that this spiritual body

Is malicious and a heathen.

He will never truly come to light

And prefers to stalk in the dark of night

His very core is a vortex of spite

And he’d burn Noah’s Ark all to ride his foul bike.

To spy on me must be his delight

For though I’ve dismissed him more than thrice

He insists on making me one of his mice

That’s taking what’s missing from his big life.

A good man knows what’s wrong from right—

Proper it is to leave those that alight.

Be one who sits alone pleased to write

Finally minding his own damned plight.

I KNOW YOU

You give me your teeth

You give me your skin

None of these shapes you shove me in

Will make me let your darkness in

So give up or die trying.

Transcendence

You give me your shit

You give me your piss

I know my mouth

And it doesn’t dismiss

Like yours does.

Transcendence

Who am I and who are you

It’s as simple as bleeding red, yellow, blue

I see the person that I once knew

And know that body

Loves evil to chew.

Transcendence

BED SPIRIT

You come to me and I laugh

I will not cry anymore.

I feel you pricking and hovering

Trying to instigate

That panic

That rumination about who is it entering

My body my temple my silence my solitude

That distortion of my freedom

That turned my body my identity my past my loved ones

Into your feeding tube—

My heart my mind my spirit my body

On a platter for you to eat

My cosmic identity your home

Like a blue jay taking the nest.

You made me suffer in your foreign water

Drowned me in the self

You left behind

As you adopted my skin.

I almost died

When you made me homeless.

But now

Away from you

You serve to purify me.

Your visitations are made small as

I put my mind on fire against you

Owning my power

To deny you

As I burst myself forth

Filling my bed with love

For my light for my qi for my harmony

Without the torture of

Your thieving body

Sleeping on top of mine.

I learn to vanquish this Hell

That you created inside of me.

Vampiric soul ties that weren’t ever

Meant to exist

I cut them away

Refusing your nightmares

That curse and manipulate.

Purity regained.

When I think of you now

I feel nothing except for

The greatest love I could ever feel

For myself

And my home.

Writing