Starstuff

What’s it gonna take for you to feel real?
Cuz we are all star stuff,
Floating together and falling apart.

The only thing special is that we’ve got heart.
If you’re unhappy you’re doing it wrong.
Just a minuscule spot in the map of our stars.

Hold it together we don’t have that long.
Just a blip in time before it’s all gone.
But your love leaves an echo across it all.

Summer Disintegrating

The fading of summer into fall,
Is accompanied by a drab color change,
Colder weather, as water films itself in
Paper thin ice, that freezes and melts
Cyclically, leaving behind barely visible
Tell tale scars of their instability.
Falling through such a crust of ice,
Can be fatal, as your body freezes
And you become incapable of motion.
There is a slowing, a grinding halt to
Summer activity, as schedules alter pace.
Squirrels gather nuts, twittering along
Steadily thinning branches, as they prepare
For the bitter chills of Winter

A Body At War

A cluster of words,
Fragments, letters,
Disintegrating quietly,
Fading into the dark night,
Like a whisper into the crowd.
Eyes widen, with a deafening
Sigh, as my fingers quake
With longing for your
Satin skin.
Parting lips struggle for the
Vocabulary to confess
An aching heart.
A stubborn intellect
Flares up, dark red,
Rioting against any
Sounds plotting escape.
This is a mind in constant contrast,
A body at war within itself.

Frenzied Faith

They stumble around with their
living, breathing contradictions,
walking, talking benedictions.
They call upon ancient “words of wisdom”,
Without a thought to call their own,
Acting as a bovine entourage of drones.
They spout that tired rhetoric, “All sinners go to hell.”
And I think if they won’t be there,
That’s where I’d prefer to dwell.
They sermonize repentance,
While condemning all their peers,
I can’t help but laugh at their moronic fears.
Zealous peons to their master,
Blundering ‘round as they proclaim,
That we should all succumb and live our lives the same.

Heretic Disobedience

Disheveled rebellion
Lies in a ghastly heap
On your unsightly floor,
The consequence for
Dissent from convention
And edicts of yore.
You’ve discounted their
Creed, and counseled
Their chaotic cognizance.
Your accolade: abasement,
And aeonian assailments,
As you became entranced.
Now abandoned you abhor
Them, for silencing the
portent of progression.
Rejoice now, my darling,
You are liberated, no longer
Subject to their oppression.

The Bastardization of Purity

Your words come down like rain,
A grammatic hurricane,
Caustic vocabulary,
Instigating rapturous paroxysms,
A cadence of undulation and oscillation,
In my once sepulchral Heart.

Enlighten me my darling, please,
What transpires next?
What vigor will remain?
What zest?
Will love dissipate with morning radiance,
And amplify the void in my Chest?

Maturity materializes meticulously,
Sultry touches mold my chaste Anatomy,
Like milkweed morphs the monarch.
Evolution consummated, blushing Beauty
Emerges, debauched by Lover’s lips,
And inveigled by Paramour.

Desire succumbs to desolation
As you desert my bed.
There’s no amount of restoration
To compensate the capacious malaise
Of your charmed masquerade
Which your inadvertence now betrays.

Strength of Conviction

Your words are indisputable,
Verging on constitutional.
Boisterous and immutable,
Quoting the base institutional.

You’ve got them falling, and flailing,
From words that you’re saying,
While you’re on your knees praying,
The congregation croons, swaying.

A hymn vocalizes.
As the throng lifts their voice
The din faithfully rises,
For they’ve made their choice.

Steadfast in commitment,
The devoted won’t stagger.
The most formidable predicament
Could not make them scatter.

You’re a breathtaking success.
Your sermonizing: inspired,
And performed with finesse,
Never supine nor tired.

(I’m proud of you Mom,
For what you’ve become.
You’re superior, solidly strong,
I should have told you all along.)

The Modern Desecration of an Ideal Society

American consciences quickly become accustomed to waste,
As youthful idealism buckles beneath the weight of Capitalism.
Innocent utopians reduced to voracious fiends by pecuniary haste.
All must lie in one camp or another, separated by the everlasting schism.
Liberal or Conservative, Left or Right, Rich or Poor, all subject to the same hate,
Incapable of bridging the invisible barrier to reconcile and unite for a cause.
Do they fathom, Earth is dying? They are competent, intelligent, yet they only desecrate.
The Government: inaudible. Only suited to deceive. They extort a myriad of feckless laws,
Inventing new ones every day, persecuting menial violations, while abhorrent criminals escape.
Pedophiles are released from overcrowded jails, leaving petrified Mother’s wide awake at night.
Their officials: practical pirates pillaging and plundering, while it’s nature that they rape.
Zoological diversity diminishes, imploring human help, but disregarded is their plight.

Self's Secrets

I beseech thee Lips, do not part,
constrict yourselves, keep shut,
lest your articulation reveal Heart.

Chest’s taciturn tenant: demure yet
resilient, hungers not for revelations
in consort with scandal and regret.

She entreats solely to withdraw,
recoiling to her quiescent desolation,
lingering there ‘til arctic emotions thaw.

Despondency will come to fade
With time’s teeming tide, a slothful
Recovery from solecisms already made.

Eyes, I implore, seal yourselves tightly,
Allay your lust for perception, relinquish
Recognition and settle into slumber slightly.

I crave liberation from listless lucidity,
Abdication from arid authenticity,
An epoch to recover from my own stupidity.

Cantology and Reflexology

Affliction,
Sweet conviction.
Insanity,
Strange anatomy.
You are the wind,
I am the feather.
Yes, you blow me away,
And then I float back,
down to earth.
And it crushes me,
this weight, this gravity,
is pushing down on me.
And I'm drowning in it,
insecurity, weakness.
Blasphemy,
Stringent alchemy.
Passion,
Elegant fashion.
I am the kindling.
You are the fire.
Yes, you burn me up.
I'm failing, flailing.
Miraculous non-existance.
Where are you God?
Where are you Jesus?

Sanitarium

“We won't talk about sad things."
She tells herself as the phone quietly rings.
When his voice answers the line goes to static.
And she begins to hear words falling out of her mouth.
Her lips are telling him what she's been holding back.
She's enveloping him in her sadness,
Her heart wrenching madness.
She knows it must be like an earthquake
Trembling through the telephone wires.
She's never wanted to hurt him.
She desperately wants him to say anything.
Anything at all to interrupt the all too familiar sound
Of her own melancholy whispers.
She's aware that she is frightening him,
But she can't stop these words from tumbling out.
And as her lips are spilling all her secrets
His lips are still as stone.

Corrupt Cogitation

Illustrious illusions disperse,
deviating and diverging, and
morphing as they multiply.
Propagandized propagation
pollutes the puerile population.
A myriad of mesmerists magnetize
the mob of moronic cretins.
The questioning are quieted
by oaths of obligation
and extravagant evasion.
Be heedful of my portent,
that is, if you can comprehend,
These “leaders”, or so
you’ve christened them,
for you will not contend.
Commerce is all they care for,
revenue, all they respect.

Sadistic Shepherd

Who shepherds the lamb to the slaughterhouse,
Gently caressing coiled strands of fur,
Fully fathoming the fate awaiting innocence,
Which easily has less might than a field mouse?

Would this same usher take the hand of a blind man,
And escort him into oncoming traffic,
Completely comprehending the impending doom?
Or is murder only acceptable when suited to dinner plans?

Inaugural Immorality

Your hands were quaking
As you brushed a few stray hairs from my face,
Betraying your anticipation,
Which rose to meet the nervous mist
Lingering above our heads,
A quiet testament to your innocence,
Acutely contrasting my impurity.

You flashed me that sideways schoolboy grin
And I forgot the treachery in what I was about to do.
I lost my wits in the charm of the gesture, and
Closing my eyes only managed to magnify my aching to begin,
As you stood before me silently shaking.
A whisper barely audible above the rambunctious background din
Escaped my anxious, trembling lips.
“Turn out the lights.”

Disadvantageous Devotion

She whispers her catechisms,
Crosses her chest,
And closes her eyes,

Strictly adhering to Catholicism
As she makes one last request,
Before she noiselessly dies,

Assaulting the attraction of Atheism
With ceaseless zest
And spirited supplications to the skies.

A true testament to conviction.
No plea escapes her lips,
As aggressors hold a gun to her head.

Even in the face of such affliction,
She conjures to mind only The Scripts,
Reciting to herself the Words which she once read.

This is no work of fiction.
To the ground she slowly slips.
Recourse refused, she lies dead.

Entangled in Error

I am petrified of movement, you are the
impetus of injury.
And I endure your lunacy, stuck here with
my feet in the sand.

We’ve been smoking far too many
Late night cigarettes.
We’ve been chasing far too many
Shots of whiskey.

Do I have to spell this out for you?
“You mean the world to me.”
I bellow into your ear with conviction, and
Still it goes unnoticed.

Well how would you hear me over
The roar of the chainsaw?
I ask just one favor, would you carve
My heart out of my chest?

My liver’s turning to liquid and I’m
Drowning in your eyes.
My devastating devotion to a
Fecund fascination.

Stuck with my
Feet in the sand,
And my
Head in the clouds.

An Elegaic Episode

This is my monologue.

Another lovesick poet, retreating forlorn to
The cavities of society, and the recesses of my mind,
Popping pills chased with whiskey and regret.

Blame it on love,
Blame it on hate.
I’ll shoulder it all with nostalgia, and shame.

Dear comrades, dear cronies,
Dear partners and chums,
Please clamp closed my coffer,
And confine my absconding sorrow.

Bemoan not my bereavement,
Live and love on.
There is paradise in this parting.

My final soliloquy, one last chance to shine,
Typically minstrel, I’ve wasted it on despair

Drab Disorientation

Infrared inflictions devastate my eyes,
As I stumble around in a daze of denial.
Where are you sweet sights such as
Green grass, red roses, and serene skies?

Never would I have predicted blindness
To be such tedious torment.
A slow spreading disease, a painful journey
From optical nerve to retina cornea and iris.

A heightening of sense accompanies the calamity
Perceptions are altered, a gentle breeze delights me,
And a sad song can strike me, as I discern a contrivance
Employing these novel faculties in my abnormity.

Abbreviate Amour

I’ll blame this on timing,
Another day and you’d have been mine.
This feeling’s a cancer, terminal, but slow.
Tell me another story, we won’t call it a lie.
These fairy tales are breaking my heart.

Emotions started climbing,
As our heart’s intertwined.
But your passion prematurely plateaued,
By the time you departed my thighs.
Our love affair over, before it could start.

Intoxicated Inflictions

As last night’s sleazy spirits slacken,
Her feeble fecund nature collapses.
Cognizance renewed, contrition catenates
The slow snapping of synapses,
Ignoring her repression.
Forced to acknowledge her distress,
She delves into her depression,
Confronting a barrage of trauma.

Stricken by newfound alertness,
Hostility henceforth emerges,
Rearing it’s carmine, beastly head
Followed by no longer tranquil urges.
Recollection and reflection, have demolished
Her once sovereign passion.
Vehemence now lay vanquished.
Her sepulcher: effrontery.