Icebergs / Civil Unrest

How many times around the sun

and still

I am

the one

still floating

for every bright 

eye

there are unrealized 

seasons in the 

sun

withering dreams where death's henchmen 

ride

and a rusting cart 

drags behind

a million bones

on broadway.

they say iceberg's dangers lies

in what's beneath

like flames underfoot

like the knife unsheathed

glimmers,

glances

glaciers

rapture

raptors

vapor.

gone.

Whores Of Babylon: Michelle Duggar

Apparently if you have a clown car for a vagina you can move enough of your followers to help repeal an ordinance to protect LGBT people - I'm speaking of course of that humanitarian(as in, she is actually recreating civilization with her uterus, one child at a time) Michelle Duggar.

The sad irony is, she is super into the 'sanctity' of life-as long as that life doesn't turn out to be a gay one, in which case it can be damned to hell for all eternity for all she cares, and don't even think of giving it equal rights-or love. Wouldn't want that, as that would be something Christ would do.

Er, Waitaminute!

Yeah, a big old fuck you to her and her whole family full of bigots and baby worshippers. They are nothing more than users and grafters from the religious community that have for years sucked off the teat of society, from their FREE 'Big' government subsidized health care to their tax right off of their entire property as a 'parsonage' since the Father ALSO magically runs their church from their house. Not just parsonage, but any and all profits they make from church work goes right past you and I and into their pockets. Many of the children are magically ALSO pastors-working for-you guessed it-the same church. Many of the other kids also work for their church or its affiliated organization. In addition they are using their fame and notoriety to advance their own fucked up biblical narrative, the Quiverfull movement. Never heard of it? Its basically "make as many babies as you can for god's divine glory" and anything that inhibits that (like gay people who don't make kids) is godless and immoral, deserving of any and all torment available, beginning with public shame. Glory!

Only the Duggars upped the stakes by getting into politics. Since they are also an independent family and legal voters, they are not forbid from becoming involved in political issues as they would be if they were recognized solely as a 'church' due to separation of church and state laws. Dad IS a career politician after all.

Fucking sick!

Calm (implicating water quantities)

You can feel a storm coming

The first faint rumblings
low frequency dips
deep bass frequently
tumbling
into the hiss

of rain
diamonds falling in formation
sky fathoms movement rushing
repetition, repeating, replication
multiplication, reproduction
implicating water quantities
     drips out pooling
as a coral sea
at once

tears of all ages
blood, snow and bile
    cooling in the muddle of puddles
so revisited
ad infinitum
pharaohs, landmarks, history and light
raindrops and race cars and robots fight
for spaceships exploding into splendors in flight

tension
in rusty unhung
windy trances relegated, commanded
    for the un-mended fences to dance
in the tendency, modestly demonstrate
corroding Swan Lake
an aperture focused
on fates

keep a ladder in your pocket
every lamp needs a socket in darkness
    Waiting for lightning to illuminate
to the unchecked
box you climb
Mountains I am,
as a sky you lay over in a starless, seamless black
like storms need a calm sky
a blank canvas
to imbue
with fury
and meaning.

For Tweed 3 Years and So Many Tears How I wish you were here...

Not a day goes by where I don't think about you

You and I, we went through so much together

You held me

while I held you

You visited my soul

when I was in darkness

and needed me

as I needed 

you.

Through the veil and the time and the ages, 

here you are again, 

with some stranger's face, 

with some stranger's grace. 

In every cat's lovely face, I see you.

(But I'll never get over you, my cranky old man)

Tweed ( 1997 - 2011)

For Tomorrow (that we would do as much as you would)

nastiness on the internet
television full of fools
double-speak on the radio
hate on the telephone
wish it all blows away
in the radioactive snow

horns honk
brakes lock
stocks fall
a repeating
state of shellshock

pretend hope of families
left behind feelings
of youth
no wonder so many
become riddled
with trifled medicine

swaths of bristled insincerity
luxury vanity insecurity
bugs in your home
and under our skin
jewels of memory
taken by pirates
buried forever in a cheap tin

blinds drawn
in the pool of chemicals
for the golden dawn
innocence strip-mined
by soulless trappers
doomed ourselves with plastic bottles
and candy wrappers

take another breath
take another deep breath
for tomorrow

Ready / Colour Of The Hour / Memories of London

elegant towns
electric towers
branches that don't reach
much farther than the sky
you're a flower
amongst thorns
red chimneys
and the sea

on this horizon
sky changing color by the hour
whiskey, navels and staples
on the window across the way
you'd explode
left alone
in the same
vampires falling in love
at sunset

and out at sea
new ghosts
and old ghosts
dance the waltz
as daybreaks
like water on the sidewalk
outside the bar
where you threw
your life away

time goes
clocks explode into soon
while I get distracted tying shoes
I'm ready
take me
all the ideas and the
and the bad breaks and the fixated dilated dilapidated eyes
yeah, take me.
a millions panels of broken glass
a thousand souls washed away
by their own pasts
I'm ready

Stairs / Mystery / Figure /Waist / Face / Dog /Helmet / Road / Love /Comfort / 42 / Laundry

"Wolfie"

Dream Made Real

From A River To A Robin (Real Reasons On A Cliff)

is there ever any rest?
the target. Does it ever stop moving?
Nothing witty to say.
I want to be here
but I also want to be a thousand miles away.
some other person.
some other place.
a night club or walking in the valley.
its insincere, really.
a new day
robbed of laughter
of its light
how do a million other people see the fade
and not stop to see the
catastrophe?

the 12 inch mix, it goes a lot longer than 7 minutes

get down
boogie oogie oogie
'til you just can't take it anymore.
up on the floor
the ceiling laughs
as it has laughed
many times before
these are the good times
you don't know
you don't recognize
you cannot the fathom
the fathoms
the layers of water
you should have drifted through
in the back seat of that Aerostar van
is it always March?
and the waters always rising
here at the edge of the troubled world
you laugh
I laugh
but the tape comes to an end
your voice and applause trailing off into the hollywood distance.

funny man
funny woman
funny how love is
funny how life is
all new state of mind
the record runs to it's 'out' groove
and time is silent save
'for the crackles that move from the end of time to the gloom

this is fantasy
this is fabulous
this is the moment before the end  of time
where you and I and all that came before
are united in the moment, the minute, the last flapping end of the 8mm reel spinning into
oblivion.

Guide

Ghosts

Waves

light and shade
buried under the weight of
dead ideas
like an iceberg's cascade
sloth-like in visions
seething in seer's sessions
pretentious unmentioned
cord stretched tight
coiling pill clenched mouth
left in perfections,
predictions, predilections
distillery and artillery pointed at the anointed one
before the blue perfumed curtain call
and BLAM.
BLAME.
FAILED.
Flailing.
nails, rakes and rugs
rails, fakes and thugs
trails, lakes and
enough drugs to stay quiet
in the underground
til the plastic flowers come
where the insects sleep
beetles rattle and worms
withdraw winding sheets
care-worn rare room culture statutes
silks sheets beaten heathens
by slow poisons
tin foil hats on
pilloried posts
in the age of jetsons
lost.
No cars fly here
no space shuttled
muzzled
fizzled
dwindling
riddled.

not awake
here
in the room
with cold spirits
laughing gestures dead dancers pirouettes
with street muscle
black eyes sparkle against diamond shoals
layers
pulled back like aristocratic diction
slack-jawed and skull softened in the morning
of the evening
of the last day
of tormented words
flung through the trap door
to freedom.
-----------


"I came to find the last star
   and it was dust."

Light And Shade In The Waning Afternoon

Blue Period (self portraits)

On Fire And Forever (dream stories)

Clouds are mist at a distance
But when you wave your hands around them
they just get wet.

no poetry lately / wrung free from indifference
no words / too busy
looking at bright red coffee machines
I see severed heads
and turmoil
a field of corn here
1000 years previously
a boy leads his horse to drink
at the edge of the magic lake
counting the cracks in the sidewalk
aimlessly I dive into the lake
its made of fire on one side
water on the other

Not in either place
 a small price to pay
watching a white van speed by
windows blacked out
with duct tape mystery

thuggish hieroglyphics
scrawled like manifesto posturing
go by as animated strips
 in an rotoscoped vision of the damned
belies the plumbing parts and old xrays
I want to throw rocks
drown the fire out
but not so much
good happening
here flapping my
invisible hands

Meow Chillin'

Placed As Some (Extravagance)

Unearthed

the most beautiful boy

asleep in the beaming

of a smiling red moon

like a butterfly

come to rest (doesn't need the love of the world)

on a still leaf (doesn't need the twists and turns)

before flying (doesn't need anything a thousandfold)

to the future (just a need a sun that burns)

A bit of my weeping wine

a bit of chatter in the 

noonday sunshine

and some filth and laughter

mad enough still for love

and some strange manner of living

to be the catcher

when you're laughing

when you fall

the punchline

on my sleeve

talks of dreams

in the morning rides

from night to day 

as Sinatra sings

let's get lost

chet is so boss

but due without the

personality

a thousand notes will help 

you see

oh my heart

does it need

some connection

satisfaction

my man in man

zooms in 

to take heed

and smoke

blooms.

Photographing Oranges In The Sun

go out now

and see the sun

and see the clouds

that played before this tune

100 days we walked around the world

a honking horn

a carpark 

and the boy you decided to be

a thousand memories

a millions songs

will they vanish

when I'm not me?

will the tape erase

my face and the songs that I sing

will there be anything

left that's good

when I am

nothing?

is that something?

more than anything

more than all the clouds in my heart

untapped ideas oranges unreeled

birds will run fallow

in their fathoms 

in the sky

witnessing eclipses

whales spray indicates time

where dreams run parallel

to flames that die down

like all things

its a replay

its a small thought

that means everything

but its something at least

today.

Elegy For Bruises And The Moon

out of the fireworks
comes disappointment
out of the fire
we all walk to the aisle
of disillusionment
the old man with the cane
that came
to shop for fruits
and dropped his bag
amongst the flowers
never again to sing
to the moon
another tail in the distance
we'd be remiss to waste
a kiss that will not bloom
a flower that will not consume
and you
broken like waves
on rocks
discounted for predatory flocks
in june
in white veils
that drape contusions
with bruises left over from a dream
a date with destiny
hammered steel,
coal black
blank reflections
in faces of the mill
made real
and hands that came
with secrets to steal
that went off the rails
when we still believed
quality, qualified then quiet
a gift forgiven, some quintessential tragedy
delivered
in an instant
the white flash
and static.