Work-is not pressure, but life in general is.
Fly in the accompaniment of a blue jacket, selective breeding-by character, by genre, by grace.  Generic genetics.
Everyone is working the pump
To suck the earth dry
Seems like it's been the same room
All your life-with big blue pieces of metal and plastic bits of nothing-is anything functional these days?
Larceny was on our minds-pretty colors-pretty ideas forming in our heads, dreams, dazes and such.
Like white paper, pure and clean, our minds were born to sex and heartbreak.  
Floating phallic tongs of equipment in this room-phallic everything on bloody Sundays and rainy day Mondays.
Everyone has come to your funeral, drinking profusely and dancing with each other.  Then all hell breaks loose.
Sex and violence fills their minds with mischief and deceit.
'let's kill the poet' they hiss and spit at me.
Take the stars and point them at our eyes-blind us with the end of our fingers- impaling and maiming
Extract our teeth-like we do in our sleepy dreams.

You're waiting for the dark
Sitting at kitchen tables
Waiting for no electricity
And you touch your chest
Being the boy girls dream about
And light the first cigarette of the hour.
There's dust in your hair
And your eyes are rimmed in red
There's a deathly pallor about your skin
And then-I walk in
Enter the conflict
Swaying in pink chiffon and a flash of skin
I have you by the hands
no more waiting for the dark, I say
I'll put you out like a light.
(i) stroke his ego and pull on his empty soul
 and down I go, on his mind.
You hear the wind blow 
And nothing more.
You feel my lips on your neck
And my breasts in your hands
All is still-all is dark
You smile-then you destroy me
I am the lovely crushed flower
In pink-suddenly in red
You've squashed my heart
Between your thumb and fore-finger 
And in the dark, you devour me whole.

We're dancing to our funeral procession
And we're fondling each other
We are dazed and we are bedazzled
We are one and none
'we' is still contained inside of a 'me'
we're sitting in our beds
and listening to the songs of our youth
and wondering where our bodies are today
the pretty ones we used to have
in brown corduroy pants and black shirts
and we wonder why we like to sleep
when all we have is forever
to be in death
we think of our wedding days
that won't come
and the children never to be born
the husbands that won't carry us
when we begin to die
we're just wasting time till then
for the final dance
the funeral procession 
and rest
and sleep 
and rotting.

The odor of old books
And the faint taste of salt
That's what he'll be to me
And soothing music
I will have him hate me
In the process of loving me
He will resent my power over him
And cherish the secret glances
I will make him suffer silently
Then comfort myself in it
I will fall off bridges or walls
For him to catch me
I will come to him
While he dreams
And wrap myself in him
He will love me-obsess over me
Go mad over me
And I will win
Make him want me so much
To make him act foolishly
I will make him kiss me
Then I will run away
I will make him try to kill me
To prove he's mad in love
I will make him say my name
Even as he sleeps with another
I will make him forget
So he tries to find a replacement
I will make him come to me
And bow down-laying his head in my hands.
I will make him love me
And touch my secret soul
And make me hurt and moan
Like I did to him so violently.
I will yield.

The ball has started
And you're standing outside
Why bother with the pleasantries
When you have the stars
And the streetlights
The ball has inhabited your head
And the party is raging
Go on in-come on in
The chain saw store
On the road
The cigarette I can't taste
I smile at this guy
I don't know yet
But I might, just might
I remember golden cigars
And crows flying over cemeteries
And kissing in the steakhouse
But I never did
You're standing in front of me
But I don't remember you
Touching me
Ha-I am a drunken bastardized shell
Maxine's house-I can't remember the way
(be sober) I feel so numb
yellow alphabets
and dark rooms
will I remember this tomorrow?
(what is bop?
Ask here
Don't sweat it.)

I churn and fall and boil away
Words in different sequences
Emotions down the drain
Instinct forces me to do this
Write upon the walls
Upon the eyes of the dead
No pennies here to hold you shut
Read into them deeply and fall away
Up with the raptures,
Your shoes were left behind
Sitting in the floor are all my problems
I seem to speak so plain
I run away from the hand and voice of reason
A wolf child in a misty wood
I am-with no food-a yoga freak ball
Mix those words-make no sense of it
We're all friends now-these lines
This paper-this fine flow of ink
I make no noise when I sleep
Shouldn't we all? While sleepers do
Dream of things true-water running around me
Inside the grasp of drowning-I look through it
The words shall be different now
Change is good-without it our souls sleep
To seldom wake-ha-stolen words
Are these-I ramble on to myself
No ends-no means to it.
They have awakened.
To bed with you.

Thin are the skins
Of a useless organ
The mind is something
That falls into this
Thin are the letters
They write in silence
A parody of love
A television show
Broadcast live from hell
Thin are the cables
That bind half lovers
So too, are the bonds of sleep
Be objective, even be cruel
Truth will set the mind at ease
And the teeth on edge
Do they ever sleep?
To ponder on genres of music
What differentiates us all
Our taste in positions
Or our taste in men?
Are we as transparent
As we feel
And as thin as the veils of night and sleep
Write us more plainly
Thought is as painful as regret
Memories twice as worse
Loud is the sea
Crashing against our eyes
Bright as the moon
Reflected in our self-reflections.

Sign My Guestbook View My Guestbook