Friday, December 17, 2010

war paint and ash

There are the hardest lesson learn,
when fire and clock save face,
in sadness tears may burn,
when with the pyre and cruel time race,

soot becomes our paint of war,
our faces stoic and stern,
when in that season of hell we tour,
for a few more minutes yearn,

we go where others don't,
an we have to stay appearing strong,
but sometimes the fascade wont,
hide the tears of a lost song.

so in the quiestest rage,
the anger we must contain,
when paper embers of temder age.
of a song cut short a refrain

war paint and ash

There are the hardest lesson learn,
when fire and clock save face,
in sadness tears may burn,
when with the pyre and cruel time race,

soot becomes our paint of war,
our faces stoic and stern,
when in that season of hell we tour,
for a few more minutes yearn,

we go where others don't,
an we have to stay appearing strong,
but sometimes the fascade wont,
hide the tears of a lost song.

so in the quiestest rage,
the anger we must contain,
when paper embers of temder age.
of a song cut short a refrain

Thursday, December 16, 2010

a skald in winter

A SKALD IN WINTER

There is a weaving. The patterns translated from the sinawali madness.
I was asked by a buddy of mine who after years of training got into a fight and hurt the opponent badly. He wrote me terrified and I started writing back. He asked my how do I reconcile what I can do with my hands with the realities of the world. How do I deal with the sad culture of text before talk? How do I deal with the catastrophic inequities of power? There have been too many times in my life when it would have been so much easier to confront condescension with barbarism. When the person behind the desk desperately needed their blood spilled as a life lesson. There are too many who never had to shed blood to survive or even eat. There are too many that didn’t risk their health for a paycheck. Normally I live go to “the Flow” and use it to live formless in the moment. I try to be like water, sometimes I am rain to stream, stream to river, river to ocean, ocean to vapor, vapor to rain. I use improvised poetry and weaving patterns of steel. The snow has caught my attention now. I am frozen. I am a creature out of time. The words are exo-skeletal they hold me together with pins and screws scars and stories. The water is converted to steam that pushes what’s left of my body in iron armor. My mind goes back to when I was a brutalized shy kid, then to my cold and cruel guro, then to my past careers. There are only fighter’s allowed here.
The point is always at the opponent’s eyes. I had to ask him. Who are you fighting, the weapon or the person behind it? And aren’t you also behind the weapon. These enemies, they are fiercer than any monster, blacker than any troll, they are subtle and deceitful the one’s that steal your soul. We are and fight the Dreaming shadow in skin. SO with blackest ink I pour out the remnants my soul on to paper, cold and clean like a field in snow. You are also the one behind the pen. There are too many dragon’s to slay without you doing war with yourself. In the end we are all memory. Just be sure you have a good tale to tell, and be on the right side of the blade when Morrigan comes.
We are the shears of the Fates.

Tuesday, December 14, 2010

Ballad of the Sky Knight

When those diamond stars fall
And sounds of intimate thunder
Entranced the spirit recall
The power glory and wonder

In the sepulcher flesh entomb,
Blood and bone of little worth,
This shell tis the spirit womb,
And weaves it for rebirth.

Be it memory ghost or wraith,
A chilling touch define,
Love and war are acts of faith,
When earthen powers devine.

A scholar in book scribe,
The soldier to his task,
The poet to his glass imbibe,
The terrible wisdom of the flask,

Heat and pressure forge the stone,
Conflict of clouds a bolt form,
In the fray you aren’t alone,
When daring to love the storm

Thursday, December 9, 2010

I don the armor

I don the armor,
The scars scribe a tome
Placing it with honor,
The blade finds it home

Shifting chains of steel,
This battered coat of mail,
Links to fortune’s wheel,
What this instrument avail.

And to my ancient marrow,
And hairs of bleeding gray,
Two steps from the barrow,
This bastard of the fray,

The tome is of the music,
The song runs forward and back,
In times both joyful and tragic,
When heart’s own shadow attack.

The song still ear caress,
And tis love’s battle cry,
And in these cloaks address,
The bardic trysting tie,

For the armor is of honor,
And the scars are of fate,
The blade its own charmer,
Defies despite the weight

There I sip from the chalice,
And face the night a knight.
To old hands so callous,
Coveting this fight.

Wednesday, December 8, 2010

If you look to others for fulfillment, you will never truly be fulfilled. If your happiness depends on money, you will never be happy with yourself. Be content with what you have; rejoice in the way things are. When you realize there is nothing lacking, the whole world belongs to you. -Lao Tzu

Wednesday, December 1, 2010

She has eyes of twilight

and silver laughter

a blessing to sight

that smile I'm after



a warrior poet's duty,

in his own swashbuckling style,

he writes a poem for this beauty

in hopes to make her smile



so to you, I know it's raining

and we look to graying skies,

my goal is in the obtaining

of being lost in twilight eyes

combat and love

They say that love is combat
Barbs flying by the score
Hopes and expectation say that
This is the purest war.

The parties tell their story
Each from lack of information
And soon the fight is gory
Through lack of communication

“Tell me what you want”, you ask
But “you should already know” replied,
The espionage hides a mask
Of the problem you have spied

It is in the strike dodge and thrust,
And the often well timed parry,
One can mistake love for lust,
And to that illusion marry.

Of all the fights I have lived,
Under bloody moon and sun,
Unchecked words go un-forgived,
With intimacy as the weapon,

Conscience weighted in bloody red,
And the pain will not surcease,
When all is said, Ishtar bled
My love is still my peace

Thursday, November 18, 2010

war and winning

There is no war
That cannot be won
With courage in store
and mead by the ton

As long as there is meat,
and blood, bone for fire,
sweet words will defeat,
the wraiths of the pyre.

And under the stars,
in campfire alight,
we children of Mars,
will war with the night.

The night has come,
and we battle at day,
so grab you lover,
before you are taken away,

A tale of glory,
must still be told,
love is war is the story,
luck and courage hold.

To the warrior poet,
there is only the fight,
our words will show it,
with fiercest delight.

in the fields of war,
is no place for the flighty,
Mars' muscles are poor,
to the whims of Aphrodite

Saturday, November 13, 2010

winter

the maiden fairest to my sight.
sees me with glacial stare
for death comes to foes this night,
with the chillness of the air
My blades are "winter" named
they are the caress of frost,
for the frozen heart now untamed,
her kiss is but the cost
bitter november wind does blow
the leaves make a deadened wall
in drifts like earth toned snow
There is a reason they call it fall
crunching underfoot like bones
the winter maiden brings her chill
colors turn to dirges tones
as she prepares for the kill.
And in these days entice,
with white silvered hand and crystal sky,
the warrior poet embraces the ice,
for someday even death may die
the battle won survivors gather
to lick thier wounds and sing praise
for the gods despise loser's blather
in the dying final days
so it is to my chilling lover
I sacrifice to this season,
though I love her like no other,
she rarely listens to reason
The skald will sing his tune,
unsheath his blade with boldness
his art will sketch the rune
steely kiss in winter's coldness

Thursday, November 11, 2010

sorry been a while

It's been a hectic few months for me, traveling, journalism and studying. But I will soon blog again

Friday, October 29, 2010

old poetry

.

In Laughter

twilight time in equal measure
between midnight and dawn
taking quills at words displeasure
naught but blank pages to look upon

the love I have written for
in this lightning wrought tome
shocks when my tears pour
and calls my lost love home.

I etch my thoughts in paper's flesh
and write these letters new
the song whispered heard fresh
and with rune power imbue

letters carved with pen or blade
in one flesh or another
open territory these words invade
the quill is the blade's brother

in these thoughts there is a magic
when I go without a muse
this rhyme shall not end tragic
when the battle ensues

of the poems and lightning thrust
letters and solid strike
the fates know to be unjust
but as diamond like cuts like

the love I call from nere forgot
the time we spoke in verse
bloods stains this inkling blot
paying all from my heart's purse

take my words my love
my heart is your possession
and remember the time spoke of
and humor my obsession

for on this earth we will join
and live happily ever after
paying Charon heart's purse coin
till the twilight rings with laughter


The Lady of Glass



She was one but more than one
Overlooking the starry sea
I am a shadow to her sun
Born from starlight was she

Looking deep in the solid well
To come and set me free
From her loss made a most intimate hell
The lady of glass was she

Her death is the warning
The battle has begun
This wayfarer’s doom is dawning
To return to him if she’s won

Old lords of lost and forgotten dread
Demons they are called
Fly from the spaces beyond the dead
Where the borders are not walled

The dark lord the one you cannot escape
And will stab you in the back as you pass
He’ll attack the living you from a deathscape
To shatter my true lady of glass

monsters come to conquer
The innocent waiting to dream
The forgotten, lost, and rebels sever
Beings to asleep to scream

They’ll attack across spaces and times
To many worlds they’ll teem
To stop this most horrid of crimes
It’ll take a ship strong of beam

But she knows these tale of woes
A lover's poem at her lips
She and others will smite her foes
From the darkest eclipse

And when she enters from the planes above
A song of triumph I’ll sing
For against these foes who destroy my love
I'll cut down and with my sabres swing

And I greet her with open arms
And skill to guard her back
I'll give her foes a world of harms
Through the oceans of time I'll track

Soon she’ll come and rescue me
From that which is not what it seems
Allies made in war’s blood paid to thee
I'll join her in my dreams

And so our tale ends and yet begins
Against these foes who figth en masse
No being of ill intent wins
Against my true lady of glass



In Soulful Eyes

In soulful eyes and alabaster skin
she holds my heart and mind
I await the hours till I see her again
to treat her in all ways kind

I wait to hear her voice aloud
and feel those eyes cut so deep
for there's the voice usurps the crowd
and sings war chants in my sleep

this fiercest angel should always know
the soft power she holds and keeps
for her I would withstand any blow
and dry her crystal tears when she weeps

Her heart is safe I tell myself
As it beats within her chest
For her smile is all my wealth
and for her all wrongs redressed

this warrior goddess child
deserves far better than she feels
and holds these truths in dispostion wild
as furtive glances from me she steals

A dreaming shadow in skin
Vibrance glowing of scarlet hue
Verdant oceans to cross and win
To give this valkyrie her due

she is so alive as I keep her safe
as warrior poets long to do
to keep her happy and to hear that laugh
and protect a with heart so true




A Gauntlet Thrown

A gauntlet thrown her will is shown
To the warrior she turns and faces
her skill unrivaled her name unknown
she'll put this lout through his paces

sword gleaming anger teeming
she steel herself for the fight
his face drops her calm unseeming
as her twin blades take flight

in a dance a speed and grace
and true power artfully hid
she calls out " I own this place "
his courage faulters utterly undid

and in a rush he runs twice the time
to a place he cares not where he flies
for her sowrds unsheathed she seems relieved
as she cut him deeply with her eyes


As Dragons Come

As dragons come and ogres raid
the villages of the east
citizen fall in blood debts paid
and the evil sits to feast

the warrior came in armor bright
shining like the sun
this horizon will bring day to night
and cast out the shadows err she's won

the evil stood in her path
all garbed in scarlet and black
and with a wry smile she did the math
and ran in to the attack

she swept the evil away
with only blade and wit
she still yearned to this day
the heart she lost as her sword bit

swinging wild , temper mild
she ran into the fray.
with cut and thrust she did what she must
and with love's true skill won the day

the legends sing of this warrior goddess free
and the love both won and lost
she is the graceful hand of destiny
and will repay the cost

for in her heart there was a wonder
of a love both future and past
true love no two hearts asunder
she'll love and fight, day or night until reunited at last


Valkerie's Prayer

She, a warrior known as Chooser of the Slain
She, finds those worthy to fight again
But now for the warrior of the skies
I wish she would see herself through this poet’s eyes
That all things the comprise her mysteries
Are in her blindness of these properties
She is seeker, a dreamer, and the last true believer
She has eyes that shine as sunrises
She know all save herself
She knows well the danger of all life's surprises
And this is a pity, she sees not her great wealth
Of warrior, dancer, protector and kindly beauty
Are all in this prayer for a Valkerie
That she sees with my eyes and with those subtle glances
Spies the person I see and all she entrances
With fiery spirit, this bright burning flame
Is as wondrous, warm, and welcome as the Dawn that sings her name.







Slayin Dragons

For blood that's spilled and treasure gain

My chalice filled , my thoughts refrain

To that day of scale and steel

Fire and fray , Naked blade reveal

To rescue damsel, Bright and fair

Eyes of hazel, Flame red hair

I called upon, My sacred vow

To right the wrong, I'll tell you how

When dragons come, stand your ground

A fine death becomes, your funeral mound

Fire erupts, tooth, claw and tail

Remember these words and never fail

" AT ME !" you scream, with all your might

Steel your courage for the fight

Fight the monster with strike ,parry, thrust

Fear is no master, don't slake its lust

Drive your blade home to the dragon's heart

And from it's body, its soul depart

And with this wisdom you cannot lose

Conquer your fear and then you choose




Mirana's Song

In the ancient days of yore
fro those that follow the warriors way
Knows Great warriors will fall by the score
But Against the odds they’ll win this day
And In this lost and forgotten lore
To face the evil their hearts betray
There are no winners in a war
And conquer the heart gone astray

I wish to study and always learn
That Love should never regret
And From these bloody lessons earn
It’s origin in hearts beget
There is wisdom from books that burn
It’s true nature wrought with threat
And from light and dark discern
A thousand foes would soon beset

But she who holds my own soul
And whom a host of hell’s I’d storm
I’d learn the truth in it’s whole
For this vision given form
A sacred gamble this dice I’ll roll
For that touch that’s safe and warm

Sing again to me again I call to thee
For that song that sets me free


Forget the odds, for Tonight we drink with Gods

When to many blades fall prey
And heart sword and skill win not
Faith cowers not this day
Send your foes in graves to rot

Worry never what will befall
Those fears that lurk in the mind
Stand firm, proud and tall
And at them with steel remind

The warrior’s life is fierce and bright
Under he gaze of tyrant time
Show the foe who is in the right
Bury them in pits of lyme

The warriors way, glorius and brief
Will carry you through the throng
A noble death holds stark relief
From a coward’s life lived too long

Here my words in blood debt repay
For a life not destined to last
And remember the warriors way
Blades will earn and with God’s repast.


Secret Loves – The Poems Hidden

I write these words
For those both past and Never
For love calls my souls girds
The loves last needs be clever

The she’s I wrote them for
Never knows oftimes the deed
This poet’s rages keep not score
When only my eyes to read

These poems of love
Even for a moments grace
Will follows me to the lands above
Hold in my heart the dearest place

The she’s that taught me to see
All nature’s wondrous splendor
Have meant entire worlds to me
Quiet love their own hearts defender

But know this those who read
I loved as deeply as only few
I’ll be there when there is a need
To save her from what evils do

A heroes pledge, a sacred vow
To save the her’s I’ve loved and known
My hearts partitioned here and now
An infinite vessel of unyielding love sewn

Know I’m here should need arise
As my heart when loves honor flies




The Geography of Yearning

Maps to Terra Incognita
Lands and Worlds unknown
Undiscovered yet within her
The geography of yearning shown

To know love and yet lost
Is this poet’s mead
To withstand the dreadful cost
Heart follow ere it lead

To find her once again
And keep her for our sake
To bring the now from then
Leaving destruction in it’s wake

I will fight and die for those eyes
And this love that I hold dear
On that kiss forever lies
And of softest lips appear

Many foes and tales of woes
Will flood into this breach
But in heart danger wisdom grows
When the gods of love beseech

Learn from this my student
And learn this lesson well
Love is never imprudent
When you have it’s tale to tell

When you doubt loves fables
And you’re searching for it’s theme
It’s life without that turns the tables
It’s a rhyme sans a scheme

Love has it’s own wisdom
Though not always clear
And when a guest in it’s kingdom
Embrace it without fear

Cause it’s times are few and far
Grab it when it arrives
It’s loss is worth the scar
But life without none survives.


Searching for My Muse

Long ago and far away
through times of strife and deepest pain
true love demands and I obey
this feeling I feel is not in vain

I miss you when you are not around
living through hard hearted grace
your eyes believe the soul confound
with a glance no eyes can replace

A poet talks his words do fly
What he feels is his hearts song
But hear this poet's sacred cry
Going without you far too long

He apologizes for the nights of loss
when I showed up too late
the deeds done were black across
the fields of troubles he's had to debate

Let his love not scare you
for a heart beats but a life
He longs to be a heart that's fair to you
While old wounds cut him like a knife

In forgiveness he asks to see you again
And tenderness comes through these hands
I will be there to save you then
And do heart’s justice as it demands

I kiss and miss and long to see
these eyes that wishes return to me


For the Asking

Of oldest themes and warrior sages
Tell of tales of daring do
The poems last beyond the ages
And keep heroes hearts true

It’s the damsel that keeps them going
Through the battles melee
The need see her once again is growing
Her eyes drive him through the fray

Of all the monsters I have seen
With scars I have paid this toll
The hardest foes have always been
Are the ones that take your soul

But a soul that’s freely given
Like a man’s word or deed
Will by the gods be forgiven
For the gods obey this creed

A love that true and selfless
A love greater than onself
Will give bounties endless
Then some dusty tome upon a shelf

So many hide in stony tower
Never taking this chance
To lose yourself to a higher power
And ask that damsel to dance


Tales of a Skald

When many hero tales start with long ago
Like heroes exist only in the past
We few exist to live by example show
The few brave souls that stand to the last

Back to back the heroes stood
Against this darkness feral black
The warriors hearts burned with fire good
Then light's warriors yelled "Attack!"

Times like this are few and far
When there is a code we heed
Honour etched every scar
As warriors are judged by deed.

So stand with me my allies
As we turn and to darkness spite
The code will carry us the skies
If we die in this fight

But to live and tell it's tale
The warriors way is right and true
An honourable life shall never fail
When the stories told anew





In The Open

Take your time the master shouted
And choose your moment wisely
Speed has power undoubted
But it means nothing if you miss me

Seduction in blade and deed
Is like guarding your center line
keep it closed until you succeed
and hit a hit finer than sweet wine

Parry, retreat and disengage
Dodge from side to side
Build in the opponent a quiet rage
Let not your blows swing wide

Then when that heart is open
strike strong, fast, and clean
And above all see and listen
Their body tells the scene

Combat is that sacred art
Of hitting and not getting hit
All players play their part
Of blades of steel and wit

Above all take those moments
Feel them in your chest
Give your foe gentle torments
And give them no time for rest

So remember this my novices
There are many ways to miss
But of all of wit's and steel's promises
Seal it with a kiss


In Praise of Bats

She of darkness born
This petite nocturne flies
Knowing she is Sunlight’s scorn
and to challengers Victories denies

She lingers like a haunting
A rapturous shadowy ephemeral tune
But the task before me is daunting
to capture this roving daughter of the moon

Ears that hear distant footfalls
Stars she wears like a crown
Singing like angel calls
Even when hanging upside down

So be aware my younglings
There is cause to fear and love the night
With a silent flutter of bat wings
this bat winged angel takes flight


The Muse

I hear her siren voice in the winds
These words she gives me in whispers
The poets need to write begins
and the warrior never slumbers

Of her beauty I can say so much
In paths like strikes, so many ways
But her angelic voice her voice is such
And there is where my heart stays

Please milady say my name
And give me those words I need
To keep you alive all the same
In all these words for you I read

To see you my celestial vision
And please know I write always for you
It points out the grand collision
Between spirit and flesh true

Someday you'll return to me
As loves like rhyme oft repeat
That day my soul will be set free
Until then I scribble on this paper sheet

My muse of swords and quills
You are my reason for being
And time without you slowly kills
Your love is light worth seeing

So my candle dims, my fingers ink stained
Night has turned to radiant song
Please remember warrior poets need be trained
Not to go on too long

But one last stanza before I go
And face this luminous day
For you My muse, my love, my fights, my words, will show
They are worth the whispers, for which I pray

Sunday, September 5, 2010

the day before - prologue

My TESOL class strarts tomorrow and I am back in London. I was here two months ago to write a newspaper article. I've been studying hardcore for three weeks. Realizing that God created Egnlish to over compicate things. I haven't been in a classroom where I wasn't the teacher in over 20 years. I think of the changes, the old life, the commaraderie of the sword. The language has it's flows and it's ebbs. I admit I'm a little scared. Probably more intimidated than scared. Neither emotion I'm used to dealing with. Just relax and breath, find the flow, yield to overcome,feel the fear and go on. The price, the fee of fear is in not paying it. It when you don't let yourself feel it it exacts it's toll. I haven't been blogging much recently. Very little to say. But now as my mind frees itself and see what may be a future. I feel the warrior poet's song again.

Wednesday, July 28, 2010

Proverbs

Proverbs -

12 New Cuts

1. Mercy cut - Mercy resides in God; deeds are in men.

1. Left Hip, Right Temple, Right Hip, Left Temple, Collar bone cut
– now reverse –
Collar bone cut, Left Temple, Right Hip, Right Temple, Left Hip.

2. Rage cut - He who cackled is the guilty party or A person who is outwardly calm has anger raging inside.

2. Left Shoulder, Right Knee, Right Shoulder, Left Knee, Throat cut
– now reverse-
Throat cut, Left Knee, Right Shoulder, Right Knee, Left Shoulder

3. Tears cut - There is no earthly bliss not watered by tears.

3. Left Eye, Right Rib, Right Eye, Left Rib, Eyes cut

– now reverse –

4. Dawn cut - Early dawn precedes sunrise. True well-being is found in happiness, not in prosperity.

4. Low X, Throat cut, Femoral cut, Wrist cut

– now reverse –


SET 2

5. Perseverance cut - If you don't persevere, you can expect no reward. Or No undertaking is difficult if pursued with perseverance.

5. Left Collar Bone, Right Femoral , Right Collar Bone, Left Femoral, Ribs cut

– now reverse –


6. Rust cut - Nothing destroys iron but its own corrosion.

6. Left Eye, Right Wrist, Right Eye, Left Wrist, Knee cut


– now reverse –

7. Fear Not cut - To a fearless person, no fence is high enough. Or I fear Niether Lions or Tigers why Should I fear you or A patriot who is wounded becomes more courageous.

7. Left Rib, Throat cut, Right Rib, Eyes cut

– now reverse –

8. Wheel cut - It is never too late to offer anything that is good. Life is like a wheel; sometimes you are on top, sometimes you are in the bottom. Emulate what is good, ignore what is bad.

8. Left Femoral, Mid X, Right Femoral, Throat cut

– now reverse –


SET 3

9. Sweet cut - Not all goodness brings sweetness. Not all badness are a sign of evil.

9. Left Wrist, Mid X, Right Wrist

– now reverse –

10. Long Knives cut – A desperate person will grab at a knife. Or A knife Cannot carve it’s own handle.

10. Throat cut, High X, Wrist Cut, Throat cut

– now reverse –

11. Dead Horse cut - What good is the grass if the horse is already dead. If it is not relevant, it makes no difference.

11. Left Knee, Mid X, Right Knee, Femoral cut

– now reverse –

12. Heavenward Stone cut - When you throw a stone heavenward don’t complain if it falls on your head or No matter how long the procession, it still ends up in church.

12. Left Temple, High X, Right Temple, Eyes cut

– now reverse –

Water Poem

The rain falls in our spring,
And gives the food to the flowers,
The watery cycle forms a ring,
And it starts in with minor showers

In the beginning there is the stream
That flows from the slight trickle,
Carrying further to the dream,
And our fancies it starts to tickle.

It then progresses through the land
Then the stream becomes a river,
The whimsy forces of the moon command
And she will always deliver,

Then it an ocean transforms,
Of crashing rock, storm and wave,
Water cannot be held it informs.
And why should it behave.

Then it’s vapor made by the sun,
Following all the changes as it flows.
We are mostly water everyone,
It’s birth celebrated by rainbows.

Then to the heavens it turns again to rain,
Like family, friends, sky, sun and moon.
As instruments connected in sweet refrain.
For we all whisper it’s tune.

Sunday, July 25, 2010

advanced siniwalis

Advanced Siniwalis

There are the 6 basic siniwalis

8point
Inayan
Abaniko

Suicide Cut
Cripple Cut
Iron Maiden Cut


Now do – in thrusts

8point
Inayan
Abaniko

Suicide Thrust
Cripple Thrust
Iron Maiden Thrust


Now do – as punjo ( pommel strike )

8point
Inayan
Abaniko

Suicide Punjo
Cripple Punjo
Iron Maiden Punjo


Mix and match, cut, thrust and punjos to the siniwalis

Add windmills and cavalry cuts as thrusts and punjos

Do all thrusts as punjos

Now add Dobletes and Dobladas

Friday, July 23, 2010

torches

the torch once lit is forever carried,never extinguished, we hold our loves forever burning bright, and even the embers shine. For that brief moment it gave you light in the dark. Even when love turns to cinders and smoulders, and taste vaguely of sugar, salt or ash. The old torches warm and burn forever in the catacombs of our heart.

moon

moon shyly smiling,
behind the cloudy knife edge,
night whispers my name

Thursday, July 22, 2010

haiku - zest

the monk hanging from
cliff by plant tiger below,
eat the strawberry

double negative

and so you sit and ramble,
about the losing wins the gamble
folding double to kiss the page,
we pay the war in fights we wage
shadows bright incite we live,... See More
it can't not be double negative

Monday, July 19, 2010

Monday or what spawned my weeks rants

What spawned bad decisions=good stories. My week begins. Monday was a day like any other. Sun was shining. I took out my pressed suit for an interview. All immaculately pressed. Even checked the weather. Drove to the interview place early, they had three streets with the same name in the same industrial park.. Got lost, went to wrong place. Find it. Go in, they suddenly a downpour the likes of which the gods have never seen. Me without an umbrella, soaked to the bone ( resembling a drowned muppet ). I go to the interview, ace it. Head back out into the wet. Rain in buckets , rain in barrels. Get home and the minute I pull in it stops. I then want to give the gods a job interview, to see if they are good potential candidates for omnipotence. You want to ask the gods “Really now, so it’s gonna be like that is it.?”

Bad decisions=good stories

Bad decisions=good stories


MONDAY

Bad decisions= good stories - nothing sucks more than that moment during a argument when you realize you are completely wrong. So you have two choices admit you are wrong ( not an option ) or end up as a story told decades later of a guy who drank St. Ives while on codine and ran around the woods half naked thinking he was Puck from Midsummer Night's Dream.



Bad decisions = good stories ; "Kindness gives birth to kindness." - Sophocles. Well obviously Sophocles besides beign a great playwright was also a NINJA.


TUESDAY

Bad Decisions = Good Stories - I totally envy all those times I took nap when I was younger. Little child slackers. You know I fear children they are here to replace us. They want my stuff. Children should be eaten and not heard. Send them to the toddler mines!



Bad Decisions = Good Stories - Obituaries would be a lot more interesting if they told you how the person died. I mean besides all the free food and cheap artifacts you find at the funeral. Obits would be interesting. Especially if they have a Darwin awards aspect to them. Natural causes – boring. But found naked handcuffed to an inflatable partner while covered in coolwhip – 5 stars.

WEDNESDAY

Bad Decisions = Good Stories – Word program is tricksey. I'm always slightly terrified when I exit out of Word and it asks me if I want to save any changes to my two hundred page epic poem “ Ode to a con girl dressed like Zatanna but she hasn’t noticed me for I failed my saving throw vs Charisma” that I swear I did not make any changes to. Cunning program steals great art. Why change perfection. Bloody word fascist.

Bad Decisions = Good Stories – The saying “ Everyday you are above ground is a good day.” Well that’s just racist against Mole People and other subterranean species. SO you are telling me that blind albino salamanders or crayfish are not capable of moments of bliss. Intolerance annoys me.

THURSDAY

Bad Decision = good story - I hate leaving my house confident and looking good ( a rare occasion ) and then not seeing anyone of importance the entire day ( despite stalking and restraining orders. That’s profiling dammit ). What a waste. SO I decide to look like death on a stick everyday just to trick them.

Bad Decision = good story - As a driver I hate pedestrians ( get a car hoofer ) there should be a point system for hitting them, and I always hate cyclists ( join in the death of the planet, splitter, the two wheeled hellspawn of vehicular ignorance ). Lance Armstrong their leader is the devil. Hitting him should be worth at least a million points and a hummer that is powered by equal parts kittens, souls, and Victorian era child labor. Like Dick Cheney’s truck.

FRIDAY

Bad Decision = good story - I disagree with Kay Jewelers. I would bet any weekend night at Rudy’s Tap room and taxidermy parlor. More kisses ( and regrets) begin with bachelorette parties, Long Island ice teas, a stripper named Fernando and a cheap hotel than Kay Jewelers.

Sunday, July 18, 2010

glomp

In my gypsy life,
I thought never hear,
Throughout the cold strife,
And visceral fear

Bladed pen and page,
blooded tear hath shed,
despite the old age,
and the torment fed

that a type of kind,
love dear as water,
in the fray remind,
gift of my daughter

I thought never hear,
As I sullen lad,
Words I hold as dear,
As “I love you dad.”

Friday, July 16, 2010

quick blitz thrust drill

quick blitz thrust drill, = head groin thrust to sternum.
collar bone strike followed by underthrust
femoral strike followed by overthrust
rib strike followed by pommel/punjo to head.
eye strike followed by reverse thrust.

Saturday, July 10, 2010

Retaliation Drill

RETALIATION – DRILLS

Variations on Groin, Head, Eye drill

The old standby drill,

Choose a person to engage the attack, They are the Attacker, The defender , parries the attackers strike and retaliates.

You eventually develop a nice flow with it.

Drill 1

Attacker – Strikes at Groin
Defender – now strikes at opponents Head
Attacker – Strikes at opponents Eye

Then switch it.

Defender – strikes at opponents Groin
Attacker – now strikes at opponents Head
Defender – strikes at opponents Eye


Drill 2

Attacker - Left Temple,
Defender - Right Floating Rib
Attacker - Right Temple,
Defender - Left Floating Rib

Then switch it.

Defender - Left Temple,
Attacker - Right Floating Rib
Defender - Right Temple,
Attacker - Left Floating Rib

Drill 3

Attacker -Left Inside Kneecap,
Defender - Right Collar Bone
Attacker -Right Inside Kneecap,
Defender - Left Collar Bone

The switch it

Drill 4

Attacker - Left Inside Wrist,
Defender - Head,
Attacker – Right Inside Wrist,
Defender – Groin
Then switch it.

Drill 5

Attacker -Left Femoral Artery,
Defender - Right Temple,
Attacker - Left Collar Bone
Defender - Right Femoral Artery,
Attacker - Left Temple,
Defender - Right Collar Bone


Then switch it


Drill 6

Pick a drill, change Left to Right and switch Head and Groin

Drill 7

THRUSTS drill

Straight Thrust
Overthrust
Underthrust
Left Side Thrust
Right Side Thrust
Reverse Thrust
Retreat Thrust

Drill 8

Pick a drill, add a thrust instead of one of the strikes

Drill 9

Use Right Hip, Left Hip, Right Shoulder, Left Shoulder, Head or Groin – Pick 3 , use as exchange
Drill 10

A and B of the Alphabet – Break into an exchange Drill. – Have them flow together


Drill 11

C of the Alphabet – Break into an exchange Drill.

Drill 12

D and E of the Alphabet – Break into an exchange Drill. – Have them flow together

Monday, July 5, 2010

Ko Mi drill

KO-MI drill

Mixing hand to hand with single weapon.


1. Spiral – death through cuts

Cuts – Hips, Shoulders, elbow to ribs, Cut Collar Bone

2. Tangle – death through pommels

Punjo to Head, Punjo to Shoulders, Punjo to Ribs. Punjo to groin

3. Funnel – death up to down

Cut to Eyes, Collar Bone, Ribs, Femoral Artery, straight punch throat

4. Tunnel – death through thrusts

Thrusts to – Throat, Shoulders, Hips, straight punch Sternum

5. Sheet – death horizontally

Cuts – Hammerfist to Eyes, Cut to Hips, Hammerfist to Ribs, Cut to Throat

6. Dome – death form above

Straight punch to Head, Cut to Eyes, Cut to Collar Bone, reverse thrust to Throat

7. Orb – death vertically

Cut to Femoral , straight punch to Head ,Cut to Collar Bone, punjo punch Groin,

8. Trapdoor – death from below

Pass cut to Achilles tendon, kick to Knees, Femoral Artery Cut, Knee to Groin



Building from the basic patterns –

Alphabet
8 point
Earth Mother
Fan
Suicide Cut
Cripple Cut
Iron Maiden Cut

Punjo – Pommel strike
Hand to hand –

Hammer Fist, Straight Punch, Ridge Hand, Elbows, Knees



Basic cuts covered in Drill

Head – vertical – cut /thrust
Eyes – horizontal – cut /thrust
Collar Bone – diagonal – cut /thrust
Throat – horizontal – cut /thrust
Shoulders – horizontal – cut /thrust
Hands / Wrist – X cut– cut /thrust
Ribs - Horizontal– cut /thrust
Hips - Horizontal– cut /thrust
Femoral Artery - diagonal– cut /thrust
Groin – Vertical up– cut /thrust
Knees – X cut– cut /thrust
Pass cut – Miss pass cut to Achilles tendon

Tuesday, June 29, 2010

A wink and a smile

A wink and a smile

The time of ages suited in grey,
A war with ever flowing sand,
The ruin of the sacred day,
The dominant right of command,
For a story fortune’s fool,
Against the dice way you weighted
A chance to except accept the rule,
All parts the player played.
Tis the answer also the riddle,
Was it worth sweet elation,
Both ends burning mourn the middle
You sit in actor’s interrogation
A chilling spectre touching freeze,
Smiling in the dark lady’s face
Fear’s sickle kills by degrees.
Although it’s swung with grace.
SO the deny the fear to overtake,
I say without compunction,
I’ll go on and make fear quake.
Cause my form is my function.
“AT ME !!” fair spirit , I raise this toast,
It is a greater cause to drink,
With blade and wit, I’ll war this ghost,
With a smile and a wink.

Friday, June 25, 2010

pearls

if there eyes closed seeming,
of thought of me engaged,
I see you when dreaming,
a perfect picture never aged.
moments like pearls dangle on string,
each perfect with subtle flaw,
and dwell upon the little things,
of these dreams I wish you saw.
so as I in deep ocean sleep,
make these pearls from grains of sand.
a bitter treasure built in scar so deep
anger tastes of salt and reprimand.

Thursday, June 24, 2010

learning

When the name of friend represented,
And the only sin is sharing,
The teacher is often resented,
For the hubris of caring.
As you know to options loyal,
Most are but gladly not all.
As in your labors seeks fruit for toil,
The rise is so much slower than fall.
Truth has legs and gossip wings.
It’s to stamina this pain outlast.
Petty hurts can be minor things,
When choosing friends look to cast,
Then are friends or acquataince overreach.
With false tongues un-discerning.
Resent the savior sent to teach.
But true love is in the learning.

Wednesday, June 23, 2010

happiness?

when you feel like cruel fortune's toy
and even the truest words feel sappy,
forget not in absence of joy.
The rareness of being happy.
like the old teddy bear,
losing stuffing from worn out seam,
too much love can seem unfair,
holding on to a dream
That between the highs and lows,
when the fates seem unforgiving,
and even friends become foes,
with no cause for thanksgiving,
embrace the joyous stranger meeting,
and enjoy saccharine prose,
for one truth is worth repeating,
happy is a decision to one who knows.

a dance in time - a request

seeking balance sword in flight,
in symmetry with the hand,
emerging bloody feral night,
at all your passions demand,
and stinging lip in harshest kiss
is the cut in blooded waters wade,
lessons over, the teacher shall dismiss
when by ones own skill betrayed,
a sight across the crowded floor,
eyes meet in captured glance,
all souls in that one look implore,
the killing kindness of the dance.
outstretched hand, and sweet laughter,
as the music of war mistook,
a polite bow, will see them after.
the consequnces of that look.
feel the weight and see the touch,
gods will forgive this crime.
no lover had I ever loved this much,
then when blade and I dance in time.

Wednesday, June 16, 2010

going through old poetry

Been plowing through my notes and slowly preparing my submissions for the poetry residency. There are so many poems. So many pieces that I shared with only the one person I was writing for at the time. SO many truly beautiful and tragic emotions. Some have never seen the light of day. SOme are the property of only one other set of eyes. I'll ask permission for those.

Cannot wait for the article to be published, so I can blog about my experiences in the UK.

Friday, June 11, 2010

dress up

Adressing others in robe borrow,
In fashion calm the blue heart,
Fixing paint and to sorrow,
The mirror judges from the start.

So to the closet seek refuge,
In costume we take to task,
To prevent the sad deluge,
And lose yet find the mask.

For in the wonders of dressing,
It covers many a stealthy scar,
And to the silent glass impressing,
The reflecting judge goes to far.

It only shows what it sees
thus is the mirrors duty,
You the only judge needs please.
But sans masks lies true beauty.

Wednesday, June 9, 2010

uk 2

Of JFK and Camelot.

JFK airport is my favorite New York City Airport. I always seem to leave from there. And now my trip to Londinium begins. But JFK has a deeper meaning to me now. When I think of his Camelot. I think of a shining place. I think of a time when politician or kings were just and fair. A place where all are equal at the table. An ideal place shrouded in Mists of myth. And JFK like all just kings, the few that were, his reign was far too short. I know in my heart , JFK’s reign was just as much myth. I always thought of him as “our American” Arthur although his proclivities were more towards Lancelot. NYC , my home was always Avalon. And now it’s my turn to seek the grail.

Monday, May 17, 2010

the Thames

The thames has always been a river of my dreams. To see it and feel it's flow. And the dueling ground tour has been exciting me imagination. Boudiccia kept us from speaking Latin but shakespeare gave us a muse of fire. Here on the streets you hear hoofbeats of armoured knights and hear the rush of carriages. And I reated to the sodier in Henry Five. Wishing for that piece of home at Agincourt. The desire to be in Thames up to the neck.

UK explorations - week 1

AFter what sounds like the beginning of an adventure novel I made it to the UK one week ago. Most of my exprations were of sites historical sties that I can do on the cheap.
The story begins with my explorations of my local area. Going to see the Thames off putney bridge and exploring the locale. I then traveled to Hyde park, roamed around Buckingham Paace and Wellington arch. I saw big Ben and the London eye. Listen to English blues and even met another poet. I got to improvise poetry in a Phoenix. I went to the Roman wall to thank the Iceni and ended up giving a brief lecture on the subject and meandered around whitechapel. Where the crays murdered and Jack stalked.
I aso saw the tower. All were places I read of. Pictures soon.

Saturday, May 8, 2010

poem for mother earth

mother terra from which we grow
in the circles of twilight.
winking tis the stars that know,
the love we hold for this night,

as seedling grows to flowered bud,
to those uncaring lights we pray,
blooden water makes our earth mud.
and fire makes us clay


the wind gives us heat and chill,
without only poets giving reason,
she has born us to love and kill,
depending on the season.

when in sultry time or battle seeth,
we are caught in her gentle net,
but as a kiss in her we breate,
her blood and tears our sweat.

please tell me mother,
I mean this with out scorn,
you sustain me like no other,
every minute I'm reborn.

so the silent stars remember,
mute to our smallish cries,
we love them as moth to ember,
as earthen hearts soar to the skies

Saturday, May 1, 2010

In nature the season is the thing,
making all us animals react,
and too our baser thought we sing
in our acncient seasonal contract,

to fresh coats and claws now hunt.
on talon, wing, tooth and claw,
time to eat and kills, to be blunt,
that is old earths first law.

it is to the golden father sun,
and to star silver sister moon,
to Gaia's beauty the tale is spun,
and all her voices humm the tune.

when the fecund gods scream "celebrate",
as to the rituals of matings assails,
to the columns the gods whisper fornicate,
to the chorus of animals wails,

the ocean roars and trees entice,
in turbluent blues and sordid green,
to the ancient gods we sacrifice,
though lusty nature seeming serene.

Wednesday, April 28, 2010

In the chamber I sit and listen,
to whispers and love's echoes,
tear shed eyes staring glisten,
with the gift of dying rose.

When they left a holding place,
now kept companion with gentle song,
only physics needs time and space,
and the wait shall not be long,

to lose my heart in musician's feeling,
plays the overture my heart compose,
till the next love sends senses reeling,
till then only the music knows.

only the lonely hears this tune,
one the pages some player wrote,
not to the music I impugn,
it's the player and not the note.
We in times when e mail send,
And in love and honor bound,
Sometimes the voice I would recommend
To state feelings so profound

Distance is quite the chasm,
When times communication demand,
E-mail loses essential sarcasm,
And some may mis-understand.

But through patience and deep care,
Words means come through
And in just enough time to spare.
The affection held for few.

For the love few have shown,
And the words that meet in deed
The text if this little article shown,
Are clear despite the speed.

SO from the friends we take the cues,
And hope for meeting bright,
Although poets are easy to confuse,
When they haven’t slept that night.

So enjoy, and pages scribble.
To speak to the times said the sage.
Good friend get over any quibble,
And friendship comes it’s own language.

Wednesday, April 14, 2010

next life and tax day

It is an anniversary, a day of vows and words. When obligations were forever. Where there was a promise of a future. I visited the sacred grove. Talked to ghosts and listened for her whispers. Sometimes the ocean misses the sky more than it can bear. Forever together, forever apart. Next life. I wish I didn’t know what I know. But then that’s the burden of knowledge. Just remember the good and the love that was pure. Remember the bargains kept and obligation upheld. I’ll see you in my dreams. Just remember I loved you and always will. Such is the blessing of the poet. Next life. Be safe.

blood brothers - a request

There are quiet times,
In the face of deadly foes,
We steel ourselves with martial rhymes,
and face the joys and woes.

But in the torrent of our blood,
to our friends abscond,
Kinship when knee deep in mud,
sings to a deeper bond.

And together you face the wrath,
and with tears bloody laughter,
sometimes they dwell another path,
then the one you are looking after,

But it is the path of life,
Blood brothers may have to part.
Closer than to some wife.
Nearer to the heart.

For few know what's in store.
Palms slit, vows made.
That the brothers made in war.
Oaths never be betrayed.

So the time now is soon,
When in battle shields and blades break,
SO high they bleed the moon.
Tied until our very wake.

Sunday, April 4, 2010

Pondering a night sky

Speed of Darkness.

Pondering loneliness, a quantum singularity. A black hole where even light doesn’t escape. I wrote a note to a friend in need, as part of this text. I hope it helps.
Those who pick fights, shouldn’t complain when they are beat down. An old saying I learned in the art. With the art comes the flow, with the flow comes the strength to adapt and change. To me the flow was always a matter of faith. It’s very hard to become soft. Such is the dichotomy of the style and the dangerous path we all as martial artists walk. With words I have saved many, from being beaten down. From unleashing the art in it’s purest form. The defense of self. I have often been told. That the self is destructive, it is the core of suffering. Life and limb must be protected. But what else? Attack is defense, defense is attack. Water may be the form we seek to achieve but we also can drown in it. My form is my function, as is my formlessness. Such is the path. SO I flow, like the blood in my veins and the words in my soul.
I can in more ways than you know, relate to pain, and pressure, the pressure to defy gravity and not plunge to the earth, when to fall would feel like a release. and I understand exhaustion, bone crushing and blood deep. My response from the deepest, loving, part of my soul is this. Is remarkably ...simple. The force that has always kept me strong in the most impossible situations and grueling of circumstances is love. Through love we sacrifice and through love we suffer, through love we lose our minds and through through love we learn the true meaning of feeling and forgiveness. Love is an act of faith that borders on myth. For we have to believe in what we can't see. The love you give and receive validates that prayer. You will endure this, and yes the torments and harder than stone and twice as unforgiving. But love, like the flow is eternal. All things change, even the bad things. You will withstand because of that small act of faith that lights the stars, begets the flow, and keeps us going.

the Easter Horror

On this holiday the difference begs,
What goings on ‘tween rabbits and eggs,
Chicken rabbit means engenders fears,
Of feathers, buck teeth, wings and ears.

The candy is out for the small,
Great weather promises the catch of the ball,
Long off course throws you must grab it.
While keeps eyes open for the chicken rabbit.

It stalks the night when it’s candy you seek,
But beware it’s sharp talon and fur covered beak.
The sight of the creature of evokes fears,
Of getting caught in the range of sensitive ears.

Chocolate and candy the vendors must sell it,
Or be covered in cedar shaves and rabbit pellet,
And even though I know it’s not funny.
To fear the dark spawn of the easter bunny.

Saturday, April 3, 2010

Do you feel it.

A shadow close as skin,
Across the soul intuit,
The heart that beats akin,
Half sworn sword spirit,

I miss your smile,
This mask I adorn,
And it’s scars compile,
Yet still it is worn.

The eyes brim sadness,
you are hid from sight,
love a gentle madness.
I turn to face it’s might,

It is for you I bled,
for the missing bliss,
Only silence instead,
A steep cost for a kiss.

Thursday, April 1, 2010

April's Fool from the new story

I officially despise April with the power of 1000 white hot suns.

Always without fail has been a bad month for me. Just wondering if in the mists of memory the dead remember. If upon walking the road of shadows, between the dreaming and the dead, do you remember all your joys born of my sacrifice. Do you know ?, do you care?

Foolish I know. But today is the day for fools and I have been both Jester and Prohphet. I've been the omniscient Greek chorus and the knavish clown.

But I always think in my dark moments what it is to be erased what it is to wipe out all in a quest to wipe out the bad with the blood the good.

Tell me it was real with more than just a few banal words. Tell me it was worth it. Sometimes gods should reward us for our faith. That love is eternal when it is sworn.

It is the doom of men that we forget but the fool remebers all. So do you remember me. Confirmation of a vow and a memory of love made long ago. Or am I now the secret shadow across your soul.

But you've gone across the veil. The Harlequin is just a witness.

Tuesday, March 30, 2010

The bond lasts as long as love does,
And memory consigned to fade,
A lingering kiss and words that was.
The beloved behind the blade,
SO when I write this recollection,
My ink stained hands shaking,
In her eyes I see rejection,
As my heart keeps breaking.
So I ask although it shall be refused,
For our love a candle light.
And in the dancing shadows confused,
The rusted heart of this knight.
Forever was the words that passed,
And to the sacred place abscond,
My vows will not break the last.
For I remember my bond.
In a toast we raise our glasses,
Too and two our dear friends,
As the joy of the announcement amasses,
And poets try to make amends.
Enjoy this day former students,
Wear it like a crown,
Glass will shatter imprudence,
Last time he’ll put his foot down.
SO again enjoy the time of rings,
And look forward to the merging,
And all the smiles and shiney things,
When two families start converging.
So HUZZAH and keep close thy blades
To all the revels and enragement,
As heavens joys cascades
The multiple meanings of engagement.

turning to

tears traverse longing cheek,
Wishing for that touch,
To love is strong not meek,
Few know that much,
And for the point,
Of the painful sting,
These tears anoint,
To love’s the thing,
These waters cool yet burn,
The softest and hardest skin,
For it is you to whom I turn,
When world ceases to spin,
As I cry and exhale the this sigh,
And wonder who-where you are.
On these tears wings I’ll fly,
And gently trace the scar.

Monday, March 29, 2010

Gallows

There I stand before the trial
Tasting the bitterness of denial,
Struggling shackled from liberation,
With fear blowing kisses in flirtation,
For what are the cries I incite,
What are the wrongs me you’d indict.
The pre determined answer guilt.
Upon a sand foundation built.
As the crowd, no mob, grows violent.
In time of war, laws fall silent.
To the gallows I go by choice.
You can silence me, but not my voice.

Sunday, March 28, 2010

She has eyes of starlight,
Steeped in heavenly glory,
Wisdom written in burning sight,
The eyes the pages of her story,
And in those eyes and that laugh,
Serene thoughts express eloquence,
They speak of wonders on beauty’s behalf,
And navigate to joy in their eminence.

alone-ness

We wonder for what sin we atone
Spending too much time alone.
Lot in mazes of intimate hell,
There are many definitions for a cell,
Where is the hero with reddish cape,
To provide us a means of escape,
But as long as there a moon and sun,
We dwell in always within sacred one,
And then from exiles we are free.
When we enjoy our own company,
Cause find it far from a sin,
To be at ease in my own skin.

wanna live forever

Forever is a long time,
Trying to forge a coherent rhyme,
Shunning eternal deaths portal,
I struggle with the sorrow of the immortal,
Even the finest blade buckles to rust,
And when you’ve sated every lust,
You find more knowledge to be gained,
Even from passions unrestrained,
But as I examine the spiritual knife,
I smile amid curses for this long life.
For with all the power at my command,
My loves will always be condemned to sand,
And knowledge although it’s own reward,
What is a symphony without discord,
When all kith and kin you surpass,
Drown in the dust of an hourglass.

Saturday, March 27, 2010

Forgiveness - catching smoke

When unintentional hurts invoke,
Forgiveness feels like catching smoke,
There are many definitions to wake,... See More
In the turbulence of a mistake,
And withholding such is to some pleasure,
Forgiveness is a true mans measure,
For too many times again and again,
Lack of forgiveness revisits and then,
So at the bar we put more on the tab,
Nothing more alluring than picking that scab,
For both wronged and righted do feel,
That the other does not deserve to heal,
And soon all your wrongs insert,
Just wanting that other to hurt,
So then in peace we may live,
All depends on the courage to forgive,
But we also want to burn,
To sacrifcial offering we yearn,
If not all the toxin we swallow,
And the loathing we sit and wallow,
The bill comes and on it we choke,
And forgiveness becomes the catching of smoke.

2 seconds ago ·

Friday, March 26, 2010

Pain

Although to many would object,
with intimate knowledge of this subject,
then however few remain
sting from relation with mistress pain,
knowing not in sacred equation,
9/10 of pain is expectation,
when the grasp beyond our reach,
it's the anticipation of biting the peach,
knowing not when next we'll meet.
our reunions and partings sweet.
Foe her and in her icy mercy thrive.
and beat the bitch by being alive.

Single, Foreign and Growth

Single,

I feel this feeling you feel,
Driven through like unyielding steel,
But in time this too will pass.... See More
Tis the whim of the hourglass.
But my brother this verse is food,
As you dwell in a solemn mood.
That love is my department.
Cause in the singlelands I have an apartment.
That love dear Marvin will come again,
A heart rapt with joy and then.
That in the book of face.
Bonds of fellowship can replace.
The temporary change in status.
Our true kin will not berate us.


Foreigner

A foreigner sits and smiles,
A patriotic ex patriot with many wiles,
Knows the time shall not erase.
Experiencing the troubles of race.... See More
Many scars we sit and earn.
While for a decent steak we’ll yearn.
That in this our state weygookin.
And the knowledge of the foreign.


Growth

Asking as the tree reached sky,
The way of growing seldom asks why.
Youth sad never to regain,... See More
From the wisdom wrought in pain.
Even growing amongst the dark,
Branches shield both nightingale and lark.
It is the goal for which we live.
Or great pain shall not forgive.
The sun caresses, the rain falls,
The earth absorbs the quickening squalls,
Struggles and constant toil.
Pull up from unforgiving soil.
The leaf pages fall and again grow,
All part of natures flow.

Thursday, March 25, 2010

distance

they say that distance the heart fonder,
like there was a choice.
when you want them the first repsonder,
distance longer than the prose of Joyce.

Then where in distance does one follow
when waiting in anticipation,
when closeness you wish to wallow,
both summed up with relation,

having so often found,
the tyranny of geography,
makes the voices deafening sound,
when communication is the key.

but love I say is always there,
despite the hearts insistance.
few truers loves can compare.
with the aching of the distance.

the fall

I didn't think the way it began.
it would end as it did,
with dawn embers as darkness ran,
to where the stars at day stay hid.

during that day I saw those eyes,
and felt the shining fires delight,
which to my dusty heart now denies,
and pray for the oncoming night.

the tomb of conscience wails,
and the banshees curse.
Without the light the quill impales,
I dare not challenge worse.

so In that original moment dwell.
and seek asylum from the rest.
I was there when the light bringer fell.
and gravity did it's best.

so I say that love is all.
and I say without compunction.
to those eyes I am still in thrall.
and my form is still my function.

Wednesday, March 10, 2010

missing death and taxes

Nothing much to report, been back too long.

Nephew's cancer, cousin's suicide, my own slathering demons. I lose myself in form, my form is my function.

I need a break. Some kind of positive karmic recognition. My mind flows around the tomb of Ozymandias. I hear her voice in the electric winds. She has moved on. But I am always coldly reminded .

" Tis better to have loved and lost, then never to have loved at all."

My response is always " Until you've lost it don't tell me that."

Tired of looking for work. I miss so much. Friends from asia and here. Altohugh my mojo has been back awhile. It transforms into easy charms and trinkets of confidence.

I guess I fall victim to toxic nostalgia. The sweet dream for what once was. WHen she all there was. April is coming and I struggle alot. The stars will always remember true love.

I miss my girl. I miss the dream that bleeds away.I miss the shadow between the sun and moon.

Monday, March 1, 2010

bouquet

If my words be roses,
And small poems a ring,
A poet in love composes,
On my words take wing,

Know this my one,
That in this simple scheme,
That this time has begun,
When love o’er takes the theme,

That it’s not just on phrases,
I take my pleasure,
It’s you that amazes,
Sword and deed in measure,

So my girl this is a I ask,
Is that you smile and listen,
And pray my words meet the task,
And in those teary eyes christen.

That it’s a matter to create,
That the love this poem supposes.
I give this heart to fate,
And pray my words be roses.
For my half soul I write this poem,
My girl it’s me you complete,
For all this world I roam,
Return to the kiss so sweet.

And in those eyes,
And in that voice,
This verse reprise,
In love rejoice,

That it does matter,
In this dark time,
This pen tries to flatter,
My muse in this rhyme.

You my girl make me smile,
And I write in this electric tome,
It is in your mystic style,
You are my heart and home.

Monday, February 15, 2010

valentine's requiem

Love in wartime is hard
And in sorrowless aeon as well
But leave it to this sometimes gentle bard
To acquaint this tale I tell

Love is labour never lost
As we bards recite,
For it’s burden worth the cost,
For our heart’s delight.

I write this for she that dwell,
In the labyrinthine chaos of thought,
Her eyes, her heart forever swell
Those lessons that they taught.

She smiled once so long ago,
And my heart was her’s.
A beauteous flower hensforth grow,
In between feline purrs.

For in those eyes and smile,
I am the man who is better,
Than the pretty face that’s the style.
She is the page and letter.

For love as old poets say,
Is the rite of youth,
But in it’s arms I’ll stay.
For therin dwells the truth.

So to my lady fair I give,
All that I am and more,
For in those eyes I live,
And for her these scribbles pour.

Monday, February 8, 2010

old stuff

LETTERS BETWEEN LOVERS (female)

Letter writing is a lost art. Few do it nowadays. Thats how he got me. But thats also how I got him.
But now my passions need reinvigoration. Where is the fierceness. Like the love lingering after a betrayal. Knowing how weak I am. Itll soon be time to revisit the past and reinvent it Where I get all the really killer lines. Memories are tangible things. But the horrible thought lingering like a slow kiss is still there. Where would I be if I was still her.
I know I love him although thoughts of strangling the toad in his sleep also appeals to me.


THE ANATOMY OF MONSTERS –( Male)

No sir, we are not leaving here without her.
The world went black, at 4:20 ish. It was mid August. A fine day for a lot of people just to walk. It was a slow day. One of my co-workers got caught in an elevator. So I decided to break the door off to get her out. Since 2001 the company had a ton of building emergency equipment especially for such eventualities. A few were paniced about looters, this is New York. But after 2001 it seemed a lot less likely. The thoughts raced through our heads in the beginning were we hit again. Were we hit again. And once again I wanted a particular mans head on a pike.
( The sounds of metal on metal )
The door finally gave way and we made the long walk to the ground floor from the 36th floor.
The walk to the bar reminded me of another long walk a few years earlier. Wounds still fresh. My mind wandered.
You know they used to bury suicides at crossroads. And New York is the crossroads of the world. It was time to go and I established myself well in the pecking order. The place is packed and the alpha in me scream for dominance. I decided to go to my bar. The refirgeration was shot so there was a lot of free beer to be had. And I needed a drink.
I walked into a room of furtive glances, No man should be the master of another. And I froze when the recognition hit that I too served someone. Cause if that spiteful animal of regret sees me its over. The last shall be first, Im a poet not a politician. I keep my loyalties secret. Even with injustices clouding my mind. There is savage repression quelling the dissent and the uprising must end here the elite are thinking to themselves. An execution is really quite personal. Its not so easy to kill the boogeyman. There is blood in the water and all I smell is the slaughterhouse. I cannot weep with my head so full of lead. Tonight Ill hear the footfalls. And yet Ill be safe as your guest. Criminal poets only die in their sleep. Our slogans will ring again. Some names have been changed to protect the guilty. Others to wait for the statutes of limitations to end.
I decided to through a party for the suicide that stopped our train, even through we never knew him. I thought someone should mourn him. It just seemed wrong that everyone else was bitching about how late they were going to be. I was way after last call. Over the past year we had been to more than our share of funerals, some thought fate finally catch them, some were just unlucky, and some had their bodies turn against them.
Monsters are what I know best. Spend enough time with them you begin to identify with them. You see your own inner monster, but also something else. A fragment of radiance peering under the door. The ambient light. This collection of monologues all speak in some way to that. These are stories collected by me from all the lovely lunatics, Ive met rambling and roving trying to find a form. This play is my boneyard. These are my orphans, my pieces without a play. They are the homeless creatures under the bed, the derelict things in the closet, the dwellers in the dark, and they are the ambient light. That ray of eminence that strikes some as a mirage and others as a beacon. It was always that light which kept the monsters at bay. The ghosts in their graveyards and the suicides buried in their crossroads. Maybe now they can finally get some rest.



DREAM (Female)

I dreamed once when I drowned in a storm, my father the sun couldn't save me. But made me a bird. I resented my death. I began to carry small stones and pieces of wood from the shore and dropped them in the water. One day my pride asked me why. I told him that I was going to fill it up so no one would ever drown again .He knocked my island away. And laughed, and to this day I still try. But, its never enough, I am famine and I hunger. I get one day and night, to eat my fill, taste life, before the hunger starts again I'm mostly scared, a little angry, the rest indifferent. The first moment is the one you can savor the most, like the peach just before you bite. The rest never works itself up to that first minute of glances, unease then ecstasy. I'm fading to black. Transparent till the very end. I'm echo, a shadow of a sound. The sound in it's rhythmic, thumpings, like a beds squeaking springs. I miss my flesh. I think about a young me, how the gods made me repeat everything that was said to me, my lover thinking I was mocking him, spurned me. I left the world, hid in a cave and I repeat all the worlds cries.
So you wont give me and answer, youll tell me Im wrong but you wont point out a situation. But assume I am somehow to blame. Thats really fucking unfair, If not them quit your bitching. Where do you begin once the hate starts? Give me an option but to hate back. No poetry in fits and starts like backseat love. Ugly, rude and vicious human interaction.

Say yes, yes, yes, yes, please yes, now yes.

That is all that need be said. Then it begins a point of origin. Like the life of the spider everything in the weave. Say yes. How fucking hard is that? Denial doesnt suit you and it sure as hell doesnt suit me. I accept you without love and without judgement. Take you, accept you, cradle you, but what else is there but yes? Say yes and with me their is unending validation. Deficits are for politicians. Ill live with my debts my means beings so limited. Say yes loud enough for me to hear it. Just once, say yes, just once.


TAKING ( Female)


Im talking; Ill send it out to you. And know with this Ive doomed you. It is a view. A view too grand to be separated by pundits dictating from the left or right. This is not a speech for ideologues that wait for limited attention spans to kick in. To be forgotten. All the crimes and misdeeds and investigations become historical conjecture. The voices sound like paranoid schizophrenia when one mentions the word, conspiracy.
I am a big fan of conspiracy. I fear one party systems. Lets face it. This nation was started by a bunch of disaffected men in back rooms talking of injustices. So this voice, my voice, the voice of freedom will go out, at the speed of light and can never be killed. Hopefully some other worldly SETI program will pick it up and realize just how fucked up we humans are. Now for the warning on the package. I feel I am being watched, checked, cataloged and coded. Information is gathered on me daily. All in the name of security. The few of us still remember privacy. Its our own thoughts they cant touch. The air is not free, I believe once something is spoken, it gets carried on the winds and radio waves, the radio ghosts remembers.
When it started there was an exact date and day we remember like a searing brand on our conscious mind. They told us before we went into the camps. Before the torture, the sleep deprivation and the witch hunts for political radicals. The talking heads continued to yell and the conversations became a form of verbal professional wrestling. Staged combat that shocks and amazes but is ultimately failed violence. We wanted our demagogues and once something is codified it is nullified. We were dragged out of our houses in the night. Colors, creeds, and codex in neat straight capitals separated us. When did we choose a dictatorship and when did we cease to care. When the crime is so outrageous and the misdeed so obvious and the nepotism as pure as light. When the brilliant fall prey to the appetites of idiots. And the idiots open mouthed stare hazily and the grand future wrought in theft and self imposed oppression. Registration is the key to location. Thats how theyll find you. Thats when they put you in the camps. THIS CANT BE HAPPENING is less frightening until you come to the last word, again. You wanted my story, my tales of ribald adventures, tonight is good the stars are my campfires and my signal bleeds out into an open sky. We killed the bad guys and now all there is left is fear of another.
I love you guys. You saved me once and its time a repay you. I never gave you anything you didnt have.


FIREFLIES ( Female )

Fireflies at point East. The platform crowded slowly at 9:04 PM.

On a Sunday the Eastbound train passes them the westbound full of drunken Hamptonites.
The fireflies blinking their Morse code to the others.
The blink and flirt and court with mini stars through the sultry Long Island night.
The dim turns to black and I watch their 9 inch micro constellation
I feel like they do.
Its time to mate.
The city beckons me with a not to be denied or resisted pull of sane things without commitments.
A good time is had by all consenting and no soft hearts need apply, your company is best spent elsewhere. The few times I let myself glow.
Not often enough.
Sing Sweetness. In the evenings flow, this sugar makes more that its shard of cavities.
I hope it is a simply beautiful as these fireflies at points east.




SLUGABED SUB-LUMINARY ( Male )

My bed is my stronghold. Its vocabulary of comfort calls to me. I can regale you with the stories of the bed. I love it with joy unrestrained. It is artful in its siryn song. And I am ill disposed to find any fault with it. Save when another man was in it. Now since hes been in it. Its lexicon is incomprehensible. But I have the acumen to not be aimless or angry. I will take safety back. I will have a revolt, a bloody coup. I never sold that part of me.


FROGS ( Male )

One day the princess who kissed the frog felt very sad. She ran away. The first prince treated her quite shabbily. She sat at the edge of the moat crying. A frog sat at the edge of the moat and asked.
Why are you crying?
One kiss to save him, she said, That rotten prince charming. Im sorry he treats you bad. The frog said, staring up at her. But did you know the frogs are the purifiers. The ones who first brought the rain. To cleanse the earth. Id be your prince.
Thats beautiful, she said
And with that, the frog leapt up. And kissed her. And they lived happily ever after. Prince charming never came looking.
The Moral: You dont always kiss the right frog first time around.
Peaceful Dreamers come and play and take sides once in a while. This fence sitting nonsense has got to stop. If youre going to vote pick a party. This self serving diplomacy of cowardice. Its the side. Its all about picking the sides.

OFFENSE ( Female )

Where is the profit in taking offense to a whisper? I capitulate to calm the objectors. I know nothing he says. When I am a gourmand of the existential. My grim repast leaves me starving for something akin to magic. I compose myself for the oncoming. On this blotch of land with no space for too much money. And I smile through the scowl and seek recompense is jazz.



TROPHIES ( Female )

Sometimes you got to love it when you are a prize to be won.
There are things to be said for competition.

A capitalist to the last.
Or.
Or what?
There is always an or.
Or a mere thing, an obstacle to some greater goal.
There is always an or I dont know why that is. Something about being the grail I suppose. Its almost flattering in its vile servitude.
I know now never to let Beth talk me into anything. Shes a sweet girl, a little confused but, sweet, She met this guy Charlie at the bar.
A wolf with the disturbing malady of becoming a man once in a while.
We hit it off.
He left me there, apologetic as always.
We walk the forty or so blocks home.
I didnt care; there isnt a man alive who can touch me. They approach like Perseus in a ruined temple of Aphrodite.
Armed to the teeth, shreds of fear falling of him like a tattered shroud.
I had a garden of statues and the solitude became too much to bear. I wonder if Aphrodite took pity on me. At the time it didnt seem so. She ushered me back to life and gave me Pegasus, the winged stallion, beauty born from my blood. Knights dont come on white horses or chariots of clouds. Pegasus was mine. And that animal for the longest of times was all that mattered. I would fly over the worlds looking for those I could be around; the blind are very good for that. I just wont let them touch my face or my hair will bite them. Some people courted me, over the years, mostly for a notch on their belt. Halloween is the easiest time, anytime I can were a mask. Pegasus changed over the years, He like him go were the only ones of our kind. I let him go or a got lucky, hed be all chipper. Id brush and groom him, sing him songs. Hes transformed become a big white Mustang convertible. I got him in a garage I drive him once a year and see how far I can go. I can never escape until the hero comes, I drive or fly or run from dawn to dawn but when the first rays hit, Im back at the tower. In my statue garden.
This man here, ginning madly, snuck in thought I was a sculptor like him. Wanted to tell me what an admirer of mine he was.



CHEAP ( Female )

Cheap is how I would describe him. Cutting things in half until the atoms split. This can be forgivable. But nothing wrought in cuts ever bodes well. There is the Connequot river, a halcyon scene descibed by an acidic tongue. Never laconic or ostentacious I deride the twilight. And I exalt my mother the moon. With her comes respite and even in total darkness she is there. I cant describe the inherent horrors in what she sees. This is just too much for one poor troglodyte to comprehend or raise objections. The outburst of tears in no substitute for good old fashion violence. It takes a spark to lead to conflargration. Sarcasm is what it is. The quest for contrast and contradition, hyperbole and pathos. The right metaphor to plumb the archaelogical depths of familiarity like strata.


BACKWARDS & FORWARDS ( Female )

Jack was a palindrome, the same way no matter how you looked at him. Backwards and forwards completely lacking in mystery. He was way-worn with a wolfish grin, meticulous to a fault and oh so full of life. But the place Im going to is frought with dangers that are worse when imagined. And I mean to criticize. If I wound you. The gash can be covered in bandiages and the infection will consume with neglect. He is sweet and a little meddlesome. Brazen, glib, immature and stupid. We were just babies when we married. I will remove myself from him and his stinking edicts. But I may suggest one immutable fact that appeals to both reason and heart. I dont want to be alone. Ill be succinct and without exaggerated sorrow. Some folks especially the perky positive ones just need a good killing. There is no room for argument and there is no other way. Im a day from barbarism. There is no other way to remove him from the equation. Itll complete me when hes gone, out, away. There will be no more us, and that is the essence of the action. A cerebral bauble. Itll give me something to play with as dusk eases into night.

U 853 ( Male )

U 853.
Explain. He said.
U 853 - May something 1945 , a day after Donitz called off attacks on civilian shipping. She sank the Blackpoint. Shes submerged a couple of miles off Block Island, she is upright on the bottom, but the hull is in pretty good shape. All hands were lost. Two blast holes. Ive dove her shes a pretty dive. You can look through the hatches and see the remains. But there are nights, above the wreck you swear you hear men screaming in German.
You know once?
I got a bunch of copies from the Eugenics records office at cold spring harbor.
Whats Eugenics you may ask?
The attempt to breed better humans by encouraging people of good genes to marry, screw and have lots of kis , while sterilizing the people of who they considered having bad genes, or what is the word, defective germ plasm. They made these huge charts and pedigrees. Like horses or show dogs. Try to uses so-called scientific facts to justify their deeds. Considerrd it moral. But the negative side were those who believe in sterilization and culling of those least able to preserve human fitness. Leading to segregation of the races and sterilization of the insane, the criminal and the sick. Evolutionary models, Mendels laws and natural selection. All contributed to eugenic theory. Medicine advocated it. Clip them and snip them, Vasectomy and Tubal ligation were the preferred methods of keeping America pure and safe from idiocy.


Well many respected scientist of their day supported Eugenics. Science is a product of culture. Science is as much faith as logic. Eugenics developed in the wake of the Civil War and mass immigration. There was mechanization of industry and the migration to the cities had major health and social consequences. Labor pools were forming unions; there were outbreaks of disease. Economic depressions. And a lot of these problems were thought by the progressivist social engineers at the time to be the product of defective genes brought into the American gene pool from those immigrants: Poverty, alcoholism, feeble mindedness, criminality and prostitution
When I am grown, I thought I will be one with all things. I will be smart and strong and fast, and callous and flawless and cruel and self-righteous. Well at least thats the plan.

History is not for the timid.


HUNGER ( Female )

Nothing is real but hunger, I starve, go without and learned never to prize more than what you can carry. Never eat meat in a war zone. Boil everything and learn to blame. Like when the old Irishman say It was never cold in Ireland until the English came..

There is only hunger that drives the human and his conditions. Hunger is a rule, a law and a truth. She dwells in the very pits of me. The hole that gets greater the more you take away. . It is naked hunger that defines. Thats driving servitude is what will cure me.




Snake Oil X ( Male )

You know excuses really piss me off.
There is nothing more annoying than an ex alcoholic. I dont mean the ones who are being good. I mean the vitriolic, rabid ex alcoholics that treat the program like Its a religion. They found the devil in booze so god wasnt too far behind, waiting there with open arms and group therapy. They painted themselves into such tight moral corners, they had no choice but to look to the heavens. I still drink cause Im no quitter and I dont go to meeting. I also dont drink and drive, drink till I hit my wife or piss myself. Moderation being the key. I dont go to meetings. I dont tell the world this is what I am and that I have a disease. The algorithm is wrong. I dont blame nucleic acids and upbringing. You want to feel this. You want to heal me. Dont bother. I will be blind deaf and dumb to your sermons.

Dude lets face it, you were a hell of a lot more fun when you were drinking. Now you just exist. The whole drunken dimension is gone from you and now all you are is a self righteous pain in the ass. And you know what bugs me most.

Its like those ex smokers whove become tobacco nazis or even worse those whiney ass never smokers who claim they get sick when they smell smoke. They can just relax.

You were the one that hit your ex-wife

Felt fucking great didnt it.

You were the one who smacked up his car.

You were the one who pissed himself. Not the booze. You.

SO do my a favor, you can preach the efficacy of your cure. I never claimed to have willpower. I never claimed to be strong. Ill revel in my weakness. And that makes me way stronger than you. You see I got the cure. The panacea thatll fix you. Not snake oil.


SLIGHTLY MAD (Male)

I dont want to be a cavalier curmudgeon , I think we all went a little crazy when the towers fell. The American human snapped collectively. We all went a little crazy. Force is what I realized only respects force. Im tired of being incommunicado. But I happen to be a cursed with a paladin complex. Here is where I dwell between the voices. Knowing enough and not enough at the same time. Im being stalked by a tiny skulking cat, leonine in bravado. It moves with a grace and panache I admire. I follow him through the maze of courage and carnage. Then I cross a bright shining line. The quiet brought by sleep and pills. There isnt enough of us to form a majority. So I just get grumpy and wait to get shanghaied by the next shiney thought coming at the speed of dark. I seek quietus. I seek rescue in the visage of some woman coming, coming to save me. My whims are mercury affected by the cold and the hot. So I apologize because that is the heart of wordplay.

VOICES ( Female )

A voice is the most powerful aphrodisiac; it leads by the ears with sweet promises of their doom. Once a voice captures a man's soul it is hers forever.
My neck is my weak spot it makes me crumble.
Thats because its so close to all the mens souls I keep in my throat.
I have an entourage of doting men, always at arms length.
These men were so willing just to listen to each syllable pour out of my mouth like the anticipation of the crunched honeycomb. Its truly unnerving how easily men offer me their necks. Its a sign of submission to the wolves. Open and vulnerable haven of the voice. They would just offer it blindly not thinking of the cost. Men have spoken long enough and need to be speechless. Its time for twenty years and not know a single intimate secret. We are different creatures, creatures of intimacy, of verbal communication.
A womans voice is the first voice every man hears before he cries out to the lord Stop this awful brightness. Its the womans soothing voice. The voice is the soul, take a mans voice you take his soul away.
(She draws a straight razor and straddles him. She starts to dry shave him. )
I love shaving a man, lathering up his face and seeing the glint of ear at the straight razor glides up the neck. Do I trust the woman he thinks as I straddle him and just nick the neck. So they bleed just a bit.
Did you ever notice that men are always quite when their control is away? You geld them or a moment each time.
Men talk little about spirit. Its out of their realm. it is the domain of the irrational, hysterical, sensitive ones You see the voice is the soul and each soul you take makes you more powerful. But youre so quite, who would have though this would happen.

Are you saying love me is that an order.

Hes demanding a reason.
We should give it to him, he deserves that much.






SEX & MEDIA ( Female )

I please. The damages are priceless because. My life has been a constant fight to facilitate. And hopefully escape perception. I hope the answer is satisfactory. Before it takes a wicked turn.
My sister was shot, it was on the news. The whole world saw her die. And all I can think of is. Who do I go home with tonight? Screwed up isnt it. Affirm a little life if I can. Regain a little confidence. Life has an imperfect enchantment. Where is my miracle?



INFECTION ( Male )

A disease is killing the city and in this his problem he didnt listen hard enough, stay quite and you might survive.
Listen; take it as a request or a demand. Take it, as you will. You see of all the things I know, Quiet is one of them.
I have touched her, held her as companion and confident. She was always there for me waiting out the turbulence of the clamoring, confident, dubious doldrums. Oh She was there and it always seemed she had a question on her almost feline little mind, a question that desperately needed answering.
Who is there when you are all alone?
Im stalking him, my elusive fox. You see I trapped this one once but he gnawed of his foot to get away.
And youre left holding a bloody stump. Cant his control is gone, dominion devoured like sunlight at dusk.
He has eyes like sugar cane. All ready sold and bought at the gory price of thousand machete swipes.
Hes making little noises of protest. But always its the obscene silence that slaughters the noise. Garroting them, muffling their cries.
There are cracks in your foundation, old cracks, running fucking deep.



ALIAS ( Male )

I dont have any aliases. They are more like misnomers. Its close to twilight and it doubles me. I will be the man working again. The man quietly suffering again. A man not fully in existence. Work is an out of body experience for me. And all the dangers of being without it make me reticent. Id be ostracized, voted out of the city more for arrogance and laziness than for any cause. I take the abuse and the belittlement. It is a key to survival. I take the verbal battery cause I must. I just dont want to go to work today.






LOSSES ( Female )

Loves won and lost I started k at him and he was one of the only men I ever knew I could be a scare me to death

I remember coming home that one day. Everything was gone. Cupboards stripped bare and you were standing in the kitchen. Only a solitary can of tuna left. I tried to ask you why. And as I saw the can on an intercept course with my head all I could do was think about how aerodynamic it was. I got up from the floor hours later. The can unopened had a large dent in it from the collision with my skull. I picked it up and decided to eat. But the bastard took the can opener.

There is a supple innocence to you; an odd mix of abandoned illusions and total xenophobia, what are you scared of id it the waiting that frightens you. Youll say I babble, obfuscate, and ramble. Change subjects and strafe you with questions. A powerful reluctance. Subdued alienations supporting the numbers and the facts.

I want his eyes.
Confessions of a Negativity Junkie.
Negativity is an addiction. One day at a time and all that AA shit notwithstanding.
Allow yourself some good old fashion brooding time.
Oh wait your supposed to find the silver fucking lining.
I have the 20-Minute scenario. Im allowed to feel happy for about 20 minutes before the gods smack me down for my arrogance.
Women werent meant to fly.
Negativity keeps you in the belief system that all actions are futile. Those of us information laden to saturation smart people understand that.
I try hence I lose, I do the right thing followed by the complimentary burning.
Now I do not believe in Sunshine, and kittens, and lollipops and rainbows. Just because Im positive.
I always though the positive ones were simpletons and fools. And if their rosy disposition makes them ignore certain facts,
Like locking the front door. Its self -destructive.
So what you are saying is, Im a psychological charcoal briquette, Im in cinders. Worry is Negativitys tequila, its doubt heroin, and its cocaine pride. Its bourbon vindictiveness. Think positive - yeah right.






JUJU ( Male )

I am self taught in the arts of enervation. Its banal I know, but I take vast amounts of energy from others it is impossible to avoid. One must either give or take. Tears notwithstanding. Company breeds parasites. Its a rather ordinary necessity.

I know youre thinking A symbiotic relationship, I thought we had something special. I dont really understand the attraction myself but I should remain tacit. Keep its secret. But no, somethings deserve admittance. Im wicked and horrid and beastly. I know this. But it completes me and where is the harm in that? I give it a pedestal and it take very little effort. It is my skill. I never see where it comes from and its just as likely to evaporate. I never know when its going to happen. It comes in fits.

STEMS ( Female )

It seems at times we duel with suspicion and insecurity. Sometimes we are a pair of saboteurs to scared to realize that no amount of damage can
Subvert what was meant to be. All million miles a second race just as you open your eyes and smile.
The Magic Stoop I hum Stairway to heaven, The steps where we sat and talked and with passionate let ourselves fall. Words in the cement Hold testament For the place I love to enter and hate to leave without at least once looking back. Todd was sitting at the bar. Smile coy and subdued.
We talked, well he talked and the conversation split three ways between me, him and his reflection behind the bar.
Oh no, please continue, No really, No I heard she was like that.
Someone please put a bullet in my brain.
On me, Im not important.
Lets talk about you.
Two men check me out, one howls. Oh yes, lets go to bed right now you romantic schemer you.
I caught their gazes, blow them a kiss and turn them to stone.

Damn those reflexes. If the weather was as predictable as men no hurricane would last longer than a minute. It would be all force and bluster in one place for a while, then invisibly dissipate. If men were as right as rain, the world would be a parched waste.

Oh Shes still talking, 5-4-3-2-1-
You know I sensed that about you.
Three magic words a perfect incantation.
Im a romantic,
Thats him officer,
Has your eyes,
Its not mine,
You are an expert in desire,
Arent you?
Let me tell you something about the desire you create. Once there was a restless man, the man was a stonecutter. He cut the stone for the Parthenon. He desperately wanted a change, he was dissatisfied. He begged the Gods for a change. Hermes appeared. He gave the stonecutter six wishes, to be whomever or whatever he wanted. But the last wish was final. One day, the stonecutter saw a wealthy merchant, in a great house, with great food and slaves. He wished he was him, suddenly he was, he loved it, until people and business made demands on him. This tired him. Then he saw a great scholar with students doting on him, He wished he was the scholar and suddenly hew was. But the students questions weighted on him and the robes were heavy and hot. He looked up at the sun and wished he could be it. And he was. But he loved giving light, but heard the curses of the farmers in drought. So he became the rain and he heard the curses of the farmers I flood. Then he wanted no material so he became the wind. But was cursed when ships blew off course. Then finally he came upon the perfect form. He became a mountain, he become stone. Impenetrable, safe from sun, wind and rain, merchants or scholar could do nothing to him. That is until he felt a nick on his side. It was a stonecutter.

TRISKADEKAPHOBIA ( Female )

What do you desire? You look healthy Ill give you solace beyond substitute. This is no time to be stoic. Remove the burdens or are you adamant in your resistance/ With a few words I offer you so much joy. Its harmless and without cruelty. Ill instruct you in any language you want. Ill give you more than you can ever want or do you just want the company. Both are free for the asking.

Dont brood, dont be so down. Youre a big boy now, fearless. Yes go higher, explore, reach, go without judgement. Youll get stuck once in a while but there should be no time for regret or jealousy.




FIRST MOMENT ( Male )

First moment
A few minutes late.
Ill meet her down stair.

The elevator opens, she exits.
MY GOD SHE IS BEAUTIFUL
We go into the elevator; kindness is a color on her.
To Starbucks, we talk, I make her and several others laugh.
And I think I can get real used to this. I really can.

Why is she talking to me, cant she see what Im feeling.

Painted on him like a billboard.
Please dont ever stop talking to me. Wishes are answered few and far. Occasionally you get lucky. She smiles I melts and leave giddily..A kiss
Was
The last
Thing
I
Expected
From me or her,
Youll promise.
Ill go slow,
Never break a promise and always deliver what is asked of me.
I keep you close to my chest
Smell your hair
And exist between your smiles
Slowly I turn each page with joyous anticipation.
I am watching you sleep, hearing your heart beat.
Dream
Of couches, sunsets, riverbanks and swingsets
Dream of one of many marvelous Sundays.
Dance in laughter; dance in tears and sometimes my sweetness just dance.
ANTEDULUVIAN ( Male ) 15

It may seem aberrant but I was never fully at peace wit the spirit of the time. The zeitgeist as they call it. I like most take extreme pleasure in the misery asnd downfall of others. Schadenfreude to use another 20 dollar word. I listlessly count my pennies and I genially quake at my own coming consumation. I eat out of fear and I consume out of reflex with never a thought to the waste. I waste hours under the heels of those who respect no one. This is no way for a man to live. There is a lush lack of civility, courtesy, chivalry. To many these archaic forms must seem like Chaucer if theyve read him. Its a prolonged melee in which I am unarmed. There is no fixing it, no making better that is idle talk. I understand the need to improve and to make things better. But knowing that you cant is worse. I was raised not to be a novice to the revolution, I was raised to be first to the wall and shot. Ill bestow to you now my dull wisdom. A knife can be surprisingly quiet.




HEART ( Female )

Today my heart returned to me. I forgot the past hurts and neglects and rejections. and he poured back into me with all the blessed power of first love. Now all I can do is hope to earn her trust.
Understand a universal law; treat whore like Queens and queens like whores.

Which am I?

Both my dearest.

A whore of queens.

A Queen of whores.

You are going to let her get you killed. So you hit her so what now this is the law of the jungle my friends You see huh, I smiled at her She smiled back. It was only me. People are always ambushed about me cause I'm always smiles, thinking I'm up in there We all go back, play the music we wanted. Swinging out of rhythm. Yeah old hoss. Times like that were few and far. We'd smoke and we laugh and we'd talk about the colors we saw when we played. Like the caterpillar, big game to us. You stupid getting all killed, walking the roads at night high What are you thinking. Crispy man, one brain cell overworked wanted a day off. I miss the girl too, She'd get all glassy eyed when I played. Playing through the whole night hoping that no one would shatter the looking glass and she had to put her fist right through it.
Remember back in the day, The two of us wrestling, you brought me through that window. Crash. Dumb bastard, now who do I get whacked with, consider that
(Puts the harmonica away and grabs a shovel, grabs a beer, he starts to dig.)
I dig graves and I love dirt, soil. Nothing like fresh peat Roots like little veins plugging into the ground. I like digging holes, I attempted to dig to china once Got about a good six feet, tuckered myself out, and you, asshole. Pushed the dirt back in on me. Just to scare me. I like to grow things you got to see the beautiful plants I got in the back Make you weep, it's so good Hey it's a federal cemetery, who's going to know?
These men gave up their lives so I could grow weed. Aint freedom great bros. After a few weeks of beers, lovers and other pointless dichotomies. Cynicism is the only force
great enough to overpower my sloth I think alot about wasted time and the tremendous effort it takes to kill it Why do I fight all the time? Everyday longing for the constant whipcord tension of the fray. A blur of violent blackest thought impulses .Bear teeth,
Snarling eyes of the crowd, the forward facing children of predation. Who cares? All kills go to me. I just wish they were all strangers. And so what if she robbed me blind.




RUSE ( Female )

Im into gambling and porn and that does not make me a degenerate. Well it makes me a bit of a degenerate but still. Im waiting to be indicted.

DRAGON ( Male )

Jason you idiot, don't sell Jason listen to me Listen, Listen, Jason, you are not evil enough for this Yes evil Jason. Suck the eyes out of your head, stick cellophane toothpicks thorough them and serve them as appetizer evil. Give him some time Jay..He'll budge. We sell coins Jason, gold coins, stuff people kill
Pharaohs for You see that's your problem There are two types of problems your problems and my problems and I don't care about your problems You don't think you will ever have alot of money, you know what I do, Jay let me get a word in. Ten percent of every buck you get in the bank, boom, don't touch it. Money attracts money. Cosmic law. I was making 6 figures at twenty Jay-boy, you know why. I can sell scales to a snake, don't fuck with me Jason I'll tear you to shreds, snap your back in my jaws. What you want to challenge me. Get ready to lose. Rat gnawing at your guts. Jason you already lost. Accept it, shes gone, dead, obliterated. Accept it and go on, but you can't you know why BECAUSE SHES FUCKING DEAD, YOURE DEAD TOO!!! Oh your so tough, I'm eating you alive, Next I'll eat your sow of a recollection, your tiny soul and rape your woman. I'm evil, Jay, you must see that. Alright, Alright, ALRIGHT, ALRIGHT! Sellout . Pleasure doing business with you. You on the other hand Jay doesnt have a clue The way I found her. Tired confused alone. A whore. Hell you saved her. Even made an artist of her and the bitch left you.






SAY YES ( Male )

SAY SOMETHING WORTH HEARING!!!!!
Pain is good because it at least at the moment of impact informs you how alive you are feel nothing.
Perforated, licking wounds that I was just starting to heal. All my cuts kissing them soothing the hurts. There isnt any salve or ointment for them, no anesthesia. How did I find them. Where do I find them, the ones who cut me and made my apologize. Maybe Ive been licking my wounds so long I like the taste.
I can watch and wait and wonder, let spy satellites pick me up by the light of a cigarette in orbit. I never expected to live this long I courted oblivion in her heyday. I almost died once; high out of my mind I was dancing on an overpass over Great South Bay on the way to Smith Point Park. So I dove in., kept swimming down and down. I felt my lungs start to buckle, then I hit bottom and shot myself back up you ever see the sun through the water below. I was starting to lose consciousness and I broke the surface
Look the colors of the sunrise like the sun is making love to the sky, how can you not want to see that tomorrow.
What answer did you give them?


KILLING TIME ( Male )

Killing time in disrespect, rabbits out of the hat time. With the absence of fact. Confusion takes over.

GRASS ( Female )

I am you and all you memories, It's quiet, summer evening, wind through the trees in a druid song, fairies peeking out behind saplings. Strawberries, clovers, at least this day I can dance on my tiptoes. This one boy I knew had strawberry blonde hair. A sweet whispery voice, not even close to affectation if he knew what that meant. He had a voice a few octaves lower than most male voices and he would hide his face behind these huge hands of his. Ducking cutely behind an intense shyness I broke him of that. With me, he learned to relax, with me he was free. At least for a little while. He was one of those perfect people, the ones you think God placed here to remind you how good life can be. Only God has the secret for making such a person the ones that tug at the soul. Enriching us. I used to love taking him for walks in the rain. I taught him to love the cascading water. Stuff my father told me growing up was the tears of God. And after a while I began to learn when and why God cries it was this hill where I saw it, the face of God. I was straight stone sober. Lying down here, staring up, me and you enjoying each other. The grass was wet; it rained earlier that day and it threatened to rain again. We waited like Ben Franklin sans kite and key. Lightning is the weapon of the Gods. It is power they hold its mysteries close to their divine chests. There are days I wish I had that as well One drop fell like a kiss on my cheek and then it started to pour. I stayed getting soaked to the bone, I didn't care. It took a while for the light show Flash, thunder, thunder, flash, that was close, BOOM lightning flies up from the ground like an angry soul. I kissed him, he smiled, I wanted him then and there, he obliged then there was this amazing series of bolts. The moon silhouetted the clouds and lightning cracked open the sky like a pane of glass hit by a small rock. And in that second I saw it, peeking through the shards Staring, air full of burnt ozone The strikes started getting closer and out of hand It saw me. It didn't want me to tell anyone. We ran serpentine through the fields but and electric snake bit Alex. He was cinders and flesh and frozen all at once, the lightning froze the raindrops in air. Stopping time. you when time caught up was third degree burns and ash God keeps his secrets. It's nothing like that. Enjoy these moments Enjoy each one. Cause soon Ill have you.


MESS ( Female )

The mess has begun, the chaotic mass of dysfunction that passes for my life. Has caught up with me once again. And it doesnt have the courtesy to fix itself. It just lies there, unmotivated. Well my mother taught me never to reward sloth. Ill just let it lie. Even though my compulsion is to fix it. I hope eventually it will be motivated enough to make a better life for itself. You cold, how did your hands get so cold.?

You just had to leave the window open. A little nippy don't you think, A sure-fire sign if you see your breath hey it's below freezing there. No need to check the satellite map. Everyone knew it was cold, accept you.

I just think shes got a broke thermostat

This woman with a beard like Walt Whitman spoke to me in Czech accent. Turned me on to some deep-seated gypsy fetish I must have. She knew it was cold. There was a Japanese woman with a nervous tick rubbing, thumb and forefinger. She knew it was cold. There was a pigeon of a man that tried to tell me all the stops on the 9. And asked if I ever heard of the 8 train. I knew it was a trick question. And even that insane little bugger knew it was cold. Why would anyone love the cold? At least soon I'll be all white and have excellent camouflage. Something I picked up in the army. I learned how to be a stump but the technique didn't serve me well in the desert. I'd kill to be in the desert again at least it was HOT!

I used to have a silver fox fur coat, don't give me that look. All the animals are dead, it would be really cruel if I strapped them to my body live wouldn't it. Don't underestimate the power of maliciousness. I only wear dead animals on my feet. But I only eat old women and small children. Did I get this sarcasm thing right?
Yes dear that is sarcasm HEAT!
You don't know cold.
I don't know cold, sorry Love, but you do.
Turn up the heat. Heat, warmth, you know that human need for survival since time immemorial. Look I'm turning cobalt. HEAT! I don't care set the cat on fire I covet warmth. I had this ex she was from Minnesota, where you get three blizzards a day. Stop laughing Oh I hate winter, hate everything that reminds me of winter. Even hate Christmas it reminds me of the damn coll. You are like a winter Nazi. You are like one of those people who think everyone should love this stuff. Every year as a kid, my parents would drag me, kicking and screaming to Vermont, in December. Toward the cold, for vacation. They were insane Yeah she was my grandmother but still. She couldn't take a plane.

Snowball fights, ice skating, sledding. My grandma, she's blurry in my memory now, like looking through a coke bottle or a funhouse mirror. She loved it too. My sister and I used to skate all the time. that is until I fell through the ice. I saw her standing above me as I floated under her. I banged on the ice. It wouldn't give. Life goings, numb, almost instantly, senses fading, cold shock mind too numb. I never woke up. Heart stopped. Screeched to a halt. It took then twenty minutes to find me. Hypothermia, they call it. I'm a wraith now. I died, I just walk around now, fearing the chill and wet stars falling from the slate gray sky. why would anyone love the cold.


TAKING THE BULLET ( Female )

Im willing to go down and take the bullet for you. But you kind of owe me an explanation. Im anxious, understandably, thinking and worrying about the targeted assassination.
He called it quits and I knew about the affair, I had faith in him long ago.







GYPSY MOTHS ( Female )

Come my little moth.
No why would I, I'm absolutely clueless. And from what strange alternate reality did you walk out of. I'm not even symmetrical where do I diverge each morning, why don't all the neutrinos spin when they're not being observed big atoms, solar systems, galaxies, and the spiral, something in the center and the cloud around it.
Don't you know that over the constant chatter, is an indistinguishable chorus of injustices?
Don't you know there is a poetry to pain.?
And without the suffering there would be no ecstasy.
Joy is found. Joy is common, common as solace. And with these things you can exorcise, the demons of humiliation, heartache and searing memory.
Fire is a great example of the randomly cruel universe. Fire requires three things for continued survival, like us: heat, fuel and oxygen.
I've seen places burn, flashover, all things once t hey reach a certain heat, they combust at the same time. Like it was bathing in high-octane gas yearning for a match.
Forest you know, burn crazy when you fight the fires all the time in them. The dead things collect, dead trees become ideal kindling Hell they get so big they create their own weather. More wind, more fire, more fire, more wind.
Ad infinitum.
Fire is an alive malevolent thing. Smoke billows, turning houses to embers Floating weightless carbon away in the perpetual wind.
The Booker house was up, we all ran to see it I ran out to her. Licked by color, red, yellow, white, orange, blue, gold the skin sloughing off her ridiculously small body in ashen sheets. I looked away, the air reeked with burned hair. The fire had her; She fell with a quiet barely audible thud a few paces from me. Her lungs, tongue, throat, scorched She couldn't say anything if I wanted too. She was cannibalized by it. I watched her die and did nothing.
Now tell me why the moths fly into the fire. Why would anything do that to itself? Why does the moth die in flames?
Because it loves them.



PHOBIA ( Female )

Fear is fast growing cells replicating like a cancer yet waiting in lines. I hated the expectations, shut off the lights and said good-bye. Its crunch time, bullied into exile. Once Im clear and things happen but until then this disenchanted chick is digging in.



SATURDAY ( Male )

It was Saturday; I stood in vigilance guarding an abandoned ice cream factory. I had no reading light, radio, or contact with the outside world. Stuck there, but what can you do? The old plant is shipping brick, next to a railroad overgrown with weeds. The tracks extend another two miles or so. In the front of the building, unkempt shrubs bust out next to huge dying birch struggles against gravity. The back of the building spills like entrails of pipe, brick, steel and glass.
I watched the sunset; slowly behind the clouds leaving a halo of saffron and peach. Ive seen many sunsets especially in autumn where the leaves color blend and touch the sky. With a soon to be purple and red sunset that looked like a bruise on the face of God.
It appeals to me in the sense that all tragedy appeals to me. Its raw truth. Its about sorrow, suspicion and revenge. Soon the sky was ablaze like the burning of Elysium. Shafts of light pierced the clouds, which my grandfather once told me were souls going to heaven. My grandfather knew how to tell a fable. I stared into the sun as the clouds turn to plumes of crimson smoke. I closed me eyes and adjusted my vision to the inevitable mission at hand.
I am not beautiful person, In me is all the ugliness of generations. There is no nobility. As both remember you and me would restlessly wait for June. There was a pond, in the swamps near out homes, in the industrial park that would become full of frogs. Also the illegal fireworks would start pouring in for the fourth of July fugitives. In the summer we would all camp in the woods.
Jumping jacks, bottle rockets. And firecrackers were the weapons of choice in our war with the frogs. To us they were lesser creatures and we would revel in the massacres.
With a Swiss army knife you would examine them, still living while you pinned them to a board with corkscrew. You would cut the webbing out between their toes and saw off their limbs. You just followed and laughed. We had power. Pathetic wearing your scars likes indignant medals.
A nihilist with the charm of a sociopath. Miss Negative awaits. She wraps you in the identification with failure. Failure becomes self fulfilling and blame becomes righteousness. The Chrysalis is a blanket of gruesome self-loathing to succeed to believe love is suicide to you. Experience teaches in condescension. Memory is an addiction. Where we catalog out perceived wrongs.

Daughter of Sleep
She said Sweet dreams and they were.
Of dreams she is one of them, l know it this daughter of sleep. Poetry in form, music in motion Inter woven, Magnificent tapestries.
Seen only at a distance
Now up close.
Closer than I ever thought possible.
She is the fabric of dreams I have created worlds for her.
Sculpted the Gods and tamed the very forces of creation to do her justice. I only hope they can.
Moments, moments, fleeting
A joy each second. Like fresh grapes from a vineyard.
Overripe and bout to burst with sweetness.
The vine holds many alluring secrets.
Honey I dont do anything thats healthy for me. Thats a frightening bit of arrogance even for you the paranoid poet. Everything in Moderation including moderation abstinence never did anyone any good.



STAND ( Male )

I thought she was a one-night stand that lasted a year and went horribly wrong. Both drunk we seduced each other and went back to her place in the east 80s. She scared the hell out of me. She cried alot, she did everything alot. She kept demanding information on me. I gave as much I could. We lived together or a long while. We moved in way too fast. She had a rage I mistook for passion.

History is a lush verdant jungle of long gunmen.
I want a revolution, take up arms, The rich own justice, Take responsibility, and peasants take up your guns and place the barrels to the vacant skulls of the moneyed.

I am a fool, I work, I suffer, and I function with honor, dignity and pride. Im a fool who smiles and throws unnoticed barbs at the blissfully blind. I have no pity for you.
I grew up with guns and now they are a passion, Tell me which is better biting the peach or the seconds before you bite.
I blame on reflex, l bleed cynicism and eat images like nothing phases me. But I take responsibility for who and what I am. My parents brought me here but I choose to stay. Stick Around, I come around just to brutalize. Victimization is your great ITS NOT MY FAULT! You would be surprised how many women carry guns, I mean whats a misdemeanor compared to a rape.

A man trying to score once told me lying through his teeth that a woman is pure love.
This along with other lies, Anger is unbecoming, thinking ruins the face. So does, pain, misery, regret horror, disgust and vile servitude? They gave you lines too.
The answer is man.
A line is a line; its whether you bite that matters.
Belief thats the hard part.
Its threat, intimidation and the constant nagging feeling that comes from knowing anyone lied to long and consistently enough will believe anything.
So you choose your insinuations with care cause all great lies are simple, so as to not be easily forgotten and consistent so as to hold together under scrutiny. The propaganda chosen for effect. This allows the cynic to think positive but not be a total fucking sap. Logic of Pacasl's wager and Okam's razor, why not believe god is there and when stripped away the simplest answer is usually the correct .We are the troubles on the gods and the universes dysfunction. Like all wisdoms its simple. What one needs belonging?

No, thats a pain in the ass no. No is the beginning of everything bad in my life. They say it, and then I say the rest is violation and vendetta.



THE TREE ( Female)
Tree of Life echoes of that hill far away. Where we would lie to each other in the grass. I am what you want just believe that for a while. Then I'll be on my way.
Generations of leave, so it is of men. Autumn is telling in colors and crunches. Decay is embraces in vivid spectacle.
Deep inside that's the hole and the hook. Shallow and deep the cut that bleeding a torrent of incidental torments. My child fears a silent place where I am.
Unnecessarily complicated isn't it. A minor inconvenience translates into tragedy in the arms of autumn.
Death is only beautiful when she calls to you. A release like sex into unthinking oblivion. God love me, I am too much apart of her. I'll give it to anyone will to step up and say this one is mine.
Love is the purest of outrages. Truth demands to be seen. That is the nature of the scene gabbing attention needing truth. It knows that deception is a skill, prowess, and playing to greedy workless fantasies conceals my objective. Plays the game. Gives them rituals, enemies, sacrifices and high vague promises.
Love is the purest of outrages and the truth demands to be seen, and alas nothing is real but hunger.

LAST CALL FOR ALCOHOL !!!!



MUSIC ONCE UPON ( Male )
I'm not nice, never was, never claimed to be. Neither are my appetites and I believe it's time for a bash. Not just an ordinary party but one I can back tyo the empty world with. Harmony like color without forecasts and projections. What is trhe price of falling apart when that's the only choice you got.


BREAKDOWNS ( Female )

Am I capable. Guarding serenity, it is a good life. Anyway you want it. I love each and every one of you. But my love is nomad, won't stay anywhere too long for risk of the locals hunting me down. I'll give you a quick introduction to my heart and you will do me the courtesy of sticking to the lie. I'll concoct wild conspiracies later.
JOY ( Female )
Joy, I am crying to be with you.
Christ it's been just too damn long. Come here lover and talk to me. Be there for me like you used to. That's it. Slip…
I need you baby, I want the wordless joy. It's fleeting, but why worry. Paying interest on future debt. Interest paid in time and attention.
You want me to beg don't you? Plead, pray, prostrate, and protest. You want genuflection and proof of your power. You always had it all you had to do was ask.
But no that would be too simple. Too direct. It's so easy to appease the need and keep the sacred ache. Who are you when I need you? Where is the love in Dopamine? Where is the chemical bliss? Where is the joy, the prolonged insinuated joy? Joy this fleeting momentary taste to the starving. Where are you my darling I need you.
IDLES, IDYLLS ( Male )
There are times at night, just before the dawn. The loneliness seeps in like water or is it blood. The madness of all the weights and burdens dog pile on the fragile sleep deprived mind. Insomnia is the curse and I try to kill this spectre. It just stared back at me grinning madly. What I need before the dawn is not the light but more of the shadow. The truth that harsh little bitch knows I'm fragile. It's a trap in a maze of skeleton keys and combination locks. I dread the dawn with it's eminent deconstruction of my well thought out hallucinations. My dreams having the substance of an untried door. It's quite susceptible to the brilliance. Which make me a fool afraid of phantoms. A part of me died, a place close to my eyes. I see her when the lights are dim. I feel her breath like and unwanted caress. I touch it back because it has been so damn long. And I hope and pray and beseech the night to stay, call me lover and keep the blindness close. Hating the expectations, I'll shut the lights and say good bye. Or maybe.


Then say goodbye.