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Better watch out, you Do-Gooders –
Hard-working men,
Loving women –
For the beast unleashed on town tonight
Is like one you’ve never seen before!

To heat the beat of aching heart –
We hit it hard,
And hard it hits,
This back and forth of rapturous pain –
Arousing, sweet passion it ignites!

Ah, the thrill!
Ah, the kill!
To smack and whack and rack and hack
The living world to Hell!

We’re out on a fabulous pummeling
In every town
In every home
To brandish bat and flatten each rat
That stands up for themselves!

We hold aloft our mighty knives
To gut the dog
To flay the dove
We munch and crunch their bloody bones
And swallow with grand gusto!

Oh, the rush…
Oh, the gush!
As heinous vein spurt sanest stain
To paint the brain anew.

The mighty we have made ourselves –
Explosion!
Revulsion
Of this pitiful pitiless broken world
That we rebuild today!

Our fire burns all to the ground
What man creates
What God creates –
For only when we’ve destroyed the world
Can it rise to reclaim our spoils!

See how grand?
Come, take a stand!
As monster sets ablaze to rape and raze
All you hold in hand!

Ha…What bliss!
To take a piss
And fan the flame to cheat the game
‘Til you all do the same.

Oh, what a glorious night…
Blow away all in sight!
For who can doubt the hateful true?
If mass agrees, the few should, too;
Those who rebel, their lives shall rue
For telling us what to do!

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What’s in a kiss?
Nothing but this:
A smacking of lips
At first guarding’s slip,
Heat of the gut,
Clench tight butt,
Tongues intertwined,
Minds all one kind –
For that moment only
You’ll never feel lonely;
But, once it has passed,
Farewell, thou sweet ass.

Your partner in kiss
Only wanted short bliss
In corporeal touch,
But nothing so much
As attractions suppose –
The comfort she chose
Only lies in that second
Though you had reckoned
Stronger affections
When her corrections
Point out that a kiss
Is seldom remiss
Since it did all it could
And made you feel good.

But afterwards, friend,
You wonder your end
Was wrong in the hope
To scale her love’s slope?
A faraway goal,
A kiss the light toll,
To reach her devotion –
But flighty emotion
Soars over your plain
Since it’s just a pain
To walk and observe
When she can conserve
By plucking up fruit
And leaving you mute
As she returns to her airs
And shits on your prayers –
Thus is the class
Of that flighty ass.

I mourn a missed chance,
So stay firm in the stance
That they just want pleasure
Without further measure
And you’ll save wasted time
By remaining in prime
So those emotions stay firm
‘Til they grow past this term…
But even my might
Complains of this plight:
“Oh, how I wish
For just one more kiss!”

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I have oft driven along the road
Late at night, in thunderstorm,
And met with my reflection.

Listening to nostalgic tunes
On the radio, a time gone by,
I ponder on life lost in the rain.

Lightning strikes a pattern
Through dark skies, clanging rain,
Blessing lucidity upon the road to come.

Across the road I glide along,
Beneath overpass, betwixt neighborhood,
As I map out the past.

Raindrops pound into the windshield,
Wipers whipping, back and forth,
To wash away conviction.

I treasure the road in the rain
Because it is open, void of vehicles,
As though the rest fear clarity.

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Faith, Hope, and Charity
with their bountiful bosoms,
Nursing the men of the fields
the Deer of the forest –
that four-legged king –
green grass rolls down their backs
like verdant waterfalls
until it gathers in pools
in the valley below.
So did a tribe, proud people,
rely on their gentility
Until the bleak Midwinter
when guest turned on host
in his own home
and the land did the same
as one woman fled the carnage
one brave, solitary, foolish woman
because she considered the mountains –
their names, their summer cheer –
and expected faith, hope, and charity
but, as she disappeared
into the blizzard and their frozen breasts,
Charity was impossible
Hope was ignorant
Faith was compassionate
but could do nothing
only stay on the woman’s blue lips
as the snow carried her up in a current
and rolled her under its waves
to settle in the valley bed.
And, when the spring came,
the sun answered her prayers
as she thawed in its warm nourishment –
never to fear bloodshed again.

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The countryside is sweet tonight –
Sunset comes discreet tonight –
The Chapel rings with choirs tonight –
My heart is flecked with fires tonight!

I know inside there is a maiden
Who holds fast the veil of virgin,
For whom I sit, in patience waiting
For matrimonial mating.

She will be fair, she will be true,
We’ll both give up our selfish slough –
Every day she’ll bring me joy
Because her needs are good employ.

We’ll put our love before ourselves
With smiles to comfort that which delves
From what we might agree upon
Since, while they fade, we carry on.

Those churchfolk cheerful pour outside
Amidst the Christmas fairy lights,
Watched from hill by I on bench,
And I by love’s excitement clenched.

Take heart, my heart! Remain steadfast
Until the final laychild pass –
For love ne’er lacked strained hope in tow,
But offers cargo worth the snow.

The ice pelts down in biting sheets –
Oh! How my snot runs down the streets,
My hands chap blue, my face raws red,
My mind frozen from chill and dread.

But love, nay, its lofty prospect,
Shall give me warmth, till I expect
A woman that faith and honor steer
To come my way, to draw me near.

Alas! They all have come and gone,
To leave me, once again, alone,
To face the vapors, midnight ghosts
Who swing about the dimmed lampposts.

The snow, it falls in heavy drifts
That weigh upon my heart – so stiff
It beats – like footsteps stumbling dull
Through hollow chest and swelling skull.

Every year, fate remains the same:
Unapproached, unfulfilled, laid lame
By those who can’t, or feel no need –
Is there one who even holds my creed?

The blizzard lightens up its scorn
To hail the violet sun of morn
With owls a-hooting, deer prance on
Across the sparkling drifts of dawn.

Black branches scatter water drips
That trickle o’er my jagged lips
In wait for mortal angel meet
‘Til I freeze dead against my seat.

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It wasn’t all that long ago
I felt a chilling midnight glow –
A soul, silent as the drifting snow,
This lone and wand’ring ghost.
But if I tried to hold her fast,
That silence only freezed my grasp
And forced from me a single gasp –
My heart was hers at once.

She’d glare at me with crystal eyes
Whilst I’d sing hopeful lullabies
Of silence, hoping these complied
With fairness more than most.
Yet if I blinked but only twice
She’d dissipate in streams of ice,
Ample hips deciding splice
Between the storm and sconce.

Oh come to me, my icy muse!
With irises of aqua blue
You signal what I’d give to you
Might soften your reproach.
Norwegian landscape, flushing red,
Betrays the feelings of your head
Although you’d have it smoked than said
Our souls had stuck and hold.

But hailing Spring for us to part,
Briskness, wholly yours in art,
Motivates an early start
Despite a slow approach.
And as I watch your fading shape,
With Platinum hair cut at the nape,
I wake to Winter’s drawing drapes
And quite forget the cold.

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Have you ever been kissed by the blooming sun?
Brushed by the petals of that flowering sun?
Tickled and pinched by waxing rays,
melted along with mist-ridden days,
scorched by a cosmic microwave
first brain, then chest, then skin are enslaved –
Utraviolent pollen
fluttering, blinding
rain upon a thirsty Earth
that increases thirst tenfold.

Then –
only then –
does my skin redden
and crispen to brown,
Withering under the kiss of the sun –
whose cumulus sheets cannot hide her touch –
The sweet smoldering kiss of the bed-seeking sun –
when her arms wrap the world in a crimson mirage –
The cruel burning kiss of the pure patient sun
whose lipstick stain will mark me for weeks.

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Oh I’m just some lint
floating into the breeze
just as I please
through iron-wrought trees
though pigeons demand
intensified care,
I waltz, unaware,
a soft cloud of hair
whose bickers not spent
on icy cold gales,
their breath in my sails,
my stratosphere scales,
such power at hand
cannot keep this fluff down
o’er streets and Uptown
to that bold Times Square sound:
Across skyscrapers’ crowns I soar
though I’m a lint, and nothing more.

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Flailing.
Just…Flailing.
How the coming generation
Believes that it can dance
Perplexes me, considering
It only involves hands.
An elbowed twist,
A seizured jerk,
All standing in one place.
Some wooden tilts
At ten degrees –
The only change of pace.
What happened to that jazzy swing
Where the dance took up the floor?
Now the crowd must circle round
To make dancers seem more.
What ever happened to the ballroom,
Graceful conversation, body and soul?
Reduced to intimacy in a bounce
With hopes of making bed less cold.
Was it the music?
Was it the steps?
What made dance not what it used to be?
I’ve come to think
It’s tiring
To move the frame with tiny gears
Spun by a well-oiled crank.
Imagination is that crank,
And effort is its springs –
Which makes sense, considering
The newer age prefers a fling
Over a crafted, lasting thing
Because they are flailing.
Just…flailing.

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Blessed with easy birth
Yet cursed to fall on deaf brains
Similar to poems

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