Let's Go

When the ghosted foot soldiers
circle the edges of your limits
break motion
send shockwaves
make ripples
and when the legends speak syllables
from the inside of your fire
shout it out
carry it on your shoulders
walk it through the storms
chew up boulders with your jaw bones
spit out fragments clear your throat
throw your hands up
leave the world with two words
fight on
sever the roots
break new skies.

I Don't Fucking Know

There is something.
Here.
There is a sidewalk on my forehead.
I am thorns formed on necks of orchids
I'm chorus effects and born-again's
I am nothing more than aborted chords,
Dormant, abhorrent to the core and
I can’t even feel the four’s anymore.
I'm knocked up with lava rocks,
Pregnant with cobblestones.
The soldered bones of that copper gold
Splinter in this coddled cold.
Some say I’ve lost my edge.
Now those may just be the voices
But fuck ‘em
I’m just biding time trying to regain my poise
And when I finally come to rise out of this noise
Y’all won’t even spot the arrival.

And he drinks too much
And you know he bleeds too much
And we all know he just fucking thinks too much
But He can’t hear you no more
Your static click is just far too thick
He’s locked up the attic
So for now keep taking extract
From abstract.

Here I Am

I've wrapped rock around my chest
in hopes that I could conceal this mess.
But amongst the laughter, the dry sarcasm,
the humility and the smiles,
a little bit of crimson streams down my cheeks.
Half a year has passed,
the wounds remain salted,
biting at my endeavored endurance,
but I can say that I smile for you.
Everyday, every second, every breath I take
with reverence.
I can't give you anything anymore.
Forgive me.
Please,
Just, forgive me.

W.U.I. Writing Under the Influence.

Let me float in the lines of your palms,
Linger in the ecstasy of your fingerprints.
As you smile at me,
I am laser locked to your stare,
glowing glimmering with ebullience.
I could melt on your lips,
outstretched, glistening with spirit.
I could watch the stars fall from the sky
as I dance to your rhythms.
I could spend a lifetime.

In Tin Cups Of Metal Coin and Lost Lovers

Today he went down to the river,
and washed his hands.

As the sun meets death,
it scorches the throat of the horizon,
spilling shimmering orange beams and purple blush
across the glass canvas.
Abrasive, resistant,
Consumed,
The village is engulfed by the warmth of its cataclysmic departure.
The children are dispersed.
The aromas of soft supper blends
seep out of straw huts,
intermingling with chirping of crickets
and cascades of waterfall quiet,
entirely bereft of Stillwater Silence.
The land is lulled by low roars
and dwindling coal-fire kindling,
coated with hums like morphine
drip wet cartilage
as it melts on the rock,
he is taking himself elsewhere.

Slowly eroded,
transient electrocentric energy unloaded.
Oh, he is getting there, hopes and
visions of grandeur suddenly in focus.
The jaded locusts of morrow may feed
on the clusters of grime from his cold knuckles,
but the shackles have been broken,
and he is freed of that old catastrophe.
The trout are dancing in the golden,
For the sky has been smoked and
they want a touch of its flavor.
His burning butter tears cut through the river
Like shards of jagged.
He weeps like Egyptians
Who no longer carry boulders,
Like when a child is born.
He weeps like the soldier’s return home,
Like the wind has touched his forehead.
His smile is wet, thick with stale endearment.

In proximal distance,
A coffin is lifted in bursts of fireworks.
Incinerated are the forefathers.
As their remains delicately hang in the skyline,
The river shines with contingence.
He kisses the currents,
He can still feel the pulse in his lips.

Sing low the calls of madmen,
They speak true to your wonders.
Find summersets in your drinks,
Find jousting in your ambition.
If you can find serenity
In tin cups of metal coin
And lost lovers,
You too will dance with the trout
In the glimmer of the golden
And cleansing shade of dusk.

Chopin and Sawdust

Sprinkling cigarette dust
along the frame of our photograph,
humming to Chopin, sipping upon reverberations,
I delved into your pupils with my fingers.
I found scenes from The Nutcracker,
Enormous Russian Bears dancing with wondrous youth,
Gallant Royalties giggling on the ice
in awe of their Neverland.

I found you in hymns of Irish Folk Tales
centuries of maturity,
aged to perfection.

I found you street artists,
impoverished and unshaven,
aloof to the candid and unwilling,
tapping into something thicker.

I found you in violin strings,
elegance amalgamates with ferocity,
Sounding heartfelt moans and cries into the clouds.

I caught you in the city lights
shading parts of your forehead,
smiling at me so playfully with your eyes.

Alas, scars rest on your eyelashes.
You are caked with sawdust,
and I cannot sing the flames away.

I shall settle for memoirs,
and decorated picture frames.

Disolve With Me

Listen, I'm just saying
I found the stars tonight.
I saw the oils blending.
I can feel the hook in your smile
and I see the loose endings.

Let's break up the particles
annihilate the patterns
for these walls are melting
Dissolving parts of Mars
And all of Saturn.

Let us wring the rags
and sip the nectar.
I have lost all sense of censure
as we eradicate celibate textures
that danced on the subtitles of our semiverse.

Come with me.
Lay in this midnight bed,
placed in the deepest valley.
Let's fall into this intrinsic melody
As red candle wax scorches
The skin along our forearms,
I can take you in
as you take me under.
Dissolve me with these linseed oils
that masqueraded our potential love story.
I'll smile as we melt with the galaxies
in shades of crimson, violet, and happy.

Mistereal

They say he resides in deep mist,
Cast 'round murky divisions
'Tween the risen of the pasture
And the resin of the past, here,
Yes, ma'am, he is no longer masked in mirrors.

Whatever branches crack,
Whatever cannons blast, sinew-snaps,
Whatever men of disturbance
Burn fast the divinity of this earth
this land
Dissipate, as
Lasting as the oils of frayed gunpowder.

He hath fallen in whispers,
Spilled the spoils of the gray.
He is left with scathed face.
He hath gone to lay
with the water pebbles.

He hovers near brethren,
Blending broken burden bastions
In his wake
There is no terror in his timbre
No sarcophagus in his throat
He speaks softly.
He smiles now.
Smile for him.

You'll Probably Never See This

I see her through jaded lattice.
Obscured by the void,
I yearn for slow dances in her garden.
I can almost taste the elegance of this lioness,
for it resonates through the entirety of that little toy town.
And while I see paper bits of strife falling from the edges of her mouth,
I am derailed by the utter artistry,
entranced but the subtle harmony,
compelled by this other part of me
that still seeks fairy-tales
to run off with her.

I bet she could fit me in her coat pocket.
I bet her skin is made of satin.
I bet her lips feel like summer.

Won't you find me one august sunset,
slay me with your smiles,
encompass me with that radiance?
I implore thee,
for I will wait long enough
to lace my fingers with yours
through the lattice holes.

Experiments

It only takes one sparrow
to invigorate the incineration of our subtle genocide
Suspicions have been ratified
by these contorted sudden battle-cries,
but I can't deny
that this sense of edify
has left me with a scent of pride.

Oh look at you, right?
It seems that we identify
with a similar shade of callous.
We share copper tightropes,
a serious lack of balance,
and a rough-lacquered palace in the distance.

Though I see the common symptoms
I take no solace in our co-significance.
So you stay there,
imperfect with persistence
while I try to wrap my synapses
around this blistered existence.
Synthetic synagogues settle
on the rings round your forehead,
I can't have any more clutter.

Purpose has left me with questions,
So I'm gonna let these ships sail, get some rest and
sip this samurai warrior status
until I finally unearth
from the core of my ribcage
the who we why we
what we were we
are we will we
have we been here before?