Archive | May, 2012

Chapter 1 – Concerning the sirens

25 May

I remember them

The sirens

It seems dogs would howl in warning

Or lamenting untold disasters

Prepare me for the sound

Deafening –

The sound and

Blinding –

The lights and

Tragic –

The scene awaiting.

Yes, I have seen

That of which you speak

Walking down some dark alley

My mind’s eye peering ‘round.

Feet like four

Then I run –

I run all the way home.

Forgetting the comfort

Of walking alone.

Chapter 1 – The Countdown

25 May

The countdown has begun

Young man’s mind

Gone to porridge

In a padded cell.





Dinner robe.

Dirty black jeans

Smug photographer.

Fashion frog

Pissing in the hands

Of mannequins.

Pretty prim princess

Throws her golden ball

To smash regal warted body

Leaping, croaking in wake

Of slimy sex


Yet the tadpoles swim on

In warm womb water

Of mother murder.

Chapter 1 – We Smiled

25 May

Got ahead of myself

Wanted you near

Wrote those lines

Shed no tears

Time has drawn

Your face

Where I looked so long

At the mirror

And remembered

The smiles we smiled

In a different place

Chapter 1 – No Sound

24 May

No sound passes

Wooden ear knobs

To live alone

With blue roses

Or diseases

Spreading life amongst the dead

Wandering aimlessly

Plethora of ages

Subsequent youth fountains

Owing not to breath or action

But the external force

Which pulls us together

Creating letters to form the words

Our mouths speak

Freely lacking meaning

Utilize material issues

Grasp stones that

Turn to marshmellows

Never return to

Coveted home

Where ceiling fans whirl

Roads curve and

We hold each other’s heart sin

open hands

Chapter 1 – Oscillate

24 May

Ceiling fan head matter


Word world communication

To bungling existentialist


Past the cave of missing links

Through rancid sewers

In our sorry city

Mankind lost to fantasy, tele/vision

Protected from reality

Realizing only blue light screen



Chapter 1 – Neophyte

24 May

Neophyte to the religious order of love

Enchanted woman-child

Gazing at the looking glass sacrifice

Emanating terror.

Virile man waiting your arrival

Cruel fire licks at her tresses

Incendiary monster flame

Amenable, beautiful child

You are planet to his sun

Succumb to vast temptations

Satiate desires for the flesh

Commence a pilgrimage

Across canyons of physical existence

Unearth the spirit impetus in two

Alleviate such pious struggle

Hold tight to the hand of the man

Who professes his love for you

Chapter 1 – Outsides

23 May

Writing prose

For phantoms

Dressed in women’s clothes

I dance

Gothic audience

Lipstick wearing men

Growing breasts like buds

In a vase

Shaped like a

Bathroom stall

The yellow world

Giving in to the

Blue hand of the

Next red door

Leading me

To frightfully cold conclusions

About ashtrays and

Track lights

Straying away from

Clandestine meetings

Into outsides

Here I’m safe

Chapter 1 – Perhaps

23 May

The blankness

Of this page

Is lurid

I am a waterless well

My poetry leaves me for dry wit

Here in Finland.

Circa 1991

Perhaps I am not a poet, but a mere peasant in the field of loneliness. Plucking away at the fruit of my labors until my knuckles are calloused and bleeding. Only to rise and sell my harvest to the highest bidder or the most handsome man in the village for a simple compliment. Or a kiss. A kiss that would linger on my lips through sun quenched rainfall in the field, in the mud with only my bag of onions and a memory of you. The kiss you gave me as I left your bed that early morning in July. Your hands and mine entwined for a only a second in time. My tears still wash away the grime. The only rainbow I see ends not at the pot of gold but at your feet. And in your eyes I see the rain.

The rain that once caressed my cheeks to rinse away the stains. The rain that fell the night before I left you to drench that cotton dress and drip from my hair to your chest, heaving in wet delight. My feet are heavy with this field. I feel it hard to escape until I have dropped my baggage but it usually falls on my toes. So, I must carry my own weight. From the start your presence beside me on this road of life could not impair my perseverance. We are lovers individual and self-sufficient, sharing our lives as well as strife.

With your hand holding mine we can walk through the field. My other hand managing the weight of my harvest and your reaching for your own goals. Together the mud is not so deep and we both stand at the end of the rainbow grasping our dreams – separate yet infinitely bound by love.

Chapter 1 – Tango

21 May

Pussy cats tango

On the front lawn

While black widows feast

On their husbands

The boys grow up without a father

And the little girl spiders tease

Snow covers the garbage we leave

Prowlers seek refuge

Near my window

Peering relentlessly

Through black blinded panes

Chimney sweep curses

Neglected soot

Dinner is served on plastics

Microwave safe

Warm milk in crystal glasses

My poems have all been cut-up

Nervous scissors

Lint covers the clothes we wear

I catch

Light in broken mirrors

To point in your direction

Chapter 1 – A poem for the presence

21 May


Perching on a dreamer’s head

No biology

Pulse races, sweat drips

Permeating skin

All laws defined


Controlled breath

Shallow evidence

Doubting minds



The presence

Of another


The essence

Of terror

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