dreams, waking

i dreamed of zombies
tearing at my windows
pushing like a mad crowd
and of a rifle
warm with a fresh
kill
then i awoke
into another dream
a younger world
the frontier of settlers
and a bear
tearing at my skin shed
desperate and hungry
for the freshly slit deer
tomorrows jerky
and a winters warm, full belly
and this time a knife
instead
go ahead
try to claw at the latch
then it would be
in the battle of both our lives
the victor with the
warm full belly
would rise from the
lightly dewy dust
the champion
blood covered resolve
i tore off my bed-sheets
awake,
soaked in heat-sweat
summer night;
awoken....

he (angry hipster in recovery)

he
strikes out hard
and phonetic
at the listener
like a coiled cobra
finger snaps preferred?
playing the 'new stuff'
sounds just like the old stuff
but not as fresh and cool
sound of syllables
non-sense with 'meaning'
kept saying
how much he hates
the stuff
wont ever sing em again
a spirit regurgitating
the same old thing
'i hated those days'
there is nothing left
back there
sad to see a man
so at war
with some of his best
creations
but even frankenstein
the genius who made
life artificial real
got his demon
face to face
and fucked
him
up
gnite
m
sorry

inspiration

this sandy desert
a treasure
or an endless wasteland
i return to the well
find nothing
and such a long trip
for the little looksy
and staring back
nothing but sandstorms
and chapped lips
burning eyes
for something
wet and pretty
my body won't move
but standing steadfast
against the sun
all is quiet but the
single vulture
and the one nearby
wrinkled tree stem
long since succumbed to
this dryness
i am standing now unarmed
as i know i've come too far
i will not survive the return
with no water
one-way ticket
this time
a cooler breeze
alights on my face
like an angelic butterfly
all hope lost?
perhaps...
so far from my being
so far from my time
and lost to my mind
a swirly sandstorm
that once had the wet
relevance
of a thundershower
a nourishing danger
now just dry deathly
i scan the horizon
silence
fuck
nothing
but silence
and the vulture
my little friend
all hope lost
so maybe one last looksy
down the well
and what is that?
down in the darkest shadows
against the rock
what could that be
that i see
reproducing?
like a vulgar display
it is,
yes,
hope springs
a couple
tiny
drops...

congratulations

so today
is the day
you were thrown forth into the fucking world from you mothers nasty cunt
sickly screaming at the world...
covered in a nasty yellow slime
the horrid belly puss of fuck
so why do i care about
you made it to twenty whatever
surviving is not an accomplishment in this world
you dead turtle to the pace of progress.
what the fuck have you done
to warrant this celebration
someone starts the fucking song
and then everybody sings along
and they know every fucking word but mumble through your name
proof that you are completely lame
so how does it feel?
happy birthday
fucker...

reprieve (mercy mercy me)

"fuck yeah"
the sweetest relief
like shackles released,
fear unbound,
chains broken
the rubbing of the shackled wrist;
the breath from the undertow of oceans;
or the moment that one fine girl
out of my league kissed me;
the pressure of hours
built up like a crumbled fortress on
the very marrow of my feet;
the sweet sigh when the crimson
flows after a lengthy scare
at nineteen;
the removal of the cast
from the sweat ripe broken limb;
the last day of the revolution
when the birds begin to sing;
the moment it happens is the dilation of the iris,
the instant of the most beautiful thing one ever sees...
it is the sweet sweet sweet reprieve;
the last minute phone call,
for a stay of execution,
one more day
and i
never knew flesh could
actually breathe
and now it is all right
like the moment the blind man
realizes sight
as the most glorious moment arrives
taking
my
socks
off
at
night

time...mess

i’ve got things to do

places to be

women to fuck

with their perky little breasts

i don’t have time for this mess

i don’t have time for these thoughts

or your pretty little wreck

which does bear the romantic

foggy picture

of the innocence of youth

and the tragedy of death

and your soft and perfect neck

and it makes me long

for some water

or the bloody, bloody mess

the twisted metal

the marrow of this life

and you know that one

best

these days

but i don’t have time

even though your lips

look like cherry red

wine

and i long to

sip

from

the

sultriness of the

vine

but there is no time

i have many wrecks left to

survive

although yours might just take

the prize

but i don’t have time

no i don’t have time

but oh,

you do look so

fine....

snow shelter

I could be snowed in with my lady,

There’s a blizzard coming down

And as I walk to my destination

Each falling flake

Is an earthquake

With a head like mine

Tonight

And I came in from the

Cold to find myself

Here

In the warm pub

With the cool décor

And the wooden floors

Yeah, I could be snowed in

With a single beauty

But here

There are so many warm bodies

For a more general

And earthly relation

I could be snowed in

But I don’t care

Me and the band are playing

All night long

And it’s a joyful sound

Downtown

In this amber lit room

Beyond the foggy windows

A light against the cold winter night

And dancing idiots

Just being human

I chose this life

Because it is full of life

At least a little bit

And it is the best of my music pals and we are

Trading songs

We love for the singing

And Katie is dancing

On a table

And the laughter echoes like

The choir of angels

And the feet on the floor

The thunder of the heavens

Outside big snowflakes fall

I could be snowed in with my lady

But me and the band are playing

All night

Tonight