4.28.2009

A Collection of Writings II

all post-2007. previously unreleased.

Collection of Writings II

I.
What to say today?
Next stop dreamland.
Push and whoosh and away
we go.
Molded plastic negates discrimination
Static slack
Old Man River,
lead the way.


II.
Like a stranger lost in
The streets of New York,
I long for your familiarity.
pierce the pain,
rain down sincerity on me until
I am drenched in your desires.
Deceit, despair and delusion
I send thee away-
Harken not at my door-
I am no longer there.
I wander the streets...
spinning through the
time-lapse commotion.

III.
robot reflexes
quick to the best
save the day
can't look away for
lack of seeing in the dark
RegEdit, repeat
Dance


IV.
sweet little sundays
sideways daze
smiling sunshine eyes,
staring at that which calls
you up into
big blue skies
skim the top
hide the lies.

V.
riddles, rhymes,
puzzle piece found
fuzzy recollections of
half-earned memories
storm surges
breach of levy
sink just shy of sickness
ink immersion
search the streets
sandy shore, hunt
amongst your feet
feebly.

VI.
potential platitude replaces
first found footing.
I sleep in the tree , but
I am afraid of heights.

VII.
Leave the lights on
safeguard,
streetwalker,
stereotypical slacker.
salivate, palpitate
empty lots, dirty pots
stagnant water....
Parasitic infestation-
fluidly amoebic dissension from logic.
Unraveling propaganda which
lead me to feel
now decays in the
distrust of my own defeat.
demon dressed as delight-
the stars arise tonight,
saving grace of an otherwise
lightless palette.

VIII.
dilapidated disease,
disinfect, dissect-
desertion.
dissertation desperate.
downtrodden-delayed
decay despondent-
done.

IX.
Bullshit basketcase
out of Balance,
out of Time.
Roof bound,
bounce back and forth
battle between benevolence and
bewilderment beyond my control.
It seeps in below.

X.
eternal sunshine
fowl and feline
awkward, asinine.
My thoughts leave my pen behind.
As she comes around again...
Knobby kneed spirit
freed from Finishing School food.

XI.
Lilting, lifting sighs of percussion
mimic the rocking of the
mobile mechanism racing
toward its Mothership.
Another cog in The Wheel,
Advancement of the
Ministry of The Maze.
Miracles waved in our faces
while we all become
Sacrificial Lambs,
lost little martyrs.
Mystified by the Method.