How greatly do I fear sometimes
that you will not come home
and I will lie clenched in dreaded
dark all night, alone,
as somewhere in the night you die
in pools of blood and bone,
until somebody finally, kindly
calls me on the phone?
Calmly they will tell me then
that they did all they could
but you were full of drink and drugs,
your judgment wasn't good.
You were driving so much faster
than you ever should
and your final, dying scream of pain
was lost in someone's hood.
Teasing, twisted, intertwined
a devilish debauch, divine.
Bodies bright and beautiful
no one could resist the pull.
A tasty tangle, arms and legs,
gasping giggles, pant and beg.
Feast of flesh everywhere,
striking, stroking, skin and hair.
Flights of fancy without end,
a frenzied fantasy with friends.
Marbled moonlight marks the time,
age-old rhythms create rhyme.
A moaning, panting symphony
titled simply "The Orgy".
Silent silver starry night,
into the dark a dream takes flight.
Feeding on a fantasy
it wings it's way away and free!
Streaking towards the stratosphere
as wild winds sing songs of fear
but fear up here is pale and shy,
scared and screaming joy we fly!
Immense, immortal, involved, intense,
a powerful portal the dream invents.
Skim quicksilver 'round a star,
a black hole beckons from afar.
Weight, like hate, stills for no one,
pulsing and pulling, a dying sun,
imploding, enfolding, its mass so dense
it eats worlds leaving no evidence.
Absolute darkness, sinister appeal
calling, I'm falling, this isn't real!
I start and sit straight up in bed,
visions of glaxaies filling my head.
Still scraping stardust off of my feet,
caught up in the cosmos I fall back asleep.
Go ahead, do what you need to
just remember if it should lead to
deciding to lay hands on me-
think it over carefully.
Every couple has to fight,
but if you think that might makes right
then not a threat, just bear in mind
that even you must sleep some time.
Dreamed I killed you,
I just had to.
When you saw me
coming at you
you tried to stand,
call my bluff,
when you realized
I was seriouse
from the place
my metal bat
destroyed your face.
Now it's morning,
I feel so clear!
It's just a dream,
relax, my dear.
Sweet, simple lines of simile
sometimes seem to come to me.
His lips on mine like water flow,
his eyes, like oceans, deep and slow.
His hair, like thunder, wild and black,
his breath like satin on my back.
How full of prose passion can be
when lived and loved through simile.
I can't seem to articulate
the desperate need to create.
To spread my mind like wings and fly,
to write without a reason why.
No thought of gain or fame ensuing
creating for the joy of doing.
Like children on a summer's day
when work is simply known as "play".
Running just to feel the wind
brush and blow across my skin.
This is how I long to write
words pouring so very bright
that the paper, when I'm done,
shines warm and friendly as the sun.
Words that sing and laugh and fly,
across oceans, touch the sky.
How sad to be a grown up
to spend each day so caught up
in drudgery and dull despair
when all the wonders still are there!
Call it responsibility,
in truth it's inability
to recall the simple joy
that all the world is your toy!
Small saints weep
as God walks by
in homeless finery
and asks for a quarter
which I haven't got.
So, I offer Him a smoke
(the last in my pack)
and He grants me an angel
and a seat up in Heaven
which I accept gladly,
just to be polite.
chewed up gum on summer's sidewalk
crouched in wait
beside the dogshit
for my shoe.
A white-hot hell of mortification
my many faults and defects
matters of puplic discourse.
A mental torture chamber-
broken upon the rack
of ignorance and boredom
-forced to waste my time
in endless moronic classes
taught by blind, blundering idiots
and power tripping bullies.
Walking eternal halls
of taunting peer pressure
and stinking, inedible lunches
served by hairy-moled women in hairnets
who never knew me
and never cared.