Relativity

Who's to claim their life is honest
When, relatively, we are all?
Black, white, yellow, green.
Point and case. Try and think.
Bee-hives: swarms of death or life?
Apropic storms defending life with strife.
Or is it strife? I believe the thorns
They wield for greater good and bad; yes, and.
Watch your mouth, son. We're all doomed ends
To portray honesty to the dishonest
and dishonesty to the honest.

Sweatitation

Droplets like upside-down matches;
Running marathons all over me.
Blood-warm on my hands and feet,
The taste is of a salty sea
As each opaque wave explodes.
Yet, there is an absence of sulfur;
The smell of dirt is in its place.
Sulfur’s scent never tasted right, anyway.
Sandy Shelle never thought so,
Waiting by the Red Sea,
Droplets dropping dry in the dirt.
Fear is such an unusual fear.
If only we saw the beauty in singing; in living;
But we don’t, and so we are not of the anura.
The lush Poison-Darts of the forest know the way
And if we got close enough to touch one,
We’d learn to stop living ourselves to death.
Shén me wŏ men rèn wei wŏ men chéng wéi.
The droplets will catch up to me eventually.

Poor Little Scooter

Through whistling flapjacks of skin in the wind,
I witnessed the atmosphere's gasses soar through her.
Bewildered I sat, and behind batting lashes burned
A Brave, beastly lady boasting girth of a bear.

Had I been in congress, a new law would be passed.
Riders would no longer ride rides
Which weighed less than they...

Angries and Lonelies

If only the lonely would breathe.
Heaving their loneliness only
And way away it'd fly on lies.
If only the lonely could breathe.

Hanging within him and angering him only
Less grizzly he'd be if his anger were free
If only the angry could grin at the lonely
The lonely might think again lovely
And the angry might instead turn green.

downhill

The wind cheered,
The pavement parted,
The wheels stumbled,
The handles flexed,
But the tree protested.

The White Man Rapture

The Bible was probably mistaken, misread.
Alternate universe preachers might sermonize
Jesus will descend from acid rain, high as ozone
With a pack of cigars tucked in his collagen lips:
Primped like a pussy by mankind,
But ready to take one for the team… again.
He’ll swing his fully automatic piece like King Kong,
Raining death from the heavens, screaming
Are you ready to repent, bitches?
And all his little worshippers will run like watercolors

And I’ll turn to them, in hilarity, and ask,
You paid attention in Astrology, didn’t you?
The age of Pisces will end eventually
And I can’t wait for Aquarius to bust in.

Whispers

Will the wisps wisp when we wisp?
The wisps might wisp away if so.
Why then wisp when one wisp wisps?

Are oranges orange when we are wisps?
Or are ranges of oranges ranges of wisps?
Oh ranges of oranges, we won’t wisp without wisps.

Say, which way do the wisps wisp away to?
Perhaps to orange ranges of whispering rains?
Those ranges must be where they wisp, or
Else why would they whisper:

I’ll shimmer with you, shining, wishing;
Wisping with oranges in the rain.
I’ll whisper the secret of wisping to you;
That oranges and wisps are the same.

The Ripper

Her coarse skin sailed across my chest
And soaked my harborous lips.
Cold, quivering fingers, craving
Pastries of their own,
Crawl over my body, screaming
Yearning for a second death.

With my honest stare I pierced
Her sugar-coated eyes,
Grasped from deep within my shroud
A redeemer of the lost.
Then played Demeter on her crust
And made a waterfall of Sin.

I loosed the candy apples from
Beneath her tangled veins,
And savored sliced confections
Of her rich ambrosial skin.
Giggling, all while whispering:
You are free, my dear;
You are free in me.

My Arms Are Chains

My hands hold the days
Through the soft and harsh.
Nicked and scratched, though solid,
They’ve become one with steel;
With stone; with wood; with earth;
And flesh. They’ve held my blood,
They’ve nursed my crop.
Here, now, they even write my thoughts
And strum the chords on tuned guitar.
Sometimes I question
Their devotion, their desire.
All slaves revolt eventually.
When the chains break,
Perhaps one day
Our faces will be fingers.

Guitar

My tense strings
Jitter. I am
Eager to wail.

My body shivers
With each flicker of string
Instilling passion
Within watching eyes

Strangling my neck
His fingers crawl.
My voice tightens
And we serenade
And we whisper
And we sigh.

And, together, we bow.

Lilacs

She shifted;
I was absorbed.
She was a meadow;
I was too young.
The air carried goosebumps
Along her skin
Like delicate Lilacs.
Her lotus lips bloomed:
I want it hot.
The Lilacs attacked me
As I handled her coffee.