JRNLS

Mornin’ waves
Are the aftermath
Of middle night terror
Awake
Bedside beauty
Uncover the day
Reveal the times to come
And I’m famished
So please, let’s get some breakfast

behold the fearful marching home
“beware you are the constable”
create the enigmatic folds
to eliminate the robotic flies
paint the past with lightning bolts
and enter this life with future signs
raise the stillborn alien forms
let them cultivate a plastic heart
a box with which we persevere 
a wall that traps the insincere
a cancer of mediocrity
a vial of subhuman clay
stave the forceful and forlorn
whittle down the circle’s edge
buried in sand and in defeat
read the words sewn into skin
through sheets of silence we will survive
but through sheets of romance we will die
raise the stillborn alien forms
let them cultivate a plastic heart
unwind the flying frozen birds
release the keys that lock the mind
into the garden the fearful march
and one by one they fill the grave 
“beware you are the constable”
be where you are when you are not here

we’re singing songs of praise 
to please the overlord
we’re singing songs of praise in spite
stitched up in radio waves
to seize the bottled light
we’re singing songs of praise in spite
dancing on soldier’s graves
that we might steal their eyes
we’re singing songs of praise in spite
we’re barking songs of praise
to harvest the moonless sky
we’re singing songs of praise in spite
igniting cancer’s haze
spiral rain melts ancient ways
we’re singing songs of praise in spite 
submerged in cathartic rage
prelude to windowless sleep
we’re singing songs of praise in spite
evil cries that the brain obeys
and commits to memory
we’re singing songs of praise in spite
we’re reciting songs of praise
to whet the need for war
we’re singing songs of praise in spite

restrain the warriors
detail a lovers’ breach
set them free
and disappear

when the fire burns letters of death in your mind
that black hand of doom grips the ocean’s divide
fruits bore from soil and glass bore from sand
creatures of fortune but victims of man

when the water spawns demons of grace in your mind
the triangle leaves churn the spirals inside
papers of excise and proverbs of old
teachings of danger but fears of below

time, the evil is time

death in the underground

and so I walked beyond
the marbled gate of enchantment
followed by a mist of exhaust 
and a limp handshake from god himself 
treachery and chaos explode
   from the benevolent creatures 
filling the cave with echoes of applause
   and mindless confessions 
set me free and let me die in peace, 
atop the razed kingdom of artifice and emotion 
alone at the edge of the world
the midday bells cleared a path of freedom 
and the untimely death of this cult of children

death in the underground

blessed is the flesh and blood
blessed is the broken home
blessed is the widow’s toil
blessed is the path we take
alone

blessed is the shame of hope
blessed is the beggar’s voice
blessed is the trail of tears
blessed is the path we made
alone

blessed is what never was
blessed is that one true love
blessed is the wayward son
blessed is the path we rode
alone

a powdery kiss
nonsense for the heathen
streetlight romance on 19th place
come to my door
let yourself in
ignore the kettle’s cry
morning birds sing your song
a march of medieval light
the fleshless friction absorbed
and your brown eyes pierce
this dance of death
brings us to life

the fear of removing flesh with teeth from tip of finger is not as scary as squeezing leg with hand at half strength

he walked down the hall
that front-facing eidolon
crept in his shadows
creaky structural bones
watched him enter our room
and touch her face
under her shirt, raised my hand
a winter voice rattled below
leave her be so she might not know
the alchemist’s surprise
the mess of holy water
ungrateful little rodents

up tight and out of control
frat boy bee-bop
skull fucking honor student
first class middle weight
iron clad destiny
pick ‘em: losers
flip the table and scream
she’ll never say yes
to a man
with a penchant
        for explosives

jibberish with a capital ‘D’

crystalline skies
and a secret obsession with romance
the monster is dead
at the hands of the sailor
silver waves striking back
with a fear from below
bristling and lonely the silence ain’t golden
when the children they don’t make it home
and the poems that are read
at the side of the bed
are manifestos to murder their own

glory, glory

raise up black hand of doom
return the winter’s ale
swallow the secrets of man
and hold yourself in the scent of betrayal
white roses for the king and queen
white roses on empty streets
the riot squad is on it’s way