A Mantra, Just Another Page in Your Book

This is not a night for sleep,

This is a night for rebellion,

no toxic city grace halls

shall light

on the dollar

shall wring our treat true.

Another page,  turned and torn.

A fragment of it’s former thought

and in complete rhyme.

Destined be the word,

The sentence and line,

sweet language.

Ah, language,

sweet language.

Said in the timing of the well fed moment

or the bohemian god-awful truth

of endless irony so cliche

its a paradox and and echo.

An echo,

An echo of an

ill sought cam girl

tortured for a dirty tampon.

Pursuit in a monkey suit

dancing for another dollar

like a good wannabe Kimye nothing

willful illiteracy!

It is a plaque and I

am the fire.

Fuel me with off

set pain’s intrusions

I am not bothered.

Pain once begot


and more fuel!

Spite for where none is due

Debated whether or not

Cannot and shall not

for that which is spoken

is here to say “fie” on

you and your stream of

heavy shallow dreams exploits

and intellectualisms invented

to bring more of defined

undefineds, lost, suppressed,

and surpassed with no

knowledge of end and

stale form.

No end to bitter mirrors hypocritical crack,

long ugly and weighed down

by karma as all in knowledge or


Ignore tempting thoughts

of self murder.

It is only but another page in your book.

Yes, a mantra,

just another page.

September, 2014

Stilted Swings on the Shadows of the Night

Stilted swings on the shadows

swoon nightly as do creatures


I pursue my dreams in

them they self

and swoon in pursuit

of a virtual lust and mistake.

Help be thy name

the name on every wall

and mirror.

Sacred, sacred still stint

and stilted in the night.

In the night, in rage

and hallow echoes of fear.

Fear, the foul word and truth.

A virtue lust and gamble and

find pharaoh’s fault in the

fake Nile.

Pursued in and to

their ends

fought with honor and valor,

lost, won, and all the




Switch to be on there is

no fear

the terror.

Many eyes watching,

none of them moved

those that are

are not foresaken.

Tortured shapes surround

this eye and space.

Yet the sweet of beauty

is tickling away in the

next room.

The product and purpose,

needing food and guidance

lessons are best learned

when you teach them

a duel reward.

No terror,

Duel reward.


Mad Fun

Yes, yet joy and ride fun


Yes, mad fun

skills on top of


No sweating the

technique of no


No stress, for all is

your dance

your fun

your game

and win.


Swoons on the Untested Nightly

Owl Street lamp forms

swoons on on the untested nightly,

crossed lives spread

ancient powder on even

older remedies and cures.

Blessed be the color of night,

to hide my honest virgin truth.

Their soul is truth in my soul

any remedy,

free of heart,

yet all of soul,

all of soul.

Yet free of heart,

and dare I say contorted

and confusing.


The Greatest Cruelties

The Greatest Cruelties lie

in cordial anonymity.

Cruel cordial anonymous


Shock and awe, terror

and pain be felt shocked

and scared.

Scared of only the unknown

when it is a joy.

It is a real joy,

yes this joy is

not some illusion, it is

real,  real because I

have felt it,

in thought

and body.

I felt what has long been eluded.

True so it be called.



What Ego Delivered

What ego delivered

in these envious lyrics.

Envious lyrics,

timeless, seamless,

and bought in.

All bought in, soul,

heart, mind, body,

and more mind

than body and even

less soul.

Less soul, less and deprived,

less and known soul,

less soul, in honesty

burden known,

known, and none.