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Dank

pf — Fri, 29 Jan 2010 10:37:15 +0000

He drove into the dark night
That street lamps barely beat back with bleak light.
The spastic highway loomed languid, leapt aside,
Bowed down before the doomed ride
As he barrelled toward his dead bride,
Seeking pitch to patch the gape in his side.

Hell, or Something Like It

pf — Thu, 06 Aug 2009 11:57:48 +0000

Darksomeness engulfs
Low fallow fields left
Firm as rock dried in sun,
Cold as crisp iceberg submerged.

Submariners stumble on
Unseen fissues, folds,
Crevasses, barren blisters
Of lifeless locked land.

Passengers punched their tickets,
Paid their fares, folded
Clothes, packed bags, braved
Jet lag just to be here.

Groping in obsidian night, all
Rend asunder suddenly, then
Rend again, rend again,
Ever tearing never ending

Souls unbending, breaking o’er
And o’er again in pain
Unmending, sending lame
Desires (unquenched fires) drowning.

Powdered blood evaporates
In self-blind souls enslaved in state
Of everlasting fruitless wait.

Talkies

pf — Thu, 16 Jul 2009 14:14:53 +0000

stars scream heavy metal silver screen
heart strings tugged taut ripped clean
death dealt down to damn mean
man brought through no more green
played for laughs aged thirteen
main stream man’s a sad scene

Entropy Lament

pf — Mon, 13 Jul 2009 12:08:11 +0000

In the morning as I brushed my teeth
I vowed to mark the day by valiant ways:
To rescue orphans, open up a shop,
Write that novel, win that maiden’s heart,
Climb that hill, convince a bitter friend
Of God’s wide mercy, till the soil, plant
The choicest vegetables, grill meat
Upon an open flame. In short,
Engage in derring-do,
And leave upon the earth a healthy brand.

Instead I shuffled off toward my job
(leeching little life from radio’s wiles),
Sat in my cubicle, answered emails,
Took calls, called shots, most of which were small,
Mundane, of little consequence. And while
I always tried to do my best, at end
Of day I’d lost so much to waste,
My puny fight ‘gainst entropy unwon,
And still to lose. I shuffled home, then
Microwaved some food, watched video,
Paid homage to the goods that fence me in
And hinder me from seeing the sublime
In humble living, mastery of self,
Right conduct, purity of heart,
And noble deed. Indulged on, fat
And restless, I hied myself to bed
So I could rest to do it all again,
And leave yet more undone.

Goodbye Follies

pf — Mon, 11 May 2009 12:17:57 +0000

The tree-struck star stuck the landing,
Knees nailed to ground, brow down,
Soul still ensconced in briar crown.

Apart from Him he’d hewn to
Aspirations, plans He’d blewn to
Smithereens; and left bereft he
Clung to holy barque.

Tuesday Juggernaut

pf — Fri, 08 May 2009 13:42:27 +0000

Sitting on the curb by the park bench
Barefoot listen to the buzz growl
Motors on the tires on the asphalt on the feet
What a sandwich, what a sandwich
Now God don’t exist but oh! this sandwich
Slave to the toil for the belly, the hunger
Wish I was slave for the love of another
We born let to die and then, my brother
The poet look cockeyed at whistling trees
He call me a trickster, I ask “Who art thee?
Are you of this world or are you born free?
This concrete jungle, what’s in it for me?”
That sandwich was tasty I wish I had pie
If that’s all there is then it’s all been a lie
Scatterbrain scatterbrain eat, poop, die

When Love Attacks

pf — Tue, 17 Mar 2009 18:05:34 +0000

Love lies crouched on haunches,
Coiled prehensile set to spring
Unsuspecting upon prey.

In the proper hour Love leaps,
Thrusting self through myocardial tissue,
Dissolving as a tear gas in the bloodstream.

Spaceman in Space

pf — Sun, 02 Nov 2008 03:22:59 +0000

Hurtling slowly through the void
Floating about in a flight suit
Checking, rechecking the ship’s math
Occasionally putting the helmet on

There are lots of checklists in space

The ship always beats him at chess

He never watches films anymore.
He never reads novels anymore.
Sometimes he cranks up the music,
And sometimes he drifts in the silence.

When he can’t sleep, he remembers when he used to dance the tango.

The Cubicle Men

pf — Fri, 22 Aug 2008 21:27:01 +0000

Wage servants sit glued to the glowing
Of the monitors, manipulating
Electrons of Industry.

Inside, spleen gives way to toxins
Untouched by liver, imbibed
After terms of indenture.

In deeper, indivisible selves wither,
Except for the few that forge fearsomeness there.

Only the Things That Are Dead Are Electric

pf — Tue, 12 Aug 2008 13:29:35 +0000

In the realm of Whimsy everything’s verdant:
Centaurs at leisure braid each other’s hair.
Ogres belch as they work on their cross-stitch.
Weeping willow branches sparkle like wind-chimes.
Knights take care not to trample on butterflies,
Lest the King be unable to brew his tea.
Unsurprisingly, mimes have nothing to say.

Velveteen unicorns eat day-glo batteries,
Drink carbonated rainbows.
On Thursdays the King distributes gold stars
To everyone who has achieved.