The bones inside my hand are turning loose
like horses in their pens unblocked released
rushing mad rampant tidal wave to truth
and laughing like a secret mumbling thief
I grab for the phone to dial a call
a curtain lifting off the veil shroud
to see myself as I can know it all
beyond what's traditionally allowed
I will learn the jazz, the jones, the hot meat
and sweat inside a tiny club with lights
the neon plate of silence that I eat
the just dessert between the horse and hype
If power lines could run across the moon--that's the phrase which is steering all of this as it's correct iambic pentameter (and a good line if I do say so myself).
The prostitutes and rosaries align
unhitched from their strings, rolling through the night
the silhouettes of cigarettes and gin
reflecting in the ugly neon light
The hounds of Baskerville run through the fog
he tightens the black tie around his neck
the lipstick on the collar of the dog
the hand around the fattened rooster's neck
Behind the tall Cathedrals peeking through
Forgiveness rushing like a waterfall
the stained glass windows streaming azure blue
and St. Therese is stoned among it all
The sliver of blue sky I dare to cut
Like Miro with scissors lying on the bed
To create beauty from oh, God knows what
(Not the best but there's some rhythm to certain lines)
If thinking men lay just beneath the sun
with gods above and demons down below
The hot air balloon rises just for fun
just underneath the beak of the black crow--
It soars like an old witch across the moon
that stretched pale skin is scarred from wall to wall
below is the reflection of the spoon
The mirror lake, I see the crystal ball
The neon light is hanging in the night
The sky itself seems to be taking flight.
If ribbons and the mermaids stopped to rise
where Poseidon stops to overlook the waves
and misfits wrapped in cellophane agreed
that seaweed was the currency of fish
Then I would want the clocks to all strike twelve
so I could make my silent final wish.
A dim light shines from the street light
it has been covered by foggy glass
a dim moment shines in my heart
some memory of yesterday
it has been covered by the soot of a fire
I held the flame in my hand
I held the flame
long time coming
in the rain
oh train, gain, sane, mane.
The apples which I've been cracking haven't been through the smoke and haze lately
why not procure a cherry bomb and throw it
don't ask--it's a dumpster fire inside of a structure fire
being hurled out the window
with an old piano
and crashing into a pit of flames.
A peculiar moon rose in the sky, the last night we were together, him and I.
The black wolf sat in the corner, staring at everything with its blank yellow eyes
I had miles to walk and it felt like years until the sunrise.
I kept going, with a rose in my teeth, a pirate on a sea of soil
The wolf came behind me, I could hear the patter of his feet
but just barely
because he is a hunter
and is used to walking quietly.
After some time had passed which I could tell by
the angle of Orion in the sky
I came upon a small stream and glanced into it
and took a bath in my reflection
my ego rising like the moon
my face wet and stoic.
The wolf stared at me, unmoving.
I dried off and kept going
through the brambles of the night
when we came to thistles and swamp
too thick to move through
I closed my eyes and said a prayer
and rode the wolf like a Pegasus
into the darkest corners of your soul.
There I held a mirror to you.
Do you see your face?
Your shoulder? Your jaw?
I set the mirror down.
I began to write in a journal.
Its words like sinews spread
like vines and roots
ink into the abyss
There, in my mind
dark waters bleeding into
the clarity
until all rational expanse was covered
in small explosions and all that I could see
was a glaring white light
the day came
and then it was relief
to find that I held it in my heart
a small locket
I opened it and there
was the starry night
and the silent moon
and the eyes
of the wolf.
The wrapped up trap of crap stuck between the gaps in the teeth of the talker
The grimace of the bear clawed man who didn't know nature was a stalker
Pressurized tent kept me holy in the last days of my youth
I sat inside the belly of a whale and wiggled my last baby tooth.
Banana peel slightly unreal go funk the bra of Lady Liberty
Sensual garage tire iron went sideways on Loyalty's Holiday.
Blankets wrapped around my ankles, shackled in warmth
Hankering for the slow-cooked meals of home
while under a muddy tarp
Thickened ground from rain that will not stop, coming
Sunshine is light years away sweet nothings
whisper to me silent
Famine is my friend, spook me sudden
Dreams of graveyard ghosts with sunset eyes
Dripping honey to the beehive mountain
I've dropped my gun and fell for
your surprise
A burnt piece of art
in a freestanding frame
press me like a button
on a gas tank
A great work of art
in a gold leafed frame
turn me like a knob
on a white door
A sloppy work of art
in a dumpster fire
bleed me like a stone
in a gravel pit
A true work of art
in the heart of God
touch me like an apple
in a garden, man
Praise the truth hold it up like Simba but keep in mind it might be deep in your heart unable to be touched by human hands