Visionless Vagabond

He left us with his shoes
He left us with this mood
Only his hat is gone
He left with his blues

Woeful, wandering  Stranger
Moonlit cigarette and wager
Will his return bring us answers
Or is it not in our favor




"I turn my back on the you's
To find skin that fits
Before the fumes run out
Before exhaustion sets in

I can't do this another day
It's the faint smell nothing
Causing me to stray
Hope the road ends at something

Running from the taste of steel
To steal my sense of being
Losing all scents that appeal
to find a reason worth feeling..."




We've tried and tried and failed
To pick his path and track
He won't come back for us
Will he return for his tail

Will he return with a tale?

Hang Low, Hang Tight

The Dive at Joes
Dimly lit and smelling of piss
I pull the stool to cushion the blow

Give it to me straight
Tell me tall tales
So I can see, as I tip my hat down

A place for the lost
The used ups and washed outs
Grit and stench, accepted

Pressing the filter between bitter lips
Lighting something other than life
Filtering days
Lost in smoke
Drowning in smooth
Tomorrow is doable

If this were sad, it'd be goodbye
If this were joy, it'd be hello
It just is, how's the wife and kids?

Injection

Needs for needles
And the self-sustaining peoples
Masses gathered under empty steeples

Thoughts from the thoughtless
And the self-serving process
Begging the fictitious for easy fixes

Trading hours for false powers
Ignoring the ignorance
Tit feeding from the slit throat
Bleeding

Your façade is breaking
With every deep breath they’re taking
Throwing the book back at you
Grabbing their lives
No longer faking

Losing the lost
And the self-shadowed cross
Emptied pews from the double-crossed

Facing the frowns
And the smiles with broken crowns
Only one way to go from down

Saving dollars for scholars
Collared, not followed
The free-formed thinkers, hollowed
Filling

Your palace is crumbling
With every step, they’re fumbling
Picking themselves up
Mapping their path
No longer humbling.

Performing Cunnilingus on a Succubus

Her body
Woven by Madams of Midnight
Come to take away your pain
Her mind
Lifted from a place of forgotten
madness
Luring you
To take unto her, the conscious
being that is your sight
So you can't tell when she is
robbing you blind

The Perception of a Sucker:

She speaks the sweetest words
With bitter, yet delicious intentions
Sugarcoated lips securing rough
textures, touchable on a
hallucinogenic high

The Perception a The Sucker:

She speaks the sweetest words
With devious, yet delicious
intentions
Sugarcoated lips securely fasten
once dormant chest pressure
Pressure building from yesterday's
catch
From yesterday's repetitive future

Her potential sits like an Indian,
cradling her greed and disgust for
progression
You can see she bore twins
But the father skipped town on a
3am train and now resides with worms

Her legs have been shaved to the
point of revealing muscle tissue
Dripping below her ankles to leave
a bare, red trail into tomorrow
A trail matching her lips

Whispering. . .

"You know where I'm going, but did
you see me coming?"

What's Good For You

Sleepless nights
and daytime plights
The times are killing

Progression lost
in the mental frost
The times are killing

Lonesome late's
with friendly escapes
The times are killing

Forgetful flees
and Disney sprees
The times are killing

Sit back and relax
The coffee's on me
Just help pay the tax
and forget the tea

The times are killing...

An ego inflated
Relations infected
By resenting the you's
and hating the me's

I told you to forget the fucking tea.

A View Askewed

Granted for taken, feeling
Jumbled is the tumble, when rumbled
Verses free from obscurity
And the Rorschach stains in my head

Figure this out
When self is still in
People still concentrate
on the pain they don't feel

Uncommon, is not the way
A bird shits on your head
The way is convenience
So, stand aside or alone

Thrifty, thy name is used
Used, thy name is new
New, with great marketing
Of a product long since trashed

Out is the wave of new
When shoes are worn
On the doormat of you're inn
I.O.U. an umbrella

You'll need it since you're not sleeping.

Prattled Discernment

Sue me, for I am the almighty quote
With quips to sooth the throat
Who am I to gloat?

That’s right.

I am the righteous word
Here to slay the absurd
Is this not the right heard?

Followers of the rotten Shepard
Faceless is the breed you are
Free to be obscure
Forgetting you were once the cure

Curing the once amiable
Spoon feeding the once unhealthy
Apathetic woes in the bright night
The Aloe to the Sun Burnt

Shunned for the new age.

The Dust

Frank had a bike
He rode it there
He rode it here
It was one big ride
The ride to anywhere

Frank met Gus
They drank here
They drank there
It was one big bender
They bended everywhere

Gus bet Frank
He could drink here
He could ride there
It was a sure thing
Till his brains were everywhere

Frank met God
He was there
He was here
He was The Big Guy
He was damn near... well, you know

Frank asked God:
"What the hell happened?"
God paused
The God spoke:
"Please Frank, call me Gus."

Dick.

Ode

Grateful for the lessons taught
The memories not forgot
And the Shadow for which I walk

Larger than this life
Yet not without the plight
Behind His eye’s blue light

I will never forget
The respect I have
And the love I felt

Human in His ways
Blessed as I am
To have had those days

Moments that won’t pass
The admiration of the past
With my love will always last.

I love you.

A Footing

My mobile office serves me well
In this day to day
Mobile hell

With my hunting ways
I'm feeling well
In this day to day
Hunting hell

Motivation cramps the hand
While the caffeine is bland
Optimism sits
Atop the thinnest of strands

My mobile office serves me not
In this week to week
Mobile rot

With my thumbs weak
I'm gripping not
This thread to thread
Opportunity sought

Priorities leak the pen
While the nicotine is going to win
My pessimism steps
On the sturdiest of pins


How dare I try
To break my stride
Must keep moving
To keep my pride.

The Torpid Existence Of A Struggling Slumber

Slipping into dreamscapes with
Cheshire Smiles and unlimited
potential
Cradling children crying in oblivion
with eyes that see no future
Limited

Limit the daytime novels
Limit the ignorance, obsessed
inducing headaches
By the time colors butcher everything
anybody has ever said
I lie awake dreaming of colors
erased with lead

Leading me to believe there is
no cure for the common confided
catastrophe
a Tragedy that shows in Hi-Fi
fecal depression

So sleep
Little Lost Serial Slave
The only means of a failed escape
with the gilded cunt that got
away with the televised child in
your arms

Show me
Show me how to get a grip on any reality,
with my adulterous arms fleeing with
the hemorrhoid freak
If I can't... how?... Scarlet Tramp!

I have some letters you'd love to seduce,
but so would I...

Show me how to hope for something a
little less -
less terrible, great, confusing, maneuvering
in the Minotaur's house of lies
A dead end where I could practice my
fetal position
positioning myself to wait for wings that
carry me from Fantasia in waking Hades
to stability I could love
Planting my feet in an ever-growing
ever-annoying populace, populating
the open ranges of the spread eagle
prostitute

I
will not
Slave
over
the
Million Pin Prick March
and the
open air stabbing my crippled nubs

The Bastards of Present and Future Realities
will slave over me!

... but first... where does the tunnel lead?

Santa Monica Sunset

A calm orange glow blankets the city
Comforts the ocean
As it needs to be comforted
For a tragedy has occurred

A man too sad for words
With eyes so blue, they hide the cold
Imposes his mentality on others
physically

So washing clean
The tide pulls in
Women and children and men, with
other kin
They did everything wrong
Just didn't know it
Swaying with ease, there were
thousands of them
Salt in their veins
Strangled with seaweed
For them to end

There was plenty of need

Now the lovers in love
Even the casual lays
Hung up in trees
Inserted and sewn to each other
Like decorated angels with such
yule tide splendor
Cradled by the breeze

Even lookie-loos of same gender

No one really knew
Or had time to even ponder
What drove him to this
How he managed to accomplish
such a feet
In fifty-eight seconds or less

This was a man without fear
When all he knew, were pain
and tears

Two miles east
On some useless street
Erected a church
Boy, Catholics are neat

Out on the green turf
Where daises grew
Fell ruffied-up nuns, raped with
very large guns
Protruding from their virgin
vaginal openings

If you look up above
You will find a most lonesome dove
Defecating on a crucified man
The man on the cross
Resembling a neo-Nazi boss, had
a never ending grin on his face

Jesus got a haircut today

A man too happy to use a pen
Supported by a symbol meant
to forgive your sins
With eyes so blue
Yet trusting and true

Where was your god today?

Notion Of Amusement

He comes to me
In my dreams
As I lie awake
Tells me all the sweet things
Lives I could take

He takes me for coffee
Hot cup-a-Joe
Caffeinated content
Content in art
Art in slaughter

-"Speaking of Joe!"

Alas
We knew him well
When we say "knew"
We just gave him a penny
Speaking from a view
of trickling crimson spectacles
And what a spectacle!

Struggling momentarily
Like that guy
In that flick!
Oh, what a killer flick

We knew him too.

Sugarland Methods

Generally speaking
In a manner of disgust
Burning every bridge
Opportunity is dust
You can suck it up your nose
Killing brain cells
As it goes
The subtle, unforgiving rush

The young and helpless
Little girl
Trying to breed
With jagged pearls
Sugar rush
In a three-day world
Truth be told
Is what she sold

Everybody resides
In Sugarland
Where babies are sold
For grains of sand
Around the corner
Just ask the man
With a loaded gun
And salt in his hand

Tweeky the pigeon
Slow as molasses
Became a shadow
With dark sunglasses
Until the time
Eventually passes
He's out of his mind
Just like the masses

So come on down
To Sugarland
Where the city is drawn
In black and white crayons
Where the pop rocks are kept
In soda cans
It's the place to be
Join the bland.

Figuratively

The souls of my shoes
Maturely defined
Prematurely untied
Once accepting
Now regretting
Scuff marks in the dark
My shoe shine only hides what refuses to
be seen
Refusing to remain clean

Oh, how obscene

Fingers joined to my palms
Grasping skipping stones
cigarette butts
Continuously cracking
never relaxing
Each digit has a story to tell
The middle-minded spokesmen speak,
while the others remain silent

My phalangical warriors, of often offensive
speech

Eyes distracting
Now re-enacting
thoughts once left behind
Still, they're searching
Never resurfacing
from the depth they've created
Obscure waters be still
Self-hatred instilled
The pupil of my pupils

Blind The Kind Eye

Let there be
shoe shine for the sorry
soap, foaming for the loathing
spectacles for the spectacle
and a cradle for the unstable

Let there be
acceptance for my body.

Corsage

My Dear
My Dear
With control, I will steer
This ship
To wherever I please

So fight with the wind
and not with the sails
They're roped with you entrails and woe

You'll be named "Something" Doe
With you're eyes all a glow
I'll just clap my hands and make it so

To dance, is to torment
To flirt with this moment
My grins will devour your soul

The gleam in my eyes
when I stroke your thighs
with a blade, leading to your hole

My Dear
My Dear
With control, I will steer
This ship
To Wherever I please

So fight with your tears
and not with your nails
Your scratches leave trails with foe

I'll cry for this moment
It's my job to store it
For I may miss it, when it goes.

Two For One

I'm the Prodigal Son
Of the Devil's run
With smoke filling up my lungs

And before you know it
The signs won't show it
I'll be hacking up your son

Cause the way, on down
With a crooked crown
Is paved with pure inhibitions

So I'll bite my nails
Then cover my trails
Cause that's what goes with tradition

I'm the fire that never got started
The thought that's lost in your head
Here's to the dearly departed
Wishing the rest of you were dead

I'm the Prodigal Son
Of the Devil's run
And this is how I have fun

When I beat myself
I use a belt
Just to choke out the only one

Who has the sense
Though he's quite dense
This rabble-rouser is deserving

For the games he's played
And the ways he's strayed
It's his fault for not observing

He's the fire that burns in your eyes
The wheels that took your children
Here is to them and their lies
He is your only burden.