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.