the lexicon revisited
Wednesday, September 27, 2006
clockwork conversation,
the only kind
i ever
seem to have.
hindsight in the rearview,
i'm a failure in fast-forward,
giving chase to shadows
and long gone absconders.
giant volumes
caked in dust,
well read to me
between the lines.
red box cheyenne
Tuesday, September 12, 2006
it's a massacre
of souls,
of eyes,
of minds.
it floats
in space,
upon airwaves,
draped on atmosphere,
somewhere between orange and blue.
the rise and inevitable fall
units pushed,
adverts sold
in between bouts of public disbelief.
i do not struggle,
rather i crown
sloped perspective
as king.
left with romantic lament
of black and white dreams,
where headstones forgive
and return
warm embrace.
math invented god
Sunday, September 03, 2006
an angry mob forms
at the base
of my skull.
they want your blood,
your head on a spit.
on good days
with reason as salve for peace,
i am able to calm
the rushing tide
of a murderous sea...
but on most days,
days like this,
i
just
let
them
fucking
tear
you
apart.
pull your heart through your throat
your life's validity
chased...
on the end
of a golden string,
usually attached
to the latest
tabloid fodder.
a bait-and-switch personality,
pulling the carpet
out from under the feet of reality.
i see the golden string
becomes the rope
you swing from.
unloved, used...
a fat hollow log
swinging with the breeze.
it's enough
to stick your head
in an oven,
isn't it?
no?
come on now.
imagine the who's who at your wake...
is there a building big enough
to hold
your bloated corpse
and the throng
of b-list onlookers?
