Soul Food

Seems I only behave
 when in the beam of god's gaze;
 in the strobe of his blinking
 there's a lot of hell I raise

Temptation is a constant
 but it's an apple if you want it
 and any fox knows
 low hanging fruit will taunt it

There's big brother, and then big father
 sometimes he doesn't bother
 to spy, for he knows
 free will is just swine fodder

Man procreates with glee
 fattening its soul with carnality
 He hath preparest us a heavenly meat hook on high
 where our souls might dangle free

Christ taught us to feed on his flesh
 It's the lesson we should've learnt best
 He showed us self surrender
 for deities are quite ravenous

WE are the salt of the Earth
 veal right from birth
 that vigilant shepherd standing near
 measuring our sins, eyeing our girth.

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The Truth is a Noose

Candor is less appreciated

than one might think

you’re your own fink

your free speech will construct

the walls of your own damned clink

 

In the solitary confinement built

and the silence there

with racing thoughts of what you shared

you’ll wish you could unspeak it all

Your duty is now your despair

 

The truth is a noose;

uncensored words make knots,

oxygen lost,

choking off reconciliation

when only honesty was sought

 

Forget the conscience.

And that damned tree.

Lie and walk free

tie your tongue instead

only confess on bended knee

 

For the truth can be bent

farther than a spine

at the end of a tied line

so spin a yarn

and buy some time

  

 

 

 

electric evangelist

electric evangelist
sending paper airplanes on sparks and wires

you’re on the

same side of a different coin

a flip that gravity claims

you call heads

as it thuds

in the mud

slung

fat jackal

irrational practical

you should try to have the unshakable faith

of a paranoid hypochondriac

and the tongue of Jack Kerouac

you fidget with the truth

if you ever knew it

yeah,

you blew it

 

your charisma ecstatic static

burns down chapels

makes man wanna eat

the apple

your plague of fumes

they fucking arc

art paints your christ

with a trademark

but you send the charge

that flashes blind

the corroding terminals

of all mankind

lied

and what a shock

nobody waits

nobody rises

no body waves like the starr’ed flag in the sky

we commune

in grounded gavels

electric evangelist

please arise.

The Biggest Bang

What hot mass weighs on your heavy soul?

Does it burn clear through to the bottom

and free fall into that limbo-like stratosphere

where your heart hovers?

With a searing clinch

let me melt my hands

leaving, not finger prints,

but my touch, a gift of burnt skin

fused to your fiery surface.

I will trace my obscene confession in the sky

with blood and fire

and when next we meet,

our fervent union will become a blazing star

illuminating all the heavens

and we will detonate with such a thunderous blast

that a new era will dawn.

The Clock Struck 2

everything is different than what you know from the last time

because the clock has chimed

it’s erased, replaced

somehow effaced

a gray blob in the heart of everyman getting thicker

it cuts quicker

thin-skinned

a mysterious trend

prodding wonder, inexplicable, unanswerable damnation

god-forsaken, fucking taken

alien invasion

Cold, quiet, pit, icy despair

no, just not fair

but there it is

tick

tick

BOOM

gone too soon

grab yer bottle and follow me to the tomb

sigh and sit

cry and shit,

doesn’t make sense, does it?

along the same incision… okay gash

another account rehash ash ash

stupid echo silence sobs

train-wreck moms

the blob barely throbs

and we wonder what we did wrong

we can lean on each other, like switch-stick huts

barely up and mostly numb

and weather this bastard storm

and for what?

It’s bad art, Lord, those boys

strewn out like Christmas lights on mangled metal

Would YOU settle

for an answer

that answers nothing at all?

How many have sinned, how big is the prison?

It’s a plug that keeps us from spilling. A plug.

Or amniotic fluid would be seeping, on the rug.

And no one can quite come up with the drug

that heals that hole

that holds in the soul

to keep the world from taking a chug.

 

Oh, that plug, it is made of up of crud

But, fear not, it reacts well to suds

And a very vigorous scrub

will prevent a dribble

on the delicate pebble

that would leave a trail of blood.

 

The path that diverts us is wide

while the one best to choose is a line

and everyone has committed a crime

so God has decided

 our souls be debrided

before we go to heaven to do time.

Fruits of love

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Seminal Sounds

hush rebounds

a plume of summer

rising from skin,

the place renamed

omnipotence

doles out stifling pittance

 

A pleasure tree

shakes for me

with winds bore

from remittance

some other one

unclad, chapped

deserted

putrefies in wondering silence

 

Cherub cheeks

unblushed for weeks

a change blows through

from tarnished horns

a mercy act

violence

reclaims with aethering recompense

The exorcism

My demons are getting some exercise

I need to make them good and tired

so for many quiet days

I’ll be relieved of their wicked ways.

 

My devil, doing biceps curls

tells me to go drink with the girls

I talk too much as my brain whirls

and imbibe until I hurl.

 

My imp, I tell him to run laps

my mind, it cramps, and bleeds through gaps

I gasp at such a tortured lapse

and beg for sanity’s firm grasp.

 

Twas squats I ordered Mephistopheles

which almost brought me to my knees

he pulled my skirt and begged, “Please!

I’ll rob your fair beauty should you rid of me.”

 

The exercise that left me vext

came to me in my quiet rest

A nightlong marathon we sext

his searing hand slid to my breast

 

Alas, it was Beelzebub

my soul’s health could join no other club

my fits of craze have no sub

my nourishment came from his nub

 

My demons give me exercise

If I fight they make me tired

they chatter to me on quiet days

saying death rids me not of their wicked ways.

The choir of balance

Can an angel and a devil

respect each other?

I have employed them both

to sing in my choir

Harmoniously, with a sad song

making one squirm,

elated and troubled,

discomfort and pleasure,

raising the pulse

and then dropping it

suddenly

with a quiet pause

like an elevator, cables cut

and before one can redraw the lost breath

from the ominous plunge,

the glorious voices rejoin

giving the audience weightlessness

and fresh air that blows clear through

to the toes and fingers, and every cell

Not sure if it’s heaven or hell,

But the choir of balance

that makes me glad to be

a human

immersed in imperfection and perfection

simultaneously

with my angels and devils in perfect harmony

God’s Grace has Sexy Legs

The beads of sweat roll down my shins

Once more the time begins

When I am kneeling

with no healing

so I confess, to her, my sin.

 

A lump builds in my throat when she walks by

Discomfort from the mixture of all the wrong and right

When, from Grace, I fall

Human, am I, after all

And if it weren’t the truth, I’d be lying

 

Grace has me by the balls

And our Lord has my tormented soul

And, of my body, what’s left

also broken and bereft

of the peace that should be there within my skull

  

So between the serving of two masters

I must choose the one that will long last’er

If I could halve my whole

To save my soul

Perhaps I could avoid disaster

On Core

You see no good in me

Yet you love me unconditionally

how?

What do you get from me?

I’m horrible to the core and I hurt you more and more

What do you feel when you embrace

a disgrace?

I know I disappoint you

and you always tell me this.

If I disgust you to no end, why then, do we kiss?

You are no martyr, no savior

but I am a sinner for sure

So how can you love me?

I’m rotten to the core.

Repitition

Repetition is a feature found in life and death

The only difference is if you have a breath

The chance for change is so small

We are sentenced, one and all

To what God or Satan choose to delivereth

Ode to the murderous pastor

You’re a fruitful fraud

And to claim you know God?

Well, the harvest of lies is upon you

 

Your fruit will rot

No one wants what you got

So they shun the only God who could save you

 

It’s so mean to imagine

The reverently pageant

Displayed for so long, to so many

 

You had to know all along

What you were doing was wrong

There’s a domino effect to sinning

Afterlife Jailbreak

I cracked the code

wonder if god knows

i split the clouds

to descend back to jail

Like a bird

i soar down

like a feather

down

down

down

perfection is loving life…

accepting imperfection

turning down a gift

in humility

like a deity, I came back

i found my peace

my mind is my holy home

ideas, ideals, and wishes

make such a comforting great beyond

within my reach

and better than the perceived reality

so many promised

The Making of an Angel

You want to learn how to fly?

I can show you how.

 

Close your eyes, and spread your arms

And jump right off. Now don’t look down.

 

It feels like falling, it seems like dreaming.

You cannot soar if you are screaming.

Have some hope, it gives you wings

Have some trust in the impossible things.

 

You’re quickly running out of sky

Brace yourself here comes the ground!

Don’t forget to trust in God…

Remember? angels fly.

Rapture

The world ablaze 1,000 times

I watch it burn before my eyes

Left alone to tend this seat

House of ashes at my feet

 

Hope abandoned 1,000 days

From when the world was set ablaze

Condemned to wait here in the ashes

For the “god” who lit the matches

 

Trumpets sounds 1,000 blows

Headache from the host of hosts

Why should I endure this pain

’cause God is coming back again?

 

Close my eyes 1,000 blinks

The light fades, reality shrinks

Death’s not such an awful thing

There is no god or angel wings

 

So surprised 1,000 stuns

Death’s a place to go have fun

Where enlightened souls go to peace

And god’s worshippers souls are teased.

Euphoria

The aura of euphoria

Has moved me to my death.

I smell the scent of heaven

As I draw each struggling breath.

 

So displaced, so distraught

The angels bound my arms.

They hold my soul for ransom,

Yet hinder me from harm.

 

Keeping me in vacuity,

Waiting for His words.

Such torment in expecting wrath

Euphoria gets so blurred.

Dawn’s Horizon

As I draw

 Each breath,

   I sink beneath

    Unbroken surfaces

      Unspoken bindings

        Bemused in departure

          Doused by hate

           Tempted to perish.

             Poniard compulsion

              Bound in truth

               Paralyzed by faith

                Clutching the discontent

                  Of a new day’s birth.

The Apple of my Eye

The apple of my eye;

A place of calm descent.

Kindred to the shrine

Fate’s kind kiss of hope.

 

Many fear its kindness.

Others deny it subsists.

Yet it’s promise cures my futility,

When my life sears to dust.

 

The apple of my eye;

Forbidden to eat this fruit

Matter of eternal life or death

But you cannot see its pledge.

 

I shun the serpent’s hisses

I know my duties well.

I choose to eat the apple

This time it’s reward is mine.

Divine

He listens to the whispers

And murmurs in the dark

He tickles the unfortunate

With heaven’s pearly gate.

 

He sentences the selfish

And leaves them there to rot

He pages the unlucky

To wallow in his sun.

 

He breathes across the country

Or shakes his angry fist

Or pisses in the middles

To punish pious hypocrites.