Grand Central Station
alas listless and lifeless
Zeno here lays man
the stoicism
in his blood sustained him but
human daemon
did not intervene
still he held on a witness
to nothing but dreams
Logos who do you trust
the mote in his crying eyes
or the beam obscured
by the lies in yours
thus succumbs by the hands of
dogma and doxa
there is no peace
but just the
same i welcome such beautiful pain
beneath the twilight across the house where hope died
my essence lingers rootless derelict fool
my soul
the prints of silence tread the horizon where your muted light lives
from one thought to the next
if only i could take the ache away
snatch it from you
hide it from your face
if only i could soak up your tears
soothe the fear
that worlds collapse only in you
those monsters too akin to my mind
restless i wait knowing you’ll never arrive and still i look
strain the very nature of my sight
optimism passing like the fragile snow flake
you, hurt
you, hurt so succinctly
just hurt
it is not desired to submit to the maze
some how survival of the organism
depends upon it
it is not of merit to walk alone
but at times it’s necessary
none the wiser are my thorns
that i caress and polish them
although there’s rubbish in my soul
a gentle apocalypse sometimes wanders
within and incinerates my soiled heart
there will be no ashes
the electromagneticity
of electrons have silently dimmed away
what can be said of Los Angeles skies
that my eyes have cried about
inside worlds move simultaneously
politics heresy peace nihilism
ides no longer just
in March but forever
thoughts on being men
women on lay over
we think too late
archaic rebellion manifesto now
sold at local retailers
the revolution will be
AI shrapnel lands on
where he needs to
make amends neutral we
quiver as we’re lead
convenience in our head
riffs asunder in a
past that grappled with
the rights of gods
we the people found
in loss but ego
40 year engagement strong
the greatness of our
thoughts freedom at what
cost let us ponder
grief at the shift
of our great age
nothing certain short of
death tearing down the
walls of hate running
circles talking heads lowered
anarchies repossessed mid loan
hope in the periphery
anger your way of loving me
creviced are my wounds
silent they exist like a tomb
waiting patiently for messiah
scold me you a fury pummel me
with orders decide for me how to be
when i gift you my soul blood
with silk petal finger tips
yet
as my own hands turn to nurture me
paralysis afflicts them
they fall to my sides like fading ash
so i move on through the night alleys
my youth my age displayed on the shadows
where i grew and still the stains of uncertainty
taint my compass where now to?
i yearned for truth in my heart clear like
Buddha’s breath and still you were not the one
to encase me in loving arms
there is no reason
other than your skin
taught cold against me
your favorite words inaudible
we speak the silence
pink tongue yours me
unjust gray verbs making
me ache for you
she called herself Magda she had eyes deep tawny green like a bamboo forest the skin around them sagged like the last morsels of dried cocoon from an emerging Monarch she whispered into my face her breath sour like piss and beer and roses cheap potpurri she taxed me with guessing her age my mind trembling i smiled and raised my 10 fingers gesturing three times Magda was tickled so much so that she asked the two weird sisters in her head if I could live with them she was ageless her face wrinkled like an old walnut at the bottom of the bin cheeks rouged brick red lips purple brows rubbed off in time by constant fists and bumps Magda looks across Vermont Ave the pigeons coo in echo
never knew vulnerable was so hard
or how bright your dark side of the moon could shine
or a heart so easily torn apart
at the death of a wilted flower
the thoughts of the sounds you make your face in pain your eyes ash gray grow like wild honey suckle vines outward from the insides of my composting heart
look she says can i get a break today my blood borrowed by thirteen murder scenes lined up coming from my vocal chords ready for the gate to fall
i know the demons they feed well from me the prescription don’t eat before the range or you’re gonna get rotted rice and peas rolling down your caved in chest
the elders said before you were set free to the prison this would be caution daughter and sons your fathers were heavy into maleficent fun be advised that their sins you’ll be liquidating
we both tired and bored
then i’d ask where she was born
somewhere she said
but im not really sure
i want to tell you
she smoked then got up
to get a frozen tamale
from a dirty plate
in the moldy microwave
guilt and sin falling
from her face
like bombed out plaster
he joined the conversation
when she and i silenced
midwifing her and me into
a new set of unasked and unanswered questions
we all three sat there smoking
drinking diet cokes sniffing the air
she rasped i need another drag
words less spoken 