echoes in soft violet
the hem of your
second wedding dress off
to bury your soldier
and marry the promise
of loneliness which is
heavier now at the
beginning of your widowness
and the threshold of
motherhood the only joy
in your frozen heart

echoes in soft violet
the hem of your
second wedding dress off
to bury your soldier
and marry the promise
of loneliness which is
heavier now at the
beginning of your widowness
and the threshold of
motherhood the only joy
in your frozen heart

at seven months utero blue washroom
the fists pummeled my mother’s face
she never knew i felt it too
in 71’ there was a great earth quake
they ran out and left me in
she never thought i felt it
a tiny tot no older than three suns
the girl with more suns you left me with
shoved my little hands and face
into her secret universes
nobody cared that forcefully i ate them
often told to talk about the greatness
of your perfection as a guide
remind me if you can what were your triumphs
with this backwards crazed unparentble child
other than your abandonment
for many years and as i developed into a self defined
grotesqueness of abomination
taught by the punks the junks and queers
they are my kind they know about the record
not knowing then what i know now
this feeling i snorted it in chugged it
down with lots of gin that other feeling
i shot it up to the Lord above and took it
in the front and back from any boy as lost as i was
i took the punches curses put downs and secrets
too unsavory for the family name sake
there was a time when i yelled fuck you to
everyone around i cut the cord called you both whores
and headed into town and here i stand until the
end that nears upon me nuzzling my throat
with words in nature cleansing
i now move up one more step of wisdom
understanding that the spark of love for you
unrequited as it was never tainted
the three sun girl can go to rest
her eyes no longer brimmed with tears but hope
the summer is what it is here
the humidity clinging to my tired skin
like a crazy 50’s t.v. wife mockery
on Wall there’s the law and then there’s us
each side with glaring mutual understanding
that nothing is being done
no longer angels no longer devils
Gods gone fishing and they won’t be coming back
the species of Adam failed to keep their end of the
Covenant with Noah and Jesus holy shit what have we done
in life there is reason and there’s law
inside the soul there is right and there is wrong
inside the ego all is mine and nothing yours
on Koehler there is a man who doesn’t know he suffers
the fear he knows not himself prisoner of
the bio-hazardous ecosystem freedom gone awry
the filth the human shit the rage the insanity disease
the pain addiction poverty starvation piss trash
tears the waste of modern time
no longer get through the stains of a life
poorly lived or sorely wasted no logic
no feelings no rhyming no Kingdom will come
betwixt the cardboard and the shelter
the damage has been done
wage on me wage your wars
indifference is your nuclear weapon
after a long afternoon nap on USC’s lawn i lift my arms toward the heaven in crucified form there’s hair in the grass and my skateboard is gone i sit there still wondering what happened to me was i just walking and then crashed to sleep or was i doing something i’d later regret people my age future doctors lawyers business men grounds keepers maintenance crews walked slowly on by talking about this or that getting up i fell down twice no one looked a second time maybe it was the grass stains on my shirt makeup runny laces untied LA Kings jersey hair in a nest from my left eye i catch the PD stares i smile a dainty coy like smile and they ride their bikes toward the black guy who’s finely dressed reading the medical text book
she knocked over the bottles but made it up the drawer to the mirror on the shelf my tabby is alive
the helicopters rumble through the smoky skies the news vans are ready for the close up the tents the chalks the body bags three hours after the big bang
right behind the liquor bank debris in the alley empty Old English bottles and some candy wrappers big hot Cheetos Big Mac box
i saw some guy take a noisy shit on the corner of King street and wipe it off with the LA times i closed the gray gingham curtains
i’m never really sure when the psych meds will kick in but i don’t care as long as i can hear the Garcia’s next door just in case they get drived by since mother had a stroke and lost control over her boys
i do have all i need i don’t mind the four am sirens at five am i’m still not sleeping looking out my fire escape balcony the LA Rams play tomorrow and Dignity Health wants to cure my everything
the part that is peace within myself is a
tiny girl humming bird
here and there can’t stop for air
i’m not prepared to answer why
i can only sing at the bottom of my lungs
so high so high that no one can hear
the sky and the flowers don’t deserve another
song of sorrow and hurt to add to the menu
of those souls who are caged in their own
stories of struggle torture and pain
nor do i know when i will stop fluttering about
looking for somewhere to rest my thoughts and calm
my fears of getting caught in the nets
of monsters
she brushed her hair slowly asking questions to the air i sat and i doodled in my math book algebra was not my friend although in high school calculus was a little kinder honestly being a student of the formal subject and theory concept philosophy and algorithm was never my cup of anything i preferred to daydream observe and think later on i was given diagnostic labels for all three on account that some people couldn’t understand how to appreciate those foibles of me and thus my mind was pathologized to fit into a neat little category i didn’t mind i was a kid but in some strange way much deeper and wiser than they would ever be not intellectual perhaps more intuitive a reader of in between the lines of the lines
Abbey was decent looking very natural and i liked that at home my mother and her friends laid on the war paint rather thickly and it was hard to tell if they were human in retrospect now i understand that all of the women i knew as a kid had pain to hide their veils make up booze pills loveless sex marriage unwanted kids back stabbing hate rage sarcasm some had money and when the rare expression of love was directed at them all hell broke loose love hurt too too much
besides a killer record collection Abbey had bottles of beauty products for Mexico Spain and France i personally never tried anything on except for some nail polish in pearlescent pink that i didn’t really like Abbey tried to teach me how to put make-up on but it really didn’t interest me there was something in my soul that frowned upon that sort of thing a kind of defense mechanism and i found the make-up styles of her younger years a bit on the grotesque side but what did i know i was a rag tag tomboy
on a dark gray November morning i decided to cut the rest of the day and i headed to the Cecil i knew someone would be there i almost floated up to the sixth floor where Abbey lived knocked on 607 and nothing i almost left to go rap on another door further down that hall when i heard the knob turn and the chain lock release Abbey had an ink blue and red left eye ball shut by the swelling of traumatized flesh
she told me to come in and as i walked through the door she told me about how she had gotten mugged last night and her purse stolen i knew from memory Abbey only had one purse tan kid skin leather silver zipper and fringe which was sitting on the floor of her opened closet door looking at her as every second ticked by i could feel a tightness in my chest my teeth began to clench and i punched a softball sized hole on the drywall i had seen the same on my mother
before the sleep comes in the place where the parrots crow and gangrene defaults for a beauty mark of the ones who cant afford the trip into the stars that shine on borrowed gleaming blinks and NASA goes on break the supper crowd waits til 6
to catch the train by a frazzled skirt that has sat on its last desk at the home of doll house diplomats did you ever see the stippled sky after the new year came and we owe money that has not been invented yet the people have
spoken but our dictionaries have faded we want wine and glory the oyster bar awaits the hookers call the other girls and the priesthood has lost weight if i chew and spit
out codes that only fleas can understand i might take the interstate and go to Las Cruces and bake out in the sun then back to Lady Angels arms but i wont know about the after
mother earths mirror
polished by the fairy maids
they three come and smile

it’s not that i am being difficult Majesty
my people have no food to eat
not a pond to wash their tired feet
and my sons they squabble in vain
my daughters they struggle in pain
Majesty all i‘m saying is that my words
should not offend you as you have told
me always speak truth
but i have realized that i
do not agree that my tongue should be tied
and my soul deprived of freedom
to be who i am to soar to the heavens
or to delve in the deep
i do not agree that my limbs
should be caged if i have to
wage war against the enemies of my innocent babes
i don’t mean to be ungrateful
and rebellious at times
but when my children are cut down
by your Princes and clowns
i have to attack with my voice and my heart
through words that are poison
to your ego fueled mind
the sergeants of time
will slowly creep by
and carve out a zone
where i might just languish
in your punishing hate
but don’t turn your back
on those who adore you the most
because with every flower and offering
and purse full of coins
that they render to you
will only weigh you down
to a perdition of soul of spirit and crown
you can shut my lips and burn my body down
but it’s just a body a bag made of vanishing flesh
however Majesty you cannot neglect
the truth in their eyes
the strength in their breath
the beauty in their spirit
their righteous battle call
when the war rages out
the wicked will fall