GB lost her friend today
in a family of ten GB lost herself
in a culture where family was amputated from centuries ago then GB lost her crown
GB’s friends have lost their battles yet they hang on like fatal car crash victims who wont recognize the great beyond
GB cried today sobbed is the better word
GB judged herself for not being there when his time had come
i only a specter following her around mute and heavy dragging the chains of frigid bureaucracy
GB lost her head for a moment frozen grief there standing
GB never had what we do but we dont comprehend when GB begins to agonize
GB died again today and wailed betwixt the thunder of the freeway next to us
tomorrow GB will wake up and look for him in her dreams his wheelchair there with a a little box of rolling papers asking her for grits and bacon
Addiction
on Crocker st.
dry dusty wind raising death across the street
the minds peeking from the bars sullied are the dreams
desires are nothing more than lost wishes left burning by the gutters
a page from Laslee’s book
unusual is how i feel today
please don’t ask of me
simmering in thoughts
i am grotesque in depth
depressing prospects i see
ever quiet i seek to be
depriving the self of stability
on the other hand i think
why do you look at me
never speaking out
things in an alley
the smile the face the walls the sky the trees the ideals the rules the drugs the wolves the women the men the youth the old the sick the grass the tombs the space the prison the haste the mastery the theater the church the vision the isms the rules the history the law the upper ground the under ground the groups the lone the sailor the whore the priest the angel the holy the devil the medicine the blues the reds the thoughts inside my head today and evermore
Gabriel’s boulder
and with the flash of lightening my heart stopped the anguish of a thousand needles in my arms the guilt of surviving what others had not came to me in a night of bad dreams
it’s always by the river where there is pain and fear flanked by genuine love created like a diamond is through tons and years of pressure
in the dream its always cold like a movie with a storm showing something deeply wrong earning us that satan comes trotting to destroy us
the thunder speaks in deep cracks shooting through the canyons filled with rage pouring through the vessels of my soul in darkness my pupils open wide gaping for any light but my consciousness goes under
and that white flash slips through the glass again to retrieve me from catatonia’s grace and prick me with memories of all those years wasted by the river’s bed
lustful haiku
berries placed upon
my achingly thirsty tongue
cooling scorching kiss
intertwined are we
intertwined are we
today was hard
my black sister
drunken on the
couch where life
grabs hold and
won’t let go
intertwined are we
me in my sea
of clinical tricks
to pluck the
splinter from your
broken shattered heart
intertwined are we
today we sparred
my yellow sister
sad and lost
sick of it
all you cry
within your soul
me with idiot
pen instructing you
to just sign
here and here
intertwined are we
my dear brown
sis your laughter
hides the rage
of voices in
your head tormenting
the peace from
your inner self
i can only
smile and praise
your strength knowing
that tomorrow night
there’s a chance
your spirit dies
intertwined are we
the nights linger
like the cigarette
on your busted
lips quivering from
meth and shame
from the time
of birth til
the time of
death you walk
in the weave
of that shadow
in that valley
the good book
warns us about
i follow your
stride into the
caves of the
damned you hoping
i go away
i knowing that
this was my
launching place before
intertwined are we
insomniac
ghosts sit by the door
lurking between the wood planks
with them a scent of gardenia
silver orbs hang in the dark
eclipsed by the street light
i speak to them in my mind
they retort that i am a sinner
groaning their disappointment
weeping then leaving
as the night waltzes on
my eyes strain to seek the stars
between the TV antennas on apartment roofs
meat and bone stars twinkle instead
providing my neighbors with a comfort
the witching hour around the corner comes
my eyes turned downward
ignoring a call from the highway
bent on taking me out to a life
i ran away from
for Slim and Steve
thorns so sharp
and beautiful like your love
unattainable to the touch
dry and dead like promises made
in a far off night
that was made in a bottle
storm
storm you are so black
i am so empty
storm you are powerful
i curled up quiet
storm if i could touch your electricity
and send my atoms to rest
words less spoken 