during the times of kings and crooked priests when land was worked with skinned hands and God was kept from most fat wives were prized possessions throughout the times borders planes punk tunes politics wars of worlds and lipstick trends tea cup dogs and reality shows churches of every persuasion color and flavor fat wives are now abandoned dethroned and berated yet among the kings and dukes earls and car owners big boned brides and fruits from loins each pound of flesh was a gold brick in their safe now strewn across my street and the streets of the city fat humans lethally lethargic forced to eat poisoned industrial concoctions trash and starches because the bottom of the begging cup has nothing more than the guilt coin of the popular collective unconsciousness
Emotional Abuse
complication
you ask why do i cover it
wandering around town
a million thoughts
abstract in their reality
answers swerve but then the questions haunt
im not a fitter in the jigsaw of today right now
just a passing sorceress with a spray paint can
strayed under the bridges dirty shoes bruised features
archangel seal on finger never ringed but broken twice
but even in slumber you complain
how can anyone ever hold you
your hand anchored to your hardened chest
it’s a reflex i whisper back
shes frail
beating hushley
neath this bony tattooed hand
where crows go to bury their dead
a tight jawed loon that’s what i’ll be
silently i will slink
behind the dying ugly trees
they die like a Shakespearean villain
across from the dirty river
their dusty peeling trunks
looking like they wear shoes
but its only beige mushroom caps
growing from an addict’s turd
ant trail metropolis up and down
the droopy branches bound by old cassette tape ribbon
the sugar burdens on their little thorax
weighing just as much
as the burdens on my curved shoulders
obscure illusions and esoteric lies
the native boulders akin to WCF’s face
emblazoned with red stripes and nonsense
the names of petty thief street artists
stretching down from the lived in hill
where crows go to bury their dead
dime sized nettles in my unkempt hair
will tangle with the strands in silence
and with a little time
the thorns of broken thoughts ruptured memories
will burrow even deeper
like wet mud i step into it
but quiet i will be
be silent the people have spoke
a stone chorus in space
i hear them on cold nights
they are getting colder by the way
i’ll glance beyond the conniving lights
alone out of the way and in silence
haiku for blushing girl
wallflower
blush
in
the
beam
of
Venus
eyes
hide
from
an
angry
Sun
take it like a man
sky weeping like widow
breeze cold dead man bones
the mirror of wilted flowers in my eye
piano and Adele my lips shut
breath held tight
her song did puncture
the pus filled soul in me
a mallet made of wings
swung across a street
it struck me in the heart
had that ambush ne’er happened
i would have never known
i was woman
for all the times
i had to take it like a man
to bow my head or look away
the lost glamorous stare
the sinking laugh
into the nothing
you said your mother would have liked me
but you never were in love
a convenience fuck i solely was
failing in love
as winter whispers
candles of my eyes light up
my heart pounds for you
steinfranken
hemorrhaging thought
this thing inside the mind has lost the path of where its from chromosomes in a situation room in outer space the Earth has crowded me
shit really he says the days of roses haunts me the road to stray is right outside are you sure about that picking sage and ask permission BB King i heard you holler Lucille my love
strings flap churning trains of thought wishes prayers gone amok by the howling wolf in a poet’s dream the sting of death follows me pluck one then two then three the boy won’t ever find me until he looks inside of him there i will beat pulsing with the flow of light
thrift store dogma
blunted
why so tough kid cry or something
i’m ok man don’t trip
your friend overdosed in the hall by the curtained room
are you telling her folks or who
we called your dad isn’t he coming
no he said
do you want to go to the hospital your nose is bleeding
it does that when i hurt
oh did you fall down
no i hurt for my friend growing up even my toys were mechanical
words less spoken 