it starts like any other dream i’ve had since around age 11 with the Black Clergy and the Orthodox Cross of course Ivan the Terrible riding on a school bus horse in the diary for today there is written about John the Revelator who in my opinion had the dream to end all others forever more my phone screamed the LA County Emergency System warning safer at home lock down starts and the tranquil panic ensues can’t sleep the rapist may come blowing trumpets can’t eat boogey men come with sanitizer to wipe out my individuality can’t complain i’m doing great in contrast to so many of my brothers can’t stop thinking is this war Patmos makes me hungry in the soul talking to churches down the hall but we can’t help we are human no i say no no no sweaty panicked girl remember Big Bird and the age of innocence in limbo as the only romantic countries rage with the the horsemen double plus cut on the loose around the neck of Hemingway’s beloved
Mental Health Crisis
held hostage
she’s here again vice grip on my chest black night horror demon waif starvation of my thoughts clawing on my floors thorns grow out of my eyes flames of peril dancing on all with illusions of lucid hell all the bottles in the world beg me to rescue them stuff my corpse with SOS written on sulfur stones of tortured paths throw me in the lake of fire fingers running on the walls 2 in the morning feeling lost the saints all laugh at my position i run outside the neighbor calls for me to come back and lock my door i grind my teeth and rockaby in hopes that this episode will soon become another reason to get high on useless capsules i’m prescribed by the drones of science
la times unplugged
it used to be that brown or black eyes were the abysmal of magical beauty and blues were sparkling pools of Narcissus’ soul staring back at me today i walk slow aimlessly sipping pretending to be comfortable and care free but it’s only procrastination to my left bumper stickers promising green utopia for all to my right oceans deep with human carnage strewn and labeled social crisis the caucused trumped up rallies won’t heal my broken brothers and if i’m not careful the depth of my wavering human decency could quickly shallow up
a feather
back in the day of orange koolaid and Brady Bunch dreams candy cotton and carburetors diamonds pills and fancy ladies the news and no direct tomorrow TV dinners multiplex sorrows mop top slinky singer crooned in silky voice to the effect of time having no patience but i don’t blame those frigid tocking ticker arms because i’m a slow floating feather from a city bird molting from the Eiffel Tower statue sitting on any trinket shelf on Hollywood boulevard and through the fibers of the strain i struggle float away slowly in a deafening rage tickling the balls of all those who pose to be the royal peacock
cicatrix
it’s best if we sigh now
oh life for all of my days
you still haunt me
you just a state of neurological being
but you life you have gotten in my blood
no other place is better
i was conceived old
my thoughts Gemini to Don Quixote
and in times of desperation
i’ve gone blindly into battle too
just a shit head little cunt
from the city of LA
but fuck, fuck i say
you and i sister tough old bitch
we still stand
on the corners and the roofs
we too sit in the high life cafes
and the rat infested flop house bars
to tell old drunk sailors but not of Navy type
of how we got our scars
rape intoxication politics aggravation
education isolation insanity warm sun shine
loneliness love devotion twisted words
beatings in the dark making love on the sand
injecting poisons til the boils could hold no more
rode in the ambulances
mourning flat-lined blue lipped boys
ah life i am yours and no one else’s
when sitting by the ponds the koi fish
bubble up asking for my orange cheese crackers
every so often i can shed a few tears
when the coroner loads one of us into their van
never knowing who they were
but knowing that they’ll go to heaven
but my favorite scar by my cupids bow
when my face got smashed on the garage asphalt floor
so many fears and rage at the same time
and the pictures of my mother
lost on my travels with no paradigms
the scars in my heart
i keep those inside
some demons are best left
to the annals of the mind
now my friend lover spouse and enemy
we’ve walked down the path
that’s led us close to the horizon
of twilight and as much as i want to lay down to rest
and ponder your meaning and flick ashes on the floor
i realize that i’ve been just another story
at times screaming off my head
another woman scarred
by the significance
of nothing in your eyes
JC and the milk crate dancer
i’m so tired of being an addict i hate having to travel on Temple Street but all the signs are good Our Lady of Angels Greg Laurie Harvest Stickers car plates chock full of hearts and tiny hands instead of numbers letters they’re all messages from high up i’m cool i can handle this there’s the Déjà Vu Club who cares i don’t worry about chasing my fixations into there
what am i saying do i really feel safe walking down this damn street full of crazy assholes trying to get to the nearest bar why don’t i lay on one of these benches and just stay still damn it and what’s all this taking bumper stickers and 158 year old buildings as a sign that anything or anyone for that matter is cool
it’s comforting to me ok i know how anal i can get about that stuff not that anyone cares better yet not that anyone would ever suspect that a loser like me even thinks about her soul so why worry about it i can’t control my thoughts my fleeting humming bird mind
hmmm on the other hand lemme be a devil’s advocate do i ever feel like texting my people and telling them if i ever have to drop everything and everyone and give my life and soul and everything else and die in the name of and for Jesus would i do it
my heart says yes i guess you can’t be lukewarm its yes or no yes yes i would i don’t have anything in the world to lose but man yes yes i would
sounds a lot like i’m trying to convince myself that would mean leaving everyone and everything i love behind leaving the world I know for the unknown i’m crystal clear on that right
yes i am it’s the only thing that i am sure of look i don’t have anything to offer that’s original or universe shattering i can choose to be nice humble sacrifice all whatever etc but that my fucked up little mind is merely revolutionary NOT UNIVERSE SHATTERING right but the outcome is unknown regardless now why do i think that because the recipients of my choices and deeds are people and people are human and humans aren’t perfect so by that rational it doesn’t matter a flying rats ass what do or don’t or believe or don’t my heart says do it jump off the cliff step off the boat God will be there my puny runty tiny black worthless heart tells me that not brains or conscience uh no hard feelings ok my little fragile mind but that’s what i believe i was born with this belief i can’t shake it shoot it out cut it off chemo it beat it it’s in me whether i want it or not i can’t even ignore it
besides a human would push me off the cliff and throw me off the boat in an episode of hysteria it’s just survival instinct who can blame them so i’d rather do it myself jump step off you know take hold of my own destiny captain of my soul whatever
then again it sounds like i’ve been watching too many Prophecy flicks so the church is sharing real estate with the strip joints do i think that’s funny do i think that juxtaposition by the freeway was there for me does it make me think deeply does it make me question morality hmmm
no not really i’m not special like that but if i look at it business wise being that this is Downtown Los Angeles the church gets its souls and tithes and the strip joint gets its saps and tips win win it’s all supply and demand my good woman
wow Adam Smith ‘Wealth of Nations’ who knew anyone could ever make a triangular connection between church titty bars and world economics freakin’ smart
well i do my worst thinking on the freeway ramps sorry but my decision stands firm can i turn off now my stream of consciousness is a big ass blinding light of a reminder in my eyeballs
what do i remind me of i’m just a stream of irrepressible and unimportant thought that no one can control remember
you remind me of where i am and i don’t want to be reminded at all let’s step off the milk crate now the sheriffs will be finding us soon enough
absolution
water cold serene
then the holy light appears
rebirth i am pure
dying between closing arguments
luck
smitten
with few steps
happy with the
choices i have made they belong to me
unpopular turns delinquent alike
options were mine
judgmental
endings
are
just
that my
conviction
is steady all
ready to go come the wave of infernal
positioned to strike with white hot venom
for mercy and
dripping with
bloody
hand
dissecting the Geneva Convention
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
middle c
when the dirt on my shoes
starts to click the pavement
i go to the park
pray to the squirrels
bow to the trashcan
gambling that at the bottom
will be a half eaten idea
that i can sell
when the anger in my soul
starts to pound out my heart
i go to that tent
beg to the man
bow to the pipe
give away the music in my bones
for a hope that i will stop the pain
when there is a nowhere and no rainbow
and my shadow trades places with me
i go in my head
get lost in the wave
of no way out symphonies
so i turn in for the day
to welcome in the tepid night
and wait for that clicking to begin
words less spoken 