two sisters

during the teen years i became smitten with two sisters i’d take them from the pockets and purses of the people i knew dated them too my wayward street girl path hit the thickest part of the city jungle in my early twenties with my ruby mouth cigarette dangling out i would work through the summers at whatever i found i loved the way the first sister built up my courage i felt like a god she was so very soft put her in my mouth and fill my nose with her essence but like in all relationships i couldn’t trust myself to be faithful i needed more more more insatiable gaping fool on an empty heart hurt in the prime of the blossom so i cheated with the second sister exotic delicious i remember the first bang like it was three seconds ago my God what a fuck and then the downfall the second sister i had been forewarned by all the zombies before me little girl that lady is forbidden fruit but i chased that wild dragon sucking at my tits what a beast of a filly the things she would do send my clitoris up to Neptune and soon i had to pay dues and in the foggy LA morning they found each other out yeah i was singing the blues so we experimented with a threesome their death plot foiled by an angel on the street after running in traffic and taking a beat lost in the dessert of old Mission street but i was too much my father’s daughter i couldn’t be a slave to these beautiful women we know them by name a prize on my head said sister one i’ll blow out her heart crooned sister two no angel no devil could free me from them so we tried our ménage a few more times and it came down to the fundamentals their soul or mine i quit them cold turkey they dragged me to hell i brought up our pre-nup they tightened the screws sent their foot soldiers to give me the news entice me with freebies and i had to say no and the soldiers those soldiers they understood gave me a green light and i’ve been running ever since then


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

number 48

scorched concrete broken bottles

         bus fare not enough rain comes

huddle in the mass of 300 cots cries for help

a man is lost behind himself he now sees

         in front of him are wading genteel lakes

his hands metaphorically cut off at the wrist

                closing his eyes he dreams of hills

opening them again he seeks to seal a reality

            that comes in colors mainly blues and blacks

his mind aloof with a potion of castles in a foreign land

    where the weather is gentle and his feet kiss the sand

in the banks of a river holding the dusking sky

        number 48 is called to sit at the chair

we don’t have room for you try back next week

       he looks down and looks up again

out of the building to sidewalks of pain

    three blocks from Wall street

the birds start to sing     the river is placid

    the hills are rolling    skies are all yawning

      the fire she roars inside of the castle           a new king explores

pink spider love

the tendons in my arms

sense of falling up

pangs and hisses

hole in the walls

beyond the sill

pigeons puff in heat

summer i feel

of the spinning axis

loss of sense no thoughts

just empty glass after empty glass

bumps on the gooses i think i think

looking up hanging down from the window

i think im Spiderman

woman that’s me

turn on my water works

over who

last one for the road

yes you hurt me

one toke full glass

new chance

i want to get off


those gray eyes

you’re passed out

on the bed made by

the leaders of example past

i remain standing

questionable victory

in this battle of the sexes

mad house

in a mad house i shoo my heart away

i don’t know why      i stay

in the hope that you will feel

or think in your head to

need me

the yellow of the walls

suffocates me; I get held

down against my will

but it is not yellow

it is           dimness and fear

i see a tender brook out

of my third eye window

and the idea that i could

be free                  is unsettling

for letting you go

means being without

in my head i look into

my eyes and i see empty

inky dread         such a quick sand terror

in the night where did you go

from me

                        madness at all hours

stuns me; soothes me; makes me weep

cruelty beyond           all naturalness

of human spirit

the cell is silent              

the day is        come

the brook is                 muddy

on baker street

at an angle the sun slides between her bones

to chase out the cold ghosts of dawn

who with sleep crusted auras

float to the mills of time when we were queens 

of industries that required tough skins

and a hunger to chase some pursuit of happiness 

as our kings fought the windmills of tyranny

on the shores of the land of  Joan and Henry

and in the moments of dying star blaze

the queens gracefully dance into the old river of life

to reset a past that doesn’t stay put