boffo cookout

one step....
that is all that is required
to meander the itinerary.
will it be
forward or back?
look askance at the horizon,
is the view adequate?

the retrospect,
a once longed for dispatch
down lanes of slick and thrill,
is now just a weedy dirt track
to a bubbling well of hollow
collisions

the grass clotted path ahead?
overgrown and heavy
with pliant proximated vistas
and covenants made in a fugue

to cleave to a mirage,
with such a ludicrous tone
of quagmirish vibrations,
is to strut in place,
bending a rut in your ellipse

and why bother the routed natives
with requests
for direction and affidavit?
when we will all one day vie
for that longed for
annihilation of circuit?

blunt etchings

nerve endings
pricked raw and silky,
they throb and flare
when recalled thoughts
get too close
to the core of assent
dart
faint
flee from that fervor

how does one blunt the etchings?
those wisped filaments of want and craze?
the thirst to avert
blend
morph
into an obelisk of phantom

rapture?
that reaches round and past
the fundamental urge to computate?

this data is flawed
or is it the receptacle?
the shrine of self
demands homage from
floating membranes of hunger
in order to fluctuate
with the echoes of passing
appetite

shadow moat

the solitary annexer hounds the commons
always on the selvage,
the shallow moat a resting place for the quasi warrior
who vigilantly tags errant trespassers

but apart for those dervished squirmishes
dictated by need and arrival,
those damned forged emotives
that are lush and always on point,
the burn of intimacy is red hot, acidic
....and shunned

the periphery is courted and guarded with a vengeance
do not cross that line....
you will be obliterated,
wiped from the the surface of the shadow's slate
never to savor umbrage again

Rosaceae stomp

the rose,
so red and hematic,
frozen in a stasis bespeaking an organ
trampled under paws of clay
and muck

the petals,
velvety and smeared with rancid dew,
oiled and stinking
of intent gone overdue
with consequence

the stem,
a long, thin
rapier of relief
with vicious thorns to prick the unaware,
left by those who don't give a clue
about lost adoration

the gift,
it's shallow and feckless stamp upon plated rainbows
abandoned as an over sight in a drive-by deluge
of signals that failed to include
the warp in trajectory

the bestower,
negligent, feral
naught but a fictitious mockery,
an idolizer of backwater by-ways
where guileless concubines vie for
stainless exaltation

the missive,
a word to the wary......
to invite disregard
by the enigmatic horticulturalist
is to leave your devotions
tender, ripe for economy

feasible crumbs

hideous, deformed
incapacitated
scarred
the sapid gargoyle awash in karmic rebounds
waits on hand and toe
for feasible crumbs dropped by unworthy foes,
their only claim to remembrance
a shout heard down tripish corridors of phlegm

what does this monster want?
out of life?
out of communion?
....out of paper

to lead the rummage
cross fields of sarcasm
the downed warriors stripped of acumen,
the armor rusted and mocked,
astringent and bitter animosity
dragged out to the sea of wit

to head the march
o'er meadows of floundering dross,
and heard above the flocks of imbecilic ruminators
bred for endurance, a repetitive lunacy
not felt or imagined
by their cliched sensibilities

to commandeer
the armies of unfeeling and self abstracted
carbon eaters
their digestive tracts lined with leftover drool
ripe with embryonic concepts,
their flight of preoccupied residue
slimy with extravagance

to cede....
emptiness
wraught with extinction
embraced by deities revolving round
the fenced-in solarium of pedestrian prate,
entrails of padded insight hither and where
to shine is to retreat....and to rule

fuga battalia

wandering the fugue
wrung out chimeras of battles,
arguments and bogus assessments abound

here a vitriolic sputter,
a rant on the inaneness of opinion

there a strutting of quirky ego
gone rancid with grief

and the always exceptional
boxed, caged, and inviolate hyena,
biting at it's own tail
to free itself from karma's orbit

over there passes a shining torch
twinkling in the quagmire's dusk,
don't touch it......
don't you dare get close
the burn is equivalent
to a supernova's implosion

fetid pups run amock
nipping and gnawing at curdled heels
just trying to give credence
to an inattentive guardian,
too intent on self digestion
to render civility

and those hounds of appetite are loose,
hide your sullied tidings....
if you don't want your belongings
unraveled and smeared across vale and tuck
run! run to the nearest exit

the advent of kala in all her splendor
strifing these murky halls,
on the look out for fallen psuedotants
chained to the temple of bleeding persona,
their wranglings and moans
compulsive fodder for the hungry harpy

over there, what the fuck is that?!
six legs, wings, a snout....

oops sorry, wrong window

la pirouette de la raison

strifing
cross fields of woe and excess,
the marauders aggressive
and oblivious to the inane,
they could care less
if you give them leave
or pass on by in your quest
for the ridiculous....
who are you to a being
intent on the absurd?

the lush lanes
ripe with skulls and shins piled low,
jump them if you are so inclined,
and who wouldn't be?
to bound the refuse left behind by fools....
their by the by, dusty, remote
and out of tune
did this person stray or stay the distance,
unconcerned about sanity's leveling?

packs of unitiates run rampant,
hither and withered souls,
no agenda or discipline,
the all-encompassing zap of the thrill
their only bliss

over yonder hill....
did you know there was a castle?
a place for respite or gluttony,
whichever you prefer
where the guardians are hatted,
holding wands of alabastered reason

all you need do is ask for directions
to the circus held daily
in the perpendicular courtyard,
the vampish bats hanging from torn reason,
those jerked straps of ground up
gyrating novices