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

the grand tilt

words
fly back and forth
can anyone catch them?
decipher them?
embrace them?
what means one thing to another
means volumes to the next
or nothing to a passer-by
will ever the twixt meet?
but you see, it's really just air
being pushed back and forth

come
come away with meaning
run
run far with intent
I won't catch you
I don't have a clue why we're all here

I'm still bedazzled by the verbiage
so eloquent
so heart-felt
so full of rotting shit

arrows of reason gone off the mark
was your goal to ensnare me?
I watch the mental barrage
confused
distracted
open hearted
....destroyed
this bull's eye is painted blue....
for resignation

and the purpose of those words?
did I even rub near?
or was I too busy chasing after
flowery and nether
phrases of profundity,
too close to the universe's rim
to notice I had left behind
no markers for retreat?

the faire has come to town
and befuddlement sets in
when the jugglers do their grand tilts
but please,
don't bother your little head over spilt intent

why don't i feel anything?
is this numbness?
or is this just the lot of those
washed up on the shores
of holocastic fits of awareness?

the folly and the ectasy

have you ever taken a trip into madness?
oh, I don't mean go mad on your own steam,
slipping into that place,
that comfortable place that harbors no good will

no, I mean a trip, a real jog across dimensions,
one where the button on your jacket
gets caught on the coat tails
of a frequent traveler

a trip so surreal, so absurd, so sublime....
can I say that? without appearing trite?
hmmm, I guess so
since I'm a drifter too

this destination seems almost familiar
the vista
the visions
the voices
even the circular landing patterns,
that perpendicular swing of fractured emotions,
so familiar.....

is this destination a vacation spot for many?
it almost seems....like home
the folly and the ectasy,
the truant mind-voyager's terminal....
yep....right at home