If I Was The Planet Mars

If I was the planet Mars
I’d break free from the Sun’s hold
And escape into the dark cold
Forge a path into the vast black
and never, ever, ever come back

Fear Not

Please don’t tell anyone
But I have this secret
I’ve been meaning to tell
You see I am an angel.
Don’t laugh

It’s Not All Doom And Gloom

Cops push out addicts
Living under bridges
Then talk them down
From jumping off them
Suicide rates are jumping
But it’s not all bad news
At least the stock market
Reached another high

The Pendulum

As above
So below

As is love
So is hell

As is ritual
So is chaos

As is truth
So is masked

As is beauty
So is plastic

Paper Tigers

I keep my paper tigers close to me
Anxiously pacing, dogged and untamed
Like the very last satyr in the world of man
Crumpled wads, all bark and neutered maws
Gilded divertissements that tiptoe around
My real demons and the elephant in my room
Like my fear of getting chained to comfortable
When all I dream about is running as fast as I can

My Slaughter

My love is an abattoir
And if my heart was glass
Nobody would ever come in
If you are brave enough to look
You’d see the carnage of my intention
Splattered across bedroom floors

Weltschmerz

My inside pulled out heart
Is a 300 gram autobiography
Broken, bleeding and revealing
Systolic wars and diastolic peace
Beats between nausea and hope
Scrawled in my lost arrhythmia
Like the cadence of a rainstorm

The Escape Artist

Fawn eyed creatures
Like me have no chance
My ocean targeted. Dredged
Every sea dollar spent
My hiding spots albescent
Snowing and pregnant with plastic
I hide out during the workday
Sitting on my gender neutral throne
My island at my job. I write poems
While pretending to excrete
While thinking these words

Summer Air

Clinquant melodies of scattering leaves and seed Soughing plaintively between sunburned hollows Like perfumed tiny tourists from a passing charabanc Their lilacs’ scent of sweet sillage lingers for a puff Leaving painted imaginary doodles of agitated air behind Foregathering in the wakes of napes, and marooned nooks Of plumped and ripened orange bursting splurt lilyContinue reading “Summer Air”