the wind whips over the lake
its fingers touching the surface
like you touch me when we make love
soft and nice.
every now and then the breeze picks up
the water swirls and splashes
and we wake up with a bruise
a fading glimpse it whispers
thoughts of recent days
and your scent upon my pillow
still there but slowly fades…
brown and thrashing wheat
in winds grip
fields turning, quickly moving
from rain and plow.
distant fields upon the hill
small black dots of the workers
scythe glints in the distance,
behind them wheat is sown.
a knock upon my outer door
it opens out to no one there
i pace across the wooden floor
back to my studies and my chair
a scratching on the window pane
life the shade to naught but night
from here i move to bedroom rest
i lay there still with covers tight
a creaking on the wooden floor
in the dark near foot of bed
a cold and lifeless face appears
i lay there still and full of dread
and with a scowl it calls my name
i can feel my soul lifting high
and i look down upon my still
frightened face as I die
deceptive shadows. the floor.
the mess. on the dresser rests
the gun the tools the trash.
last nights folly coke and hash.
closet. hamper. towels and blood.
rug rolled bodies hide them good.
sex and play gone all foul.
the drunk. the sweating. the fucking. howls.
morning light and headache pills.
late night folly. kills.
we play nice at work
while we think bad thoughts
and curse
those we work with
mike and bill and john and pat
fags and gluttons and bullies and brats
raised and never taught a lesson
of how to treat people
raised
then debased with the dreams
of that promotion.
i am better than you.
Burning burning the house is burning
I lie on the smoke free floor
Embers lighting darkness brightening
I sigh as the smoke and flames soar
Writhing writhing the shadows are writhing
Against all the burnt burning walls
Flickering flames dancing and swirling
As I lie in the living room hall
Burning burning the house is burning
In distance the sirens they howl
Glowing and heating my life is retreating
As the flames encompass my soul
Awaiting the inevitable time when something is going to happen.
Shivering in the shade of a tree during autumns cold sun.
Standing beside a gravestone of a lost loved one.
Cold hands seeking a penny for a bite to eat.
Hard stone alley floors are your bed.
Fluid filled lungs, sickness death.
This is your life.
A new love and the laughter and anticipation that it brings.
Basking on white warm sands during the month of june.
Drinking an ice cold soda and relaxing in the park.
Putting on a new pair of warm cotton socks.
Wrapped in a comforter on a winters day.
You bring a new child into this world.
This is your life.
The page the page,
rising away uplifted by wind.
Fills me with rage.
The words the words,
penned in by unsteady hands.
Sting.
Sting me into a tear filled state.
Fingers fingers,
loosen and release.
The page the page,
uplifted by wind
fills me with rage.
I remember when you came home drunk,
how you stank of the bar and you stumbled knocking over the living room table.
You eyes were red and bloodshot, and your vision must have been blurry from all the alcohol you drank.
Laughing at first then you turned to tears, your emotions swaying like a leaf in a thunder storm.
“The alcohol can do that” I said as I tried to comfort you.
You just lashed out.
I went to bed and left you to your ranting, you can’t talk to someone when they’re drunk.
Today I spent the day cutting down bushes in the yard.
Chopping at the thick gnarled knots that sat just beneath the surface.
Each stroke was a heavy one with the blunt axe from the toolshed.
My thumb blistered.
A shirt once white is now covered in dirt and sweat.
At the end of the day I had taken three bushes from their earthy lair.
Chopped them into 3 ft lengths and bundled them.
On wednesday the recycler will take them away.
Your shaded eyelids glancing nightly
across the room so slightly
Beckoning me to my bedroom fate
in the darkness late
Or do the eyes whisper naught
And thoughts just dreams of passions wrought
only visions from within my head
Longing to take you to my bed
starch warfare ironing dreams
kitchen faucet dripping
oven mitts and toasters popping
exalted from your daily mopping.
scrubbing bristles toilet clean
dusting a dirty credenza
washing machines and ovens warming
blisters on your hands are forming
work all day to take a rest
at 5 o clock dinner is served
back up again you never tire
perhaps one day you will retire
ode to joe
on 35
a poem for himself and I
to remember this another day
and say
I was there, with himself right here
Tonight I will buy him a beer.
Will he drink it, yes I will, drink until he’s had my fill.
ode to joe
on 35
he cannot believe himself alive.
They cast a black curse on me
number 13 overshadows
black cats crossing my path as I
walk under ladders
My umbrella only opens inside
its the jinx on me
the hex the evil eye
someone left a hat on the bed
now someones gonna die
blaspheme and smile while
dead hookers lie
in the gutter of some other place
away from your laughing face
your nice home, clout
bmw fucking louse
ahead in the game you remain
above the decadance just the same
but are you there you fear
your night time blurry martini binges
life hinges on what you earn
maybe you will never learn
about the dead hooker
lost in desperate permutation
as drops of sweat adorn my brow.
mind forward in contemplation
there is no this nor here nor now.
only tomorrows slow aquisition
of todays long mind numbing pale.
but this doesnt help my indecision
nor does it change my haggard condtition.
you got fucked.
and you wondered why he didnt call
cryin to your friends
following the trend
fucking and sucking after hours
once daddys flower, no more.
drunken fucking club whore.
bitch, growing more and more jaded
while your drunk pussy gets splayed.
wake up.
put on some makeup.
monday morning calls,
but rest assured.
he wont.
plain jane
no strings attached
nothing special
blending in with the crowd
what was your name again
who are your friends
do I know you
did we go to high school together
I have a shirt just like that
you seem so ordinary
trashcan full of trash
the garbage,
take it out. to the street.
stuff we eat, used, half empty
cartons of chinese food.
papers, old bills, things shredded
so nobody can read them.
empty beer bottles, pot seeds a party
for the middle aged.
a used tampon and an old magazine.
wrapped up in a tissue near the bottom
is a used condom.
take out the garbage
