Pardon me while I shoot the TV

The box drones
with the daily news,
and progresses
through the
commercialism
of commercials,
and now that
I think of it, I must
have one of those
nifty slicer-dicer’s,
although I can’t eat
because I might
gain some weight,
and yes, I am feeling
tired, so I must get
some special vitamins
at Walmart, where
their rolling back prices,
and of course I’ll need some bling,
cha ching…

Keeping up with the Jones’
is the new american goal
the sure sign of sucess-
the accumulation of things,
and oil is an idol
that sacrifices the innocent 
for naught in Iraq…yet
all we need is just
one more designer bag
to hold all our stuff,
so we close our doors,
to the unpleasantries 
while we suckle propaganda
nevertheless,
we still tune in..
same bat time,
same bat channel,
slaves to the machine.

Anathema

After months of roaming
you coolly breezed in,
refreshing the stale air
a shiny, smiling face
braving the unknown
with your new beginning,
and spirit full of hope
unaware of the subtle force
possessed by clannish folk
whose opinions formed
before they were born
with past generations,
and are rarely questioned.

But, oh how their sneers
stung.. when you thought
you really didn’t care
as they held on tightly,
clutching their malice
holding it to the light
so all could examine,
those syrupy tongued,
preening jackals
feeding on the remains
of your vulnerable soul,
and I turned a blind eye..
to my endless remorse.

Balladry Backwash

Words are inside me
tapping on my teeth
scratching my throat,
filling my appendages
throbbing them numb,
settling into my pores
festering, mocking,
encouraging me
to open my mouth,
and let them out

to join a range of
emotions that are
placed neatly on shelves,
labeled,
and used sparingly.

Dogged they pursue me
prey on my weakness,
stroke my ego,
persuading until
I succumb, and must quieten
the incessant chatter
letting them float to my pages,
altered to changeling’s
where they elude me,
to be interpreted by strangers.

Atlanta

In this life I drift
of appalling intention,
down neglected road
It is your face I missed.

Your soul, I did not touch
my heart never softened
in the hard places..there still
with regret my conspirator.

Your fears, I never faced
no comfort I offered,
but forever your tears
will stain my soul.

In your life, I held no share
our bond only moments,
a tenuous thread of light
put out in anguish.

Your spiritual advance, granted
as I summon the ghosts
at the scene of carnage,
that shed innocent blood.

Yet, within myself
a fatalistic lack of surprise
child of my fire entered a void,
while none took pause.

Submerged in delirium, I call
listening to silence
thick and final,
As you are not compelled to answer.

False serenity, a protracted vigil
re-etching my grief,
to the writhing of my heart
in consideration of no larger agony.

As for you, Nothing
will slake my desire
as you remain..nameless still,
A tragic waste of magic.

As I remain, a fugitive
most treacherous,
in the crime of my heart.

Transparency

Your wounds ooze
moist from your scratching,
but you try to hide them
with your hands.

These impersonations
continue to fall short,
yet the cuts still bleed
profusely down your face,

Streaking your body
to puddle at your feet,
and you step over it
to find a cleaner spot.

Look at your reflection,
face the inevitable,
and wipe it off
with napkins.

Visiting Hours

I wanted to remove the ugliness
that you invited in,
but you used vocabulary
formed with evil intent
and prior abuses.

I wanted to stop the screeching
of emotions unguarded
leashed throughout yards
the malcontent of wails,
and desolate echoes.

I wanted to end re-enactments,
undo the violations,
so that when you return
I would not blame you
which was the beginning of our problem.

Calvinist

Perhaps I shocked you
catching you off guard
with my confession
quick,
and slightly confusing
in the delivery.

Ignoring ideals you taught
draconian in nature
no outside boundaries
questioned,
underestimating my will
to think for myself.

I rejected your mores
finding them common,
boorish with bigotry
fierce,
inside the wrongs
of your dogmatism.

You remain silenced
in regard to my dilemma
coddling your anger
proper,
as you misjudged
the power you weld.

So, repeat your prayers
and label me contemptuous
for not following the
guideline,
but I beware the righteous
who know not God.

Snap

crackling sounds
coming from the
hydrochloride salt
performing
a chemistry experiment
his self the subject,
(you know, he never was
cruel to animals),
curling, bending
snow vapor
inhaled to awaken,
alleviate dopamine
altering relationships
there in the lab
to nonexistent,
but don’t turn
away
he doesn’t really want
to be alone.

Clemency

Sleep..
where I forget,
for a few short hours
the imploring eyes
I cannot face,
while emotion lies
in my throat,
and I do not dare
dream..
and nothing,
could be better.

Diana is Singing

At Diana,
on detour I studied
the width of the grave,
where he rests.

Gospel singing
floats airy and soft
with churchbells,
ringing timeless.

Peonies bloom
in mad profusion here,
months too late
as are my tears.

Such things,
I acknowledge,
are not priorities
to the dead.