Redux

Hunters and gatherers
Fetching food for their offspring
Powerful beings rift tides
Lords command nations
Fate leaves you to natural selection
~
Not ever have I brought you
To attention
Gun slung, in salute
An about face
With no definite direction
~
In pools of bile
Puddles of blood
40 ounces and 40 proof
A heat mirage
You,
The father I never knew
And you haven’t a clue
~
It’s true
I’ve needed to get away
Taken the 5am
Straight through Tokyo
Sat amongst ruin
Hiroshima,
Words like sins relived and scorn reborn
~
Mimicking abandonment
Under unwed sheets
I beat my own wench
In heat
Her enormous stench
Of regret
Spilling through my throne
~
I’m thankful
The void within me won’t harbor you
Dock regret in your grave
A cavern fit for a pawn
Used and reused
Nothing to offer royalty
~
A hack in King Arthurs court
Rusted coat of arms
One of those pilgrims
Pillaging children’s dreams
Like Indian soil
~
This is my crusade
I’m full of hope
A future so bright
I don’t need anything to cope
I’m more man
Then you’ll ever be

53

Cash cow In browned white spots
Form from fiction from franchise
That’s the job of the devil
Worship with 666 boxes
Empty of belongings
Full of skin
Sea

Pulled flesh from cubic zirconium
Shimmer in seven sins, sloth
Defibrillation countryside
Paralyzed crowns
kings crawling
stateside
sea

Kraken

Divet
Demanding
Immediate attention
Absence and abscess triumph
Mercury drip, top hats stiff, off to you.

52

pounds of feathers
and plumes of bricks
establish the scent of your voice.
heard the movements today
of cleaning the rust
a dark high-noon red's rejoice
there's a choral reef somewhere
far below Poseidon's rain
the damned cry out from their rack's
to fall on deaf ears.
'Father Maximilien,
forgive me my ways
brutality the horse you rode in
corrupts thy soul
like my own'
Terror will rain
in blades of silver
the dance of the dead

51

ages pass
mortality becomes a muzzle
a sludge surrounds dreams
we yearn to produce
with our faith caught in a noose
we are pawns
within our own daily grind
until we are gone
a life led by crime
but our toes are enveloped in grime
our trough full of husk and rind
belly down and bottom up
fucked with knowledge of history
forever to repeat water and wine from a golden cup
but we're entombed with desire
refined

50

moved from dorm life, to a mattress on the floor.
doing what you're told, saying hail marys to a crooked cross.
forget the fly on the wall, im the elephant behind bars.

finding a closet to shove inquiries in, a dead bolt and padlock away.
telling mommy and daddy you'll join the work force soon,
their checks cut to the dealer down the road

every night it's you and a leather belt,
every sunrise it's less feelings felt.

every plungy you take through tissues,
empties whats left of daddys funds.

you won't stop till youre in an elephant graveyard
this is allston rat city
bostons necropolis.

49

on a fucking leash
stigmata as my reins
and it pours blood down
foreshadowed guilty palms
but i'd tear my hands
from these nails
drag broken arms
and limp wrist's through hell and back
i've got to be made aware
got to reach the entrails
follow the respiratory system with ingest
I wander
a lost mind among flora
pyrotechnic palms
and heathen carvings in my skin
i'll scale the cross for you
rise atop a war ridden with plague

my nails as road spikes, ill claw
up your high heeled calves
tearing flesh from inner succubi
my mind in a different place
crimson drool follows my skull
i separate your shoulder blades
what is a god
I can anything inside my sanctum
a fleeting efreet
i'm crazed and capsized
feet in the sand
and hands digging through a troth of flesh
but this skin, my own
i'll devour muscle letting me love
letting me fear
letting me hate

48

mountains,
an easy comparision for a human being
the exterior shapped by memories
a mountain is always stern
but a human's will, is easily broken
that of a wooden doll
if you throw it, it breaks it
but we regenerate from shattered and torn
to alive and new, but hardened
but its never hard enough
because the coast will always erode
and we will always gradually let go
and hold onto the impossible
even with proper knowledge
this overcast frigid feeling
will always be familiar.

its a cold snap.
the way our chest's can be broken open
frozen with the ice age
our hearts stopped and brittle
careful to touch, because hearts do shatter

in an art form all its own
regeneration is lending its arm to the human condition
an art we can never let go
as much as the heart wants to pull out
the body pushes in
into love
and torn stories all the same.