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INCUBUS

Teasing an intimate breeze
picaresque rages, a sudden
shrill where night lay sleeping.

An insidious spell is creeping,
seeping through the bedroom
walls her scent wafts, it seeks.

Unheard he calls the bull he
bawls! enters her lair without
due care.

Fair maiden sallow skin
incubus stoops tasting
her sweet nectar.

Subjecting her loins
to his nature
he parts his way.

NIGHTMARE

I can't waken from this nightmare
where I'm old and fat with scarce white hair
and ambulate with painful stride
( at least I still have my child bride )

Even with the skills I know
work has become scarce and slow
knees hurt when I climb a ladder
and I now posses a tiny bladder

Banks are asking Me for money
'cause they are broke, now ain't that funny
to get to space we'll soon need hitch
tell me now ain't that a bitch!

Fragile Bodies

fragile bodies succumb to the toll
of a substance that robbed their soul
stole all the heart's hope
the minds ability to cope
slowly eating away the mind
leaving an empty shell behind
this substance has no name
excuses are always the same
Momma you know I'm clean
push it and they get mean
they make a call and then leave
all the mother can do is greave
she knows it's only a matter of time
hope it is cops and not some crime
that takes her child
that was once sweet and not wild

THE LAST DAY OF APRIL, APRIL…

THE LAST DAY OF APRIL, APRIL…

…And it was on the last day,
It was on the last day of April when you said you’d have to leave-
When I could find no way-
No reason to make you stay, least of all me,
That, on a grassy patch,
'Neath a starry April sky,
In unfamiliar territory, I
Did attempt a desperate, hopelessly botched explanation…

Against the Wind

Small birds gather outside my window
huddled beneath sparse cover
of a leafless fire bush.
Feathers puffed out
shielding against the northern wind
and errantly dancing snow.
The winter sparrows camaraderie
warms my heart
sheltered as I am
behind concrete and glass
separating their world from mine.

Loreli

7 Days

Day 1

I vow at the beginning of each week
That I'm not going to let the world get to me,
I'm centred and free.

Day 2

I feel my blood begin to simmer.
My finger is on the trigger.
I just know someone will piss me off, soon.
 
Day 3

Calmness is my middle name,
but underneath the trigger is half cocked,
and my finger is getting itchy.
 
Day 4 

My prediction becomes reality
 the tossers of this world unite,
and make my blood boil.
 I discharge an angry bullet

Master's degree in frozen hearts (edit)

My dear friend
my hands holding yours
But
I’m seeing the stars nearer to me than you
Arrogant
And master of misunderstanding
No spoken words
Nor sign language
That little brain can get
Your boundaries here on earth
While mine
There among the galaxy
Brilliant in losing the subject
Excellent in gambling with words
Amazing as a passionate friend
I realized
Neither you nor I will meet one day
Only if you would read me
Through my eyes
But you can’t

cold-blooded killer

cold-blooded killer

life is a cold-blooded killer
from moment you're born
it stalks you --

eventually snuffs you out
with rest of humanity
not to mention, birds, weasels,
pigs, grandmothers, fleas, sweethearts,
mice, hawks, polar bears, salmon,
grocers, presidents, carpenters,
butchers, bakers, and candlestick makers
and other conglomerates of single cells
that managed an ambulatory form --

Violins Reassessed

.
100 strings
1000, 10,000,
lusciousness
ad infinitum

"luminoso
tutti grandioso
con affetto
appassionato"

who could deny
this force of beauty
this source of cleansing joy
bathing luxuriating hearts
in the very vibrations
of love's eternal ecstasy

I'll slap 'em silly
the next ones
who deem this
elevator music

Artificial

The barren waste land
Of a planet which has moved into its lunar calendar
Exposing the nakedness of its surface.
The land covered in the dry death of the season

Every contour is read
Like the lines on a palm by a fortune teller
The long trial of growth craving tales
That stretch beyond the imagination

Can anyone speak its truth
Or are they the opinions of babbling brooks
That sound like scholarly old ladies and gentlemen
Sitting in the twilight of their years making sense of it.

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