Fishing

He casted again half heartedly, using his memories as bait

Trolling for the soul of his dead sister

Sobbing through spoiled milk cataracts

He sang a song of regret and resurrection

Hells slow roll torture, christened “The Tide”

Takes wayward souls on an endless ride

Pull that seaweed from your mouth

Pull that seaweed from your mouth

Your dimpled past leaks slowly south

To lands of black and bleeding sores

First he caught the mouth of son

Chattering like an island primate, scolding

Painting verbal manslaughter

Vilifying a fathers role or lack thereof

Hells normal course, christened “The Knife”

Takes petulant souls filled with strife

Pull that seaweed from your mouth

Pull that seaweed from your mouth

Your crumpled morals pouring south

To lands of fire and brimstone shores

Next he caught the daughters arm

Slapping and swinging to find solid purchase

A fathers face is not for loving her

When his fucking hands were made for groping

Hells express slide, christened “The Gun”

Hidden from the rays of any sun

Pull that seaweed from your mouth

Pull that seaweed from your mouth

Your fast and loose soul headed south

To lands of demons minding stores

When he did catch his sisters soul

It was black and not savable

He screamed her name and cursed

His inability to have loved her enough to help

Hells ultimate pain, christened “The Life”

You stay right here missing your wife

Pull that seaweed from your mouth

Pull that seaweed from your mouth

Your weary mind not headed south

To lands where Gods forget the scores

Kill Em All......

Line them up against the brightest of yellow walls

And unleash a fury like the maternal instincts of mother bear

The blood will fly and they will drop in unison, clamoring

Take these insecurities and bury them far from my searing mind

I will no longer listen to their infuriating whispers

I will write like I am somebody with something to say

And at the end of the day, my cup will be bone dry

Ready to be filled with confident thoughts for sharing

Will you partake of my hearts desires? They are for you after all.

If you are willing then there is but one thing left to do

Kill em all......

My Dues

As we lay taking turns sipping from the same flawless spring sky

You press your finger to my lips and tell me to "watch"

With a wave of your hand, the brilliant blue before me

Washed an inky black, deeper than the "U" in universe

Bathed in light

My Pupils expand but not large enough to take in your soul

You gently poke holes in half of the night sky whispering "stars"

"These are for you to gather inspiration from"

Her hand traced infinity on my thigh

Far from sight

On the other half of the velvet black sky

She painted the face of a young girl crying for her mothers "touch"

"This is to remind you to hold dear your compassion for life"

Her eyes boring deeply into my galloping heart

Nothing to lose

She straddled me and kissed me fully

Her breath so sweet and icy, the tip of her tongue "warming"

"This is to remind you that you are mine"

Her soul blanketed my being, triumphant as she was

I paid my dues

On The River In Chinatown

Nine of hearts, nine

Queen of heart’s, queen

Addiction knows no boundaries

Keep your needles clean

He stiffed the sitter, a tale of woe and mouth feeding, she still left pissed

Singh’s place was three blocks from his North Beach apartment....head down walk

Mr. Bings for Cape Cods and courage, none found because he was a shithead

Two year old at home, out in a crib, half a bottle of Dimetapp, like I said, shithead

Six of spades, six

Four of spades, four

10 of hearts ends the flop

Last two hundred out the door

The little Chinaman in the dark at the bottom of the stairs was Max

The only light in the well, produced from the lit end of his unfiltered cigarette

Rolled his own, saw him and spat “You go home….you die tonight”

He showed him his money, Max laughed and let him pass “disgusting”

Ten of hearts, ten

The card upon the turn

His chances slim to none

A lesson never learned

The money was rent, food, medicine for the croup, pissed off babysitter

Last week he went home, eye swollen and a noticeable limp

The owner and his henchman giving sage advice, “don’t come back”

Mr. Singh, a portly man smoking little cherry cigars, eyes smoldering this night for him

The game took to the river

The last card full of sin

Ace of hearts, ace

The card to seal the win

The sweat dripped pools from the end of his nose……shaking

Singh saw the win in his eyes, shook his head……stupid

He flipped his cards, breath held, an audible buzz in his head

Collected his winnings and said nothing to Max on the way out, "wrong way shithead"

He took his prize and headed out

Luck was on the rise

There was no scream or pool of blood

Or interest of any size

The baby woke and cried alone

His fingers gripped his gown

Tonight he lost his only hope

On the river in Chinatown

The Silver Mirror

Tides turned, the enemy was on the run

Twelve killed with one toss

Mothers little soldier cries ceaselessly

Unable to wash the blood from his hands

Snap in trenches fucking wakey, hear that bell

Sniper rounds from shadowed quakey, blinded hell

Eating sand and feeling shakey, want my mom

Comrades life the devil takey, step on bomb

A mothers pride is not enough

To glue his fractured world view

Into something that resembles happiness

So many pieces, so little time

Eying childrens corpses smokey, raise the dead

Reasons fighting grimly hokey, lolling head

Insane logic kind of pokey, why be here

Your life my life such a jokey, can’t be queer

He is the one left standing with the silver mirror

The one that won’t break, a "God’s side" souvenir

And no matter how many times he tries to comb his hair

He will never shake the ugliness of war