Sunday, November 14, 2010


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

Sunday, November 7, 2010

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

Wednesday, November 3, 2010

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