Flesh and Steel and Soil

Bureaucratic hippies finger fucking
Their dreams and slow roasting
Their spit to a well-oiled glaze.
What's the use in getting old
If the trees go unloved,
Set fire to the fat and old
Hypocritical oak. They are
The spinning steel blade
Not the warm fleshy embrace,
Tired men destroy more than
The springs on their bed.
Communism's not dead.
It just got old.
And frayed like the rope
Holding chaos in the air.

A Blood-Ready Smile

Draining heavy the thick red vine
Moves without rhythm or any good
Reason except to appease the ever-glowing
Screen. More evidence lacking that
Youth brings the fruit of delicate
Skin, for underneath runs the river
Of a race that's left to drip slow
And straight up into the air.
This brain in my lap brought me
To empty places and filled it with
Faces and here I search for the
Next common courtesy or a
Grip to hold reality like a club
To make a mark. Accelerate this
Resting place and meet ends
As ends deserve to be met.
With bat or barrel or a
Blood-ready smile.

Beyond The Reeds

Are you used to this she screamed
Marking switches and ancient reeds
That mark the depth so clear and
Smooth on our stretched white feet.

The flesh oars of the adventurers raft,
Blow hot air to last as long as
The sunset is over the trees, holding
Back the black suffocating the blue.

There we are in decades on the dock,
Hands in quick spotted knots for
Centuries have passed to fade out
And set loose that layer of the earth.

I will wait here for the seasons to sever
She said, white death instead of red
Life is calling from the shore, so
Jump off and dig your feet into the bar.

In This Endless Garden

Useless compass always pointing inwards,
What direction can arrogance go
If the magnetic pull is the bones
Of this prick that sits here in
A built up lined paper ego.

Oh the lilies, those fucking lilies,
They do so much of nothing yet
Return with a triumph that beats
This god complex into the stone that
Has never moved despite perceived strength.

And you my love
As such wet soil

Spurring and spinning
With such thick weeds.

The Fake Pub Fire

Nerves tighten rubber hearts racing
But not from the three pints
We've already emptied.

I built an empty house as I criticized
Your lack of stone and masonry
Is work your frame would never fit.

Gracious apathy inside your well worn
Jeans that drag like the ones
That barely missed the tight verbal target.

When I aim I aim to take it all,
Like the arid leaf grasps at moisture.
Sucking desperately cultural lines.

One stop shopping for argument ending,
The ancient critic of overbearing art.
How foul the smell of diversity must seem,

A nature I fear I've come to admire.
Fear that keeps stones from blending
To sands that dry out our lungs.

Those missing things, sharp arrows and all,
Shed plenty of heat from the fake pub fire
And we'll have another, just for good measure.

A Lesson In Waste

The bag man opens up and tells all
Rolling cigarettes with pages of the bible.
Little memories little things like teaching
Daughters how to collect bottles and
How to put a smile on a lonely man's face.
What are the men of the fields so
Afraid of? A father learns his lesson
And shares it with a son while he
Digs through soggy shoes to have
A meal that you would call despair.
With luck he'll fill his belly with
Melted glass and scraps of steel and
I'll shake his hand on monday nights
With a surge in my chest and a sword
At my feet, for all that we've killed
He's winning the war by bending his back.
Bar none from this place that hardens
Cheeks and makes hands burn red,
Because here pain washes over those who
Let their arms go and plant their feet firmly
In the sands of liberation. Words flow
Freely when none are concerned and
Set down their knees to give up their turn.

Trapped In Storms

Oh how I envy perpetual youth,
Trapped in storms of hormones
With houses set on strange foundations.

Pull the hand off the mannequin,
Shake many and more so
Dominating man is set as your goal.

Deadly daily mundane mechanics
In back of the brain a gunshot,
Let out and live on for love.

Fears so small conquering heights,
Walking on eggshells split cells
That make you superhuman souls.