Lighthouse for the blind

30 Oct

Between the twin towers

one of them black with severity

the other white with mercy

halfway between the beach and the mountains

lies a pathway

towards a lighthouse for the blind

beneath the black tower is a wolf

howling at the Moon

beneath the white tower a dog

does the same

as a crawfish crawls up upon the sand

about to begin its journey

towards a light that can only be seen

when you have lost absolutely everything

a light far beyond the visible spectrum

a lighthouse for the blind

a beacon for the dead to find

once they know they aren’t as dead

as they had thought

just making their way across a world

unlike the ocean in every respect

with a lighthouse for the blind

Black is not black

29 Oct

Black is not black

it holds visions which

glide swiftly past

like fish

Black is not black

as the day begins

and our eyes are all open

and what we knew is now

forgotten

Black is not black

once the decision is made

there is no turning back

the tide

no reliving one’s life again

Black contains all of the colors

and none

depending upon the medium

and if I sit long enough

all and none become one

and black is not black

it is something for which

I have no words

12:20 pm Nonsensicle Joy Juice

28 Oct

The noon whistle blew not long ago

I got up way too late today

my head weighs two tons

and my eyes fought a good fight

12:20 pm Nonsensicle Joy Juice

Can’t think of a single sensible thing to say

and I am a sensible sort of gent

Always pay my rent

But this is an afternoon built upon angles

and angels dressed in blue

an afternoon in the afterglow

of some thing or other

I don’t remember but

I was taken up to the peak and

stripped down to the bone

I laughed my ass off

I was scared to death

tossed back into the sacred salad

like a shorebird upon a beach

12:20 pm Nonsensicle Joy Juice

take from this poem what you will

I can’t think at all today

I can only hang

like a glider upon the sacred wind

of nonsense

Sweating bullets

27 Oct

So here I stood

Sweating bullets

Until it came my turn

To face the music

The music was raw and jagged

Hot and bothered

Pressed tight against my body

The beat was loud and persistant

and the women’s expressions told me

all my squirming about

all this sweating bullets

amused them

and so they danced the Dance Macabre

showing me that for which I dread

but have needed for so long

I can feel the dampness upon

the collar of my desperation

and feel embarrassed for a moment

sweating bullets

before learning of the stay of my execution

of my slipping out of darkness

into her warm and accepting embrace

Breathe

26 Oct

Breathe through the pain

Breathe through the shame

Breathe through the boredom

Breathe through the thoughts crammed inside your brain

Breathe out through your nose

Breathe out through you mouth

Breathe out through your pores

Breathe out through your ass

Breathe regardless of purpose

Breathe when the going is easy

Breathe when the going gets tough

Breathe

Just Breathe

Everybody loves an underdog

25 Oct

Whenever and wherever the odds may gather

and do whatever……

you know

they play it safe

You can find me out on a limb somewhere

because everybody loves an underdog

When God chooses that off chance

to do something crazy and unexpected

just to see where it leads and what we all might

make of it, then..

God goes under

for a deep and satisfying surprise

because everybody loves an underdog

Just imagine if our lives had to always be

in accordance with the odds

with only one side to the streets

and nothing would ever work for us

because we could never make it even

only lopsided and full of holes

That’s when we yearn for that one chance

For a dog to become a god

and a god become a dog

because everybody loves an underdog

No more monkeying around

24 Oct

These people are serious

worried and concerned

They want no more monkeying around

If we insist on following that scent

and eating that root

and cavorting about in the middle

of a jacked-up night

They may call for an intervention

and enter our homes with their

earnest expressions which tell us

there will be no more fun

so long as these folks are around

no more silly putty and fisticuffs

no more monkeying around

all of the institutions which they hold dear

threaten to wobble and squirt

Can you smell that delicious smell

of the forbidden fruit

which the righteous fear?

better heed their sincere plea

for law and order

no more monkeying around

forget about ascendance

there can be no forgiveness for this

better get back down to business

Broken Hearts

23 Oct

Why is it we never seem to grow tired

of hearing, reading, singing about the broken hearts

the yearning for a love that can never be

woe is me, woe is you, woe is the hole in the sole of your shoe

a broken heart can never mend

oh never mind, you could never understand

how much I loved you, needed you

smothered you in a blanket and crammed you in my closet

so you could be mine forevermore

the creepier it gets the more we like the story

of a sad unrequited night under the stars and Moon

perhaps they would understand what humans would not

how awful life is, how full of disappointment and drama

woe is me, woe is you, woe is the hole in the sole of your shoe

We can never get enough of the story

No resolution, only lonely

until we all become empty with pleading eyes

vampires yearning for what can never be theirs

It gets weird, and it gets sillier with each retelling

This saga of the broken heart that can never mend

Here lies the Taboo

23 Oct

Down deep in the dark

Where we are digging the dirt

Dancing the Hoodoo and singing the blues

Here lies the Taboo

The Voodoo of our Desire

All of our molecules get all tangled up

Into some kind of spooky strand

of funky DNA

making us sweet with sweat

and happy with play

Here lies the Secret Happiness

the thing they never told us about

Here lies the Taboo

The Voodoo of our Desire

We rise into the air

We jump into the fire

We embrace the dirt

and invite the water to deliver us

from our self hatred

and find a Sacred Acceptance

where least expected

Down deep in the dark

Where we learn what was never taught

The sensation is the same

22 Oct

They are installing fresh pipes

beneath the street nearby

the steady pounding reminds me

of the steady pounding of

artillery fire upon a helpless village

Kobani or San Francisco

The sensation is the same

I sent out a message seeking contact

to which there is no response

there are so many issues involved

negotiations are needed

but all I see is an empty sky

Kobani or Facebook

The sensation is the same

Encircled by a ruthless lack of compassion

We try to give attention to the sacrifice

Kobani or Anywhere

The sensation is the same

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