wicked ways remembered

i shouldn't have
    lit the candles ...
read the words ...
spoke the names.

offerings burned,
ashes spread,
         chants recited.

graves unearthed,
         possessions rendered.

       the dead beckoned.

   the hurt remembered.

blood spilled,
    cup filled.
         ghastly words spoken.

ancient tongues recited.
            candles snuffed.
   creatures bent and broken.

bold dreams awakened.
monsters by nightmares tell.
a particular gift,
a personal hell.

                  screaming wicked lies
            to the moonlit cliffs-
          iron rich,
                   the strangest gift.

where the bones lay strewn
                   by autumn moon
     where
                death
                           remains
                                         awakened.

and all i can think of is you.

glimpse

sometimes there are whispers
                     in the dark
so i leave a light on in the kitchen.

sometimes things fall
                     in the night
and i never find out what it was.

a cloudy shape, a misty void
at the foot of the bed.

a glimpse of a face in the mirror
from over my shoulder
and down the hallway.

the shape of a person
peaking around the corner
for a split second.
and it is gone so quick
that it is as if it was never there.

a feeling of cold pressure
on my back
when i'm alone at my desk.

a whiff of perfume,
the very scent you wore.

other times
             there are nothing
          but
             memories.

other times
              there is nothing
           but
             cold.

if you ever loved me
            you would go away.

Mass Shooting

If you are a young male
and you are thinking of
     getting a gun
          to go shoot the shit
       out of a bunch of people,
                      I get it:
    the world is a terrible place, and
it has caused you a lot of pain.

But remember this:
the people you are thinking of killing
are not responsible for your pain. Even if
they were, the pain you are trying to repay them
with is permanent. Your pain is not. You have the ability
to grow beyond your pain. You can recover. But the harm you
intend will never go away.

Life throws you many choices; some good, some bad.
It is up to you to make the right decision at the right time.
Those decisions reflect integrity, compassion, and mercy.

You see, that is what separates men from boys. Just
because you think you are grown, it doesn't mean you actually are.

Because a man doesn't kill out of grief, he grows because of it.

Sheep for the Shepard

Buy that new thing
because you really really want it.
Buy that new thing
because they tell you that you need it.
Buy that new thing
because everyone else already has it.
Buy that new thing
because in a couple of years it will be out of date
and you will need another new thing to replace it.

But maybe you should
look at that new thing to see what it does,
and wonder what the hell you would ever do with it.
Maybe you should imagine
all the factory workers in some distant country
assembling that new thing while making wages
that wouldn't buy you a cup of coffee at the local gas station.

Technological gadgets are the upper class poor version
of the liquor store for the lower class poor. "Have this new shiny thing,
it will make your lack of Health Care, Retirement, and Mortgage
seem less dismal."

"Take these pills, and when we decide you've had enough,
we will take them away
so you get a nice, new addiction to Heroin."
"You can sell your ass under the freeway overpass for
a few bucks so you can make another score."

"Have this new phone for a couple weeks worth of pay
so you can download porn because your wife isn't putting out
because she has an addiction to a pharmaceutical that should
never have made it to market in the first place, but we own your government,
and they will do whatever we tell them to keep the money rolling in."

"Forget about the homeless. They are weak and pointless. Never mind that
they have a mental illness and there is nowhere to put them. Listen to us
when we say they are lazy and dirty and only want your hard earned money
to buy more drugs, the very same drugs you are addicted to right now,
but they want that shit for free."

"Never mind the theft of Bankers, or the children killed by the Warmongers.
Don't fuss over the Environment. We will give you pretty junk to play with.
We will give you Racism, Gun Control, and Abortion to cleverly divert your
attention. Don't forget about Addiction. Never forget about Addiction. This is
the new frontier, and we own your ass."

"Now here's a mentally ill Politician to tell you all about what you need
in a way that best fits the insanity we're hoping to infect you with. Get off
your ass and go buy that new fucking phone like a good little slave. Go
ahead. What are you waiting for?"

waxing profane

The blue eyes,
                         the gentle smile.
              To kill.
              To maim.

The rolling tongue,
                                the loose lips.
              To break.
              To urge.

The hands,
                   so soft,
                                turning the knife.
              Is sweet.
              So sweet.

The hips,
                they move,
                                   they move away.
              So bitter.
              Nothing more.

hold back the cries

the boy screams
        in his sleep
to soft melodies
         of infancy

floating
    static
in their ascent
    to the dewdrop sky
bewildered
                   and
                          wild
they play at the breeze
   like fingers reaching
   for lips,
                 pink and pleading

the boy screams softly
             into the night
             where dreams
         are too sullen to be
                awakened

shift beneath the sheets-
         cool and damp
         with the sweat of sweet
            nightmares pleading

how the air touches the skin
moist with memory
dampening the wandering mind

so too loses the night
     creeping in bold spirals
           up and out
                 into streets built within
                 cities bounding restless
                 in twilight moaning

teaming,
               closed in,
                                surrounded-

he holds his breath
     and waits for a release
     that never comes

until it is above,
                           beyond the
                   shameful, sinful
                           streets

a breath that never comes
a dream that never aspires

           dawn comes teaming
       at the tip of drawn lips
                        where sin is devoured whole

the box of nails from the top shelf

the naked haunting city
licks up the night

cool winds play
       in fearless flight

the beast awaits it turn

there is peace in the
         chaos of the night
         where bodies churn
         and the reckless children
         scream at dawn's breathless
                      highway folding

mark the tombs by gas lamp,
each date a birth by its
own right
    and so goes reckless abandon
    by the chaos of the night

our hidden prayers for those
    who will not wake
our empty stares
    blinded by sight
for the truth we cannot shake
    even in the reckless
         chaos of the night

peering into the sun
    our grazing eyes
            deplore
into flames we succumb
    until our frail bodies
                are no more

reach up to the city lights
    and the tired whores
                  illuminated
    and the ragged vagrants
                  consummated

can you hear them speaking
your name
in time with the grinding beats
of the skin drums
calling hollowed in your name
where the reckless insane
chant melody
in the pouring rain?

          wake up and receive
                    penance
                        for
                    pleasure

tear the coffins from their frames
call on me and i will speak
                       your name
stand up and lick the mourning grief
before we're delivered
from such relief