in the summer, when the monstrous days sink away, promise me you won't look back

toes edge party lines

exacerbates indolent minds

aggravates cacaphonous sides

obfuscates impoverished sighs

kill your idols

kill your gods

take up your cross and follow me

over the edge

where the sea submerges silent screams

still sillhouettes sink solemnly

into patchwork skies.

On the Occasion of Albatross

a bird with a belly full of plastic;

such a small price to pay

for the refreshing taste of battery acid.

but we do have domain over

lesser life forms, don't we?

and global warming and going green were

made up by the devil.

by the devil.

we must never fall prey to the gospel of green,

though we're perfectly complacent

to follow another gospel of green.

make no mistake,

make no mistake.

there is a price on everything;

economic evolution,

survival of the richest.

yeah, that'll preach.

it's such a shame

that you can't afford

a place to sleep (come all ye weary)

and food to eat (we'll break bread)

or medicine.

...but hey, I don't want to wait in line

so here is a dollar

go buy a bottle,

such a small price to pay

for a bird with a belly full of plastic.

m words

the misoneism

of the machine

is masquerading

as a malediction

of the maleficent,

little do they know

i have loose morals.

Such Divergent Ways

The snow had freshly fallen,

making sidestreets look that way.

Remembrance of a softer time,

of love and joyous day.

We walked along that rocky path

still hoping for some meaning,

a light to pierce our sullen eyes

which could not bear the bleeding.

Then brilliantly that painted sky

with philosophies so cunning,

sang melodies of passersby

with coats, a look so stunning.

But theory pushed and time blew harder,

so we waved farewell on golden water.

That light that blinded eager eyes

was nowhere found in those gray skies.

So we cast our lots and parted ways

in separate ships, on separate days.

And as we passed I glimpsed that dream

of fallen snow and wayward schemes.

When thrice the summer sun had died,

and finally our two ships arrived,

our weary eyes met on that day,

but as we passed we looked away.

For we both knew the reason why;

you had changed, and so had I.

And as we know there is no place

for two with such divergent ways.

O come sweet love

and haste that day

when long lost friends

come home to stay.

William S Burroughs loves Dylan Thomas

Do not go gentle
Rage, rage.
Old age should burn into that good night;
the dying of the light.

Dying of the light
like meteors with your fierce tears, I pray.
Do not go gentle there on that sad height
and rave at close of day.

Grave men near death
curse, bless me now into that good night.
And you, my father who see with blinding sight.
Because their word had forked no light
they wave by, crying how bright sang the sun in flight.

Blind eyes could blaze through wise men.
Rage. rage.
Wild men, who caught too late their end,
know dark is right
grieved on its way into that good night.
Good men, they learn at last their frail deeds might have.
Rage, rage into that good night.

Dance.

Do not go gentle.
Do not go gentle on your way
to the dying of the light.

The Buzzard and the Crow

The young man gave up his air.
It seems pleasantly odd
to see them both carry a heart like yours.
That is, we could only fly just once.
Why yes it is very hard to fly,
but there is nothing out there for you to fear.
He is too heavy for me,
but I will try a bit further.
Steady brother.
Let’s take it a little at a time.

the absurdity of modernity

absurdly, we wait for twilight
forgetful, we circumambulate
ten thousand paper tigers descend
listlessly into her pallid world.
soporifically the children dance
as the light forsakes the day,
ocularly obsequious.
while luminescent boundaries
keep incandescent hopes at bay,
quiescent children rouse
to fight morning oblivion
by decollation
and rise again.