attempting to take my mind off of...

Save your lines for silver spaces,

rings and things, familiar faces,

racing backwards, back to home........

we're leaving now,

the birds and nests

take what you can,

but leave the rest

for winds & worms & white-washed breasts.

You've really got me!!

scream the voices,

bells and hell's rest on your choices,

piercing blisters, tossed and hoisted,

pulling upstairs,

to the pillowed floors.

...

...

..

.

....

you plague my thoughts, my dreams, my foe

i tried!!

ACROSS THE DOORSTEPS

soaked with red light

A Princess,

a child,

Sees a crying willow tree

DRIPPING CANDY

And Sweet Memories,

aclosetouch

A PAINTED FACE

a thick religion

P E N C I L E D O U T L I N E S

a delicate kiss;

goodbye,

travelers

upon the blistered rocks, we sit

perfected by the sun...

our souls and songs, portrayed, or lost

all silently, was sung...

First-hand, the man,

here traveled, whenced we met;

tips on his toes, sang songs of woes,

of picked-pricked tunes, and droves

the soft sun sets,

as does the toll,

of wandered

man and mind,

now place your hands, and count your glands...

which way to fly, or find?

rediculousness

DONT THROW STONES AT GLASS BOATS!!!

setting sails, winter coats

sewn up streams and recycled green beans!!

SEND YOUR SOUL THROUGH THE POST!!!

seamstresses hems the sewn hallways,

(painted red with distractions)

as she floats, and regrettably boasts....

While the toast and the roast,

skipping stones down steep throats,

stir, perpetually stung by string cheese...

and the pies and the goats,

sailing shy of the coast,

all strapped on dark pants, and they hobbled a dance,

and they all singled out the green bean.

slinky

"My eyes are muddied with ink!!"

sink the cherub, croak the whiskeys,

send the message down the sink!

"Your bones, they stink!!"

repeats the mink, while giving smiles & slinging winks,

and with his eyes, in rough disguise,

he sits there, and he blinks.

He rides the seas, with birds and bees,

and bellows, till he's pink;

he sails the skies, all dressed in ties,

and pours another drink.

He searches, all his life in vain

to find the missing link...

never knowing,

always going,

that charming mr. mink.

(ALTERNATE ENDING)

Alas, one day, he ran away,

and caused one great big stink,

he took our hay, and took our bay,

that stealthy mr. mink.

earthlings

how thin is our lifeline,

pressed between the sea and sky,

and the ground which we tread on,

where we walk and where we lie

and where we try to rectify

our repercussions; to put it simply,

oil is slick

and black

and sticky

and mines dig deep, this might get tricky

playa awarenesss

I can feel it;

the possibility,

screaming through the dust...

crying out, yelling for someone to be alive;

a small wonder,

the music sings and allows us to transcend

all witnesses of sorrow

to overcome the fear, the judgements.

the pen.

the paper.

the pure love of sound

like paper puppets, strings and fools

or smoky webs, in puddled pools

amasked, is lifes spark and creation.

Disguised as gypsy penny bracelets,

knee-high socks and morbid statements,

wrapped up tight, bold and complacent,

there sits the pitted irony.

our thoughts weebie, (we be?)

so iridescent,

knitted stiff with luminescence

see-through rocks & pre-pubescence,

lingers soft with harmony.

sloss meat

It's a roughly strewn world,

full of pinpricks and sinners,

and doggies and dreamspots and sunday night dinners

and we eat all the food

that we don't grow ourselves

and its full of bullshit

made to sit on some shelves

But we feast, never knowing

what they put in our food

and we swallow the guilt

like it's home-made beef stew

and we chew on our problems

thinking they'll go away

but they end up just growing what with every new day

get a raise, so they say,

it will make your life better,

get away, barely paid,

go before the wets wetter

cause if your stuck in the system

and don know where to go,

the LAST thing that you do

is pack up and go home.

for carrie!!!

"Gobble Gobble!" says the miner, something's not right; brighter liners

line the walls of JERACO.

These walls can talk! The'll tell you stories, boring songs and tales of glories,

that they hadn't WON BEFORE.

"I'm much too young!!" They'll tell you shyly, dry your eyes and sniff you kindly,

They'll find a faint & shocking smell, of SHAVED ICE CREAM and PAINTED LEGS

"I broke the windows!" yelled the man, with bright red lips & shining hands,

I LOOKED to SEE and FOUND that THEY were TIN.

Of course the storie's false you know, the miner stared, his eyes aglow, and,

by himself,

sat TALKING to a WALL.