Filed Under: Poetry
Shield and Armour – Mask of Order peeling away, blistered failing paint
And beneath, the rust and essence, hairy-naked-madness, lusty passion and lonesome Honesty
Broken, mumbling, solitary Honesty
smiling with broken teeth, arrestingly beautiful and stinking
I pray to my God – bent low, prostrate before It, pleading, laughing
Crying for audience – Please God! Stab my Loves to death! Smite them with terrible holy hands!
And I stab them too – with damned logic, damned reason, damned alcohol and damned bitterness.
But somehow my Loves survive
Malignant gorgeous mushrooms, passions turned in on themselves – the perfect inverse!
Hate! Anger! Rancor! The Worms of Hurt and Heartache!
You – Born on the 4th of July but no patriot
No allegiance to anything or anyone – not even truth! Not even Truth! Not even Honesty – earnest and misguided!
But no matter – now I pause with my knives and turn to memories
Memories denied, forbidden, concealed beneath our wreckage.
There is pleasant-ness in that flotsam, small and timid
Lurking like a beaten child denied toys – without the imagination or will for new games
Holy Fuck! The Dust and Ash!
The Dust and Ash of dead friendship, camaraderie wasted on lust, compulsion, instinct, bald-headed ignorance needing a bath!
Horse fetus kicked and killed and buried, these are your words, only to be exhumed and kicked some more. Furiously.
Verbose rantings into the void, eloquent destruction until only the dust itself is beaten and clouds of it billow about choking us both, covering feet weary from running, clogging nostrils, poisoning lungs until they can no longer draw breath to speak!
And now we don’t speak and we haven’t and I suppose we never will again, my dusty friend.
Brush yourself off. You need a bath.
they fixed your liver but broke my heart equal switch in the eyes of science and my inner scars are deeper than your outer memories of pain I used to love you and still do but you killed me and us slowly as you healed and shrank and stopped watching me as I [...]
No one can tell you when to grieve Anymore than when to Love Both rush in without the asking Or creep upon you slowly with a dagger and a smile The blade slides in smooth long cold and slowly turns Giggle Moan Weep like a child Vanity sports
Whiskey. Willie. Your god damned hanging on. You look at empty spaces just as you look at me. Nothing. Then Someth … No. Nothing. Go on. Go. Please. For your loving wife. For your daughter. On the edge of a cliff. For you. Most of all. For you. To death, Father. To death. I love [...]