Turbulent.

The shifty turbulence,
Cruel and purposeless,
A great big oozing lie,
Can’t look myself in the mirror,
At a lie so insincere,
A plight so insecure,
So unaware,
It’s clear.
Until I throw them up again,
The feathers of a friend,
I’ll be choking on what could’ve,
Would’ve, should’ve been,And my smile still represents,
A path of wild turbulence,
Nothing has a meaning,
The words make little sense,
The world oozes petulance,
A tilt that’s off by mere degrees,
Stirs up the fear, hate and cruelty,
It spins the tattered yarn of humanity,
It kills us when we’re feigning sleep,
And worsens the curse of the seed,
Lengthening the reach of power and greed,
It quickens the wound that perpetually bleeds,
It thickens our ties to the lies and deceit.

 

 

 

 

  

Oceans of Tears.

Americana Injustica

Oceans

of tears

in contortion

twisted

emotions

reappear

to wash

once more

momentum

in motion

ashore

sweeping sands

through

the funnel

of an hourglass

a cleansing

of the

memories

like driftwood

drifting

battering

as they be

tumbling

they roll

and swell

sharp as hell

slice skin

jagged sea-shells

fit to

beat my

bones until

I howl

and bleed.

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Topsoil.

Americana Injustica

There is an ugly secret
In the form of topsoil
Piled upon the surface
At the site of your burial
Whenever I’m here I see it
As if I fall under a spell
I still can’t fully believe it
Despite what history must tell
It’s a very heavy mystery
So long later down the line
A burden shouldered perpetually
After a decade’s worth of time
I remember standing for hours
In that place right over there
Torrential rain and thunder showers
Soaked clothes and soggy hair
But I could never bring myself
To go from this place easily
And every time I’d finally go
The loss of you felt new to me
I carry your secrets
Kept as my own still
I harbour your worries
And I always will.

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Ungodly Deep.

Trust and believe, the total and complete –
lack of any kind of silver lining,
in the fuck-of-a-mess that’s buried me,
is hardly lost on the cost of things;
it’s a game that runs perpetually –
it’s a death march to most certain defeat,
a defeat that will find me, inevitably;
a Speed Metal drummer keeps beat, accordingly,
that hammers my chest with anxiety,
welds to the ankle bones of both my tired feet:
anchors that will sink the likes of me quickly,
kicking and screaming until I’m sleeping peacefully,
a slow-motion fall to the trench of the sea –
like a feather pushed out of a high-speed Jet-stream,
like a bowed ballerina after tip-toed dancing,
a deep, dark blue silence that calls me from deep;
faces of creatures swim in, brimmed with curiosity,
to glimpse the resistance of my sinking body,
to the darkness of what’s unknown to me;
the end of my descent comes too finally –
the anchors have found me a permanent thing,
and so it goes that it may just very well be:
that all the hurt and guilt and all the years of misery,
brought me to a resting place so dark, it’s ungodly,
to counter in death the heights life has shown to me.

Face of Mendacity.

Yes it has, and admittedly;

Come to pass unpredictably,

The blades of grass are far from green,

No matter how fast I rearrange things.

In a palsied flash I see everything,

I cry and I laugh at what it all means,

Hope gets smashed to smithereens,

a high-speed crash into humanity.

A skinned carcass hung out and withering,

A trophy the hunter left disintegrating,

A nothing that no one can recall clearly,

Something hung in the sun to spin limply .

Yes it does, and quite totally;

blows my mind dumbfoundedly,

spends my time confoundedly,

by stinging my eyes perpetually.

But the tears I produce don’t mean anything,

just another excuse to curse the deities,

my tongue’s gotten loose and lashed back at me,

for speaking the truth in the face of mendacity.

My Pleasure To Bear Your Pain.

Amid the anger and tension,

something I forgot to mention…

just a simple truth or two,

words I’ve spent before on you,

And since I seem to fade away,

things between you and me remain,

always, a thing:

unclean – unchanged…

thunder rolling ahead of rain,

this sense of solid certainty,

on my word, will die with me,

hard-wired deep within my brain,

A treasure chest in my rib cage,

you are woven into my destiny…

A truth at rest inside of me,

Until the Gods show me differently,

You can look for me,

and here I always am,

it’s my pleasure

to bear your pain.

Preemptive Blackout with Little Notice.