She can walk
          between
             night and day
               never letting either
                  get in her way.
She learned this trick
                     many moons ago
                                by
                     going deep within
           and never letting it show.
Her soul is innocent
her heart is pure
she’s gone through more
than most could endure.
            She’s an angel of light
                 an angel of dark
                 you never know
              what you will spark.
                      You want to hurt her?
                         Please, go ahead and try
                           she’ll be the one to show you
                                  just how well she can
                                                              f
­                                                                l­
                                                                ­  y.
                                  Her soul innocent
                    her heart pure
      but never think for one minute
that she’s not secure.
                                Say what you will
                          please, do what you must
                       but your jealousy and hatred
                             won’t waver her trust!
~

Does a poem have to be thought out
does it take years to edit and perfect

Or can it be,
can it just remain,
a few simple, raw lines

Even though they were smaller than me
They made me feel very afraid
As they roamed the playground together,
With the smell of over-boiled cabbage and nicotine
Clinging to their clothes and hair,
Their small, hard hands and *****, sharp finger nails
Grabbing at the lapels of your blazer.

They had white dinner tickets for free school meals.
Our tickets were blue and cost a shilling.
They sat, bunched together, in the middle of row four,
And if you were moved to sit beside them,
Your friends pointed at you and laughed,
Like when you had just had your haircut,
Or you wore glasses for the first time.

Their uniforms were ragged, hand-knitted jumpers
And wellingtons, even in the summer.
When you had sweets they would corner you in the playground,
Demanding their tribute share.
And you always handed over the best of your sweets, because,
Even though they were smaller than me,
They made me feel very afraid.

PAINT!

A cacophony of colors oozing forth
brushes tied to snails, trailing down the walls
gently leaving, grieving, berea ing, absent-minded
flooded buckets returning gravity through a hole in the ceiling
an uplifting sort of sinking feeling
rapidandvapiandtepidanddesperatesoundingthoughtsalarmingandtoofa­sttokeeptrackofnolove
one peace, not yours
no one's peace

manically depressed, laser toting showboating unknowing
shiny-newborn robots

Genius
not in this species
not I, nor us
no, not in any branch of these trees
tiers sprout from the infinite and looping possibilities
reforming and collapsing in on themselves in an endless artful expanse
of compounded implosion, colonization, conquering power of far-reaching negativities

DEATH!
to the sound of a dozen different solos all playing in isolation
all masterpieces in their own right, all together sensory devastation at once
beat this worshiped slime to a pulp, beyond recognizable satisfactory sensation
make noise mean something by making a void contain value,
to cross the stranglehold of you for unreason, ****** the future nobody wants,
the future is dead and we killed it
the future is dead and we killed it
I saw its corpse
now I feel it!

The future is dead the future is dead the future is dead the future is dead the future is dead and the future is dead and the future is dead and we and we and we an d w e k   i    l        l    e     d   i    tomorrow

more as usual.

Ink
blots
impossible
knots
testing the limits of
a circular drive
one hand on the wheel
the other copping a feel
of his passenger mate
dutifully nursing her neonate
foot goes down
to apply the break
fracturing fingers
is what it will take
to lessen
the voice
avoid
the slade
move
the mountain
tell me, don't floaters
eventually get flushed?

Very slowly the sky is turning
Turning darker
Soft breeze uplifts
Wind speeds, gusts shift
Meandering unseen
Elements of light pass
through to ******
Silence reiterates it's case
Hue brightens as shadows leave
But murmurs mumble distantly
We wait, for when the anger erupts
and those above engulf us
Watch in wonder at the power
of the gods