convened
in my living room
summoned to a setcat
to decide by voulbee or fratricide
the next Father of Thieves.

Blahznivee Semyon rises up
like a winter sun over the steppe
peels off his sable coat and hat
he garnishes round after round of applause
for his tattooist's magnificent skill,
and the number of skulls etched in his skin
one skull for every ****.

Arkady the Krahsnee comes to the front
draws a cross across his chest,
wipes caviar from his pickled lips
sheds his necklace of bloated tongues ripped
from the mouths of informants who sing
and with a halo of bicycle chain whirling overhead
steps drunkenly into the ring

The display turns black
chairs are pushed back
***** in every hand.
The soldiers prepare
with a toast and a prayer
and a drop of blood from each man.

Now squaring off
Dva Rusahky:
a fat taloostee,
the other slim-tenki
wade into the fray:

bez nervee, t-shirts, boatkee or fear
they destroy my hanging chandelier
their bratvas stand around and cheer
pass round smokes and mugs of beer.

Černobog’s hammer sits
inside a chalk line circle
like an *******
waiting for a fist.
Black stars collide
shoulders knees torsos
wheel thrown into ****** slabs
hole punched and wire cut
falling on cigarette butts
nicotine thumbs empty eye sockets
vitreous runs and pools
seeps into screaming mouths
through mangled cheeks.

Teeth litter my rug
like chiclets in berry jam.

Here's a finger,
make a splinter
wounds are washed
in chilled Żubrówka.

Semyon lifts the hammer, the winner
a new skull in his flesh, still wet
when he buys my silence
with a Russian dinner
and a round of Russian roulette.

Can Morning forget the violence of the Night?

For gentle dew to replace emboldened strikes
that a bird's song answers echoed screams
and glittering haze overtakes peppered smoke

Does Night whisper through the day
found in streams of pressure
empty gallons
torn paper
discarded masks
shattered glass

That Night's ***** fingers
grasping
clawing
scratching the surface of a past
carefully hidden
bleeds through pristine learned pages
to words unspoken

bandages wrapped
milk poured
least the wound bring feared change

the silvered light, a true new Morning
true dawn bursting forth in honest reconciliation
not forgetting
not forgiving

but forward

Morning and Night
pushing

but can Morning  further meaning of Night

Say goodnight
to that psychopathic
narcistic guy.

You all used to say
you were about to make
America great.

So, say goodbye
to that uncouth
wanna cause
a violent coup
dipstick dude
who many of you
were following
through to
treason.

Must be a
hard pill to swallow
cause you haven’t taken
the medicine
of getting rid of him
and accepting
the election.

Such a bad *******
for the fool who
won’t move on
fast enough.
Instead, he is
getting everyone
riled up
and stealing money.

It’s not even funny,
how he hurt so many.
It’s a cold chilly January
as he tries to dismember
that capitol with his fans.
Then throws them
under the bus.

This is how he uses
and abuses his stooges,
just ask Mike Pence.

So, forth hence
say farewell
to the ne’er-do-well.
He might not be
going to hell,
but if we are lucky,
he will be going to jail.

from the deep depths of hell.
she didn't belong here;
she said she accidentally fell.

She attempted to leave
but that's the decision of fate.
she continued to wade in the fire
daydreaming of the big pearly white gate.