How To Escape A Universe That Steals Its Smile From The Hyena

I.

We all trip violently

into the interstellar void

only to get sandwiched

between a billion galaxies still sticky

with the invisible glue of dark matter.

 

For we are all just meals

to the lumbering minions

of the universe.

 

Drop your ear groundward

and listen:

 

the bone crunchers

are approaching.

 

Their fangs slip disdainfully out,

teeth full of whirling clockwork gears

and life-sucking years as they rumble closer,

ever closer.

 

II.

I dry her tears of discontent with kisses

that lovingly chase the curve of her spine.

I slip my fingers in between her lips.

I slide my tongue down her shuddering back

as a rainbow of colorful stars swallows my eyes.

 

Anxiously I await a breathy response

but instead her silhouette melts into silence

as time leaps forward and I am left resplendently alone,

whispering silky nothings to myself,

cutting out my own heartbeats then crashing them

against every windowpane I’ve sat listlessly by,

grasping for unattainable moments,

scraping fingernails of yearning across this jagged forehead

which rises and falls like a lung-shaped junkyard

full of half-finished metal sculptures.


Suddenly her smile returns like a vengeful sunrise,

stripping the darkness and refilling every lake

in our watery constellation of desire.

 

I paint onto the canvas of her body

a ruby mountain that shimmers like songbirds

serenading the daylight as the growing tremors of touch

shake the wisdom from my mind,

leaving me joyfully imprisoned in a cage of delight,

freed to explore the flushed terrain of her welcoming body.

 

III.

Yet the beasts always bite back,

brutalizing lips and fingertips,

pulverizing dreams into scattered layers of dust

that quietly pirouette to the dessicated rhythm

of a matter-blasted moonscape.

 

There in the bushy hillside of our hearts

we burn in the brushfire of malcontent,

spurning every helping hand,

for each one seems to hold a silver dagger

bejeweled with sprays of blood left

by the spent foot soldiers of sentience.

 

Wherever the sky spurns us,

we flicker,

flicker as the asteroids turn.

 

Whenever this ash heap of a life explodes into the atmosphere,

our faces become gravestones formed by clouds,

our eyes impact craters left by the crime of the human mind.

 

So smash us together

with our antimatter twins,

so we can incinerate the rings

that shield Saturn’s skin.

 

A gash rips open the stellar curtain,

sending our memory-stained limbs hurling towards the Oort cloud;

yet instead of becoming inert spare parts once again,

we feel the glorious blast of ultimate release

as a supernova shuttles us past the event horizon

of a supermassive black hole:

 

time

glacially churns

to a halt

 

the fabric of space

implodes

 

shrinking so powerfully into a single point

that even the galloping legs of time

are severed

 

splattered

against the walls

of oblivion.

 

IV.

oh,

sons and daughters

of geometry

 

this

is where we belong

 

halting

 

the stream

of years

 

snapping

 

the fangs

of fear

 

singing

our frozen song;

 

returning

to the beginning

 

by the sheer force

of togetherness;

 

exploring forever

like future astronauts

 

whose hands haunt

the kingdom of absolute zero

 

whose joyful tears

of ripened discovery

 

hang like amber knives

over the heart of a singularity.

 

 


Please enjoy my books (FREE pdf of first two books here) and leave a 5 star review:

Holding The Bruised Rose Blossoms Of An Attempted Genetic Rinse

Juggernaut Of Yearning

Metaphysical Magic

Words Scribbled On The Back Pages Of A Novel While Waiting For A Train

I swallow the snake’s tail

I dine on the patterns of chaos

that emanate from each flicker

of the tongue.

 

Whisper death into my eyes,

dream hatred that sputters

like a dying flame;

moment of regret I incinerate you again,

again.

 

Light years in my eyes,

a bevy of desire outracing the sun,

a mixture of parting elements,

happiness departing my body like

plague vomited into the stars.

 

Strangle sprint spirit sin crush;

crumble this edifice as I am demolished

by your sultry stare.

 

Shred this shell,

kill these lips;

oh the wailing,

the stutter of despair in my shoes,

the crimson kite flies under stealth

of evening light.


DarkFilthyAngel bring your bare breasts

into the firelight. Tempt all that I am

with your welcoming lips. Center starlight,

follow the moon to the home in your stare,

where I shall drink your reflection in like

a starry night in whose arms I became no one,

a man without a name,

a teardrop falling through nothing at all.

 

I, Zephyr, Walker,

Soul Magnet, Mind Obliterator,

the black-hearted yes-man feverishly nodding his assent.

Sychophant, weakling, everyman,

unquenchable demon misfit, runner of mazes,

follower, sickly supplicant;

I create the swirl of oblivion in your pupils.

 

It grows as the light dims,

as knowledge beams outward.

 

And you collapse and I am the fusillade,

the burnt butterfly, the charred carnage,

the soul’s goo, overcooked consciousness set ablaze.

 

I crush it. I crush it. Unholy invasion,

glitter of night. Splash! Redirect agony and

fire my art into your oblivious sky.

 

The tendrils of heat build rings

around my pounding heart.


Strangle,

sprint,

spirit,

sin,

crush;

crumble this flickering

snake’s tongue edifice

demolished like being

fucked by your sultry stare,

torn into one,

released from this.

 

 


Please enjoy my books (FREE pdf of first two books here) and leave a 5 star review:

Holding The Bruised Rose Blossoms Of An Attempted Genetic Rinse

Juggernaut Of Yearning

Metaphysical Magic

A Galactic Starburst In The Shape Of A Bullet

1.

I am a thin sliver of doubt

floating upon a sea of devastating tranquility.

 

Yet I dream with the velocity

of exploding stars.

2.

As planet Earth rotates at 1,000 miles per hour,

my mind twirls with dream-time possibilities;

 

like a ball on a string we simultaneously zoom

around a lemony sun at 66,000 miles per hour.

3.

Even when I try to cease these clock-tick movements

the chemistry of life churns onward as heartbeat by heartbeat

my body rifles through space-time.

 

In the massive serenity of the moment

I sense the glacial churn of the Milky Way;

 

though our spiral arm spins at 483,000 miles per hour,

it still feels like swimming in molasses.

 

4.

As I sink deeper into this cosmic mirror-land

I hear the faint rattle of a snake’s tail

as my perspective morphs again.

 

Relative to the Cosmic Background Radiation,

the Milky Way barrels through space-time

at 1.3 million miles per hour.

 

5.

As my essence bathes in the faint

universal whispers of the big bang

 

I taste millimeter-sized wavelengths

bursting with the flavor of human epiphany,

 

for I suddenly know that,

since the formation of the Sun and Earth,

 

the quarks that compose my body

have spun around the Milky Way twenty times.

 

6.

I am a thin sliver of doubt

floating upon a sea of devastating tranquility.

 

Yet I dream with the velocity

of exploding stars.

 

 


Please enjoy my books (FREE pdf of first two books here) and leave a 5 star review:

Holding The Bruised Rose Blossoms Of An Attempted Genetic Rinse

Juggernaut Of Yearning

Metaphysical Magic

 

 

Gliding Gracefully Across Space-time, We Rise To The Surface Of Ourselves

 

1.

Flourishes of steel gray sky sporadically emerge

from the wind-tickled treetops

as she gathers momentum

one bounding step at a time.

 

Left foot,

crumpled leaves. 

 

Right foot,

decaying stump.

 

Rhythm dancing like war drums splattered

against a tattered horizon.

 

She runs instinctively,

memories drifting away

from her throbbing center

like rebuked moonlets,

like the emaciated eyes of the wind;

a well-worn junkyard maze of muscle memory

guiding her through the circling buzzards,

each fleeting hazard briefly elucidated

then returned to the darkness,

 

Briefly elucidated,

then returned to the darkness.

 

2.

Moonglow shimmers,

yanking on the spindly strings of her heart.

 

Like the well-worn pages of a beloved paperback,

her beauty, too, is built in stepwise fashion:

by letter, word, phrase, and sentence,

the unfathomable and intriguing result

being a waterfall of elegant inevitability

that splashes like a conjurer’s trick across the stage.

 

Left foot,

right foot,

rhythm dancing.

 

The galaxy churns,

as I await await the splendid embrace

of your smile in a pitch black room.

 

The rain blankets the Earth,

as I cozily sit like my legs were made of springtime,

knowing the wildflowers of sentience shall stream over the landscape

in a riot of introspection and thunderous rumination.

 

3.

You exist,

and you are multidimensional.

 

Everything I create

is in your honor.

 

Cultivate awareness

and move toward wholeness,

I counsel myself.

 

Yet it is always without forgetting

what the shape of your hand in mine will be,

how it will feel to explore the boundaries

of mere molecules, bodies and minds united.

 

Goodnight,

my dear.

 

Tonight,

we journey onward.

 

 


Please enjoy my books (FREE pdf of first two books here) and leave a 5 star review:

Holding The Bruised Rose Blossoms Of An Attempted Genetic Rinse

Juggernaut Of Yearning

Metaphysical Magic

 

 

 

 

 

 

When The Way Of The Heart Becomes Clear, The Deepest Secrets Of The Cosmos Shall Be Revealed

 

I.
Even the spectacular advent of seemingly soulful connection
brings with it the insidious undertow of fear,
that flotsam and jetsom of the hypervigilant heart,
those shipwrecked corners birthed by even the most jubilant moments,
once the decrepitude of introspection begins to scrawl
the image of entropy upon the stark corroding edges
that glisten upon time’s rushing arrow.

Forward we all march,
into the mystical arms of tomorrow,
striving to cup the quicksilver droplets
of Love in our hands,
the ferocious need to buoy our sinking hearts
with the magnificent joy of the present
echoing across the canyons of our thoughts.

II.
Oh,
how she makes
my capricious heart dance,
feet striking the dry earth
and sending the dust into the sky
like smoke signals telling the moon
to never let the night end.

III.
Moonlit and wandering,
I search the undulating recesses
of the shadowy evening,
hungry for the triumphant sustenance
of her invincible firelight.

As the sweetness of light bounces gracefully
off of the soft movement of her hands,
I am cast wildly into a magnificent cycle
of destruction and renewal,
the mesmerizing geometry of her face
filling my eyes with an ocean of cathartic tears.

IV.
A billion galaxies teeming with millions
of unique starry skies,
untold fingerprints on volcanic rocks,
smudges of sentient color
fleshed out into meaning,
splashed across the cave walls
in a terrific fit of knowing:
tiny moments blooming
with the vibrant legacy of expression,
stories passed down to the rhythm
of flames dancing in front of enraptured eyes.

As barren asteroids careen by
in the strange uninhabited darkness,
something still pulls at our hearts,
a never ending string of gravity’s caress
tempting our true selves to step forward
into the enormity and splendor of sunrise.

V.
Even as I reveal every weakness
of the collapsing star that is my heart,
you choose again and again to hold on,
to elevate all that I am with the unearthly power
of your transcendent adoration.

In your forgiving arms
I have become so much more.

In your flawlessly human eyes
the gift of a truly elucidated universe
splashes onto the astounding canvas
of my fluttering soul.

Starlight filling in our rambunctious steps,
oceans rising toward our devoted eyes,
we shimmer like an aurora unleashed,
gathering color and vibration in a flourish
of criticality that never seems to end,
but instead is reborn in an endless parade of entropic defiance,
a love that cannot be measured,
for the simple act of doing so
merely pulls back the curtain
and exposes the simple truth
that something deep inside us
has left the planet behind,
to exist everywhere at once,
to sparkle in every speeding photon,
to wiggle in every quantum fluctuation,
to freeze time with every kiss of a singularity.

I thought I understood everything
about this universe that I could,
bathing in reality’s stream until
I was fluent in the language of existence.

And then you woke me from a dream,
poured magic into my veins,
and showered my cosmos
with an understanding that
can never be found on the beautiful
but dusty pages of even the greatest books.

VI.
We are harmony.
We are stardust.
We are earthbound.

We dance in the flames of knowing,
winking at the face of the trickster
with smiles upon our resolute faces.

We stand up suddenly with our hands held high,
and shout out those words of daring
that once lit your way in the night when all was lost,
saving you from the darkness with the proud
and powerful howl of the living.

We are harmony.
We are stardust.
We are earthbound.

We dance in the flames of knowing,
winking at the face of the trickster
with smiles upon our resolute faces.

 


Please enjoy my books (FREE pdf of first two books here) and leave a 5 star review:

Holding The Bruised Rose Blossoms Of An Attempted Genetic Rinse

Juggernaut Of Yearning

Metaphysical Magic

The Spatial And Temporal Dimensions Of The Human Heart

The children roam,
fresh eyes surveying the wide world.

The temple burns,
heat rising like righteous indignation
into the mournful sky above.

And She begins to let go,
the simmer and crackle of regret
echoing through her palatial memory
like the sky burn of incendiary devices,
like a ceasefire after a war of emotion.

Time always slips past us
like strangers boarding a train,
like the sudden laughter of an tickled infant,
whose life force can only move forward,
arcing jubilantly towards the horizon.

Fire brings forth the black carbon of renewal,
and we grip onto what matters most,
releasing burdens into ash,
forgiving the universe,
at least for one evening,
for making us face the night sky.

Stars twinkle,
and the moon follows
our hearts like a lost puppy.

Goodnight,
to everyone,
everywhere.

Tomorrow comes the dawn.

 


Please enjoy my books (FREE pdf of first two books here) and leave a 5 star review:

Holding The Bruised Rose Blossoms Of An Attempted Genetic Rinse

Juggernaut Of Yearning

Metaphysical Magic

Night Time Echoes Like A Plague Of Thoughtfulness, Growing Silently Like Moss On The Side Of An Ancient Tree

Sometimes the passing of time eats away at who we are

like moths of famished discontent feasting upon the tattered rags

of a stuttering consciousness.

 

Where in the riveting darkness of this sudden thunderclap of knowing

is the quicksilver temptation of her spectral smile?

 

When the frailty of rose petals

is ground into hushed whispers

by the footsteps of goodbye

there is nothing to do but give yourself permission to be infinitesimally small,

a hint of a quark in an atom,

a whiff of an atom in a molecule,

an inkling of a molecule in a leaf

that goes from rivulet, to stream,

to river, to the sea.

 

Planet,

star system,

galaxy,

universe.

 

You and I are there between the stars,

and all the lovers from the past

still exist in those moments of bliss,

even when the gravity of now seems greater,

as if a vital force of nature has been tampered with,

as if the festering facade of reality has finally been cracked like a weathered statue,

the final remnant of a mysterious cosmic civilization broken open before you

like the trauma of war coalesced into a single face by a sculptor’s wiry hands.

 

I am a quark

in the universe,

destined to become so much more.

 

And I love you all

just for trying,

just for daring to journey onward,

one tumultuous episode at a time:

 

universe,

galaxy,

star system,

planet,

human.

 


Please enjoy my books (FREE pdf of first two books here) and leave a 5 star review:

Holding The Bruised Rose Blossoms Of An Attempted Genetic Rinse

Juggernaut Of Yearning

Metaphysical Magic

 

 

 

If Only I Could Shield My Eyes From The Velvet Horizon

I.
When the flames of loneliness rise from your chest,
erupt from your heaving skin like an explosion of autumn leaves,
that is when the icicles of time stab spring whispers
into the gyrating center of your starving pupils,
which launch hungrily upwards towards
the unattainable depth of the haunting night sky.

Oh how your arms fold and unfold,
attaching and detaching your hands
from the throats of the enemies of sorrow:

for tonight is a clock tower without hands,
with you as the frozen centerpiece,
entombed in idle thoughts which parade wickedly
across the graying spectrum of your billowing imagination.

II.
Enslaved to the demon of biology,
dragged down into the hurting pools of desire,
this heart bathes like a newborn in a gasoline-fed fire.

Full lips that kill.
Bright eyes that cannot fill.

Full lips that kill.
Bright eyes that cannot fill.

I break promises here under the night sky,
here in the underbelly of the universe,
I let it all go,
and begin to care for no one.

III.
This being,
this vessel of twisting desire,
is a brittle sailboat hurled by the winds of temptation,
destined to crash again and again
against the crunching rocks of despair.

Hydrogen,
with its conquest of the stars,
with its primacy in the scheme of the universe,
trembles in my eyes,
quenches fiery oxygen
to become a teardrop,
undescended.

This is a tower of life,
these are the stained-glass scars;

her eyes are the hammers
that bring this edifice crumbling down,
crumbling down.

IV.
And whenever I awake,
the tendrils of future despair reignite,
for I am whole,
I am whole again,
a vibrant Sisyphus heart-bound
to mountainous boulders of desire,
destined to yearn for welcoming eyes and skin,
which would hold us together
like the bonds between stable elements,
if only you weren’t a mirage in the shape of a woman,
shimmering so beautifully,
yet so cruelly,
tantalizing my spiraling heart with ephemeral promises
that flutter and disperse like a flock of birds,
leaving only a cloudy arrow of tender nothingness
which soars softly into the misty geometry of oblivion.

 


Please enjoy my books (FREE pdf of first two books here) and leave a 5 star review:

Holding The Bruised Rose Blossoms Of An Attempted Genetic Rinse

Juggernaut Of Yearning

Metaphysical Magic

Together We Suck The Poison From Our Wounds And Spit It Into The Sky

I. These Heartbeats Are Made Of Bark And Tears

 

Here inside

the carbon-stained

cliffs of my aching mind

the bustling time-spiders

inject their venom of oozing seconds

and shape-shifting moments

into my Rorschach consciousness.

 

(There is a healing whisper

forming on the lips of the wind.)

 

Blood like paint converges

from the battling hemispheres of my brain

to rain down from my eyes

like a syrup of agony that forms

a flailing field of rainbow droplets

which splatter against the fluxing fault lines

of my tectonic heart.

 

(There is a healing whisper

forming on the lips of the wind.)

 

II. This Love Is A Tourniquet

 

We ascend like angels

across aged castle steps,

spiraling away from the dungeon-like emanations

that arise from the dead and defeated pupils

of the bastard children of time.

 

Like the prismatic eyes

of the floating dragonfly

I capture all the stages of your ascent

from innocent to carnal,

playful to maudlin,

frightened to blissfully content.

 

And now,

as the wind delicately tramples

the moist corners of our trembling lips

we drift towards the water’s edge

to reclaim the calming language

of swirling leaves as our own.

 

As we speak in forest tongue

each syllable softens our anxious faces

until they suddenly split like a waterfall

to reveal our hidden flames of longing:

 

with bare feet and exposed hearts

we begin to fire-walk over the tendrils of creation.

 

III. A Thirst That Cannot Be Quenched

 

As love forms from the smoky fruit

of our smoldering body-friction

we dissolve into each other’s arms,

slipping one molecule at a time

past the palatial sieve of time’s icy fingers.

 

As we disappear into

moments yet-to-be

each future possibility

sends us stumbling

toward the haunting reflections of our eyes

which gently meander down the distant waterway

like faintly flickering paper lanterns,

whose delicate murmur is:

 

always homeward bound.

 


Please enjoy my books (FREE pdf of first two books here) and leave a 5 star review:

Holding The Bruised Rose Blossoms Of An Attempted Genetic Rinse

Juggernaut Of Yearning

Metaphysical Magic

As Our Thought-Gardens Bloom, Jupiter Opens Another Of Her Stormy Eyes

I. Sometimes I Awake With Weeping Eyes Of Jade

 

There in the brooding darkness

pitch-dark lacerations appear in twisted streaks

against the mirror of my spine.

 

The tangled knapsack that hides

this hideous soul-carnage tumbles open

and the mirage of self dissolves:

as my fingers begin to puddle in circular rings,

the watery vibrations of this asteroid-filled symphony

crescendo into a wall of bitter violins,

ripe with the tender heat of resignation.

 

II. Whittling The Worn Wood Floor With Another Wandering Footstep

 

Stalking past the reaper’s molasses trap of gurgling regret

a haunting face appears and disappears in the black lava

like a million-year-old leaf,

unearthed and instantly oxidized

by the quicksilver rays of the morning sun.

 

Yet still I lift the veil,

still I lift the veil

just to feel the fleeting outline

of a human face bathed in obsidian,

drowned in the slow-cooked crude of consciousness.

 

Muddle,

muddle through

the eye of the needle

once more.

 

III. Here In The Trenches I Await The Killing Ether

 

Corpse rage clouds my eyes.

 

Icy thought-daggers hover relentlessly above,

coating this diamond sphere

with the spiked gravestones of indignation,

the only ammunition I need.

 

Calm as angel’s breath

I aim squarely at the cosmos

and ease the trigger back.

 

From atop this splintered life-boat,

set adrift on a sea of uncertainty,

a shot rings out into the void.

 

Calm as angel’s breath

I aim squarely at the cosmos

and ease the trigger back.

 

In the quiet corners of quantified time

silence sheds like the rattlesnake’s skin:

the outer shield has been left,

but the raucous chorus still remains.

 

The outer shield has been shed,

but the raucous chorus still remains.

 

IV. The Noose Of Particles That Surrounds Our Minds

 

Physics,

that vicious mistress,

is both the waterfall’s end

and the river’s icy-mountain beginning.

 

Even the wildest gyration of a poet’s arrow,

launched haphazardly towards a simile-strewn heart,

is descended from her bountiful waters.

 

Wielding the icy blade

of forgiveness with flaming palms

renders resolution impossible.

 

V. Wring Me Out In Waves Of Hate

 

This skull juice

is the ultimate poison;

let it coat the throat of this universe

with noxious dark matter.

 

My heart,

forged from the unfathomable cauldron of time,

is shaped like a trillion question marks.

 

My mind,

reassembled from a swarthy jet of star radiation,

is a prismatic lodestone sword:

with unforgiving effervescence,

it glimmers in the chill of the night.

 

VI. Pruned From The Trees To See The Skylight Surrounded By Black

 

Sometimes I shred

the obscuring clothes of humanity

just to beat the rocks like the primate I am.

 

I vocalize,

a furious four-limbed sculpture of carbon

shouting from inside the atmosphere’s skin.

 

The formula is cruelly diaphanous:

god is a zero,

a placeholder denoting

all that is vast,

all that confounds

a single pair of trembling hands.

 

Yet,

there in the half-light

we surf upon the cold wind stream,

propelled by the flamboyant warmth

of our jackknifed hearts.

 

VII. Flourishing In The Quiescent Light Of A Soaring Moonlit Night

 

Sometimes we yearn to un-know,

to return to the elaborate facades

that cloud the skyline of ideas.

 

But this razor-vision,

swiped from Occam’s lips,

it reaches into absolute zero

and pulls out a steel heart

brimming with elapsed regret.

 

So I vocalize,

a furious four-limbed sculpture of carbon

shouting from inside the atmosphere’s skin.

 

I call out for a sentient star:

a giant machine like us,

born into majestic isolation.

 

Together,

we are atomic siblings

bathing in the flamboyant warmth

of our jackknifed hearts.

 

VIII. And Sisyphus Wept Intergalactic Tears

 

Sometimes a galaxy is a speck

caught in the eye of a supple colossus,

a Herculean statue of light,

littered with the fruit of self doubt.

 

Yet the size of its mind-terror mirrors our own,

and eventually we must reunite

in the brotherhood of blood:

cracking rock after rock after rock

against the slavemaster’s chains.

 


Please enjoy my books (FREE pdf of first two books here) and leave a 5 star review:

Holding The Bruised Rose Blossoms Of An Attempted Genetic Rinse

Juggernaut Of Yearning

Metaphysical Magic