Indulgence of a new age

 We were mentors and everything we explained was misconstrued.
Our words were twisted and we lost favor with the plebs
They not only didn't understand our cause
They didn't know the absolute purpose

In their mind there was not one
Everything we told them was in vain
They couldn't process the ideas
They didn't see the sense in it

Back to their candles and robes
Their chanting and their objects
Their great houses of worship
Back to their double lives

Their disconnection with the flow of God
Their indulgences they bought with tainted money
Their rackets and biblebashing
There disconnection with God

The exploding dog

 Under the banana grove
The hound exploded

Pieces of him flew in every direction
He didn't have time to yelp or reflect

He was a great dog we shared admiration and love
We spent countless afternoons looking at each other

I would take him on long walks and runs even in bad weather
We were troublemakers and adventurers together

Now he was separated into pieces of bloody meat
Soon vultures would be dining, his flesh to eat

So I piled him up and dug a hole tears flying off me
Then sat back down to my mourning coffee

What would I do with his remains? How would memory last?
Would I just shovel pieces of him in the ground as compost?

To slay the clergy

Hell was a city with 90 neighborhoods. Each one with their own distinct reality, each one with their own sense of suffering.
More than that pure overwhelming wrath. They were prepping me to become a demon in Sintdrop.
The temple priests had brought me out of my house drenched in black tar. They had held me over the altar.
Lightening burst and tan down cables from a pointed spire that went thirty meters above the building.
I was electrified and my skin flexed, the force finding it's way into my veins, vibrating uncomfortably in my blood.
I could feel my form changing.
My skin abrasive!
My teeth sharpening!
Claws growing out of me!
But I took their spells of compounded evil and focused it into my gut.
Then i vomited across the pristine surface of the temple floor.
I tore the priests limb from limb and drank from their wounds.
I took their hair and wove a rope.
I smashed the high window and crawled out a monster at last.
What was inside me now was obvious on my skin and body.
I am separate, homeless, hated in every world.
I am eternal.
I climb with fury until I find that spire.
I break it in pieces.
I pull a tooth out of my jaw and inbed it into the metal.

I take a piece of the spire and sharpen against coarse roof plates until I have a sharp end.
Then I seek to impale the remaining clergy. Not for God.
To break my chains of this Inferno.
To crack the skies of this dim existence.
I jump off the roof and wings unfold from my scapulas.
I notice in the gloom there are now two suns. In hell there was never light and now two suns shine down. They illuminate my way to the giants lair, the cleric giant I must bring under, for good.
Those eyes that illuminate the way follow me as if I had no will of my own.

Cinder block

 I lay her on the sheepskin.
The aggressive one.
The prison is cold.

There is no consent for anything.
My eyes follow the flow of her.
My finger tip makes contact.
The blues swirling patterns on her body.
The prison is quiet.
Because I am a tyrant.
She resists so I take her back to her cell.
Memorizing her curves.
I give her fresh clothes and soap.
But she just looks at me with those eyes,
that say if she had the chance she'd stick me.

Watch me bleed out slow.
Swing kicks into ribs help me on my on my way.
But she is chained cursed like skin ink.
Her cell's bars of frosty steel.
Floor is unforgiving cold concrete.
Punishment raw, hard and evident.
I make my way back down the long corridors.
Back to my office piles of release/parole forms.
my old dog looking at that sheepskin.
But he can't sleep there.
That is only for her.
The ember in my ash of a world.

 

Damp kindling

 Your presence pleases me so much. I said.
It's not my job to please you with my presence. she said.
That's so true. I said.
And we went about our business.

Me, still thinking about you.
You, so healthy have moved on.
Sometimes I thought I might have a spark.
For that kindling between us.

A man is told to pursue at all costs.
To accept a temporary set back.
reformulate the game plan.
Sound confident with charm.

Your presence pleases me so much. I repeat the next day.
Get away from me you fucking maniac. She insisted flinching.
So I turned my gaze and moved away from her.
Her words said I was not welcome

But her eyes said I had left it too long.
Her eyes said that part of loving her was loving her restlessness.
Timing is something I'm still learning to master.
Not an excuse a girl like her would care to hear.

My backward words

 Words run backwards into a fuzzy glass instead of
pouring out of it into the ears of those who paid 
Those who forgot the meaning of them
were reminded and recovered

Words of inspiration that humm through thoughts
electricity through live wire
Words run through the open street
Raining down from a million poets

All incoherent and inconsequential
The years spray their bad breath 
Their slurrs at being ignored
As if they held no value

Words never described them well enough
And those forgotten times
They creep up on us faintly at first
Then grip our daily lives

Words that lull us into a sense of wonder
Distract us from the baseline anxieties
These words I write that fall backwards
through screens and reading glasses

 

Missing on the milk

 I saw his name and photo on the milk carton below.
In a tone of black and white only purgatory would allow.
A youth who disappeared into the world somehow.
Or tragically was taken and remains under the dirt.

I analyze his face imagining his mother's concern.
The fate of her boy she still waits to learn.
Compare the image of his face when he disappeared.
With today's simulation that the carton bears.

Those sad hopeless eyes that seem to convey a hidden pain.
Couldn't they have chosen a picture less such disdain.
Fate had decided by the ill omened photo someone took.
If his face wasn't sorrowful noone would even look.