Lomaland

Heat creaks down the middle
the face of the house just stares
Windows sad eyes

Door´s happy smile
The spiritual contrasts
Sky´s eletric fuzzing

sun eating up the afternoon
lightening smashing through
the neighbors roof

The air humming around the house
the roof cooking birds feet
Grandfather ginger ale

Local wind obedient
Breathing the runes and the raven
Blavatsky humid
psychic heat

Neighbor electrocuted by the sky
Not a tragedy in sight
No bagpipes for the funeral

The house speaks to me
in edgeless humble words
My ears valhalla upside down
It´s utterings forest clowns and paranoid football players

clouds dance above Toby´s roof
playing hairy games with the blue
buds of spring juicy with passion
a secret slice of the occult thatched into the attic

Bugsy´s girl

She looked at me with those eyes
two pools you could drown in
An uphill climb toward courtship

cobblestones sooted and stained
streethood jackets following the well groomed
pick pockets at the ready like chess pawns

society divided into classes
a few delusionals pass through
Husslers forced to dirty work

She looked at me with those eyes
there was love but also concern
there were a few shades that changed to light up my yearn

Broken north

Tooth of the beast
the cold a loving family
the ice a romance
ships stranded

a dinner table
of fearful humans
looking for an escape
but running into blood and ice like gravy

The sea is solid
it walks no more
neither do men
heaven frost

Broken ships near a lost igloo
stained and scarred
vampire air
fog and blizzard coming down in columns

warmth so foreign and untangible
Like a motherless son trapped in a mine
as the deep freeze slowly wraps around each shaft
Like a serpents tail

My street skin and the readers

Walking in a street skin
My layer of filth sacred and smooth
footsteps across my backbone
a voice in my ear
]]
I´ve never known the designs
of my hundred tatoos
everyone else reads me like a newspaper
This street skin, what am I but an ad
..
I am a street sign moving across the sidewalk
shoes ground down
grin still kicking it across my screen teeth
never frowning
~~
The aroma pouring off me reflects the street heat
bringing them into the queues
organized by floating robots
creating the ladder to heaven
<<
Each one of those street skin readers acting as a rung
connecting with each other until they run out of oxygen

Out of the waste

Out of the dung
desert on the verge of the forests
lost tribe curiosity forming
survival often the only dream

Sometimes no shelter from the weather
predators touching on the periphery
Vicious eyes on human flesh
hungry guts claws furrs and feathers

Tribe tracking down their local killers
fear in the footsteps
senses sharpened

Out of the waste with primitive weapons
Brains thumping on psilocybin
club in hand grin on face

The prints lead into a cave
curiosity and hunger