Hunger is an ember

 Im feeling like I am real
 Fire ravaging the land
 Hunger hunger hunger
Am i monster turning it into ember?

 Burning it up like carbon
 my lust is gargantuan
 I want to eat this world whole
 digest it for centuries

 Invade star systems with power of these million visions.
 I beg this power continues through me,
 Metabolism creativity peak power eternal creativity
 I give myself unto the universe and God
 GOD send me forth to rattle the sanity of millions with my word.

God send me beyond these mundane limits they set.
 Let me crush and build upon their debris,
Because im starving lord starving out here
 I need to eat it all.

I cut it for you

 I cut in half by myself
pavement yelled out
Language in cracks and barks
Who am I to care
A face like this just looking
cutting through these obstacles
With a blunt rusted saw

You see me
can't ignore 
But maybe you should
Morning's crowded
a few minutes from dead
But I'll live eternitities
chasing those bouncy steps

I cut it up and down 
cleaned it out of your way
with last liter of sweat
just the twigs and leaves complained
Through the bark and cracks
The tree comes apart
My eyes cut through you

The air of me will absorb
whatever comes out of you

 

St George's east Shadows on the Thames( Spring-heeled jack)

 

Something used the collapsed shack as a daylight lair.
It hid inside these vacant, narrow places,
Crawled inside the dilapidated space.
By night, his cloak formed wings.

This, and some freakish leg ability to jump,
For by dusk the creature was no longer there,
And by the wee hours it would be in the air,
Flying across brittle warehouse roofs.

Sometimes crashing into some shanty dockside bar,
Where the patrons scampered for survival.
Other times it remained inside pitch-black shadows,
Hunting in pure stealth, ritualistic, hallowed.

The victims were found days later,
And maybe identified weeks after.
Witnesses moved away from the docks,
The looming night-shadow—a phantom knock.

One night, the watchman followed the creature for a block.
It jumped a wall and, through glowing red eyes, mocked.
Blue flame flowed out as it challenged the watchman:
“Follow me at your peril!” Then disappeared down a hatch-lan.

“Reports pour in of a mysterious prowler dubbed ‘Spring‑heeled Jack,’ a night‑creature of astonishing agility, said to appear in suburban lanes with a frightful form, emitting blue and white flame and eyes like red balls of fire, eluding all pursuit by springing over walls and rooftops with uncanny ease.”

Limehouse Laughter(Shadows on the Thames. circa 1820)

 The docks were deserted
One hour after midnight
All there was, was lamplight
Stirring drunkyard beneath cratewood

I pushed my cart over jarring cobblestone
Toward the ship's plank was I sensing a ghost?
No, just first mate snoring against the mast post
Rats scurried by as my wheel hit the slat

One rat turned it's eyes questioning
It's motion back toward the mischief slow and unafraid
What did it know of the wee hours that gossip forbade
From the shadows a man surfaced in a stovepipe hat

I could hear laughing from all around me
The man's face was obscured in the pitch 
Up my spine, goosebumps and a strange itch
As the lamp light slowly exposed

There a pale unshaven face, I froze
He jumped right over me landing on board
A menacing shape dressed as a lord
First mate jumped up startled

The man in the hat turned to me as he produced a Dirk
Horrific grin, visions of a clock face sharp and mean
Whites of his eyes looking into me a sinister sheen
The iris in green and blue somehow tarnished

First mate screamed, in a trice the man had vanished
I pushed the cart aboard and comforted first mate
Terrorfied he asked me what was that ghastly wraith
I could only answer - a soul troubled and doomed

Then a lantern came on in the wardroom
And a voice crept out the door just in range
-Tese ol' docks have seen much thangs strange

T'is not your mind blurred and eccentric
T'is the Limehouse specter playing tricks"


 “throwing his inexpressibles indignantly,” and “absorbed in those chaste connubial endearments” but altogether a sad sorry tale of  ghostly manic laughing.

The original Bedroom

 Back to the first drawers you used
To keep your clothes in
Packed tight everything well folded

The original bedroom floor
The carpet beige not yet stained
The thread of it soft but not strong

The first addiction
Bringing the teenager down from study
Distracting him from school work

Creating a mundane void
A place to escape
A state of numb

Other's faults and attempts at control
slip off like duck water
But so did opportunities

The ocean in the mind

 I looked out to the docks
Then looked into where things were transported to me
Inside me from off earth
From that far off ocean we call space

Visions started coming on
Each one a screen coming int from the horizon
Moving steadily toward me and then enveloping my sight
Different images of the sea itself appeared to me

Creamy light blue full of little living things
Coming on slowly and gracing my senses
Then a reddish angry color started to appear
Out of nowhere blurry came a charming green

A screen of yellow and blue now bearing down fast
Then a video game screen overwhelmed all sight
 a ninteen eighty atari like game screen the figures barely clear
The picture and the graphics were distorted

So I waited for the next screen
and each one came on in a different color or strange bad graphic videogame
It was as if the ocean in my mind was trying to communicate with me
It was indeed communicating, it was telling me my life story

Limehouse (I the stranger, they the strange)

 I got to the River shore of the town
Organized groups of performers
Dressed in black costumes
Imitating crows

They danced and sang near the wharves
Where the merchants had come off from
The piers and wooden platforms now seemed like stages
Street lamps the same shape and color as the actors
Redundant in the day well lit

Most of the actors were young
Putting their bodies into strange shapes
Calling the out of town tourists to watch
Was I one of these absent minded tourists?

Confused and bemused I looked out
As these little groups of people
Acted out scenarios from their town's distant past
It became expected and lost its mystery until

I spotted a man lying on a park bench
Out of his mind on the poppy juice
Smoking the strange sap without a care in the world
Watching this young man pretend to be a crow

Playing out his struggle to fame infront of this opium addled wretch
Expressing how he'd never made it despite his many skills
The situation unfolded as a drama in the young actor's head
The smack fiend saw the whole thing as a comedy

Life is about failure the smack fiend bellowed laughing
-You are too young to know it through
Tell me your life story in twenty years
Or join me in the golden haze of my oblivion!

I thought to yell out to the constable
But the land was rife with lawlessness
The people focused more on appearances and purchasing
Than building something solid for their future