Your untouchable library

 The library moves to a busier suburb
walking on tight brick columns
cars veering out of the way
It sits somewhere convenient to the reader

we are lost several neighborhoods from there
Trying to make our way back to the library
through our own routines
confused theories of how to follow the map

Rivers and roads and busy intersections
high murmur distracting the mind
displacing it
stalling the engine

and we find ourselves once again
miles from the library
that quiet limelight
the sanctuary of it

the peace we crave
as we take flights of steps to find the city again
each one an emotion curling into the next
from laughter to whisper

from whining to giggling
gasps of disbelief
to long sighs of relief
each toll booth telling us to return

giving us false direction
cheerful deception
and new fancy insights into oblivion
Hope the undying organ

still pumping us forward
the refinery within
crude to combustible 
let's find this library

Not at all costs
strange humility requires we pay
even if it distances us from coveted destination

The datepalm city house

 Their date palms were full of huge round dates
The fruit sticky and sugary in the courtyard
Their heavenly house somewhere in the capital 
of heaven

Their house so stately and impressive
Why did the old one avoid it
Only meeting casually outside the house walls
Repetitive jovial anecdotes

People measure themselves by their architecture
the size of their house the make of their car
Some see themselves as thoroughbred
unlistening except for flattering

Never understanding the sweet flavor of the date
The absent dromadery
The blessed wood hidden under thick pastel paint
those three palms on each side of the courtyard

The etiquette hidden inside the pattern
A symmetry that destroys me until I am rebuilt
That never accepted me with heinous and prejudicial rejection
As if an oversized gallon of sweet juice

I could glimpse my older queen matriarch like figure
sharing something of the line if even a morsel
Yet the Older king would not visit this place we dwell
ignoring us and rolling onward far from us

The green car

 green car abandoned infront of the building
life is on those steps up a head
between columns go there
Enter the large glass doors

open door on the green car
you look back half way from the steps
Life has great periods of ascension
The alarm sounds

The car abandoned
the cradle
The older house
the vehicle

God's echo

The thirds, the friends, a nice clean death

 We happened on the enemy
Can we destroy them all
their structures their bodies sending them
to oblivion? dying and appalled

My aim was true
when I threw the grenade

No truce we swore
here we are appeasing 
Like unpaid whores
our salacious teasing

My aim was true
The bomb burst excitement

Here bargaining to make it even
with enemies we see as demons
this process of false respect
If we could just burn it down

Throwing ourselves into a future
where we would fly into fragments

The dogs and bats flee making tracks
with pigeons and rats still clinging to their backs
and smoke like vision sees us waiting for death
infront of long high fences we are pests

if we could just admit by pulling the pin
This is the future we cooked and coveted

embodying the pride we once fussed over
That caged us in and marinated us all over
For the well aimed bullet's art
it's destiny our heart

Sentinal towers

 By now he was earning a greater share
Like many of his type he had collected many valuables
The young man who accompanied him
A happy crisis born for drama and euphoric peaks

A relationship that played out like a war
Naiive and gay bipolar in nature
Never quite fronting up to the
transactional nature

and in the illusion they drank deep
inebriated and self absorbed
desiring nothing more than the sunset on mankind
As from within them a subtle destruction seeded

On days of loss
On day of losing each other
The creative ultimatums
The emotional blackmail

Their perfect private hell
That seemed for lack of a better word... Edible
A slow release poison
Tiring them for their predictable tantrums

That seemed to circle the weeks and months
intensifying and disappating
Both wounding and joyous
painful and numbing

Two such deserving victims
in the chasm of their own unforeseen torment

The abuse

 The place that man has built
a thousand years ago
protruding from the hillside
a disgusting holy ruin

Neglected over centuries
cursed by the region's low ones
The young enter out of curiosity
Only to feel bewitched and ashamed

The wanderer uses it as temporary shelter
absorbing the abstract energy
and carrying it forth for the remainder
Of their solitary passage

To the empty modern ones
It is a place to be avoided
nightmarish and contaminating
Reminding them of dark pasts

Washed up today

 So many of you are new to the world
struggling to see in the daylight
as if eyes were glued shut and thick blindfolds
controlled your life

as if the sea was your womb and you were thrown ashore
In a state of total confusion disorientation
rubbing your eyes in disbelief
wth crowds in the same state next to you

You observe the land not how it really is
but through some colorful fable in dream like state
from far before when you had not emerged
from this figurative crysalis

Stunned at world set infront of you
like a banquet
Unable to create a purpose
Unable to see a deeper meaning

and so you amble
with these peers calling them friends
when all just cradle their own interests and egos
as if armagaeddon had struck

You walk the sands of time
on this unknown beach
Unwilling to know the land
as the only familiar thing to you is the shore

so like the babe on the breast you cling and feed
as if clutching for a mother
the waves her sweet whisper
the sand her delicate hands