Confucia

Pillows upon pillows of clouds
Washed of color and hung heavy upon no
Thing, this absence of being
Whose lost life reeks
Of an off-putting, unhygienic religious
Mindlessness

My soul screams for the unbearable violence of pure light
To burn white air through and to
Ashen hearts
Mine especially

Utterly alone before turned eyes
Devastated by the clarity of everything else
Nothing between me
And every sin lying upon me
Smothering

Voyeur

I heard doves on your balcony
And caught a glimpse of skin
From the café across the street
The angle of the sun on you
Rushing to meet my eyes

The aroma of fresh bread
Aroused my senses
Like rose
And morning tea
On the last day of Spring

Sipping from my cup
I imagined you had disappeared to a warm bath
Wet skin silky smooth…
And almost closed my eyes

Glancing at my wristwatch, I smiled
Knowing your bed was still unmade
And with the window wide open

Your white curtains
Dreamed carelessly
Flirting with the air
I breathed

Fallen angel

She fell
Like a knife through a red curtain
Through my soul

And though I screamed
I didn’t bleed

Just hung there
Split in two
Waiting for a breeze to tell me
Who I am

And she sunk below me
In the thick dark pools of my ignorance
At the very last
Reaching for me

But I was slowed by anger
And missed the chance
To save her
From her
Natural consequences

And when she disappeared
My eyes grew accustomed to the dark
And my ears grew accustomed to the silence
And gradually
I discovered varying shades of life
My passion had blinded me to

Peace gave a new color to everything
And I realized that where there is color
There is light

And the light came through the tear in my soul
Caused by her violent cruelty

A horrible pain
I now consider
Thoughtfully…

My beautiful prey

The herd moves
A thousand options the same color
I yawn, full of the remembrance of meat
In my face the breeze brings nothing new

Then a sigh and a moan heard for hundreds of miles
Grabs the testicular root of my heart
And a flash of daydream explodes brilliantly in my head

Adolescent breasts, naïve in the cool air
Rise from an arched back
While a violent erection salivates in the wind-bent rushes
Each breath heated with murderous thoughts

She sees me in the tall grass
But she is unafraid
A dangerous flash of perfect teeth
Pulling me in by the scruff of my neck

Intoxicated, I dream
Clutching her hips
Crying into the small of her back
Imagining the honey dripping from between her thighs
My Agua de Vida

Eyelashes coy
Nostrils flared
Tender affections spun from her fingertips
Her hot wet tongue burns my nipples

I am smoke from an extinguished flame
A blue whisper
Purring over her beautiful soft flesh

Her scent provokes the beast within me
My raspy tongue longs to tear the innocence away from her bone
Risking death by tasting forbidden fruit
Addicted to my own hunger for her

I am a monster enslaved by her eyes
Drunk with the color of her passion
Ravaged by the fresh breath of her eroticism,
Satisfaction’s repetition, the bitter perspiration of her desire...

I’ve learned to purr with my claws unsheathed
Selfishly protective of my prey
My beautiful prey

Bad words

Bad words, bad breath, what fumes you spread
Accusing life of being dead
That tills your crusty soil to seed
Promoting growth where you have need

Apparent in your tumbleweeds
Your petite flowers quick to bleed
Your dust is mad and lost and free
Your scorched earth called destiny

You’ve named your desert beautiful
Serene because it’s unfruitful
Your peace devoid of life’s murmur
Sun baked, deprived of rain’s whisper

Yet you would tempt my tears with yours
Sucked from your cacti flesh, its store
And trade for my monsoon your dew
So rare it disappears from you

For what – that you might be refreshed
And bathe in what you choose expressed
The nectar you do not perceive
Discarded through your un-bowled sieve

The lost will tolerate the stench
Of what they drink in ignorance
If thirst has bored their holey mind
So shadows fool them desperate, blind

And they will protest, curse aloud
And feign offense until they’re proud
And insist that they have been wronged
And answer none who come along

With bad words, heard words given meaning
Spent and meant for your believing
Bleeding through your faculties
Experience escaping thee

Call it nasty, call it rich
Call it vulgar innocence
Offensive to the shaded eye
Unsophisticated cry

I'm sick because I know desire
And bare myself to sun-pure fire
Absorbing all wavelengths of light
Reflecting truths that tear through night

Obscene because I speak my mind
Piercing hearts deaf, mute and blind
Awakening that consciousness
Which screams out from its dark abyss

The tear pulls soul thoughts scraped through cracks
Contentment’s sediment broke back
Where sentiment has swollen pride
That warps the floor on which you stride

Emotion paints pictures benign
Flashback’s experienced design
And I’m condemned, constrained by rules
To be what you would call a fool

Uncouth because I entertain
Beliefs that make the world insane
A rage consuming common trash
Scorching the earth to reap the ash

Desecrated blasphemy
You judge meant to soil beauty
Bad words ugly to the spoiled
The truth unfortunately coiled

Pupil of the universe

Nothing is ever quiet
Not even the night
Whose irreverent spawn
Mock the weary day
With a cacophony of incessant chatter
An audible static mirroring
The billions of microscopic starbursts
Which give black its color

Still nothing
As compared to each galaxy of thought
Filling the bowl of my soul too small
For such violent moon tides, spilling
In waves of deaf insects
Pouring over the landscape of my sanity
Immune to the wrath of my attention’s vehement protest
A flood of filth
Corrupting my peace with the stain of its undeniable being

And when the moon is absent
I cannot see the forest
Not for the trees
Whose roots hold the earth upon which I stand
But for the shadows of my mind
Whose insatiable hunger often turns on itself
Shadows strengthened by the brilliance of my insanity
Attempting to comprehend the incomprehensible
For what is man at most
But what he is at least

In this time of darkness
I desperately climb through the soil of history
Starving for the virgin air my spirit would breathe
Never-minding the stench of defecation which clings to me
Or the blood I spend to make my sky a new ground
Ever seeking love’s light
A pupil of the universe

At an inconvenient hour

At an inconvenient hour
I am awakened by thoughts
Knocking at the door of my mind

And rush, grumbling
Down the stairs of my dreams
Struggling with the robe of my senses
To answer

I am met with eye scalding flashlights of inquiry
Which force their way, armed with the machine guns of urgency
Invading my peace
I am afraid

The police of my fears sit me at the kitchen table
Interrogating me with restlessness
Stuffing my head with shoutings
And implied accusations of impotence:

What can I do to make the world a better place
If I tolerate less than I desire at home?