g kid stands defiant. Arrogant in his bliss.
Thinks that sinew and knuckles can make him always
right.

I'll run from him. I'd rather hide than be dead. I'll run
from him. I'd rather die than be in bloody slavery. A
follower. Without destiny I'll be done.

Someone lied about God and Country but I have a third
eye politically. What will it take to tear it all down?
What does it take to see the U.S. draft's a lie.

A child in the classroom. The bastard's meaner than
the rest. The meek are crushed below him. The poor are
forced to crime. The big kid stands amoral. A loser as he
wins. Thinks he has a worldly view by looking through a
straw.

I'll run from him. I’d rather hide than be dead. I'll run
from him. I’d rather die than be in bloody slavery. A
follower. Without destiny I’ll be….

Brokers and athletes with rich self-denial. I'll choose my
winners by who wear the smiles.

2. Songs for Insects

I) The Popular Left and Butterfly Government Dreams

I sing poems of rebellion. Lax russet lips lavish
scabrous empathy. Without rights I kowtow. A silly
carcass burrowing forward. This reads terms of vast
cosmos for Tianamen Square, or felt dampness in meat.
I crave iced pavement to clot my languid flesh. Without
rights I blunder. A bloated child lost in a flaccid smile.
Mold and silk ripple the womb. Congested slams of
Beijing. Suckle chunk water surviving rusty plumbing.
Paint chips and fades the wormholed face of Mao
Zedong. Insects tremble at the coming of the Year of the
Cockroach.
Visage with backwards eyes could be Sun-Yet-Sen. A
friend armed with nails to help me torch the flag.
"Leader, your steps I adore. I’ll fight along since you
stand for me. I have surrendered to life's enchantment, a
voluptuous passing dream."


II) Sticky Slithers Royal Fly

"Carnage?”, peeped the Fly. His wings glide with
sweat. Lick her foot. Consume it slowly. Blood is what I
need. Raped her squirming cute face sobbing. I'm the
Cockroach King. When is wrong all right? We'll banter in
the cupboards. Meditate. Use Zen under the plates.
Father I am. I'm you, but I've found I'm you as lethe.


III) Artist at War, Flesh Armor

Sable Saliva paints a plethora of Lindens with rugose
branches and molted angst torsos.
"Don't cry my baby brother. A martyr I was made.
When the tanks just roll me over, remember where your
loyalties remain.”


IV) Closed Door, Open Gash

Thighs held tense and wet deserve salacious care.
Risque' like death I maim guests slowly. Love is all I
need. A fat bombast stripped leitmotif for the Cockroach
King. A ruffian to trust? Like what kissing preludes. What
rigmarole poets elude. Father I am. I'm you, but I've
found I'm you; a swain.


V) Drugs, Fine Wine, Revolution, and More Drugs

The pariah's gone. Extirpated. Let's burn “His” house.
Holy water drink it slowly. Where's the police tonight?
Stumbling down here. Here the police will die. City
water vomits harshly. Love spinning round. Flailing.
Bloody water washes hardly. Sauterne, parched I suck.
Blotter. Sweat and water tastes too salty now.
Lepidoptera. One billion strong. Twenty miles wide
to kill one man.
No time to use with morals to loose. To choose.


VI) Exit the Fool

Dabble dandy sulfur daisy eye. My eye. Debatable
flummery. Me free. Lilliputian ego. A rayon vest, a
smooth chest. No complications. No compendium.
Sangfroid. I disencumber with equilibrium. A drunkard. I
am. I'm you, but I've found I'm you as dawn.

3. Cornerstone

Flower don't cry tonight. Raspberries kissed your
melting face. Flower please hold me tight. Caress my
skin, blended as one. All wrong. My lover's gone. All
wrong. I’ve lost her in the cornerstone of time. Tart meat
cuts emerald lips. Parts and slits. Flower is sky.
Raspberry feels cannot heal. Bleeds his soul. Kicks in her
teeth. All wrong. My lover's gone. All wrong. I've lost her
in the cornerstone of time. Love? All wrong. My lover's
gone. All wrong. I've lost her in the cornerstone of time.
All wrong. My mind is gone. All wrong. I've splattered it
to the stars to the grave. All wrong

4. Daughter Mobius

I) Stage Set ForTwo. Tickets For One

The Dogorez and one mike stand. A small brawl that
comes between lovers. It just breaks my heart. I'm pawn
life. Calls the world "Arena Grand". Bone gameshow. A
small joke Christ plays on the Devil. Nielson rates it well.
I'm bleached life.

Mother's womb stop prancing around pyres of fusion
hymnals. A world digested, burnt, and beveled. Just
await “Q” the troubadour.
Move your leg. Move your arm.
The arid breast. Dry and cracked. Oozed the milk
gnats thrive on. Little girls, so old and wise. Congress
votes that Hell is true.

It’s your mind. it’s my thought, but I am the killer.
It's all right. You're my daughter. I love you. Come
die in my arms, ignore clouds. Avoid rainfall. It just
hurts our eyes and skin. Cling to my side, daughter of
mine.


II) My Daughter is the Messiah, and She Doesn't Care

In darkness you’ll find me, and I've found that
alone only you can satisfy you.
Yawns and goes about her day. A piece of toast the
morning meal. Sits on down to comb her hair.
Brushed her teeth, and with tomorrow she'll do this
again.

In darkness youll find me, and I’ve found that
alone my gifted eyes love to undress you.
The men are always boring you. Take their cash
before the sun. Run the Visa to maximum. Instant
dinner, the pinnacle of romance that burns you again.

In darkness you'll find me, and I've found that as
you sleep my hands will come to caress you.
Fleeting thoughts. A simple mind. A messiah's work
is never done. Just wasn’t life’s easy love. God sifts
farther and farther, and won't come again; right?
It's your mind. It's my thought, but I am the killer.
It’s all right. You're my daughter. I love you, come
die in my arms. Watch the ground. It's a graveyard for
those who couldn’t sin. Murder worldwide, daughter of
mine.

5. Alexander Vs. the Puzzle

Sedge surrounds me. Mist off the mire floats safely.
Stagnant and alive. Pours in sheets. Wren feathers for
sister. Oak for me to make a toy.
Concealed both far and wide. Yes, we are one.
Fragments missing and lost directions, yes, we are one.

Puzzled mind;
Just a little boy. So charming. A Small smile. Eyes blazing.
We are the best of friends.
Come play with me.
Lost inside;
Slide the pieces back. No worries, a Flux mind. Gears churning.
We are the best of friends.
We are one.

There's a fawn lying in the meadow. Sniffs in the
air. Smelling Mother and Father. Runs in the wind.
Nothing is stopping attractions. The vision is set, and
taken in.
Concealed both far and wide. Yes, we are one.
Fragments missing and lost directions, yes, we are one.
The lea's sitting full of grain, Father. Sheep shall
graze, our cottage warm; Father.

Just above one pine lands eleven owls. Three die
for love. Six die of famine and sustenance. Two fly to
the West. Never seen again.
Concealed both far and wide. Yes, we are one.
Fragments missing and lost directions. Yes we are one.

Puzzled mind;
Just a little boy. So charming. A Small smile. Eyes blazing.
We are the best of friends.
Come play with me.
Lost inside;
Slide the pieces back. No worries, a Flux mind. Gears churning.
We are the best of friends.

6. Ballerina

Here Grub go 'gain. Lick me hurts and scratch the
stucco. ‘Can smell the streets of Bailey McCaret, or
Mama in snazzy white. Mama won't let wee grub leave.
No sun, no fun, no gun to ice her. I'll love over you as
we embrace each other.
We are lonely. We are scared. We are forever.
I am bile, I am blood. I am forever.

The quartzite window provides a star. Grub wish n
wish for grass to roll in, or a girl to pet my cheek; but
Mom comes a reeking sex and Drambule. A dirk with
blades both North and South. Opposing points against
our tummies. We embrace. The blades insert. As our love
consumes each other.
We are lonely. We are scared. We are forever.
I am vomit, I am pus. I am forever.
Mom shall dance a final ballet.

7. The Chalice Vermillion

I) Windows

Leanna Nechlon pouts blood and tears. I taste her
neck. I can now make her eyes roll to white. Her pulse
rate quickens. Throbs upon my probing tongue. Stars
fall above us, burning for us. Leanna became the whore
that save me from life. I've lost faith.
Decrepit falls my Boston church, cloaking us from
within. I tip the cup, life's challice vermillion. The lost
drug of God has won. Nine angels, obscene devices for
the cruel torment of the will. Consume thy paper, it will
have to guide us to Earth's Heaven above.


II) Ascending Heaven

Flashing light will envelope my body. Give me the
strength I have lost but will need. Transcendental my
noema develops. Pumping nectar from the darkest sun.
Leanna Nechlon bleeds scriptures and lies. I drink
her thought, poison from it. I will make her...
As one I write, messenger of God. The inkwell
empties. Words are colored life's red.


III) Fall of Leanna

Leanna stares, quenched by her fear. Sliding her
hand across my face. Going down upon my lips.
Feeling the blood pour so warm. Tasting like hope, love,
and rust. Onto the quill it flows so quick. Finish the
verse, begin another phrase of lore. Leanna laughs as
her wrist fills my cup, and there I was when Leanna
died. Write some more.
As one I write, messenger of God. The inkwell
empties. Words are colored life's red.


IV) The Philosopher

God exists, God is good, God is omnipotent. You
can only have two of three. To choose them all you
contradict. Mackie knew the rules so well he made
Anselm disintegrate, as Pascal sat to toss his coins on
the farthest part of the Universe.
Dead not gone.
Paper is my torment. The quill is my scalpel. I am
my own thesis. The pain grows with the years.


V)....and with the Morning Sky

The rain falls down my face and on silent Leanna.
I've lost. The Universe calls me. Oh, Mother take rne
home.

8. The Flesh is Weak

On a frozen meadow lake, a breath's exhaled. A
dove. It's head within it's wing. A runny-nosed child
laughs without worry. Post office critics spread gossips
creed. Grandma still wishes she could run. Newspaper
topics "Fear Far Away". Grandma talks so young, when
life was grand.
I will stand on the window ledge. Dandelions in my
hair. Hands raised towards the sky. Dying after all, was a
parents lie.

They feed us war, they feed us poverty. Melt to dust
my plastic leaders. Politicians, spinning life's roulette
wheel. Making money worth more than life. Macho-
hero, you better back away. No emotion, yet dreaming
love. Maybe I just hate people as a whole. Once again
the God of Life.
A cloud covers my face. I’ll take the time to think.
The flesh is weak. My hands are clenched until my nails
draw the blood of thought. The flesh is weak.

Rise for war. Children grab guns. Rise to die for a
better America. Seers of the 90’s still scream the same
questions. Is there a God? Does the Universe end? What
is Easter Island? Who built Stonehenge? What is the
truth behind evolution.
Rise for work. Day of responsibility. Rise for dollars
to buy peace. Lost again I am upon rny window ledge.
My dandelions have turned to a halo of thorns. Now I
comprehend why Jesus wept. The human race has been
diseased with indifference.

Pain twists upon my face. I'll take the time to think.
The flesh is weak. My face shuts till my eyes pour the
blood of thought. The flesh is weak.
Of my love you will see that my love is of another
kind. Drenched in blood, sugar coated. My love
destroys. Of my mind you will feel that my hate is of a
better kind. Be it you must, be it you will; the thorns are
yours.

Filled with despair. On the eleventh floor. With a
gentle touch, I'm thrown towards the ground. Life's
glorious end.
“This country has lost its sense of priorities, and I'll
not support our troops; or any other cheesy Nazi-like
ad-propaganda bumpersticker dupe. I think Bush
wasted enough money on parades. A celebrations that's
lasted longer than the war. And no goddamn flag gets in
the back window of my car, its non-running color
problems are quite black and white to me. I don't betray
my country, I survive my government.”

9. Blistered Text and Bleeding Pens

In life I'm skin stretched to form my body. With life
we can hope to grow old alone. In life all is well.
Strapped empty to a placid dream. In the fields is where
I belong. Blistered text and bleeding pens.

In life we are one. Extensions of each other. With life
we can find that death is on the outside, in life all is
well, left dancing a laughing tree. In the hills is where I
belong. Blistered text and bleeding pens.

Venice please will you hide my face and change my
eyes. Friends aren't friends. They look to themselves.
Their advice is wrong. Selfish. Blatant. On the Bridge of
Sighs a piece of bleeding art. Mold me still with plaster
joints and a pompous grin. I shall die within my song.

Your life for my life.
Your life for my life.
Your life for my life.
Your life for my life.

The Rialto. Buy here, sell there. I see a face. Carletta.
The Rialto. Thieves and lovers, mimes and jugglers,
read me poems from Venetia. Of tired men with hearts
of gold. Of the whore without a neck. So the palace
guards could not take her head. Dead. My. Head.

In pools we swirl beyond the point of transition. All
must try. All must fail.
The Renaissance Ants crawl deep in her mouth,
yea. Across her breasts and within her thighs. Christ has
known these thighs before. The Ants of Enlightenment
have her moaning to their cause. She chews on the
ants still trapped in her teeth. Christ has known this
mouth before.

At the Grand Canal Carletta cries. The gondolier
says, "Wipe your face, whore". I just laugh, now looking
down. The gondola's a paper swan. Pulp.
On the mezzanine I watch the old man scream. Like
cats ripping doves apart wing by wing. Violins,
tangerines, and one glass eye. I love Carletta and with
that I sigh.

Who wins? Who wins you? Forgive? Forgive. I could
not choose; and both poets lose. We lose.

10. Bearing An Hourglass

I) The True Inner Death

Good bye; bye, bye Marrow Lake. Bone white and
dying below a harvest moon. A dying lake. A burning
moon. I make the analogy. There was a girl who took my
words and ground them into sand. To be blown, and
spat, and tossed across this fine line. I will not, never will,
never, never let her win.
Doing what Ma said. You'll raise shields of doubt.
Please just trust.

From my heart the crimson spreads. Moistening
passion grows intense. You’ll bear an hourglass, thinking
controlling time. Come rape my thoughts, my minds
spread-eagle. An emotional swingset to be played inside.
Writhing body clenched to mine. I feel her scrape, our
legs entwined. You'll bear an hourglass, thinking never
die. Biting my lip, and arching your back. The burning,
the rhythm, the pain.

This lake has lost it's will. This lake can see beyond a
matrix of lies and doubt. Oh God, it's done. The moon
controls my tides but it can't control my thought.
Doing what Ma said. You'll raise shields of doubt.
Please just trust.

From my heart the crimson spreads. Moistening
passion grows intense. You'll bear and hourglass,
thinking controlling time. Come rape my thoughts, my
minds spread-eagle. An emotional swingset to be played
inside. Writhing body clenched to mine. I feel her scrape,
our legs entwined. You’ll bear an hourglass, thinking
never die, biting my lip, and arching your back. The
burning, the rhythm, the pain.


II) I Have Dreams To Forget

Those of God forgive my dreams. I've spat on Christ.
I've made him bleed. We pass the Cup. Some say it
swallows smoothly, but it grants a burnt throat and
narrow eyes. Watch my steps, they lead below ground. It
has no bottom, and with one step we'll laugh as one.
Seeing a worldly picture of dead seas, carnage, and life
without control.

Faceless gather. Fish to land. Watch my fire dance
hand to hand. Her face so pure. Widening eyes of white
tempting me to challenge them, to show them light. The
crowd then thins. I know them well. Dustin laughs, Paul
then melts. Chris pours Paul into a cup of crystal. Dustin
laughs, and Chris and him both implode for life.


III) Rational Mindscrew

Subdivide. Sub-collide. Theorize, molecules split
asunder. I am not over here or there, a machine trapped
in lust, and I'll sing....
Colonize. Rectify. Apologize. I'm friend and murder, I
am not forgiving nothing. A machine killing all, and we’ll
sing ….