witticism

consummate circles scurry to establish
well-worn sheaves of hearty critique
regarding last words by greats made great
for fame, shame, and enormous responsibility
undertaken by rusted hands and cutting remarks.
immaculate execution, executive decisions
by which placement adhered to silent bias
glides forth, as does a crushing wave

heaving hormones bursting flow with
pleasant repentance on the wings of
trumpet blares and roadside flares:
a pairing contrived by stylish concerns.
forgive me, please, my restlessness:
for once again, i am merely bored.

nevermind

oh, no; of course not, ever.
i'm sorry that i even asked.
please, don't, seriously, it's not
even anything, it's
silly, really.

no, no-- forget it, it's
nothing at all,
nothing at all.
hey, now listen; consider it dropped.
geez, i wish i had never
even thought to bring it up.

in lights

mmmm
wasted days have fallen prey to
idle thoughts on myriad ways
a mind entranced by solemn self
could wallow, wash, and fade to grays;

stirring, still, a hopeful look
that brings to heart a raucous jolt,
yet none too often understood
to bring to mind, reviving it

rendless endition

hopi wont to crack of dawn;
stumbling out from foldback flap of
painted peeling leath'ry tent
to don the skin he sings and sins in
out his pitted, gash-ed soul.

sandy eye curb blasting rays:
a sunrise strip 'cross desert plains,
the flats a-waver, scorched by day,
hinc illae lacrimae:
from abyssal part of pupil sting,
to ruddy basin claywrought bowl.

hopeful abandon

the race of mothers is truly dead,
preyed upon by vicious
means of unjust ends,
strength looked over outside limitations
of disaster society,
made self-assured by
self-justification
in the face of enormous oppression
to be fuddled with the warring world of
self-destructive regression.
sweet expanse across which are knead
further exploits in fatuity.
In all for sake it silent shrieks for
freedom, or the sense it's free.

crimson casket

outside the world of spins and lights the
happy take of joyous sight,
a blood-red matting sprawled beneath parade
of brilliant
facade:
pasty white and touched with hair in all of the perfect heres and theres,
style accord with ironic word, s'much involved with the a la mode;
and minds ablaze with rhetoric,
feverish discourse of pristine chic.
the mundane roar of the glorious mass,
hysterically jaded, from side to side a-pupils cast,
in desperate search for
cues and hints of how to proceed around the edge
of foreign things without consensus.
I shudder to think our Boheme elite, usurped by
image priority,
devoid of substance, 1-2-3.

piercing eyes can participate, or assumptions made by
groaning, solemn, self-composed manner,
but
i tire of the rabbit chase:
i long to speak without being heard, or waited for without a word,
instead of a grasping search for vapid, empty thoughts
at which to hurl upon the floor in hopes to
impress upon those assembled
the height and import of empty vessels,

but as consumption sets and shifts us t'wards the ease of impress,
we applaud and sing when we are met,
the audience a-fiddles, a mastered shade plays, with all of the right riddles
and ways in his way

a coward's quiver

oft and on, i've slipped through cracks of hapless rationale
with fingers crossed behind my tail,
an awful sorry glance thrown over my left shoulder
into the face of a salty Satan, as she mutters
an Oath to self, a prayer thrown t'wards the sky for
my Health might fail, and my soul should Die;

or at least I'd think that's what she'd be, as I skip
off so could I might see
some place where I might could might should might would might chance to hide.

addendum

doleful souls, gored by hopeful
hopes of homes as they exist within
the hearts of lovers' lips.

everhard favors

up ahead, the way i've seen
is bright and shining, wet and glistening
something golden, lined with leafy trees and
paved with good intentions;
my eyes are wet and glistening gold
my cold lips mutter something cold
and flutter-byes with iridescent wings
brushing snow from jacket sleeve
with biting wind to ears-a-sting.