Saturday, November 17, 2007


When I went away,
did you laugh,
did you cry.
I never thought about
not seeing you
with me.
it was a whole summer
and I'm already
that you were here,
with me.
Those soft and blurry
of you are fading
into smudges
in my brain that I
wish I could refresh
by seeing you.
I loved you,
and I still do,
these memories the greatest
treasures I hold dear,
locked away from the touch
of others,
a gift.
I miss you,
and only the sweet summer sun,
can re-etch
those feelings back
into my head.

I don't feel well. At all.... there's nothing I can do about it either really. The songbird outside the window with the stained green glass, overlooking the gently sloping gray dales that are covered with the ancient purple heather we walked through [do you remember yet?], ever the wind which goes over the top of them and comes down on the other side, like a laughing kite, diving, soaring, whistling through the huge valleys in between. I miss you, my hands are cold and I am alone among my peers until I can see you again, be with you again. Your lovely brown eyes are pressed into my thoughts, I want to talk to you rather than rely on a memory of you that is wasting away, succumbing to be eaten by time itself.

Sunday, November 11, 2007


the people say
they came to rest
upon the shore, one day
blown away
from homes on best,
of lands they came from faraway.
a group of men,
tall, each like a mercenary,
the final icing of defeat
none too strong to massacre,
the living and the dead.

Did you ever hear
of them
who came
the back lanes
rusting bicycles
with every tensing push,
the lone gray


And then, heaven opened up like wildfier
on a cool summers night,
not taking any chances with the luck.
The sky, all glowing of amber shades
the eyes of men,
glazed in porcelain hues of white
and red.
Hearts, made of flesh and feeling,
all turned to dust,
with divine intervention,
fly away.
Created from the flotsam and jetsam,
all great things come to pass,
from the smallest grain of sand,
to the largest fire in the sky.

Thursday, August 9, 2007

i am st. archangel

do you see them,
they are marching
do you see them,
they are dying
heaven open up your broken heart
the lost ones who you made from the start
the shattered bones that snap like little piroettes of glass
souls gone to hell on earth
as he said it “those ones came for us, and then they took us” they are the killers the psychotropic mass-murderers with their eyes of diamond and a wreckless heart of powdered Cocain
sheen of sweat it glistens above the hot sun,
in the hands of the endless forger,
the great scorekeeper in the sky see me,
i am st. archangel i am st. archangel
i do not think you can see them
they are burning up like rotten ash in a boiler furnace
they are eaten up like ground meat pulverized by the endless chopping and cutting of silver-hued knives
they are murdered like lambs at slaughter
their flesh is already the feast of those who will replace them;
it is fate undone and cannot be kept away
those who follow in ttheir well-worn paths will take on the pain that is never going to disappear
they will take on the corpses that are once the living
and then become the dead
“those ones came for us, and then they took us”
they come again,
those ones never tire of what they do
they kill
their souls are like the ones they take to keep
they are just as dead as those who come after they have taken all who walk in their shadow
there is no shadow the eyes have ground them into shards of cultured glass
i am st. archangel i am st. archangel i am st. archanegl
do you not see what i put on the plate before you it is pure muscle it is human it is fresh it is the corpes of all those come were before you and then after you like you
they only saw the little shining lights
they didn’t see the death see it know it is death,
you are all gone too
thrown to pieces against a wall of bones your own faces now made of luxurious skin will be turned to stone you are the little pieces on the next plate
i can’t save you
i won’t save you
i am st. archangel i am st. archangel I AM ST. ARCHANGEL