Guilt

I only deal in absolutes,
in outré dreams and fickle truths,
the poky speed of feckless youth—
invulnerable to change.

Then fix a bowl of nothing soup,
and gorge on packaged pickled shoots;
the bamboo bits lodged in my tooth
sit stabbing at my brain.

It sprouts inside my throat and lungs,
and flows in waves beneath my tongue
with bated breath, tokeko nang†,
my wayward mind to blame.

Then blooms upon my fingertips,
and runs in streaking ember bits,
puddles of ink where patience slips:
akrasia, for shame.

Re-treat

Spilt onto a paperback,
I sputter ink and artefact,
the kickshaw in my cardiac
presented as hors d'oeuvre.

Then lift the cloche from kneaded stacks
of braided prose and empty vats
once filled with cognizance ganache
and wince as you observe.

Now sip on white-out super-glue
in hopes the dirty petals you
find stuck in stomach lining do
not cough up past the nerves.

But suckling the siphon, who
once clamored in indictment, knew
now choking on the hyphen
was a matter too absurd.

In The Wood

In my tunic, threaded bare,
I pass a tree, and etchèd there,
an olden Punic lesson where
I'm told to seek my truth.

and yet, I feel a wave of calm
in squatting down, and thereupon
unfurling til the break of dawn,
and plucking at my lute.

The kickshaw turned ambrosial through
my rest, and the proposal to
invest in mine own multitude
has paid me back in full.

Whilst treading still a path anew,
perhaps it was the attitude
of lapsing once in platitudes
that stitched these fibers whole.

Tipsy

It's pooling in my mouth again:
honey-slick vocabulary
laced in informalities,
the urge to bare my crooked teeth.

My body's fallen victim
to your subtle incapacitating—
limerence in lethal doses
staining red my stinging cheeks.

Alvida, Amphigory

Unraveling the love I’ve laundered,
rolling up my woolen sleeves,
the words condensed in clouds of sonder
pour and drift through autumn breeze

and whistle through the chimes that
you've left dangling beneath your ears,
the melody unfettered,
uninhibited by fickle fears,

still carries but a note of what you mean to me—
a demisemiquaver in the face of all eternity,

but if, for thirty-seconds
I can break from this monotony,
and sing to you a song whose lyrics constitute a harmony,
then I can bid adieu.

On Sensibility

If I could slip outside the realm
of tepid takes and watered woes,
I'd float against the heat and loss
of blanket truths and bungalows;

For rain that pierces through the helm
is rapid in unwinding those
indig'nant concrete allots
of hankered seats left unexposed.

But if I could cement myself,
I'd like to ask you follow through
with hopping off the fence from which
you savor this unflavored view;

For while the comfort that it's dealt
is ever so okay to you,
this oak is at a fever pitch
and cracks beneath a pound or two.

Zugzwang

Take a look:
forsaken pieces
lost to skewered elephants.

My dearest vice,
your zenith lies
in valleys of my elegance.

Deny the draw
to watch me scramble,
landing on ineloquence.

The damnéd ticking,
mocking bouts of
unrequited sentiments.

Model Soldier

First to fight, first to die!
Oorah, Marines, wave that flag up high!

Ol' Bush gave us the go,
said they've got W-M-somethin'.
I don't care where I'm stationed
long as my gun gets a puffin'!

We're gonna liberate these guys!
But what's a war without sport?
Line up the nearest civilians!
BANGBANGBANGBANGBANGBANGBANGBANGBANGBANGBANGBANGBANGBANGBANGBANGBANGBANGBANGBANGBANGBANGBANGBANGBANG!!

Sorry Major, we really tried;
just leave it out the report.
We found oil in the trillions!
"On second thought, send in more."

We get to have another war!
Where is it now? Still the Gulf? 'Nam?
Another drop of the black stuff!
Here's to bombing Afghanistan!!

Attennnn-tion! Face the children as they die!!
You remember the slogan:
Not a man left behind!

Semper fi.

Collapse

My darling knows my pressure points;
she prods at them methodically,
her diction glazed in honey,
and her piercing gaze leukotomy.

The meraki in every touch—
I long, my dear, one thing: to be
a sculpture moistened by your lips
and moulded by your artistry.

If you'll indulge me, tell me my
aloofness makes me look askance,
and when you whisper nothings to me,
cease your hearing in advance.

Just close your eyes at that! because
your gaze will make a mess of me;
I'm turning to the audience
and squealing in soliloquy.

Surge & Blow

Fingers crosséd,
eyelids shut,
éclair!
I swear it happened, but

my hands were sodden,
palms were clasped
in prayer;
your snare entrapping what

now little I have left
to call
despair,
and calling thunder unto

ev'ry last inhibitor—
right there!

I can't resist
the current flow

Ad Nauseam

Please ignore the putrid smell—
wilted tongue and candle wicked
fi'ry gall, o fie upon
the cursèd hands beneath the picket reaching for a purer soul
to leech and free of freedom, flitted
layers of the mangled organ:
pressèd keys, the tune ill-witted

seeping into wrinkled tissue,
huffing floral-scented diction,
peeling at the cardiac
to pierce the thing with 4D vision!

Suckle on the needle,
feign discovery, enlightenment,
the hubris of the damned is shattered right upon indicting it;

and leave it lying on the page—
wretched lies and malice-driven
malisons contrived from guilty
images of horror-stricken
men inside the mirror
forming virtual conglomeration,
stripped of personality
and wiped of moral obligation.