Class Clown Overachiever

There's no end to how much I instigate
like when I made you believe Watergate,
I faked the whole Kennedy assassination,
and I was high when I wrote Revelations,
I dug deep holes and buried big stones
so you'd think they were "dinosaur" bones,
I told Columbus that the world was round,
I made Darwin think his thoughts profound,
I faked the moon landing back in '69,
and made Joan of Arc think her will divine,
there's no end to how much I have created
like when she faked it when you ejaculated,
so when you brag of giving Ricky that wedgie,
remember how much you suck compared to me.

The Leonine

Of loyalty and blood and rebirth they elected to pride’s worth
that which seemingly did not belong, a fellowship of a throng,
bound by marks of beast and man which led to their own ban
from common civility and grace, for solace no more embraced,
deep within each tainted grove while two lions guarded cove
the nine legions had sacrificed and underwent the secret rites,
they being adept to this history, the forth of Mithras mystery,
led by Regulus, their own heart, they followed upon impart
to the blackened and forgotten comforting each misbegotten.

With leonine facies expelled, within anathema they rebelled,
with the great Sickle in hand Nemeans struck to make demands,
the covenant of flame took hold and scorched all of ebon-gold,
severing heads, devouring the meek from Cilicia to Belgique,
tugging at the Ashafera mane leading to lit scourge campaigns
across decadent Europa fields brandishing swords and shields
forged in the flesh of men with fast hearts and staunch skin,
Denebola lashed out from behind against an intolerant mankind,
they drained Nile from eclipse, as with all the waters in Egypt.

On horses galloping to end, upon horizon they would descend
into the east to return to city, but no remorse and never pity,
no tears would slip the feline eyes as they awaited to reprise,
the wicked sons of primal face found within their own place,
their home that of retribution by means of a fiery revolution,
setting aflame to the walls of men that will soon rise again,
but every ninth moon and ninth year on the horizon will appear
the burning pyre of hate and spite that will overtake the night,
and you will see a lion's sign and the raging rank of the Leonine.

Over Earl Grey

So, did you two hear about the big law suit
Motley Crue filed about managerial disputes?
"Oh, sure, as if Tommy Lee is a little genius,
since the wank gives more thought to his penis."
"Hey, you know I do not appreciate that speech."
"Then maybe you should practice what you preach."
"Excuse me, you selfish liar? Not sure I follow."
"Maybe you just bite more than you can swallow."
"Ok, I think I see where you are going with this,
pardon me but I just cannot help but reminisce
when you told that woman a bit you should not,
and please do not tell me you thought I forgot."
"Oh, whatever, asshole. I really should have known,
I mean, isn't it enough now that I am all alone?"
"Fine, we can just talk about something else then,
did you hear about Paris halving time in the pen?"
"Of course I heard, I always have my eyes on her,
but in all honesty, Lindsay is the one I prefer."
"Yeah, you always did like the whores, it seems."
"Thanks, bastard, you always did raise my esteem."
"Well, it's not like you ever listened to me anyway."
"That's probably because intelligence hates to obey."
"I am going to take the high road and ignore that."
"Or you will bring it up later, you spoiled brat,
since you seem to love holding a grudge against me."
Okay, fuck it! Why can't you both get along and agree?
I'm fucking sick of your blubbering whines and revel,
I'm done having this cup of tea with God and the Devil.

Soul Painting Aurora Borealis

At twilight, I knew she was awake
with illuminescent essence in acrylic
and the brush strokes as my eyes dart
back and forth over the nightly canvas
with my own deep breath as the lacquer,
sleepily drifting into heightened hues
that touched the lake as watercolors
and oxidized oils stretching the beyond,
then the pink pigments began pixilation
as my thoughts scattered and came to rest
upon her soft pastel face that glistened,
and at dawn, I knew she again slumbered.

La Principessa della Gente

From Sicilia to Sardegna, on each meager street
the bruised and the beggars sleep under her wing,
to sickly and each orphan- soft lullabies to sing
while held to bosom, she never tires on swift feet.
Through alleys and under eaves her will discreet,
for she lives in modesty, so humble in all things.
Eyes of esoteric humanity, the envy of all kings,
allowing accomplished tasks, completing all feats.
To the meek and trembling she offers protection,
the woman is republic itself, sovereign madonna.

She would say her beauty lay in imperfezione,
yet it is beautiful faults that make perfection.
So delicata and bella, sweet principessa Italiana,
with open lips and hands a prince offers affection.

The Old Laws

Perhaps such a pleasurable paradox
by the perceived and under pressure
to a partly powerless perfection,
for in the written words of why
waits the wisdom of what would be
while the world will walk away,
longing like lights looking down
little by little we begin to learn:
"Love is the law, love under will."

Two Tickets to Venice

Over the isles, the sea, and the Veneta lagoon
we landed down in great Venezia at day break,
I quenched my begging thirst that afternoon
and for the first time in years I felt awake.

On a gondola in the canal, in old opera houses,
through St. Mark's Square and the parliaments,
in all six sestieri and in the borque palaces
your hand was held in my own wherever we went.

In your eyes I saw a heart's passion of heritage,
by sharing this with me my old faith will renew,
and as the sun set to twilight at the water's edge
I fell for Venice almost as much as I fell for you.

The Salesman

You’ve led a worthless life,
your days are such a bore,
while you were pondering this
a salesman came to the door.

He greeted you with charm,
but you stood there so coy,
then he told you of his product,
he had come to sell you joy.

You became perplexed at this,
you were determined to know,
Is this happiness guaranteed?
The salesman’s reply was "No."

You then asked for a price,
his answer was "Free,"
your confusion only grew,
But how could this be?

The product he was offering
was something you had lost,
no guaranteed satisfaction,
and yet, it had no cost.

One more question arose,
you were determined to know,
Had anyone bought it before?
Once again, he said "No."

Money Don't Grow on Trees

One day, dear boy, when you're my age
with your hands calloused from labor,
you'll come to see through honest wage
that the good Lord done you a favor,
He put you here on this green Earth
to dig the fields and plant the seeds,
asking only for you to show your worth
by giving thanks with all good deeds,
I know a dollar ain't the means to all
but you got to work and do your best,
so now on your feet and stand up tall
'cause this here's God's tender test,
so you might not understand this now
but someday I know you'll come to find
you can see it too and you'll know how
to work like me, finding peace of mind.

Sweet Redneck Girl

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7 Years Today

My heart has been a balloon just waiting to bust,
but you gave up on me, and you gave up on us,
I'm breaking the chains until we say goodbye,
remember your words, your promises were lies.

I break loose of these chains, and I cut all ties,
your words meant nothing, your promises were lies,
our memories are fading and this door is shut,
these were just seven years wasted, and for what?

You may not remember my words, but hear the tone,
it still rung in your ears when I hung up the phone,
I asked for your feelings, but all you gave was anger,
but tell me, how will it be when all I am is a stranger?

The gifts were dishonest, and the pictures were fake
because I gave you too much trust, I made a mistake,
your day of reckoning will come, and you'll reflect,
but will it be what you want or what you’d expect?

I break loose of these chains, and I cut all ties,
your words meant nothing, your promises were lies,
our memories are fading and this door is shut,
these were just seven years wasted, and for what?

I loved you, but my words can only say so much,
but I'm the only one who sees you're out of touch,
you lied to yourself, and built a wall over your heart,
and you embraced reckless abandon after your depart.

Seven years gone, and five were for naught,
but you picked your battles and you fought,
so I give you seven goodbyes, one for each year,
and one more goodbye for each you're not here.

I break loose of these chains, and I cut all ties,
your words meant nothing, your promises were lies,
our memories are fading and this door is shut,
these were just seven years wasted, and for what?

So just forget my words for your seven year loss,
you know the methods and now I know the cost,
all I have left is regret, and overwhelming shame,
and I wonder, will you even remember my name?

Seed

Within dawn of the gallows
he enters against behest,
by no trouble to topple
or cause to capsize,
from bound into brick
lay wait the seed,
the fetus of and in repose
impregnated by an ultraist
of the blanketed tomorrow,
hinging on a thrill of hunt
and encompassed by rings
the zealot makes chance
birth through attainment,
silently between sun and soot
a sanguine son of the earth
acquires back by force
that which does not belong.

As the Lethargic Leviathan Dreams

White words and lies reside within his mouth,
beneath his tongue and behind the teeth,
but words are not a cause of fire by south,
nor is the heath a cause to rest beneath.

The giant bred dreams, facts from fiction,
and yet no more deceit than what was due
to only bring about his mind's depiction
and perhaps to birth true from the untrue.

As the world forgot, the colossus would not,
he, with one eye open and one eye sealed,
gave the undeserving his unconscious plot
and soon the leviathan's dreams revealed.

Illumination

a realization within a breath
--just breathe in
transpose from disorder to tranquility;
a (pause)......for new reasoning,
trepidation and confusion will soon settle

transcending fate and karma-
from its peak to descent,
cascade to the underbelly
falling in by lone digits (1 x 1 x 1)
hand in hand to a final sum

from beaten to broken, from apex
to nether to the wet pool of pattern
you envision the circumference:
(π x 2r = c) while (c = amity)
--o p e n your eyes
you find symmetry in the equation
by the two halves to a whole

--on your own accord,
concentrate on the moment
and focus on your metamorphosis
as you begin blooming to iconic illumination

the energy transforms to kinetic;
beyond this transparency will lead
to the elimination of plausible denial
of the only true number: 1

now no longer o-b-s-c-u-r-e-d

Flowers for Charlie

born on the bycintinial
in the green gras of the riviera,
a perlecent puburty perhaps,
but i am that man no longr

tho i've yet to remane sober
to cure this ich,
but peece with god has ben made

Grasshopers sit in the maple tree with me
sharing stories and tales of denyall,
but they're to small to ever admit
and I'm to young to grow old,
yet the tick-tick-ticking of my isolation
gives this fever less reeson to pass.

I feel the difference deep inside,
so I keep a distance,
born on the Bicentennial
in the green grass of the Riviera,
I will find my way back
into the hands and the grace of God,
after forty years, I say goodbye.

In the Authorized Defense of John Warner

Men marched and tanks rolled right down the Main Street bridge
covering the city like ants while the tribunals stood the ridge,
the new curfew came into effect as toy soldiers with M-16s patrolled,
their divine right, a mandate of Heaven, meant democracy was sold,
no longer a popular sovereignty, the Monarch had made his decree,
By the Grace of God, on October 17, the kingdom become a theocracy,
behind locked doors this occupation instilled fear into a few,
with swollen, tearful eyes and dying hope, they were easily subdued,
but newly risen was a fury of defiance made with sticks and stones,
with bricks and shields made of metal, we overcame skin and bones,
our concocted cocktails scorched the lawful believers and their falsehood,
and with the guilty punished, we knew the Hex-Committee now understood.