the chalk line.

i hope someone sees today it may just wash away.
and this tragic city bleeds, its paved streets misery,
its street lamps flickering, the cars come sputtering.
amidst all the clamor and its own relenting glamor,
people see and people talk. so i draw the line in chalk,
and hope someone sees today before it washes all away.

Left to Stay

It was that day
that I broke away
and sold to fold
and left to stay.
I left to stay.


the remnant of an outlaw. (revised)

maybe you could have told me why
not all my actions have consequences,
and that gravity is just an invisible prison.
or perhaps you could have described to me
how each wrinkle on your face
was actually a scar,
and that time was simply
supplemental to a lacking life.

your fits of anger and tiding rage had reason,
i think, but i suppose
i will never feel that foundation.

they stole your sanity,
and they stole your concern,
and all they left your lonesome self
was a provocation.
subdued and bound in earthly chains
you buried yourself beneath haze,
yet my own memories are not clouded,
not of your view.

i will never know why you saved those years for me
or why i can't let you rest in peace.
the memories continue to loop when i drink
and i begin to realize
i do this more often than i thought.

behind that fragile shell
cased in bigotry and malice
was a man i still have yet to become,
but come soon.

they say your heart faded fourteen years
preceding your body.
i wonder if they will say the same for me.

this heart runs on steam

here i found i feel volatile again
my heart runs just as a steam train
so pour it in with what's in reach
to keep it running you fill the breach

but that void's hunger will never end
the heat always burn every friend
that get too close once let in
that get too close once let in

because this heart runs on steam
this heart runs on steam

the engine races without looking back
dragging the train down that track
picking up its pace and falling apart
headed to an ending that didn't start

here i found i feel volatile again
the heat always burn every friend
that get too close once let in
that get too close once let in

because this heart runs on steam
this heart runs on steam

the heat always burn every friend
but that void's hunger will never end
you got too close once let in
you got too close once let in

because this heart runs on steam
this heart runs on steam

nothing to say.

there are those nights when the words
begin to flow right through me
and i'm too drunk to write them down
or too tired to remember
and too lazy to care.
there are nights when i have nothing to say at all
and there are days that i'm carried
from one to the next
on nothing but words i should've said.
we're told if we have nothing good to say,
then say nothing at all.
it would seem that over time
this is the only lesson i might ever really learn.
so i'll just keep my goddamn, self-punctuated mouth shut.

a waking life. (revised)

in a waking life
you see the sun set and
you rise in the early hours
to hapless moments
measured in clock-ins
and coffee machine coffee breaks, and
Monopoly money paychecks
and empty smiles from co-workers
with four kids,
lemon cars,
disability, diabetes and cancer,
and two mortgages,
and cats that eat only table scraps, and
none of them know
why they persist

you work your way to the top,
reminiscence about the good-ol'-days,
take out student loans,
date a few pretty girls,
and hunker down to a homely place,
and buy yourself a quaint, little house
on the good side of town
where you can share years
of marriage, and maybe
some children of your own
that will go to your childhood school
with those favored teachers you still recall,
where you can become a part of the PTA
and bitch about taxes,
about foreign trade and immigration,
about oil, global warming and traffic,
about family and friends, and bank loans,
about big business, Darfur and BP,
about the kids who throw rocks in your yard,
about God, government, and the whole world twice over,
you can complain about the meat from the supermarket,
and how they're teaching your kids,
and who's running for president,
and where they're building the newest mini-mall,
and when your boss promises to get you that raise,
and why everyone thinks your DUI was a big deal,
and what your ex-wife got in the fucking divorce

and then in a waking life
you see your son set in
motion absolutely everything
you never wanted for yourself,
but couldn't think to ever prevent.


Life Here Anymore (You Won't Find)

It's no secret that you're plastic fake,
and all your mistakes and all your hate
reveal the weight of all my options
where caution and fate renegotiate,
yet never hold true, 'cause it's the me
that can see right through the you,
you want to retry, you want to undo,
'cause all you're really hoping for
is an almost forgotten life to restore,
but you won't find one here anymore,
no, you won't find that life here anymore.

Your heart begins to swell, this is hell,
no matter what you say or what they tell
it's as good as it gets, the shoe that fits,
keep your wits, and you'll be just find,
or you won't, it was only a matter of time,
something you barely had in the first place,
gone without trace, ghosting a cursed place,
and the look on your face is distraught,
a pain you've felt a lot, and why the hell not?
the little string of lies is all you ever taught,
the string of lies was all your face had taught.

You set in motion something without plan,
without reason, without notion or upper hand,
I stayed in place, and held sure like stone,
you played the race, your true face shown
and held down in disgrace, you can't erase,
but perfect only gets you so far, for so long,
'til everything you have is broken and gone,
promises rang hollow, and I refused to follow,
or give you the slightest hope to regain ground
lost in pursuit of happiness you may have found,
in the pursuit of whatever you may have found.

So, I'm not afraid to face this all alone,
and I'm damned sure you haven't changed,
haven't grown, or ever had a hope to atone,
so let's pretend we never met, never learned,
never walked away, and never burned each
and every word that was ever in our reach,
let's pretend I never opened up that door,
'cause all that you're really hoping for
is a fucking forsaken life you can restore,
but you won't find one here anymore,
no, you won't find that life here anymore.



In the beginning,
there was a being,
supreme in all things,
as which there was nothing,
save for himself,
and he was alone,
but he needed man,
as man would soon need him,
so he created mankind,
in his image,
as which there was nothing else,
and he was proud,
so he created laws,
as which there were none,
and man broke his laws,
as he knew they would,
so he created punishment
for breaking his laws,
as which he loved mankind,
and man forgot him,
as which he needed them
and they needed him no longer,
so man created laws,
as which they had none,
and they created punishment,
as which there was none,
and created themselves,
in his image,
and forgot mankind,
and they were proud.


Atop the tallest tree in the land
abode three unlikely cohorts.
The first was a solemn eagle,
noble in nature,
and proud and handsome,
who sought peace in his provinces.

The second was a rooster,
who, despite his will
to appease his persons
and attend matters as the eagle had,
was known well as the tree serpent.

But it was the third creature
who held the true
dragon's forked tongue
in the mask of a curious rodent.
And the squirrel squandered his days
tormenting his fellow friends
with words of spite
and sowing seeds of doubt.

Malice fed the land
as the fowl had met their match
in Ratatosk.

The Ruling of Cinder and Ash

He held the burning blade high,
Eyes and tongue and iron had feasted well,
Not of Utgard, nor Hel nor Asgard persisted,
Yggdrasil crumbled and scorched to ash,
A pyre was made of the great World Tree
Where a sea of fire smote its limbs
Consuming man, elf and god alike,
From the depths of Niflheim it reached
And left one to rule a world of cinder and ash,
Surtur held the burning blade high.

The Verge of Mount Ararat

All hail the glorious,
victorious, and heroic dead.
All relish in their deeds.
Send them your blessings.
Send them your offerings.
Sing to them songs of pride.
Write of their noble valor.
And then burn the scrolls and tablets
and topple their sacred temples.
Man needs no idols to keep him comfort.

A Leaf from Your Brow

In truth, you tricked,
deceived, influenced; and
consorted with kin
to send them well
on their way,
as Skrymir in kind.

The Serpent Fills the Sky

He reign down from the skies
and splits the earth divide.
Terror fills the swollen streets
as men shamble to defeat.
He is Leviathan. He is god-
monster come reign supreme.
An apostle of fear. The chaos king.
Serpentine doom-bringer of worlds.
He reign down from the skies
and drinks the tiding flood cries.
Horror fills the soon dying lands
amidst seas of prayer and clasped hands.
The serpent fills the skies
and the earth fills the serpent.


We Own the Night

As men on a path
born by a wrath
of unkind virtues not taught;

We set out alone
hopeless to atone
as those come overwrought.

No plan, and no gain
to relinquish our pain,
but will to find what we sought.

With our last breaths
swore by our deaths
no villains will halt how we fought.

But we set in abound
to hold and surround
buildings that annul and ignite.

Our hearts were weighed
upon our parade
to street lamps that may alight.

We sang and marched
leaving us parched,
yet pressed on with our might.

So let us raise toast
to the coming ghosts
of those of us who own the night.

So let us raise toast
to those of us who own the night.



Drenched in darkness, and soaked in Saturn,
I let loose the tides of reversion and retrogenesis.
I've a mouth for chaos and a gut for unlaw, and
I'll drain the sky of all its power to regress for
chance, a chance.

Awaiting the newest tribunal in strict confines
for an inverse, perverse audition not unmarked
and not unkind, though that holds no justice, and
no litigation. An ataxia habeas corpus. A hearing for
chance, a chance.

Lilith waits my indictment, Baphomet stands seizure,
and who am I to attest such a solid court? Never
two alike, nor attested in unfair cross-examination,
I await the final prosecution of a dynamical system for
chance, a chance.

Samael is false, as the Blind Dragon is beguiling,
as is Lamia, Lillu, and the infamous screech owl.
All are apocryphal and blasphemous to each reach,
and all should pay so dearly upon their own sayers for
chance, a chance.

All queens of Babylon and kings of Sumer sit by
idly, and graven imagined, amidst the dynasty of one:
for a house that sinks down to death, for the wings
of the fallen, for the gates of Sheol, for all things and for
chance, a single, solemn chance.


It's not that I'm too afraid to change.
It's that I'm scared I'll never be the same.
You say that I procrastinate the day,
but I've spent my life living this way.

The Glorious and Noble Janitor

I am here.
But here in my homeland,
for my mind's sake,
I have to believe the parts are greater than their sum.

Upset the Balance

I love the sound of thunder.
To my ears, and hand-in-hand,
with the sight of a terrible storm,
it brings me a sense, a feeling,
of chaos that desires to upset the balance,
to break order.


I'll be waiting down by the docks,
even though I know you won't show.
I'll be sitting at the end of a pier
waiting for you to meet me there.


I wish you would have had the guts to tell me the truth.
You called me a coward in secret, and lied to family and friends.
I knew the truth without a word.
Remember, I predicted it years ago.
We are only our parents' children.
Nothing more.


Waarfhoezen and Burum

Steeped in infamy unkind and stepped in ties bind due north
I centered my true path upon stone and lath and went forth.
With no two bandits, nor even two hermits, shown ever alight
where silk trades for cotton for those misbegotten in sight.
On a rightful pilgrimage beneath a justful passage weighed in
to count of Spanish scholars by a lady of seven dolours within.
To escape a Sea of Wadden and drivel of wise men so untrue
I collected twigs and logs amidst a dense fog to form a canoe.
Upon the morning light mine eyes greeted sight of a new home
in an old hermit's abode at the end of a road: a one man Rome.


Days to Come

You sleep soundly now.
Your breath is clockwork in your repose,
and your mind tries to trace the steps back
to where you went wrong.
I creep quietly now.
My breath is held in my stalk,
and my hand grips the handle of the blade
as I make you smile beneath your chin.
The years will fade
and decades will pass away,
and as children of days to come look back,
they will not remember today.
They will not remember today.



Too far
from the winds
that could blow
or from the waters
that could flood
or from the quakes
that could topple
and shake this away.


The R-Town Zombie Invasion (revised)

I was headed out on my way to work when I walked by a passive retail clerk
who had empty eyes and a blank look. So I stopped him and threw a right hook,
and grabbed the tire iron behind the seat and beat him down to the concrete.
I knew this poor bastard had been bit and he would probably never make it.
The R-town zombie invasion had begun. I knew the undead had finally come.

So I called Tyler and Sheebs, but they were already on their way to see me.
There was a group between our trucks. So we sped up, jumped out and ducked.
The sky lit up and left the group dead 'cause of all the nitroglycerin in the bed
that I keep for situations just like this, 'cause I always knew that zombies exist.
Out of ammo, so we went to the gun store ’cause we’d been through this before,
but the guy at the desk had that same look and thirst. So we shot that fuck first.

I saw some zombie kids headed off to school, but to them I couldn't be as cruel.
Rather than shoot them in the head, I ran them over with a school bus instead.
John lopped off the head of an old bitch and she fell down and started to twitch.
Kevin beat in a ghoul's brain with a spade like he was on a fucking crusade,
and tore off another's arm with his own hands and beat down a marching band,
Brock pushed a shopping cart full of kerosene at some fat chicks with ice cream
and shot off a round that blew off their faces, and their hair, and their braces.

We hit the streets with shotguns and grenades as the zombies began to invade,
and decided we probably needed an assist, so we called all our friends to enlist,
but none of 'em lasted too long 'cause it was only we who had been ready all along.
We blew up the mall and shot up Wal-Mart, but all of that was just the start.
I rigged explosives to McDonald’s and BK, and then burned down China Buffet.
We attacked every place where people go and left Richmond with a new asshole.

We hit the quarries on 121 and 227, 'cause the damned don't get into Heaven,
and took two giant dump trucks 'cause they were dead and didn't give a fuck.
Then we siphoned gas from Speedway and Shell after we sent them all to Hell,
and turned the town into a police state and then we reassembled for our fate
to blockade all of the roads and doors and load back up to prepare for more.

With Molotov cocktails and machetes, the fucking undead will never be ready
for the four Horsemen of the Apocalypse who severe heads and empty clips
like a little kid begging for some candy. So sit back and crack open the brandy
and celebrate the end of this shithole town as we four turn it all upside down.
When you see us next you may want to grin. Otherwise we’ll have to kill again.
The pandemic will spread across the USA. I've waited my whole life for this Z-Day.


the passion of perdition.

enter sedition.
and they,
thwarting few pockets
of passionate resistance,
and grossly underestimating
our complete displeasure,
all but hand the world over.

civil disobedience is ultimately
much more beautiful
than the swollen, setting sun.
hand in hand, hand to hand
we pass the shells
like a quarter mile relay.

and they being cowards
and we being brave
bring a timely color
to an otherwise transparent world
with cocktails and songbird songs.

consumed by the hate,
welcome to the end:
nothing will fucking remain.