Tag Archives: Counseling

The Clothed Usage

Life, Poetry, , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , ,

If color would leave my lungs
I would birth the upside bloom
Stumbling wind to nakedness

Looping in it’s infant wool
Their church structured maids
Where faithful organs cry

Kneeling tears to write
The poised triangular remark
In my conscious amber bourbon

Whispering news-printed thighs
Of come here little girl
Promises obeying the hush

In it’s measureless dark
Soul squinting perforation
Cluttering the yellower bee stolen

Buzzing yet louder
Unbalanced in numb prayers
Altar struggled teething reaching skies

Sky I stand here
Dimly in this battle
In this hived sullied crime scene

Sky vigil these wrist
Ferny razors for leaves
Rooting rust for moons

Engendering your ample stitching
Laboriously seaming my primal veins to mighty
Inundating my pulse in your indestructible selvage evermore

He’s got Another woman Now

Art, Poetry, , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , ,

That’s the reason that he’s gone now
And left you black and blue now
That old fool’s tellin’ everybody now
He’s sick and tired of you . . .

My Come Home Whiskey

Running away was the regrettable choice
Lesson the rivalry pride at home
With your veined mapped ancestors
Who love your mad
Your wild
Love your parents, the lamas, the trees and the Eskimos, unceasingly.

‘The first time I ran away I saw faces in the tree I heard voices in the in the storm they said . . water falls . .’

Running away was the regrettable choice

La Verita Sulla Separazione

Poetry, , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , ,

The Truth About Separation

Fleshed and illustrated
On the infamous obeying tug
Shielding color unripe
My glory descends from them
Their wedded embrace
For kilometer custody
Sun moneyed no scruples
Braved my accepting fate
Granting swaddling crops
Of clairvoyant crayolas
Piercing circled eared vows
To dear you neutrality
Shade you ample supple snouts
Filling vacuity meadow mute love
Echoing you kneel cupped sentiment
Stitching thin lips to smiles
Disobeying wallpapered laws
For the meatless graying bones
And yes I am eccentric mister
And I never really knew you at all
But those two trees brilliantly vein
Deeper in my woods
Deeper than justice axe could cut
You can keep your white saint raves
Your blind slaved love
I remain here spotless with soul
Seizing happy hostage waiting returns
My childbirth sanctuaries
Rocking my chair riddles
Go on enjoying your drift
Feign possessing paragon heart
Wait almost done penciling your shame
Before I cordially go
Don’t pray for me wasting tendons
My outlined homecoming weighs in stones
Mastering blood levels against eyeless faces
I am all religion denouncing command  . . .

How High

Art, Poetry, , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , ,

Massachusetts 1997

This is me
This is him
My sketched soul
My crude materialism
My religious point of view
The Christ arranging agony
Numbing blood clots to jaw
Unreeling lamplight habit
Shrinking veins to rockets
Red man bulldozer
Cornering exact blue dislike
For the blue stood fruit
Vociferating mammal love
Motherly fatherly sisterly
Horizontally you left me
Spectacularly attracting ashes
Engulfing teethed lies
Wasteful marched prayers for sinners
Sodding the tongued blissful joy
Corrupting my pupils communion tablets
 Blow cloud-banked dismay fumbling exhale
Pale blue hills of incline preferred embraced handshakes
No frames of worship just indigo lit light
Lighting blank paper to live in the quiet of it’s tapestry
Where the soul bends every numbing finger to stem

‘How High’ – Resides in a dusty post High School portfolio with freckled love notes