Wednesday, March 24, 2010

Another Word For Euphemism

I am burning in a trillion fires.
Skin crawls with solar dustmites,
As busy bees burrow through the sinews.
I refuse to remain at rest.

Romani Ite Domum
Vincit omnia veritas.

"Completion in return
To creation's breath embrace
Recalls protonic dowry"
Says the lizard king.

Romani Ite Domum
Vincit omnia veritas.

From whence strides the lion
Riding copper moons and
Half-caulked clambakes.
Transparecendence ensuing.

Romani Ite Domum
Vincit omnia veritas.

Eating our tails and fathers,
Riding our neighbors daughters,
L'offense ne passera pas
Conflict makes the heart beat stronger.

Romani Ite Domum
Vincit omnia veritas.

Saddle the tiger sideways
And grasp your hat firmly,
It'll get much worse
Before it's better.

Sunday, March 21, 2010

my heart lies

my heart lies
in careful grace
of crafted callouses
in stagnant balance
on the precipice
over treacherous slopes of passion
in vertigo

amor in utero
will surely grow
to grind my meat
upon the rocks

so I hide my face
in cakes of mud
carve warning glyphs
into my carapace
with a sharp, pointed stick
and keep it handy
for whoever gets too close

Saturday, March 20, 2010

Whora, The Urban Explora

I ate half an ounce of mushrooms last year at my birthday party and wandered off in search of some answers.

Outside "Bob"'s Karaoke Club and Meet Market I met a cartoon Spanish girl, dressed like a slut.

She jumped out of the shadows like the Spanish Inquisition and screeched at me in a thick latin accent.

"Hola! I'm Whora! And this is my sidekick, Coots!"

"I don't see anybody with you," I said.

"He's very shy around new people! If you tell him your name, he will come out and say... Hola!"

"My name is Jason," I said.

"Coots! Come out and say... Hola! to Jason!" she said.

A large, purple louse emerged from her miniskirt and waved three of its scaly, segmented arms at me.

It said, "Mucho gusto, Jason!" and went back into hiding.

Wednesday, March 3, 2010

Eduardo's Soliloquy

I greet the morning sun with a shout,
And stretch full to let her bask in my glory.

It's my turn;
Today I shine.

I've seen the others,
And tasted them.
Too weak to make the cut,
They'll make the chopping-block instead.

Their watery blood whets my appetite
but lacks substance to sate it.

When the man comes to pick his winner,
Will be the name on his lips.
And I will win for him,
And for myself.

Tuesday, March 2, 2010

A minute or two

People ask what's the point of poetry
and only stop to listen when you shout it
if that's what it takes to get through to them
believe that I'm bout it-bout it
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