Digitz

The tips of my fingers are wrath

spotted in the blood and bile of my enemies

running and dripping and pooling,

these coils of red, they are the lubricant of my battle,

Malice are my hands, my tools of war

my destruction, my hatred personified in flesh

they are my black hammers of retribution,

I am their wielder as they call me to war.

Motion Emotion

Broken eyes came in hate
Your scythe lips tossed thinking to the hills
Light not quite clean wanting darkness
Revealed through broken clouds
You realized sadness suddenly
Half-uttered
In the impartiality of my face.

Glory Mire

I stand with dignity, my will not to submit,
I am malignant in my disposition,
Some small cancer of disposed greed,
I am excelsior, I am competent.

My honor is my crutch,
A broken metaphor or obligation of some corrupt idea,
A code by which I raise, I ride, I abide
I am exquisite, I am ideal.

Thoughts of expressive guilt,
And unfinished business of razor clawed angst
Is an explosive storm of toothless madness,
I am the sum of my faults, I am real.

Boast inside my chest, pits of my cockles
Braggart and bloodthirsty, a loaded cannon primed
Flash-pan written collection in ensorcelled tempest,
I am a blurb, I am bona fide.

In my pit, pitted against, pitied against,
Fishbowl menagerie of collated philosophy
Running with scissors stepped down in anxiety ridden abuse
I am unfeigned brutality, I am genuine.

In my mirror I have an image of mythic man,
Deep bearded, peppered with age experience, compassion, and stain
Skin that is smoked with too many problems, tinged with unbelievable pall
I am stained glass wishes, I am honest.

I am the collective pool of other’s ideas
I am the synthesis of my own creative ignorance
I am the rave reviewed rape in madness smiling
I am an ethical fallen angel.

GlockTeeth

I can feel ideas boiling in my head like lead
ready to be cast into bullets
They filter down, still hot into my mouth
and I load them.

Click-click.

I load those mean little guysI check to make sure my safety is off,
and that lead, that thoughtless lead gets ready to let looseout of my head, my tongue is the fucking trigger.

Boom-boom.

eruption, cut out of the barrel of my face
directed at you, snide, smarmy selfish
take it on the chin and i hope for a big exit wound,my heavy caliber words.

Splat.

Somewhere

Somewhere there is war, there is suffering and hardship
somewhere your problems are insignificant
somewhere there are battles of righteousness
somewhere men are being made gems in trials
somewhere romantisized visions become horrible realities
somwhere.

G.D Tobacco

My fingers tremble as my attitude worsens
I can feel my fingernails, the sides of my face
my cheeks are hot flushed, oily
I can smell again, and I don't like what I smell like
food is differant it has flavor
fuck me I need to smoke
I want to curl the camel around my tongue
spit it out and watch is dissapate
taste the marlboro man shoved in my mouth
goddamnit I want him.
Fuck I need a cigarette,
my damn fingernails hurt and my eyes tinkle,
as if tinkle was a feeling
right now it is,
my skin is crawling and I need to smoke.

Fallen

Woe is my calling, tattooed in my throat
In ink kissed with the blood of the rotten
Black is too light a color for my disposition

Agony is a good emotion for those around me
The wicked few that have called me brother and friend
The wretched few that saw some seed un-germinated
Light in my pain

I am the anger, the sainted, knightly
Anger in words and actions that shock and awe
I am that anger that civilized folk
Push to the depths of their personal abyss
And pray never to see the light of cultured minds

I am the hammer that drives the nail in my coffin
Everyday I drive them deeper
I am a charcoal smoked falsehood
A mirror of dated times
With ethics that don’t apply

Broken are my decisions
Broken are all the promises lied
Broken are my thoughts
Broken is my body

I am condemned to hell
Awaiting my arrival with room prepared
Sheets turned down
A nice mint on my pillow.

Backyard Genocide

One blade of grass stands in my way
But behind it are ten thousand more to defy me
They have allies among them
Tall leafy allies, I don’t care their name
I don’t want them here
The weeds are the artillery
Poison sumac their heavy infantry
I stand against them
My defoliant, chemical warfare in hand
I will cleanse them.

In my Room

My muscles twitch and spasm
My veins are full of blood
The agony of my predicament is ever present,
ever crushing
As the weights, pounds and pounds of iron
Beckon me to a time of war
Makes the Viking of my soul awaken
The Mongol come forward
The barbarian set fire to the village of my weakness
My veins, eyes, arms, legs, body all bulge
I want to vomit out all my hatred
Hatred of my gross form
I am dysmorphic, I am fanatic
I will become righteous strength
When the acid in my body burns
And the taste leaves my mouth
My heart becomes a shotgun
I am a warrior, a chain bound warrior
Set to battle my inside fear.

Instrument of Mine

I will play on your body as if it was a Steinway
My fingers to run over the ivory of your skin,
My hands will hold you in delicate grace
As you are the bass on which I will make great accompaniment
To the soft drumming I will have, rhythmic, resonating, deep
I will caress you not as a lover,
But as my muse, my instrument,
My Stradivarius gifted to me from some far off patron,
As I touch the voice that is your skin,I will pray that I can complement it,
my hands to pluck your violin.

Labyrinth Lock

The labyrinth begins to turn as you stand at it's center
the maze becomes fluid and alive,
it's coiling, serpentine around you
the restriction and control is stifling, misting
obscuring, you spend so long lost
until you found it's center, it's eye, it's command
and now it losses you again, and you are forgotten
you are 'past', history, a chronicle
the puzzle box closes down tight, and it's
the manhole of your life.

The Cobalt Girl

She tastes like acid,
her skin is like buried minefields,
when I touch things crumble,
when I am around I destroy,
She is the antifreeze rammed down my veins,
the veil on my eyes pulled tight,
the trigger on my gun,
she is contagious.

Ms. B

With delicate hands she picks up the book
and lays it in her tiny lap
her eyes light up with wonder and her cheeks flush
with delight
she opens up a world of animals, colors, and letters
she points to a dog and says 'cat.'
she points to a king and says 'cat'.
she points to a car and says 'cat'.
she points to a baby and says 'cat'.

She smiles,
I think she has tricked me,
and I am conquered.

Torture?

Now you are gone and I am forgotten
left with no landmark, no bookmark to hold me to this place
left with empty halls, bare walls, dirty carpets
and my bachelor dishes.

I hate being alone.
I hate being discarded.

I am disenfranchised, hell now ambivalent
to everything we were,
you broke my heart and then feasted upon it
and my mind shows me your bloody gorged jaws
and I hate you, hate you, hate you for it
as you set fire to the hole of your feast
pissed gasoline into my soul
and let the friction of your fuck with him
set it all ablaze.

I scream at myself when I am alone-
every day
I scream and I yell and I remind myself how much I hate you
and how much you mean to me.

White Buffalo

He was not tall, he was not stout
at least not in body
at least not at his age.

In youth he was golden, a toe headed boy
exploring all around him, questing for knowledge.
His thirst lead him far and wide, his eyes covered many miles.
When he was older, they turned to books when his body failed him.

He was handsome, he was regal
his soul drew people in close, even if he thought himself a shy man.
He was one of the last of the truly kind hearted people
he touched all around him, and they were better for it.

In retrospect we deify those that have died, those that were close
this man was not to be deified, but he was to be celebrated.
The world lost a native son, one of the classics,
he brought joy to all who encountered him,
those with a unkind word for him-
were rotten sons of bitchs.

He was a good man, a very good man
he was a fine father, and a loving husband indeed,
he was a good man, a strong hearted man.
the lord couldn't wait,
so unkindly, he became greedy
and took this one from us.

Words of the past

If i was younger, so much younger than today
I'd change nothing but the unkind words said
I'd not re-work careers, or women, or employment
I'd not turn a blind eye to what I have become.
In age I see that it is words
coated in venom, and snarled in rage
that are what older men ponder over
and what young men trade.

Old Brahma

Bury me with my boots off,
as my journey will be over.
Wipe the dust away from them, polish them clean.
Put them out in the yard sale, priced at a dollar
and hope them bought by some man
younger, and more eager,
than me.

Patchwork Quilt

The clown fish is my father, the orange and white,
somewhere he swims in eternity, his eyes wide with wonder
as he answers questions for god.

Athena is my heart, her wisdom guides me
her delicate hands, and crafty smile,
her playful laugh, her light so bright to bring worlds afire.

Irish martyr wood guards my honor, stands in the face
of the serpant and his coils
it is not perfect as perfection is best worked over the nails of trial.

Three curves, each turning outward showing me the way
family, friends, self, each a piece of the same work
each a part of the same solution.

The Dragon guards my blindness and pushs me to work
for great things and accolades and praise
dragons are not humble and this one had razors.

The standard of the legion is my code, my writ
it reminds me of sacrifices of men of the past
and guides me to glory in my future.

The sword takes flight, and walks in the valley of death
and tells me daily that men of principal, of ethics
bend knee to no one.

this is my patchwork, piece of my soul
the interweaving of my flesh with my past, present, and future.
like it's owner it grows, it stretches, it fades
and like it's owner
it is renewed once again.

In you I shall Defend.

You sleep and dream of light,
and other playful things.
I see you wherever I am, in my vision, in the corner of my eye
I hear your laughter, soft like a butterfly kiss
I see you near me, your warmth worked up from so much movement,
exploring, learning, experiencing all around you.

You sleep and I watch, my eyes in the darkness
I whisper to you, sleep, nite nite, my little wonder
In you I shall defend.

I see you wherever I am, I feel your presence
I work, I learn to be as good as I can for you.
You are my honor, my reason for living,
Quiet, now hush my darling sleep tight
In you I shall defend.

Wish for Bowsprite

My eyes see no more,
my hands work no longer
Scatter my ashes on the sea so fair.
As I am once from this water,
so joyful return me
and give me back to the majesty
of a cold, thankless sea.

My eyes see no more,
my lips speak no longer,
Scatter my ashes for the gulls to feed,
make me a part of the joy of the ocean
give me back to the majesty
of a cold, tranquil sea.