[poeticramblingsofmyconsciousness]

I don’t see myself getting old

I don’t see myself alone

We are all riders onnthis wretched storm

All children skipping through the Loan

Running on sidewalks in saturated red shorts

Everything begins as it ends

A poetry session snaps him out of his depression

Then he sits down on stage

His psychic energy leaves his body

A few days later his woman returns

[starting-to-feel-just-right]

I can’t wait to move into an apartment with my person and decorate it the way we want. I can’t wait to fall asleep by my person in our bed and wake up to her every morning. I can’t wait to cook her dinner and bring her shower beers and warm towels. I can’t wait to stay up all night doing our grad school work together with a pot of coffee between us. I’m so excited to struggle through adulthood with my person, ya know?

[poeticramblingsofmyconsciousness]

@saladdressinggown

[poeticramblingsofmyconsciousness]

Gone insane Insipid home wilderness The cleanliness uninspired I can't stand each lethargic millennia The lions are alright here A dog hides in her cave I have lost interest in this place Desire for new change has come Where to find change in A pre-molded city Lost in the arroyo Where are you

[poeticramblingsofmyconsciousness]

Curtain life Open velvet death I love the smell I leave on her breath To find inspiration in the smallest one My own voice is lost inside my head A cave where yesterday's echoes drown out my thoughts Ideas water drop from stalagtite ceiling I'm waiting for them to hit the pool Ripple their creations into me

[poeticramblingsofmyconsciousness]

Wishful Bashful Sinful Blissful All the ways she felt Broken opinions spoken Of how we tore Worlds and Spoke of future and fires Scattered hallways laboriously Wandered through the shafts Of my mind. Four hundred girls danced at the heels of the gated man His leather ankles whispers away from groping fingers. They touched him Exotic and new Always a pleasure to his used soul He frequented the great pastime of sold soiled souls

[poeticramblingsofmyconsciousness]

You killed my cock Along came the death of my logic Rolling rolling rolling Great katharsis breaks open a new chapter In our lives Oh great creator take us now into Your everlasting sanctum My cock's birth resides in the death of your eye A great wake gave way to waves upon waves Here at the shore we count on shells and sacrifice to survive Can you find a new way to call into the wilderness and the great beasts of the mountain side? Can you call the ancient ones and come along for the hunt? I want you here I want you near Call me call me now Oh great master of us The slaves and merchants together drink Wine and whiskey out your back into it I have found the way to show you how I'm the shadow on the sun

[poeticramblingsofmyconsciousness]

Survive

She has strength A goddess in her own right But open up your eyes and see There is more than just lights You're alright inside Mirrors never lie Your life is the reflection Of how you survive Her mind a runaway train On an anxious highway Rearviewmirror distractions Look at what's right in front of you You're alright inside Mirrors never lie Your life is the reflection Of how you survive She was scared she was scared I wait for you how long it takes She was unprepared I'm always here for you

[poeticramblingsofmyconsciousness]

Nights of lizards Nights of stones Scattered bones among Catacombs The women dance freely Next to commodity TV Stand in line for lust Government issued entertainment To find motivation in an ending Sac-religion in a dry place Feed on thighs of disgrace Weird scenes of a royal vengeance Here, in the lies of deception To feel her warm slow death Scattered in heat of moments Tremor breath, too young for this I'm only in it for the sex.... Feeling physically blessed.... Has your life been good enough to write about? Can you find yourself in a new face? Have you been all there is to be..? . . . . One more thing ..... I thank you for this wine

[poeticramblingsofmyconsciousness]

Read pleather death Patience terminated waiting for The director's sign of freedom As I lay here, seven bridges road Cross the paths of my fucking sanity. I hate waiting. Immaturity always wins. I'm guilty for feeling natural. She says please don't. Rainy day I pine for gin and tonic The limes a tart tonic to sanity Windowpane sex I burn for your embrace Cold run rain, it feels greasy on My branded hide

[poeticramblingsofmyconsciousness]

Bus 83 to NYC

Bus 83 Crunch gear shift Uncertain hesitation momentum LED law Hard on from the seat Green-brown blur This stoned snake will take us to Highlines and back again west to east Back west once more Break bread with me at our small feast, Another way to love Adopt 6 trestle Unrecognized artist, shotgun attention Reach now, how without brow, for the edge Rollercoaster toilet seat State of love and trust

[poeticramblingsofmyconsciousness]

Sickly crooner, again brings me back Demented poems cut to my core Sea change, now to green, rocks and floats It's all about you, you say it's for me Patience, needed, stolen time from the endless vaults. Indian Summer, you know the line, my sweet child my pretty one Olive sleeves shield your cream limbs, sacrifice of my bedroom. Synthetic soundtrack fitting to night veil walks and VHS. She bled into me, a rush to the head.

[poeticramblingsofmyconsciousness]

Indian leaves fall, reeling towards branded grass. The sky, awkwardly blue against dismal earth. Complacent slaves, drudgery in steps, disappearing around the lack of variation in their insipid lives. Clouds curmudgeonly drape west horizons. Hollywood knowledge, bookshelf of blood, let me syphon your veins of end and whiskey Knowledge of words pull the heavens from the earth. I know the way. Of grief and dismal dawn. Music sex, whimsy idea of freedom's Mad Man Can you hear me?

[poeticramblingsofmyconsciousness]

Cathartic whispers holding onto days, months ago. Time from when the future seemed impossibly far. Closer now. Scared black velvet hands pull at calloused denial Cherished instant, always pushing forward back to the current. Even when it ends I know we won't be over Shattered shadows of former times It was worth every moment You're worth anything Unwritten words at the edge of my chest Spoken through contact lenses into your umber prisons. VCR dreamscape dissolve to LaserDisc neon tube realm The candle isn't even half used Let's not worry please

[poeticramblingsofmyconsciousness]

I A Hyacinth Lemon Wanna be baritone crooning belter The Anemic Holy Nth Self proclaimed savior Enchant A Homily Daytime dinner nighttime sinner Please hear my pleas Break me into sand Crushed and forgotten ideas For we are all the punishing hand The time as come for you and me to go and see the King

[poeticramblingsofmyconsciousness]

my ring, jealous association. It hurt a little knowing. Never that did I intend. This talk, our love and circles, is duct tape to My shattered heart. I think I feel we'll never be apart. In some way. Always together. You spoke of walls. I gently removed them brick by brick. You spoke of futures. I spoke of right now. You let me love you. So you loved me back. I've kissed you while you cried. Your tears petit salt lake of love. Intimate words of places and beds. All home to me, my hand by your head. One foggy Road, I dare not yet look down stand with you here on this hill A Great golden light sunset, Handblown glass green leaves, Reverberate indigo wind, Neon, VCR lens flare sky brings, Me back to this place where I first fell for you. Head first down that rabbit hole Echoing a dead man's words You read them as if they were my own. I landed easy as you followed me down.

[poeticramblingsofmyconsciousness]

My unspoken words singe the edges of her heart A slow burn, hurting the best. Our worst is still better than the rest. I strain to free myself from shackles from dead poets. How can I tell you what’s already been said a thousand thousand times. I’ve died twice just thinking of new ways to say I Love You. I would die again knowing I could say it one more time. How can I describe to you how your eyes look at me without it being trite? How can I explain your smile without it being cliche? Crawl with me through this shorn cave, hold out until the shallow grave; Clear now, take your time, There’s nothing to hide, so let’s go drown tonight in each other's lake.

[poeticramblingsofmyconsciousness]

Death's Dance

Sixteen strings in the corner, slight lift for their organic strains Confirmed couples dance in their tights and loud heels. Corset dresses slip into tailcoat lines. Standard fare for a Saturday in the South, good boys looking their best for their rose. All a bit cliche if you ask me, but you asked for something else. How this Saturday in the fall, cold sheets of liquid ice fell from the sky. Muted beer barrel drums and electric fire light the square cast windows. Standard fare for a late Saturday in the South. Duos listing to the Romantics rhythms, writ of passage of adulthood. Father's pushing witless daughters into arms of wealthy men. laughter, colors, rest of the space filled from 16 strings, woman's birdcall aria floating over the unison dipping heads Thunder. Ominous bliss. The highway man came riding, black horse, brown mane sleek against writhing neck. White hot abortive breath, mute, in nostril anguish. His demeanor stoic in nature, eyes the calm calculus of reason, face hidden under 10 days of fervor. Cool slow steps, he leaps off his horse. From what I can remember, he never said a word as he opened the door. Never said a word as he took out his twin blued Peacemakers. Lead copper messages cobra strike in polyrhythm with Hell's cannons above us. Crimson ink wrote the entire story on the pale yellow walls, the ancient oak floor. Immediate ghosts intimate and grotesque surround us. Silent screams echo still. The daughters would have died anyway, their innocence and happiness ripped from their bosom by greedy traditions. 12 casings, 1 message, burrowed into the bodies of these wasted lives. Maybe in some morbid manner, the highwayman saved these poor girls from a different and awkward death. Slow death by broken spirit...a hanging sounds better to me. We still don't know who he was, a black leather demon or a demented savior The scarlet spilled still stains the walls and floors, now mingles with father tears. Cigarette jazz ballroom now, Opium bands play their rituals, Still the same incantations, Now the death is spiritual. Singers throwing themselves into prostrate death, The horn man shot the woman in the third row, solitary blast, Drummer bludgeons everyone, even the small child hiding in back. The bass player hands the singer a pint of gold, temporary nectar for his mangled psyche. The singer sweats his gold into the American sacrifice, almost obsidian now You can still see where the daughters died.