The Wandering Thunder

What the rain said

in the deep night,

when she cursed 

the sky that birthed her,

hissing next to my ear lobe,

she meant

every,

word,

and I kept her secrets

tucked carefully away 

in shadows.

I woke up

feeling old, and 

as the sun came up,

wondered how he 

keeps pulsing light,

finding the energy

to keep glowing 

is beyond me

though something always to

strive for regardless 

of the teeth-y world.

Cant quite understand

why the sky can thunder down

shaking the fucking earth,

but can't simply open her

fantastic mouth 

and take me inside.

Melting Mirrors

The mirror

melted and oozed

its own vibrating reflection,

down the walls

of my hungry,

breathing,

thirsty creation

of a haunted bedroom.

Breathing beast and fire,

morphing identities

into formula fragmented

fancy poses of surrendered apathy,

middle aged men snacking

on paper dolls,

for shame on your sadism,

syrup and sexed blood

staining my springtime dresses,

fights with fists,

cruel words

made me slump silent

though I craved to

yell out in witching twitching

wildness against

the torrent tactics

of steal and

the malicious fortune hunters

with their sickening winking

blurry eyes.

So I hurricaned myself

from my sullen undead slumber,

contorting curvaceous concoctions

of pleasure and breath,

groans loud enough

to wake the house,

along with the creaky

floorboards,

the grandfather clock

banged on in the hallway to its

very own syncopated sweltering rhythms

causing us to be late,

your mouth on my juicy hips,

tongue between my thighs and

erotic cries,

teeth on my neck as you

thrust deep and slow and the headboard

urges us on and moans out the chorus,

though teatime is passing swiftly

with the pastel parental figures

shaking their angry watches,

cautious steps I enter

through the kitchen window

and dabbing the corners

of my delicate red mouth

with the cranky crusty napkins

of the mainstream media.

The panic attacks

ever heaping their

festering sores and

religious rites down

heavy on my

pounding migraine head,

I ate through you

to the other side of

forgiving myself

for staying,

allowing you to speak

so harsh to me,

this way and that,

repeating vicious patterns

made into origami

bouquets of blue and pink,

fevered flowers

that I cant remember

the names of

in their screaming silence

so to keep me up all night,

in the alleyways,

mischief and mayhem,

my fierce stubborn resistance

for the brain beaten down

by chemicals and despair.

To the life lived out

in raspy

wicked passion,

we raise our feisty glasses

to drink in another

fucking hot and humid day.

Pant and dancing out

of coffin nightmares,

superstition sex,

mirrors and warped reflections,

we the weary waking

can change our sorrowful courses,

directions mazed

in requiem aside,

we create the future

with miracles and light.

Living Hope

Taking deep long breaths,

letting that ocean

of live energy

overcome my chakras,

Im taken to other

planes in my dreams

n visions,

stock rates shouted over

the hallelujahs of our most precious

angels,

the truly awakened,

your broken bones

ever dancing

in the rain,

I remember you, and

through the pain

and tears shed,

we live to jive juicily along

anyway,

to connect,

to summon good and

Goddess light,

love round us,

through us.

I wanted to birth

some sparkly

spectacular hope,

in the crowded

angry street,

through the grit and

the grime,

envelop love on

top of your skin,

so hard,

you and I

could forget

who we are separately,

since separate is illusion anyway,

just for a second,

opening the universe,

and ourselves

to the holier heaven

that here on earth,

is possible.

Out damned demons!

I cast you

out,

ha,

soak yourself in

your own fears,

if you must,

for I will have

none of it.

I can see a better

way to live out,

someplace in the

snows of Michigan,

standing in the

cold sun,

there was a memory

of home,

and happy,

and hopeful fairies

landing in

twisted skirts

and spirits laughing,

witches and our soups,

thank you

forever

for your wisdom,

rhymes and riddles,

listening more,

learning faster,

hush now lovely,

the light is coming.

This is dedicated in memorial of Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr.

April 4 

Traveling Circus

Lilith's vengeance
on my breath,
I storm through
your body,
awake chakras,
open up
the dark and light places,
now to enter the unknown.

Under the ground
of the circus
is where we begin.
The caterpillar responds
in smoke:
Who are you?

Cloudbursts frame the sky,
we are dying
and you are shaking
your fists,
yet still our bodies
crumble like the
sacred mockingbird and bee
in their cages,
collecting dust and anger.

You smother me,
I regain consciousness
and you stare,
waiting for a fucking
thank you,
Judas lies again.

I woke up,
felt a doll pulled by puppet strings,
and knew something
was wrong,
stirring in my stomach.
My head is spinning
from the visions
that haunt me
through the swamp,
and that desperate fog,
ice on my brain.
We continue,
up the mountain,
our paths
creating beauty
in a hazy world.

The moon will be back in the morning...

I gave up the light,
for an evening-
she leapt out of her dress
and headed for southern plains.
I head North,
drove until I was tired
and drove on through the night.
I needed no sleep,
but wanted to rest and listen.
We can be connected wherever we are,
no tears tonight,
I will be back in the morning.

I must choose my words carefully,
the sensitive ones hurt-
if I describe in cruel and violent words
to express what I have seen,
what I cannot shake and spit at,
my phoenix is aching
and I will continue on.

I wish for no more tears,
no more stains
or accidents.
I want to shake free the beast,
for a moment.
Tell me a story,
of your past
and I will try to keep the conversation
light, though I can’t see in here
anyway-
taken into dark, every night-
I will burst forth anew,
again and as usual.
No more pain and tears,
I beg of you,
my lions of light,
you are excellent and exquisite,
just the way you are.