Another Realm
The roses erupt
and the clouds
burn above
and below.
Seeking refuge
from an ominous
gray mist attempting
to strangle thought.
Two hours in the
tavern cannot
diffuse the terror.
Too many blood-
red eyes reflecting
all sad truths.
Some clarity claws
through the cobwebs
saying that someone
spoke of a ‘center’
to all this.
In another realm may haps.
Cannot be found among
the old brick and
antiquated philosophies
now littering the gold
paven road.
A choir of dead angels
beckons toward an
unfamiliar ground
where Saints go to die.
Blow Horns
I awoke 3 hours
into 2012.
Supposedly only
356 days left
in all existence.
What did my old
rock & roll buddy
ask rhetorically…?
“oh moma, can this
really be the end..?”
Well…is it?!
I like to think he
doesn’t know any
more than I do.
Than do the
Mayas
Egyptians
Hindus…
Sumerians
Nostra—‘Fucking’
Damus or any other
Person or conclave
Putting quill to
Parchment back in
the day.
It comforts me for
the moment.
Maybe between all
the prognostications
we can figure it out.
The Grand Alignment—
Pole Reversal—
Plate Shifting.
Will we survive to
blow horns in
celebration of next year?
Stay tuned.
Farewells before Solace
As conspicuous as the
thorn between two roses,
I find solace in the
oppressive darkness.
It is my appointed time.
Finding comfort beneath
the wings of a bird of prey,
I am whisked off into the
fierce, American nighttime.
Those who watch are not
hidden behind the futile
security of their suburban
shutters, but only made more
obvious by vultureous leering.
I will seek solace wherever
I am carried, however foreign
or far from the familiar.
Goodbye– to all those who
would greet me with false
salutation, or damn me with
faint praise.
Goodbye—to the untrustworthy
and betrayers, whom lie to their
own ends.
Goodbye—to for whom the end
justifies the means, and those who
cannot meet your glance.
Goodbye to those who don’t
understand…and never will.
Dumpster Fire Press 