I see patches of unattainable happiness
and they look like wasted seed
in conclusion of acts that were
meant to be of love
while everything appears as a labour
of Shiva in motion
in the fauces of the cosmos
and we’re all either blessed or screwed
in a carnage somehow orgastic when
the victims generate pleasure
to those born executioners
I see creation and destruction as two links
of the same mighty chain
but nobody makes it out of here alive
those living within their space pills
floating in thin air outside of their
Motion Pictures and Myths
I’ve just returned from the movies.
Once home, Morpheus can’t stand me,
I have Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde to deal with – mirror rehearsal.
Film directors pull me out of my hinges
with their overly romanced realities.
They make me want to uncork what needs
to be uncorked
and decant what comes out.
The chimera within me still roars and howls
at my heart of glass
that ages ago rolled off the peak
of the profane mount of flesh that I am.
Shards everywhere – be careful
if you stick around.
The Firmament’s Consistency
Dazzled by wealth – impassable wall between
you and happiness. Protection or coercion?
Where are my loves, my resources,
my future torn
from my walking carcass?
Where has the earth gone
from under my feet?
Where are you? Where am I?
When was the natural
order of things reversed?
The sky alone gives tokens of strength
pinned as it is, in its leaden clouds’ hinges.