Between the Scorpion Sea Bed

Marooned beside the vacuous ocean,

under a  millennium of rumors,

awaiting discovery

beneath the inglorious weight of

all our rude philosophies,

lying thirsty in our deepest dungeons

under the scant protection of a harlot's wing,

lives our brother, truth.

Cairo

Ancient egyptian hieroglyphic melodies,

carry my mind on crystal tides of windblown sand,

dreams take the shape of pyramids,

the equatorial sun burns my flesh

to leave me naked in the streets of cairo

lingering among the ashes of the pharaohs.

The Lady is Naked Now

The lady is naked now 

she caresses her body

with stiff white hands,

her toes rub against the night,

her lips stretch across the open sky,

no one to receive them.

The lady has no ears to hear

the loves that have eluded her,

the walls of the apartment speak of nothing

except their own morbid perfection,

the lady sits by her tenacity 

forever misses the caravan outside of her window,

she knows no one else's story and seldom dreams.

The lady is naked now and weeps

between the abiding folds of her bed linen,

she will be mourned at the cinema,

the clock on the dresser has a cracked face,

the hair brush is pearl-handled and meticulous,

there is no mirror,

one photograph of mother and a box of kleenex,

the air barely stirs inside.

Concerning Constellations

The heavens will open up

through a pea green zipper,

the sky will leap out,

like air from vacuum tins,

dust from a million falling stars

will fill the grand canyon.

The earth will pop from the sun's heat,

men suspecting disaster

will suspend judgment

leaving lecturers deserted at the college.

Death swift

death orgasmic

will descend with the

wheels of the solar system in its feet,

will beat its galactic drum, but once

and once again the planet earth

as if life had never been.

Song of Parting

We stand on the platform of lost desire,

above the rift in our emotions,

we are immersed in the depths of

our fragrant memories,

we are caught in the

methodical dance of change.

We stand on the platform of lost desire,

the canopy of heaven is rich

with its enthusiasm of stars,

our spirits still nimble and joined

are more adept at change than

our feeble minds could ever know.

The Technology Rag

In this land of one way mirrors,

and spermicidal sponges sold over the radio

with soft lilting voices

promising both spontaneity and freedom

from tiny rubbery embryos

that too eagerly blossom into troublesome adults.

In this land of Cola Wars

where fucking money is everyone's dream,

where sex  is carried in metal projectiles

from one person's madness

to another one's brain.

When i consider the labyrinthine ways

of my own stupidity,

and the crazed messages that are injected daily

by way of the tumultuous senses,

i wonder that my human skull

does not catapult my body into rage more often.

Moondreams

Moon ascending crest of hillside

above the rush of tumultuous river

caressing the nightscape with a

muted and eerie light

softening the rigidity of darkness,

gracing all it touches

lighting a pathway through

foreboding woods.

I catch a glimpse

my own moon shadow

a transient passenger

on spaceship earth.