Whore in East LA

Them there monsters ate the satellite that showed me where you live. Spewing out the flotsam for the vultures in the hood. Their fins begin to congregate the magma in their spines, boils and turns to venom in the one eyed pirate’s mind. Look around and tell yourself that evil isn’t good, where would all the vagrants spend their homemade apple wine? One sip on the table three drips on the floor. Just another sleeping ghost who busted down the captain’s door!

One! Two! Four!

Cinnamon and sugar-y the lips control my tongue. You don’t know where to find me and behemoth bought a brand new gun. Just to set the matter straight the monster’s that I saw, left a variation of your map upon my stall. The surfers ride the testament of ministers in drag, searching for that catholic-save-me-from-Gehenna-store! There’s not a jack-knife in this world who wouldn’t snatch your purse, just to buy a pint of that there stuff the monsters purge.

Three! Four! Six and!

Bumblebees and armored tanks began to climb the Berlin wall, till gee I dub you idiot found vengeance in a can of war. -/- It left the vagrants starving, the vultures feared to fly, the monsters bit the legs off every guitar player’s wife! Forget the past you rattleheads the future is today. Remind me I’m supposed to meet a whore in East L.A. We’ve butchered immortality we’ve sacrificed iced tea, penguins flock to Africa to see the nobel laureate serve acid to the free!

Ten! Nine!

Five!

Four!

Three!

Two!

One!

Killer Bees

It’s more to me and the world,

these words. So much elite and languid,

reverent and soiled by my faith. Where the

army is only ants and the killers only

bees. Where love needs only to be tasted

to be found on the tip of your tongue

to be found. We trample through it, tasting

nothing but agony, spitting our

acidic love on the ground. Killers and armies

we are. We gag on our own words

and wicked curses, seeking to consummate

our carnal lust for the world, lust for

our vengeance, lust for our freedom from our confinement

to humanity.

Brain Stew

Note by note you learn

to play along – Goodbye

Pork Pie Hat -  Brain Stew –

Flight of the Wounded

Bumblebee – Word by word

One fish, two fish, red fish,

blue fish – We – The – People –

In the  - Beginning! – Numbers

Philosophies – Prayers and

armed conflicts – RBI’s

ERA’s – Faces! - - -

Carved in stone –

Stamped and printed on

currency – Heroes – Leaders –

Oppressors – All dead –

Or dying – We learn – We

remember – Pinch of salt –

3 cups of sifted flour –

We remember – The first

time – My eyes – Met yours –

The last time – I held –

Your hand – The first time

doing something right – Was

worth more than doing what

you were told – The first

time a fight was worth

fighting – Even though you

knew you were going to

lose – We remember – We –

Build – The notes become the

song – The words become the

speech – The colors –

The painting – The wars become

the world – The faces become

skulls in the rain –

transients in the crumbling

waves – The notes corrode – And

we find we no longer desire

to play Brain Stew – But

to sing our own song – To

write our own story.