Cream

pop will go your spot when the fervor gets a little too much

if it’s just some kind of fling

then why does purple electricity appear whenever my mind thinks of The Thrust?

trust. when i tell you that
something inside of me is chugging ’round like a train
something inside of me, all up in my membrane
what is the meaning of this purple-charged lust?

it can’t be ignored so i guess, i guess….
I Must

with your consent
we’ll both be content

the beast with two backs
an aroma of fresh coffee in the air
with a side of Cream

silky & sweet
goes down smooth
if you know what i mean

a kind of dream
just fun, nothing ethereal
take the superficial and let it drop
& let’s get on with the ShaBoogie-Bop





Daily Prompt: Sparkle

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Soliloquy from the Psych’o’desk

~a glimpse of you~ 
~even a peripheral millisecond or two~

too much. too many.

to see your face
i know
all the ways i’d want to recognize you
have probably mutated into a dysmorphic snafu

just a crazed & confused squirrel gathering nuts for a job,
a total one-sided arms-race towards total self destruction…
well, as they say
“nutty is as nutty does”

(or something like that)

a soul long gone, sucked dry by a black hole
in the far depths of deep space 9

i don’t have to look to see
that a stranger moved in, insidiously
hindsight is always 20/20
but the past remains an enigma
it’s some cosmic villainy

though not that surprising
stranger things have happened
& impossible things are happening all the time

So.
if it’s at all possible,
in your eternal disgrace,

don’t bring that bloodthirsty dual faced zēlos anywhere close
to me & mine
not so much as a glimpse

stay hidden in the proverbial shadows

 

I’m taking responsible for the energy I allow to take up space in my soul
if you have nothing productive to contribute, you’ve got to go

go on.
shoo fly.

there’s no home for you here

Only Peace.





daily prompt: Simmer

Can’t Blame Nobody But U

A message to a jaded vain prick
doesn’t matter what I say because here’s what I predict:

you’ll refuse to read between the lines, throw out context &
just talk about the juicy byline & combine what was said
into the guidelines to fit the confines
of this paperthin narrative that’s been inscribed

because not getting attention is just not a graspable concept
for someone so desperately trying to be characterized

as a victim

everyone’s out to “get you” in this system
I’m quite sure this fits a symptom
but here’s the twist in this depiction:

No one gives a fuck about inconsequential fabrications
Be yourself, not a delusional imitation

you’ll probably even think this post is about you
don’t you?

i’m not trying to condescend but this comes down to common sense
the only way to transcend
is to get right within

 

via Daily Prompt: Ascend

Come Bathe With Me

on this day, the Year of our Lord 2017, the 8th day of a month with no meaning

even after all this time here on this planet, I can still feel the deepdark sticky-icky clinging to my skin and mucking up my soul

truths untold. pure lies unfold.

unfolding on a tapestry made of the hair follicles falling from my head from stresses that need not to exist
i guess you could say i’m pissed

Anger, an emotion so powerful, it’s hard to resist
but to admit that such an emotion is necessary goes against every lesson i’ve been taught since birth

on days like this, i wish The Sun would shine, so bright it’d make me color blind
but the grey overcast skies offers little more than the hope that Our Lord will cry and rain down upon us, upon me

i’d stand in the downpour, wearing whatever fragments of cloth i happen to be wearing at the time, face up
the Holy Liquid dripping and flowing over my face, blinding me in a way-
not color blind
but leaving me, us, caught in time
human eyes closed, 3rd eye open, seeing things beyond…

ah but alas. on this day, i see no calmness from The Sun nor The Water

only grey.

in times like this, it is unfair to expect Mother Nature to give us everything needed at any given moment. She is busy, extremely overworked; and if recent events plaguing the U.S. and the rest of the world is any indication, she’s fed up and tired.

can’t say i blame her.

its time that i, we, make our own Holy Liquid to purify that deepdark sticky-icky
that affects us all, whether or not you’re aware of it

like a stranger in moscow, i’m still trying. trying to figure out how to break this curse mankind has created for itself. Mother Nature may have the answers, but we, mortals, don’t stand a chance of what’s to come.

UNLESS

we find our own way of purification. somehow i, We, have to get Mother Nature to trust us again.
but how….?

if i could i would give you the answers
but all i can do
is just offer you
this chance

to come bathe with me

Daily prompt:     Crescendo

Climb Abored

an anchor, 7 stories high & twice the tons

passengers without tickets shuffle up the stairs uninvited

i’ve got many guns. time to play Russian Roulette

oh you think i don’t? then what’s this?

.       .       .

everyone’s quiet now.

BOOM BOOM BOOM BOOM BOOM

shooting blanks. everyone’s delighted.

most of them clapping their hands, enjoying the spectacle, gay as can be

it’s all a circus

& then a man as tall as a hundred year old tree

walks up to me

& says: “perhaps you should relax. you gave me and some others quite a fright”

poor fools. they don’t even know the caliber of plight afoot

i toss the the useless weapons overboard. they clang against a wooden platform down below & are picked up by a group of rowdy teenagers, whom hoot & holler and run off into an alley with their new toys

we’re still at shore.

i sigh a heavy sigh. i wasn’t looking for death, just something more

for i know…

i find my cabin lodgings easily, at the very top of the ship

leaving the other passengers to do as they please

folding my hoodie into the drawer, kicking my shoes off under the bed

accepting the via blasé of what’s to come

for i know…

an anchor, 7 stories high & twice the tons

we aren’t going anywhere
not anymore

When The Music Stops

when the music stops…
last note from the last song fades into the background
the album’s spin is through…

that’s when you hear the sound
of an echo turning blue

then you feel the freeze
colder than the arctic

silence

a lead-footed frost nips at your ears
’cause there’s no sound
to muffle the splashing of your tears