instant karma

 

I asked for the power of a rhetorical question
a resounding yes returned
no possibly not
ah the beautiful uncertainty of doubt
so soundly reviled
had I but asked for identity to speak
had I but not spoken
thought a minute about the next seven generations
thought a minute
had I known
courage looks inside hearts
before diving into mirrors
to become someone else
had I not closed my eyes
before stepping on fertile ground
had I been anybody but I

 

dewdrop eyes

he is blood music, cars and hot satisfied women. he wears a whole bunch of labels stuck red and yellow to his overalls trouble, bad news, sex god, convict, racist pig, kiss me lips, ooh that ass, petty thief, the walking tattoo, that pieceoshit, eyes feet that follow, he is a smile, two inches higher than solid ground, he is women who shake out stockings under their skirts whenever he pulls out any three piece suit from the world, he won’t touch, never had to ask, but I am already gold, buying leather, letting my hair fly

the serial killer song

 

hes a working man
his sleeves rolled up
he puts in nine to five
seven to twenty four
he twists on luck
and turns, say hayte!
its just another working day
practice patience polythene
or canvas for the trees
one dead body another night
to whiff death in the breeze
cologne is the secret mate
he says as you pass by
watching as you went
work hard to keep the smell at bay
hard works the key my friend

 

aloha

 

There are endless hearts that float around the world, gentle and alone. Loneliness and death their numerous most transforming fear and single most unifying truth. Some cannot be touched, some cannot be seen, and yet they are mostly one. One heart waiting to be many to multiply and move away from itself, yet be, in a mitosis kinda dance. There are only a very few people carrying the heavy burden of all the hearts and only a few places where the hearts will go to stay longer, longer than a heartbeat. When the last sunset of the day wears off, we fear the hearts might have become invisible, and dark, and melted into shadow so we turn on every piece of light we can find to try to find them again only to find them float away beyond the lights to all the hidden corners where no light can go and yet they are so bright and light seeking in the sunlight I wonder if the darkness is a place where the heart too needs to be quiet in, to beat

 

a flying garden scrabble

The Flying Garden by Tomas Saraceno, Photograph by Blaise Adilon

 

take away my family
these years of careering on the road
change friends move lighting
honey I love you goodbye
without eternal damnation
the relentless holy cause
these purses of fools gold
culture history heritage
everything I was ever told
cut off each control
set every limb in limbo
I wonder will I fly
or shatter and fall
will I be a little piece of the universe
or a glass jar clearing a fog
am I endless or gravity
neither or both