The Witch from Hansel/Gretel

Coming near
and coming nearer
Ruby lips
stained with saffron wine
and frothing lust
Steaming pots and pans
are left to burble
bubbling
bubbling over
forgiving
forgiving us our inattention.
Her calloused hands
breaking bread,
enfolding loaves of me.
Turning me
and patting me,
encouraging me
down.
Down.
Kneeling before
my greening goddess
growing full.
Pastures I see
wrapping round
the hollow of her back
Grottos fringe
her plunging neck
Rivers run
running down
down her thighs
affording fjords
to ford.
Mingling, mingling,
mingling our ways home
Enchanted by
a wooden spoon.
Enchanted by
her cooking science
that is more than art
more than magic.
Bread crumbs forgotten.

Treasure Trove

Abrasions:
On my knees,
on my elbows,
on my mind,

Translucent skin
shows the scars the best,
A child of glass
is in the making
for a hundred seasons
which only needs
a single marring
for the work
to come undone.

To hold forever and a day
it needs a special sort of help:
Ingraining sigils
in the inner inlet
of my flotsam,
jetsam,
id.

Mothers keeping vigils
over sickbed children
As they ebb and flow
in rivulets
Of blood and ashes
Running wide
and running home
Creating rivers reddening
already rosy cheeks
Soft and cracking from the pinching bites
Of loving aunts and mothers
kissing ope my cheeks,
unearthing jellied treasure
beneath my clear exterior
and pouring forth
my molten innards

My belly
full of long forgotten pleasures:
A shell I lost when moving lives across the country,
A dollar won from time forgotten, family lore,
A colour never shared from dreams of futures shared,
A feeling of your inner thighs against my lips,
A flower I had of you and tears are intermixed.
Inside my head a treasure trove
Inside my treasure trove.

Future languages

Sickening cruelty
Sits in a solemn silence.
Laughing,
Laughing,
Laughter everywhere.
Mother
Gently,
Gently
Pets my hair.
Crying over
Lonely nights of mine.
Blaming,
Blaming her for all the fights of mine.
Little did she know
How little did she know.
Too much,
too much love
for her to stay.
Little,
very little
Love is lost.
There's a certain
sort of sorrow.
There's a name
A name in future languages.
Languages never spoken
Outside the heart.
Yearning
is alive
and well
in this new tongue.
Little girls--
I wish to find my daughter.

Night Sighs

Lascivious. Vicious. Luscious. Lust.
List. Lost. Low. Lone. Long. Night.
Newt. Cricket. Croak it.
Toad.

Lascivious swamp sisters
Provide vicious cures for lovers' qualms.
Luscious hips help lovers forget old lovers;
Lustful rutting helps new lovers to calm.
List, oh children, list to the sisters;
Lose yourselves to the Lost Girls,
Lie low with their brood my brothers;
Lie long and alone till your longing unfurls.
Night love is the love nature loves best.
Newts and Crickets make love through song and throating;
Their moaning crooning longing in its purest;
Toads make their need known by croaking.

Haiku Blast - Auditions

Emotionless faces.
Auditors audition me.
Where do their hearts lie?

Actors bleed onstage

Before ever treading boards.

Who sees their joy? Love?

Many amusements
Rippling across the camera
Mute laughs in the dark.

An introduction

A hope filled room. Nameless face.

What will you perform?

Are you willing to--
Could you be persuaded to--
Guts strewn on the floor.

Willing to cut hair.

No tattoos or piercings too.

Blank canvas for you.

Hunting for Friendships

Hunt. Hint. Hight. Height. Hit. Hot.
Hoot. Hood. Clit. Clove. Close.
Close. Choice. Choose.
Whose?

Hunting through empty rooms with forgotten wares,
Hinting company and friends galore,
Glinting relics of bygone days, lost in the days' affairs;
Highting friends and lovers that they adored .

Falling from a great and terrible life,
Hitting reasons all the way down.
Pounding into circumstantial strife.
Hooting out my melancholy sound,

Cloves smoked between aisles and car seats.
Closing shop for the first last time.
Getting close and closer to getting close.
Choices never waver when they're wrong.
Choose an ending.
Whose?

Haiku Blast - Party

Panicked picks, prying.
Frightened chicks, lost and crying.
The same. They're the same.

Ever been accused

Of being a drunk mirage?

No? Better parties. 

Little unsteady.
Love, strong wine, and praises makes
A body heady

A bag of holding

Never contains what's needed

For the party's quest.

Mum says arts and crafts
My father always said that
Perfect comes from drafts.

The night lights burning 

The light inside eyes dimming,

The night mares waiting.

Ocean Silent

Silence. Silliness. Soulless. Bondage.
Breakage. Storms. Seas. Floods. Tempest.
Tossing. Hoping. Breaking. Bucking.
Broken.

Silence.
Upon the wave-tossed ocean
From the mouths that Fate has spun
Silliness abounds upon the decks,
Until, soullessly, home come the wrecks.
Bound in bondage they come ashore,
Breaking oaths with those that they adore.
Storms are ever brokering
Betwixt the seas and their offerings.
Flooding their wasted depths
With tempests of seafarers' bitter regrets:
Tossing in bed alone next to their spouse
Hoping against hope they'd only reach out,
Breaking the silence with a leg or some such,
Bucking in surprise at the softest touch.
Broken in twain upon the mast
Is no less what happened in the past.

Haiku Blast - Teeth

Teeth chattering cold.
Teeth clamoring to get out
of my rotting head.

Mouth drowning in oil,

Gagging on my sickening bile,

"Don't open your mouth."

Thirty white horses
On a red hill. First they stamp,
And then they are still.

Mouth--she is smoldering

Whilst teeth smoke--they are mouldering

All else--shouldering.

Teeth. Teeth. Teeth. Teeth. Teeth.
Turn to slivers and pierce lips
Splaying gums, flaying.

Teeth on skin, nibbling.

Saliva through lips, dribbling. 

Youth and death, sibling.

A Kind of a Sonnet

Little purple elephants are dancing now,
Purging slights against the starry prancings now,
Broken musings on a bathroom stall defacing now,
Something sticks inside my casing now.

Fighting fast and losing faster now.
Learning how to be a lie after now/
Learning how to be alive after now.
Flustered fights are fixtures now,
Plastered cross the pubescent pictures now.

Empty, endless mind is ending now,
Draining down the drain unending now.
Scaring scarcely any, scaredy cats abound now,
Founding findings through absconding friends around now.

Colored crazy not yet now,
He said, she said, they said inside my head now.

A pitched peak

A pitched peak
is standing there
reflecting sky
with none to spare,
ominous pesterings
and burgeoning shades
of coloured glass
are festering there;
sequestering in
a corner cold
of clear, dead, blue, dead
ice, death skins of old.
Insipid sky
reaching fingers forth
to hide the peak
from villains' froth
and Heaven's keep.
A stay in Tartarus
where gods can't seek
from all of us,
to house the peak,
keeping it
in isolation
to prevent its
imminent decimation
at the hands of
kings and crowns
and bands of
hunters seeking desolation.
But none may move
the solemn peak
as it shall prove
with sky's reap.

Remember to ever be.

Unmindful. Unheedful. Wrathful. Hateful.
Successful. Shitful. Sinful. Sightful.
Kindful. Happyful. Sadful. Madful.
Helpful. Hopeful.

Remember to ever be:

Unmindful of the screaming kids,
Unheedful of the souls that dream,
Wrathful of the mind that builds the pyramids,
Hateful of the eyes that gleam.

Successful types in business snipes,
Filling their seats with shitfuls till they're threadbare,
Sinful thoughts building prototypes,
Filling the skies with sightfuls of nightmares.

Kindfully abrogate responsibility,
Happyfully take away another's joys
Sadfully inform the next of kin of life's absurdity
Madfully execute those in your employ.

I hope you find this present guide so helpful
As you ever were so artfully hopeful.

And remember to ever be.

Haiku Blast - Blindness

Streaked with black lightning,
Bits of sky fall into night
As my vision fades

Degenerative

Is what I hear them saying.

I can't see their lips.

Fuzzy corners close.
Focus bleeding into haze.
Eyes are marbles now.

Echoes echoing

In the dark, dark, dark night dark.

Hear the moon falling.

Dog sees goD sees Dog
sees seas sees fire sees rain sees
God sees gods sees god

Kids throw rocks. Mad yells.

Too afraid to step off the porch:

(I cannot see them)

Untitled Drivel - Part II

I have to keep the outside stairs

The far-flung corner that nobody sees

Afraid of cold and empty stares

Alone and covered in fleas

That eat right through my hopeful, fungal clutching.

The sole attraction at this freakshow I call home

Well employed inside my mind, dancing bullets raining

Upon my tidy grave all filled with loam.

My heart leaps when I smell a touch

Come, stay with me, my empty darlings,

We can make this place a home

Ride inside my vacant eyes,

Where screams can ever roam.

There is a storm inside my heart and mind,

They’ve not been friends for quite some time

Mother taught me you should listen

to that calming voice inside your rind:

That Liar deep within your throat,

Just waiting to be heard,

My little devil who licks and grins

Lapping acid off my soul and into words;

Plays with bones of lovers lost

Living cozy in my ribs

And never lets me go away

He holds me close with tales of cribs.

Started charging rent I did,

Because he wouldn’t leave my soul;

Couldn’t make the eviction stick,

Lost and wearied on my own.

He laughs and jeers at the song I sing

on cold and empty streets of yore,

I stayed to talk in hail and storms

Waiting on his fictions, I deplore.

Walking cross the broken glass

may have been extreme,

But still I swear my dear, dear lass,

If only I could remember your good, good name

It was for her good, the one I love.

I eat the pain and vomit up the joy

My eyes are bleeding, but they call it tears,

I’ll keep on eating, please, oh please

Savoring all the wasted years.

Can’t take these bags of shit that cave my chest

But, they are chained to my emaciated breast:

A little gift from lady love.

Say farewell to those I love:

The list entails my whole wide life

of family, friends, and fuckers all

You’ll still be at it when I come again

Come cracking through that burning caul.

So here’s my song, I hope it lasts

As long as my heart beats

As long as my heart beat

As long as a heart beat

As long as a heart…

Beat.

I can’t imagine a world where story ends

So my last one hope:

My story fades and becomes a legend

A moral for school kids to learn and dote

A source for their derision

So the school yard taunts can haunt my ghost

Long after the hurt stops hurting

But let me say before I go, what hurts the most

Is yours and you attacking, laughing

While I lie down upon my sword.

Bad form allows for jokes like that

To be played on me and mine

I’ll take on the whole wide world

if I could stop just one sad child

from ever being afraid like me

I’ll stomp and kill the monsters in the dark

Even though they look like me

Untitled Drivel - Part I

I did not love until my dying breath.

I keep on loving still.

I did not die before my time.

I never die until--

Cannot see the forest for the trees.

Too caught up in catching flowers.

I have not seen the other seas:

The one inside your breast held my sunburst heart.

I did not care for home cooked meals,

Til one was made for me.

I couldn’t see my sickness.

Till, at long long last, I healed.

Worry I write too little.

Worry I say too much.

I have no rhyme or reason

Because I never studied such.

Mother told me “Go to school”

She never told me to learn

I went to all my classes as a rule

And never went outside though I yearned.

My lessons are the scars I keep

Inside the jar that is my heart

My sentences are never full

Having never been allowed to start.

I am comfortable with silence

Because I was told my voice is _________ (horror)

My love is boundless

Hoping I might die less

I strap my loves to my emaciated chest

In the hopes that they won’t leave

Before the timer counts to dying

In this warm and fuzzy breast.

I have never been told I love you first

I have never been attractive

I have never been the one beloved

I have never been non-radioactive.

Haiku Blast - Superheroes

Super heroes fly;
Superman washing his clothes:
What a hopeless mess.

Superwoman flies--

Same suit, same code, and same heart?

What makes her different?

What makes a villain?
An horrific back story.
What makes a hero?

Where are the heroes?

I look around me and see

I am all alone.

Heroes are heroes
And tautologies are just...
well--tautologies.

Rejected heroes

Becoming reformed villains

*     *     *     *     *

Thus to the tyrants.

Custodian of me

I could not stop for death,

So death kindly stopped for me. I

have wanted death to stop for me for so long

I feel them. Shifts beneath my character. Seismic yearnings

Hope and joy spring higher, but so too do the dark things.

I have never been safe

since before I was born

I cannot see the evil for the evil is within,

but I like to love to think that I think I like to love, but in reali-factuality I learn to love because

I have been taught to think that love will think to kill me

It is best to know thy enemy, but I have never known myself that well.

So I sit in the melancholeric dark,

waiting for a storm shaped like a girl to stake me

in my motherfucking heart

I would never be quick to judge, but

I think I love the ones who do

After all, they have impeccable taste

Because giving a heart is like

a lead weight on a sinking life raft

in shark-infested storms. What am I to do

custodian of me

plus two?

Haiku Blast - Loving Kind

A trick of the light
A tilt of the head at night
And a lover's plight.

Skimming along through

All that I was meant to do.

Suddenly, there's you.

She asks if I can
Help to open all the jars...
Satisfying sound.

I write poetry.

Everybody writes poetry.

What chicanery.

I know Santa's real
though my parents buy presents.
Santa is still real.

Baking beats barking.

Sauntering beats laundering.

Love thy laboring.

Life upon the Floors

Deep. Delve. Dove. Door. Shore. Shoal.
Shell. Shelved. Shelled. Shelling. Selling.
Barter. Garter. Bitter. Biter. Bitter.
Fighter.

Deep beneath the ocean floor
There lives a witch
And nothing more
Delving deep in midnight pitch
Plumbing depths of starry life
Seeking doves in drunken ditch
Making sacrifice to love & strife
Tempered by being called a bitch.

Doctors open on the ocean floor;
In succession, gawkers gather,
Standing grimly, seeking solace on the shore
Gazing into sunken shoals they flatter,
Finding shells of things that we abhor:
Hard-won husks from sunken hearts a-tatter,
Children shelved, their tearful smiles ignored,
Till they're shelled by parents too grown to matter.

Selling hollow, younger faces
To prisons, patrons, paters galore;
Bartering their youthful, gainful paces
Until their garters gather something more,
Garnering only just enough attention
To retire their aching sphincters from the fore
Collecting their ever-rotting pension
From off the fustian floor.

Abandoning their young upon the floor.
Too cold to leave, too grown to sleep,
Picking themselves from off the floor.
Somehow finding ways to keep
Their bitter bitters inside their helpless sores
Driving them to biting hands that leaps
To feed their bitter maws something more.
Fighting the urge that makes them weep
And turns babes a-baeuty into naught but gore.
I think I'll sleep upon the floor.

Twin hearts with twin souls (explicit) <--heh. I like that

Twin hearts with twin souls

Chipping away at the inside with

Woodchippers designed for my guts

Mind numb with shards of love

Bake and simmering inside

Skull blown wide with

Guns against the underside of

Broken lies of a boy with

That forgotten puppy vibe

I found the fountain of youth inside

my mother's tits, but they all ran dry

a hundred thousand tears ago

from before the time before I remember feeling safe

To live and laugh and love with

As the proverb goes just so

What is the point of alliteration anyway

Besides bending the bones of the biting bitch I can barely bare to call my beating heart

Found out I was found out.

Not much beneath this stone surprisingly

Out of which I am crawling surreptitiously.

I hope someone notices this statistically

Little life beneath me I call my own, sadistically.

Please don’t beat me any more

He said to himself uncharacteristically

Funny Hats

Dead. Deal. Dolt. Dole.
Hole. Whole. Heap. Peep. Creep.
Crawl. Beg. Utter. Shutter. Shudder.
Sunder.

The dead have never struck a deal.
They cannot sing to hear
Nor cry to laugh nor see their way to feel.
And dolts are no more better
While seeking gainful occupation
Pursuing doles inside of holes
From churches' indoctrination.
Receiving sinners' sins and pates,
A heap of bodies awaiting mates
Peeping creepily from among the shores
They cannot crawl from you anymore
They beg and barter, pawning souls
Uttering pious hymns while they are consoled
By stuttering men in funny hats
Who shutter any friendly spates
All the while I start to shudder.
As the world begins to sunder.

Haiku Blast - The Gods

Diana's harts' hearts
Fear no hunter in their wood.
But much from the stag.

Cupid the baby.

Cupid the Little God's arrows.

Suffer from his pricks.

True. Love knots with eyes
Not hands. Binds thoughts, not fingers.
Cannot be untied.

Neptune's eyes alight

On fair maids and boys alike

Raping where he will.

Venus' lines deeper,
Like a fine wine, growing sweeter:
A selfish creature.

Persephone grows.

Their love: Plutonic. She grows

Even in the dark.

The pulse (an early experiment with iambs)

The pulse

The beat

A hope

A deed

Requite me

Requite me

A peer

The form

Too short

For this

Keep trying

It’s there!

Oh no…

It’s gone

Again.

Requite me.

Haiku Blast - Girls

The breeze, the rain, the
Sun, the light, the life, the joy,
The babe is blessed.

Industrious girls

Working hard to become pearls

Sign their names with whirls.

Creativity
The commerce of the universe
We are the gods now

Mouth breathing father--

Figure humping pubescent--

Girls lie in the dark--

Fathers in the woods
Playing at protecting daughters
Girls will find a way

Cupid casts arrows

And overshoots the markings

Hitting too many

Heroines

Juice. Joys. Jealous. Jealousy. Heresy. Hera.
     Hero. Heroic. Stoic. Stoicism.
Pragmatism. Practical. Practice. Practice. Practice.
     Break. Back. Balk.

The juiciest joys, the sullenest sighs,
Make jealous the zealous, who cry,
Jealously: "Heresy!"
Who know nothing
No, not a thing
of Hera or heroes
or how heroines arose.
From sudden, blitzkrieg heroics
To silent, passive stoics
A practice of stoicism
Never led to pragmatism
A practical exchange
With ever the same refrain
Which stems from the adage:
Practice, practice, practice.
Break you sullen creatures
Back with your stead-fast features
Balk, I beg you
"Never," said you.
Very well.
Stand atop your mountain
And build a better bastion.
I wish you well.

The sound of screaming fills the day

The sound of screaming fills the day

As a hundred thousand million stars

Explode

like shattered dreams

Crossing

the waking world.

Feel the earth

turning away,

Turning, turning, turning, turning

Into a clamoring mourning.

Keening starts

not in the diaphragm

or in the blood

or in the marrow,

but in the soul.

It reaches down

Down to the root

The root of roots--

Our heart of hearts

and thrumming there

Thrumming

the thread it finds;

It starts in low,

then it starts to grow.

A twinkle

in your eye

as the adage goes;

A penny

For your thoughts

as the saying goes

I’ll pay and pay and pay and pay

For what you hold

Inside your hold

What I wouldn’t give

Just to hold--

Oh no.

Too young, too young, too young, too young

to die:

A girl

who never was,

and never shall

Thanks

to you and yours--

Their silent, happy apathy

is deafening

to those with hearts to hear,

I cannot hold

this broken crust

of a world

and slip,

Slip away

from me

and my hard-won joys.

The lights are on,

but no one’s in the shop’

I polish stools and tables

for you and yours.

Awaiting the day

when the stars come out

And we can all laugh about it now,

Can’t we?

Won’t we?

Will we?

Shall we?

Could we?

Should we?

I know, I know, I know, I know,

“No one will ever love a quitter.”

Shameful to be

what you were always meant to hate

isn’t it?