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Classic Soul

waves bursting my eyes in whips
around whirls a pain in my heart
burns the peach in me (happy the vagabond
bursting of my bleeding skull)

& in like a hurricane weeping in my head
like i feel my down craving is like a scarecrow
but a scarecrow screaming into a werewolf
in a blender bleeding
tempest shrieking around

eyes blazing down, the heart of a star
i crave relief from the sun pounding bleeding pain
in my skull & from brain to bleach
around & beneath your storm
(my storm, my release)

under the boardwalk
down by the sea
i’m just going to sit here
& let myself be

The Serpent Dancing in Blue

my continuation to infinity
to define the extensions overcome
dear tiger
my life in the apparent blooming of death
that time for always
infinite amounts of opal
& my back is always blooming
always happens this robust framework will sound
dear young salamanders apparently masked
ever old crackling storms
we have to charge the sky
for the heirs have our distinct
as a forever that my nectarine
dear koala
and the will to collide as sound overcome
overloading my continuation to

I Call Shotgun, Bernadette!

target over to spider groups
this state would who guide it
who dying have spent a tragedy single watch illness
when in control, shooters point
the strategy he has federally
cloudy with a chance of rage
deep in the heart, deep in the blood

ever acquiring no background system hard-pressed
motive fixing control some panacea hit
recent do out for mr. president tragedy
this was what was using watch
readers facts for political decades
individual directed on madcap reform
was in and out of control
was check solving depression agenda
from the criminal association problems
deep in the heart, deep in the blood

this pushed them down
every town solving their lonely help
fixing in difficult ill with no conversation
deranged the television alone
not anti-gun nor have calling stopped
are to outlets before deflected
is this background dream reality
what they believe as a background not pure before will
before the mass
will something past raise not found them
deep in the heart, deep in the blood

but solutions facts with or without guns of interested day
check violence is emerging
check our patchwork institutions
deranged would pass unfortunately just promote problems
it’s push broken sooner or not
deep in the heart, deep in the blood

Crow Mask Barbeque

you have something hands want hard
a devil’s penny earned in emerald
your cold home made to save suburbs
working you to the bone in an ownership of chamomile life
& we have you make the saving roll
in a workshop of porcupine fever
oh you mariachi you
something the devil’s saved
is something you want
if a penny saved is a penny entitled for the matriarch
naked & covered in blood
from the nursery to the grave
if this is what you wanted
this is what you get

your sacred heritage insinuated by your bootstraps
with a sweet peppermint cancer
improved an equal chewing language virus
your drunken heritage insinuated by beer-soaked men
& a pilgrim’s progress
let the peregrine go
sod all your bootstraps
at the apex of infection crush
sacred are your sacred creations of you lot
you have earned an emerald cold home ownership in your chamomile life
naked & covered in blood
from the nursery to the grave
if this is what you wanted
this is what you get

The Department of Information

the department of information is a racing red train
clickity clack! clickity clack!
with swami communication of coffee table instructions
unclear grey a baboon hug

embrace that mystery kumquat whimsy
frustrations unclear in a grey area swim
of whiny thug snuggles
as the engine chugs & cuddles
with a kiss of programming & outreach systemwide
clickity clack! clickity clack!

those amazing black information pickles
to encircle area frustration
when whingeing a ninja in a groovy purple shirt
made of kangaroo threads
in spider your defense

& down down down
into the minotaur web
like a library of misinformation
the cuckoo’s swim of
the department of information goes
clickity clack! clickity clack!

Temple of a Thousand Ghosts

your skin is sparking & shaking
charged with a head full of storms
your sleep flooded with fever

don’t say it’s like other barriers
these thorns & thoughts
weighing on you like a lead angel’s wings

your gargoyle hunger burning burning burning
your fingers scratching at your skin
with nothing
nothing inside

keep it under your hat
that worm-ridden apple
sitting crisply in your head

your old black devil
frosted & crackling with lightning
& still it’s always the same

again & again & again & again
you walk through the wall
feeling no pain at all
save for the squeezing of your heart

your old black angel
marking not where you died but
where you courted death
an easy tumble off a high bridge

don’t say it’s like other barriers
don’t say it’s like other barriers
your heart of ice &
your skin of flame

your gargoyle hunger burning inside
but there’s nothing
nothing in there

nothing but an inelegant alchemy of words