Photoshopped Golem

The lighting
reflects from your porcelain skin
shaved, coiffed for perfection
transubstantiation
accomplished via Photoshop
robot eternal
perfection, infused with spirit
unnoticed
except in the moment
(moments)

wha a joke.
I heard someone laugh
he thinks the thing is human
hypnotized by the beauty in the face
he forgets to appreciate
he will never even know
just how close he came
to falling in love
with a figment of his own imagination

the idols, lined up against the wall
the people
take these abominations at face value
flesh and blood encompassing
hollow shells
dirty dolls

last kiss

forgotten tongue-play
betwixt apostate minds
that squander reality
for relatively small fines

licking taste buds
a gentle tug of war
between pixels and reality
for a small stipend more

sucking fingers,
soggy with saliva
and dust to make the stuff
of Davids and Godivas

spit co-mingled, tasted and swallowed
spit co-mingling with my brain
spit co-mingling on an airplane
this spit will drive you insane

that's why I'm sucking my fingers
I put my tongue in your mouth
I taste the Jolly Rancher cherry
it's been a favorite, no doubt
it's sour kick mingles with your spit
spit it out, spit it out
spit it out?
your saliva drips a colorful hue
i only wish to taste of it too...

Apostate! Repent (Part 1)

This was my life's work.
It's all I had going for me.
A head in a hand basket.
A knuckle-rust sandwich.
Stored neatly in a corner
Reserved for mice and maggots
Wrapped in used aluminum foil
Just as I left it
on that cold and only day
Far away from grey skies and blue turtle tails.
Most days I could barely concentrate.
Too much pressure.
Too many distractions
...and though I realized this was to be
The last stand of my memorys
I couldn't help but feel as if more than time was being wasted.



Apologize.
It's the way my brain works.
Nothing gets done.
I fall in love
with the thought of impermanence
until the cold realization
it's my own illusion
whispering away on the wind
no one else's...
...so I fail again.

This beginning leans
towards the end
No indication
an anti-climax of sorts
and if there's a God in heaven,
if I haven't wasted all this life struggling against the weight of damnation in vain...
I will be redeemed in it's eccentricity


I've courted eccentricity
a blind lover
eager for the afterglow.
Expectations I've hoarded are staggering
They turn me into an eager handyman of souls.
An eccentric nature I've absorbed
Yet loathsome to me.
Craving acceptance
but damned the man who can figure me out.
It hurts so much to know I've missed you.
The signal resignation
I've been forced to grant normalcy.

Davar

Davar
Riding the speed of sound
Your command fills the room
How many heads turned
Looking for the Source
What was the question?
How did you know my name?
Her name, her name, her name, my name
Important words our parents used
To describe us

Davar
You must speak if you wish to be heard
First command respect
Next command obedience
Obedience to the power of a word
Don't tell me to read, I'm lazy with sloth
Read to me, let me close my eyes
And pretend creation is the purpose of the world
"Poets writing about poetry
I can't tell you how much they bore me"

Davar
The former word rides accompanied
One on the left side
One on the right side they fly
To the ears, the brains, the hearts, the soul
Speak it into being
Only one could
Speak it into being
Soon comes the day
Davar drips from my tongue
The air around me will turn from oxygen
To liquid to gel to something more durable
Inside this cocoon I'm walking into
I can manipulate all things
I can experiment with five, six dimensions or more
So that my cocoon
This eternal hibernation unit I've designed
And powered by my creativity
Is heaven
This cocoon, evolved brain
Is all I've wanted needed
All I'll ever need and want
Planted the Davar
Almost a century until it was ready
Blossomed now into
My beautiful reward

Laying back
Close the folds in on me
Only room for two
I lie in bliss
Waiting for you

Overthought

Thoughts thoughts thoughts thoughts don't stop they won't stop keep coming unbidden don't stop try to catch one examine exhausting roll it over six sides to a die random molecular structure quarks misfiring

it
is
exhausting

Gotta tell someone gotta tell you big plans for everybody just another bubble rising from the bottom of a Pilsner glass don't wanna over think this but who am I kidding I've already thought it over and decided I've already overthought it the dictionary is my friend Roget is my partner in crime

it
makes
very little sense

...but I won't twist it or turn it, mold it or meld it, sing it or speak it, let it lie let it die let it be let me see...

A general rule of catharsis the recovery process is often difficult the changes it affords take considerable time to assimilate and this is not always a smooth process as one tends to gravitate

Ozzy Stillborn

Ozzy Stillborn, croak your dirge
The fire's still a-blazin'
Drown out the crickles and crackles
The tickles and tackles of tongues red with fire
An image so amazin'
You can't get it out of your head
Dirge or chant, the choice is yours
Sing or hum, nobody cares
Sing of the absence of motion
A song celebrating decay
or the Life, the Truth, the Way
A song to motivate and get us going on our way
A musical composition done in the style of one
Ozzy Stillborn

Careful ladies, his shoulders weigh heavy
Hoist the static girth then hoist him into his bed
Let's see how long it takes for him to clear his sleepy head
Assume the position around him, arms akimbo, jocko homo
The calibration will needs be performed by sadists and nuns
From the local population of same we were blessed to return with seven sadists and a whopping twelve nuns
The calibration, followed by the celebration of the calibration
Will concentrate on the irate segment of the population unhappy with
The lack of education his infatuation with off campus shenanigans
Denigrated and deteriorated him
He must be validated
This is the point and purpose of the calibration
Although it is often noted that the celebration of the calibration is considerably less sure of it's vocation

Your Promised Serving of Nonsense

How to make nonsense out of bitter citrus fruits
Leave them be, already a font of nonsensical egg yolks
You do this for yourself, your own self, and no other self
Endure another fortnight daliance, you dance forthrightly

Absorb information like paranoia
The facts are lying in bed with an orange banana
How to make something lasting in a world cursed with impermanence
It cannot be done. It simply cannot be done.

The length of a breadbasket will often determine
the size of the loaf
The ratio of meat to potatoes makes nonsensical lemonade
The worst kind...worse than the worst

This document is not intended for distribution
during the lifetime of the author
Only with his passing disseminate expecting sympathy for
the old poet's story, how rarely it truly changes

The ingredients for the above mentioned nonsense
have been properly proportortioned and mixed per instruction
Take a wiff, you can smell the sweet aroma of their baking vapor
As a child I ate spoonfuls of baking powder

The aroma certainly saturates the proceedings
Almost intoxicating how it smacks your heart with nostalgia
The stupid cartoons, the National Lampoon stolen from the convenience store you hung out in
Out in, Out in, Out in, Out in, Out in, Out in, Out in, Out in, Out in

That, my friend, is the beginning from the end
That, my foe, is the bleedin' end of the road
I'm in Ian Curtis' voice, deadening repetion
Day in Day out, Day in Day out, Day in Day out, Day in Day out, Day in Day out

Ding, Ding, the timer in the kitchen chimes it's melancholy ring
The nonsense is at this present moment complete
Ready to serve, ready to eat
and please don't choke on my words, I'm half asleep

Morning Recognition

Separate the lies
Can't close it once it's wide
Didn't know what you were getting
A way of life
Pull up the slack
Yesterday happened
Eros ascended
Left me alone this morning to write about it
Blue news
Black ink from the morning paper
Staining

Wait until it's all over and done
That's when you really find out
Is it going to make sense?
Will it bewilder?
Erotica doesn't care

I wish you'd never told me I was beautiful
Because I know you would never lie
"Just look at yourself"
And I know I could see it through your eyes
If I only could shed this morning slumber
It would be easy to pretend
Vanity, get the best of me
Routine drags me to the mirror
I remove my clothes and stare
At this person who arouses him
I look harder
I gaze at the hologram in the glass
Whose eyes blink with mine
Whose chest rises and falls
With the same rhythm as my own
Who looks at me with the same intense curiosity as I view her
I wonder what she sees?
Does she see the same beauty that confounds my love?
The expression on her face tells me
She is as clueless as I am

I turn to leave
She turns with me
I walk away
She vanishes
I wonder if she looks forward
To seeing me again
If she looks forward, as I do, to our next meeting
For I cannot get her out of my head

My God
She's so beautiful

Misplaced Song

Stuck here in the middle
with my thoughts swirlin' 'round me
Like a storm come to sweep me away

Too much thinking,
I'm so tired of my own voice
Won't be quiet, ain't got nothin' to say...

...says it anyway.