Author(s)Emerson, Nathan Drew
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AbstractThesis (M.A.)--Central Michigan University, 2011. x, 144 leaves.
TRANSGENDERED IN TIME ON ANTI-PSYCHOTICS Nathan Drew Emerson A thesis submitted in partial fulfillment of the requirements for the degree of Master of Arts Department of English Language and Literature Central Michigan University Mount Pleasant, Michigan February, 2011 ii Accepted by the Faculty of the College of Graduate Studies, Central Michigan University, in partial fulfillment of the requirements for the Master‘s degree Thesis Committee: Rose Gubele, Ph.D. Committee Chair Robert Fanning, MFA Faculty Member Jeffrey Bean, MFA Faculty Member March 2, 2011 Date of Defense Roger Coles, Ph.D. Dean College of Graduate Studies March 25, 2011 Approved by the College of Graduate Studies iii The tangerine dream of the electric light organ made me aware that their god was in the air. So I jumped! Luckily there was no haste nor wastes in the devil's froth and piss_ who covers cool cases, like lunatic line_ with workers in hell as well as divine. Nathan Drew Emerson iv Copyright by Nathan Drew Emerson 2011 v To my muse, to every woman who has been abused, and to my mother Bernadette. vi ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS I want to thank Dr. Rose Gubele, Professor Jeffrey Bean, and Professor Robert Fanning for helping with my thesis. I also want to thank the Writing Center for giving me the technical skills and suggestions to assist me in completing my Introduction. Finally, I wish to recognize the support of Central Michigan University in the process of creating this collection. vii ABSTRACT TRANSGENDERED IN TIME ON ANTI-PSYCHOTICS by Nathan Drew Emerson Transgendered in Time on Anti-Psychotics is a collection of poetry dedicated to women and transgendered men who may be sexually inquisitive about their feminine senses. Men who have sexually transgendered tendencies may include some who believe in making love instead of war, or totally eradicating hatred from the male self, which craves power politically. California is the state that capitalizes on this self-recognition, and gender bends the imaginary lines of heterosexuality. Out West on the Pacific Ocean is where dreams come true; this is how art beckons the mentally ill, satisfying our material and spiritual worlds with words. viii TABLE OF CONTENTS INTRODUCTION 1 GATE I 10 Elemental Love The Trilogy 13 Hydrogen 13 Helium 15 Lithium 19 Transgendered in Time on Anti-psychotics 22 God is on the Pill 24 The Scarlet Womon of Ward Nine in L.A. 27 E Pluribus Unum 28 The Crucifixion of Eve 30 The Diamond Game 31 With the Angels of L.A. 32 Measuring a King Spiders Arithmetic 33 Breakfast in the Kitchen at Anna’s House 35 Post Transgendered Poetry and Tipping the Band Wagon 37 When the Bear Falls the Lesbian Rises 39 Untitled 43 Untitled 44 Untitled 45 Captive Seasons 46 To the Wind 47 Jim Morrison Rides a Pale Horse to the Ancient Lake of Fire 48 Digital Eyes and Ears 49 Forever Fragile Feminists 50 GATE II 52 My Alternative Route Runaway Rose 58 Cast 59 Autumn Belle 60 Winter Belle 61 Spring Belle 62 Summer Belle 63 In the Sun with my Ms. T 64 A Doll without Hair 66 The Folly 67 Lisa 68 Untitled 69 New York 70 ix “Preotomic Matoratic Alovicca” 71 Tori 72 Zoheret 73 Coitus 74 Catalyst 75 David 76 Snuff Out 77 Devil’s Light 78 Untitled 79 To Avalokitesvara 80 Abandon 81 GATE III 82 Abort 92 Bjork 93 Untitled 94 Jezebel 95 Untitled 96 Carol 97 Luna .001 98 Janis 99 Autumn 100 Untitled 104 Unseated 102 Tratacom.com 103 Untitled 104 Untitled 105 Tori 106 Breakfast Girl 107 Her 108 Angel on my Toe 109 The Mitten 110 Leaving Franco 111 Sara’s Bath 112 Gentle December Hands 113 Angel 114 To Amos in the Form 115 Melt 116 To the Poet 117 Evidence 119 Heather 120 Gretchen 121 Alice 122 America aciremA 123 New Breed 124 Sounds 125 x A Reflection of Perfection 126 Time 127 Everything will Stay the Same 128 As Forever Ends 129 Mr. Moonlight 130 Isabelle 131 Death in Moonlight 132 White 133 Red 134 Black 135 69 136 1 INTRODUCTION Transgendered in Time on Anti-Psychotics offers the reader a schizophrenic ride through the mind of a wild feminist poet. This work provides the reader with a reflection of my sexuality, spiritual existence, and my experience on the many pills that help control my mental illness. This work and its poems reflect my experience as a transgendered victim suffering because I feel trapped in time with the wrong body. In Mahayana Buddhist traditions, samsara is time and space, and my soul is in this body that reflects suffering. It is not that I feel like I was born in the wrong time period; instead, my living vessel has no way of escaping the presence of time and space. Moreover, my spirit is that of a womon. The word ―transgendered‖ in the title reflects my identification as a womon. The word womon and womyn are singular and plural versions of the common vernacular of ―woman‖ and ―women.‖ The common spellings of these words reinforce a male-oriented identity, while the alternate spellings created by the Neo-Feminist movement reinforce a feminine-oriented identity. So, my spellings reinforce a feminine- generated identity for individuals who embrace femininity as an identity, as opposed to an identity defined by biological contrast with men, which is reinforced by the use of ―woman‖ and ―women.‖ My work is discursive; I take my life experience and put it to poetry that raises questions about the nature of human sexuality and gender identity, as well as the nature of existence and sanity. While I provide guidance for the reader with experimental language, narrative, and voice, the reader is ultimately left to answer these questions as they pertain to her personal life. How does my identification as a transgendered individual with a Neo-Feminist mindset affect my poetry? I do not feel comfortable in my flesh all the time. My poetry allows me to open up in ways I could not do when I used to 2 disguise and ignore my sexuality and feminist flare. Also, there is a lot of built-up pressure and anger in my work. I refuse to forgive the men that made me the victim that I am today. I am transgendered, but most people do not understand because they have not been me, walking in my awkwardness and jealous shame for not having the strikingly exquisite feminized figure. I remember my first lesbian experience in my odd body. It was then that I discovered that I was transgendered in time-space with many doctors waiting to hand me pills so that I could function better in society. This means I am trapped in a body that is not my own while on medication for an illness. It is difficult to function correctly when you have a mental disorder. The title and the content of my work reflect my experience as a transgendered victim of both psychological and physical abuse—suffering because I feel stuck in time with the wrong body. This collection is about how difficult it is and how beautiful life as a transgendered Neo-Feminist can be. I write personal poetry for this reason. There is a muse that I focus on when I write, but many other voices come clear and clairvoyantly to enlighten the reader with descriptive language. The poems in this work are impulsive with this type of linguistic and feminized motif. Impulse in spirituality and poetry can lead a person down an interesting road. For me, poetry is the one thing I have left to identify myself with freedom of speech. That is really important to me because I think that good art is explicit in some tropes. This is how one escapes the oppression of a unique identity like mine. My work is part of the canon of Neo-Feminism that I have constructed because I care about people, and I am sensitive to other peoples‘ conditions. The main motif is slavery of the soul to the body, and dabbles poetically in slavery in time-space. There are 3 three gates that began in the three sections of my collection. The first gate is feminine; the second gate is masculine; and the third gate is a hybrid of the two. There are seldom times that I can identify with just one gender identity. My physical body is rough and unwanted by my feminine soul, which is my identity with womonhood. I am clearly a lesbian writer inspired by Gertrude Stein with a unique use of word flow and mood, and I have a grasp on my identity as an American poet too. I love imagination and my identification in America. I have been asked why I feel this way, and I think the best way to say it is that my body is a cocoon for my mind and soul. My spirit will one day be delivered from suffering when I leave this male body, this foreign vessel. It is foreign because it does not conform to the standard ideology of masculine norms. Instead, I have to acculturate to the considered norm. For now, I will take with me the thoughts that my imagination can give me of a great place after this one, with more time to read and write poetry in that place too. I never had a choice in the matter either, and I am the minority because I follow that underground culture. If one thinks about the underground as always pushing the page forward, then the majority may even follow the minority in actions. My identification is what it is, and nothing can change that I identify with womyn and womyn‘s mood and wisdom. The significance of ―anti-psychotics‖ and the challenges of writing while suffering from, and receiving care for, mental illness has been a long and difficult. I have eaten many pills to correct my sickness of schizoaffective disorder, bi-polar type II. I have found it easy to write about anti-psychotics in Graduate School, and I decided to use these words in the title to show my readers that this is I. My work is personal for that 4 reason, and I want to make sure the reader knows that I am real and not fake in metaphor and mood. There is a touch of reality in everyone‘s work, but my imagination is my reality as a person with mental illness, which makes it more difficult to function because I write in a style called free-form poetry, which I was inspired to focus on from working at WCBN FM in Ann Arbor. WCBN Radio is a ―free-form‖ radio station because it plays a mixture of music from all over the world, with minimal structure. To call my work free-form is to say that there should be no rule about what makes something art—or a poem in this case. But there is more to it than that; there is that question as to whether it is good or not. I will be honest: if one wants to be a better poet, follow me. My influences are the West Coast, music, science fiction, and many other forms of art. My West Coast journey is what made me want to write this thesis. It makes me feel happy to know that I can still feel accepted as a transgendered individual who is stuck in time with an array of prescription pills to take. That is why I write. I want my readers to know what I have done through experience, both physical and psychological. The physical is what I have done on my westward walk and the poetry that I have written from there to here. The psychological is either my hope chest of dreams writing poetry for Californian celebrities in both Hollywood and Beverly Hills, or recognition from someone special. Moreover, this is what I am planning on doing. On the other hand, I do not see how a writer could refuse to write about what the writer has experienced in life. One of the main characteristics of my work is Western culture, and that is the experience that I have made for myself. What better way to express and evoke readers than giving them the truth of a personal poet? 5 My artistic influences are womyn like Frida Kahlo, and my poetry reflects this because, like Frida, I want to convey female pain and emotion in my art. It is that impulse that drives me to write and that same impulse should drive the reader. I am a transgendered feminist writer because of this too, not to mention that I listen to a wide variety of music that has come from the west coast. This has affected my work as an experimental poet, drawing me closer to the edge of insane alternative alliteration. Gertrude Stein has influenced me as well, as many other writers like Sylvia Plath, Emily Dickinson, and Adrienne Rich. I feel like I channel them as my muses and the poetry just rolls out on the page from my fingertips. I also think of myself as a futurist and that is where my interest in science fiction comes in handy. As a futurist my trilogy ―Elemental Love‖ incorporates strange science fiction with poetic words in prose format. In fact, as science evolves so will my work as a poet with a good imagination for language and beat, heavily influenced by jazz. For example, the formal aspects of descriptive language in my poems shows how my craft has developed over the years. The elements of my craft serve a purpose. I use prosody, point of view, diction, tone, voice, metaphor, sound (i.e., assonance, alliteration, consonance, and structure) to create a mood that sometimes captivates the reader while at other times alienates. Each of these elements are interwoven in my craft of poems in this collection and are full of estrogen blanketing the reader with evocative inner-visions of femininity. For example, in ―Forever Fragile Feminists,‖ there is an absurd amount of these elements for the purpose of good poetics to attract the reader and the critic, pulling them into the wake of my alliterative language too. 6 I also use unique aspects in my work. I often experiment with fragmented phrases, multiple speakers, typographical experiments (e.g., underscores and dashes), the various tones and voices in my work (the range of delicate love poems, slang, rage...), the use of catalogued alliteration (soughs saturated salt spin siren....). I love to experiment and I realize that although my work with these aspects will be loved, not everyone will understand it. Although I mentioned earlier that my work has evolved, the real meaning of my work has not changed much over the years. I am more of a feminist now, but the creative edginess is still there as it always was. Moreover, these poems serve a purpose common for most transgendered lesbians who feel the way I do about love and life. There is a dark side to my work, but that is just because of the balanced rate of the Tao. That is why I used ―69‖ as the last poem in my collection. I feel that the title brings out that balance in energy and invokes me to the reality of life. To show that I am transgendered, I use the number six, which also represents positive force, as nine is the antecedent of six, and these numbers could even be assigned colors to identify them. They could be white and black, or any other polar opposite colors. I chose ―69‖ as the last poem in my collection because it is circular in motion, and the colors black and white begin to fade and the balance goes gray, just like Yin and Yang work in Taoism. There is no way to distinguish my poetry correctly, because every poem is like a wave in the sea. Each wave is different and unique just like my lines that sometimes contain misspellings. Now, there is a bit of augury in my work from meaningless phrases that incorporate my poems, and I find that these types of coincidences are real because of my diagnosis. 7 When people ask me what a poem should be I say that I think that it could be anything as long as it is real and written from the soul. It must survive the test of time to some men but to me as long as there is fun in poetry we will see an increase in imaginative writing. My work is what a poem should do too, and I hope that through this college experience others will not copy my style. I have feared this in the past but now that I look into my fate I realize that there is nothing I can do but write as much as possible so that others can‘t write what must engage twenty-first century poetics. Therefore, I may have to take things to the next level, for the imitators. I have already seen this happen with men claiming that they were inspired by what I do. To me it is no different than the white man slaughtering off the natives. It is up to everyone to do his or her own work; my worst fear is that someone will beat me to the chase in good literature. I often use my imagination to build energy in my poems and also protection from men. Think of my poems as an encryption for words that only belong to the muse. The muse I use can be identified in poems that I dedicate to the ones I love and admire whether it is the good or bad in that thing. I write about what needs to be written for now. And I want to be the leader in taking poetry to the next level by 2012. All of the poems in this collection are spontaneous and free, and I am about to take ―these little girls‖ to the next movement of the arts in century. The arrangement of these poems are up to the individual to explain why things are the way they are, but I will say that there are patterns to each one and sometimes even intentional errors in grammar. These errors or mistakes are there for a reason and I will let the reader interpret what they want from them. As I pointed out, there are a number of different reasons why I linked all of these poems together. I organized these poems with the number twenty-three in mind. I assume 8 everyone knows that death comes in threes so, I wrote ninety-two poems in three sections. There is a sort of circular theory game that one could take with numbers and rhythm in poetry. So there are three gates that divide each section of the work and then twenty-three poems in the first feminine gate, then twenty-three in the second masculine gate, and forty-six in the third gate, because it is a hybrid of the two, the black and white mixture turns gray. The final section has twice as many intentional mistakes and resists genre or motifs twice as much, and this is also a symptom of being a transgendered lesbian with mental illness. I have walked many miles and wandered on a strange path through light and darkness. I transcend my poems to give my work a wider audience appeal. My walk consisted of undergoing different experiences in the West throughout my life. I have spent time in California, New Mexico, Texas, and Oregon, but my favorite of these states is still California. I have taken a walk and, existentially speaking, because of the experiences that I have been through and the adversities that I have overcome, I have been molded into the poet that I am today. I am transgendered in time on anti-psychotics. The work I do in poetry is experimental and, I feel, evocative. My technique has been developing over the years, and my poetry reflects this. The West Coast journeys that I have taken are something that will stick in my mind forever. It turned out to be a spiritual experience of independence and creativity. My walk is the western way of the native, musician, poet, and the artist. Tori Amos, Jimmy Hendrix, Bjork, Kurt Cobain, Jim Morrison, Grace Slick, Fiona Apple, and Dr. Dre: all of these people have had personal experience with the craft, and for me California is a mind-blowing adventure that never stops pumping art into the body and soul. This is where the imagination takes over, and 9 the true West Coast poet is born. Transgendered in Time on Anti-Psychotics is my collection that incorporates the struggle of my life as an artist, and especially as a habitual poet. 10 GATE I open the gates of hell let me come in as a womon of the world that is full of sin take this contemplation and suck my tin lips as the future eradicates the kitchen. our stove is made of mercury and the bitter taste of butter base the wings of a dove. I can feel the open era of electronic age. I am a god now. I am a heavenly mistake to those haughty Kaya sirens that awake if you can hear me now you would lie to your lover like dynamite on flame. flowers are another passion of my love like a winged raven whoa. think I caught a little cold coughing crazy from that code. To the shit demons that are ass clowns of he'll To the fuck to the critic and to the man and to the man The day i hung white boy Fuck with me now I am dead. Snakes and shit saints part with this. Son if her hand that mother clan A queer queen form voodoo land. In my dress with all the girls like the hand of time ticking away from the grotesque. Her breath was in the hay an interesting honor from the dismay A life that she led from the Afro locks Pink and purple and pink and green If you were so upset with me then the stalking would be real. This is no shock to the magic that i have in my head. In my pink gray scull. There is no dismay in the mater the end is near. Now to the sea lion and the shark To the misfit To the egg To the eggs To the aliens that are in my pink Grey scull. No like the stink of a shell that has been removed from the sea Mother ocean is my destiny Like that daredevil barrel of mother oceans tide Take to me and the Other things To the dogs of he'll To the mothers that are victims of men Men who start wars 11 Don't trust I don't trust I am a goddess she said. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ i got her red hair in my eyes. I got her locks in my hive To the queen of literature, I That is I Sirens in thief‘s key of G. The old Polo mystery was begging for this day Know whirr. O have gone in the state of mind and that you loved me i To the king of misfit and to the prophet if candy lace to the ear drop laced capered in the dandle To the faithful like a spill of vomit on my neck like the bite of an alien inn the end of the film i will take veer and kill you with my star girl tide and turn me into the Northern Lad. Do what you have to do to get to her, Anna stepped into tree ors mind. Now to the thief in the end of the state. There was something wrong with the receiver so that true key was stuck in the rood. Greetings I am not from here i am not from here This is not here. This is not my flesh this DNA this piss This blood has passed through my heart of chains sssnake sssake There is an army of that date tree Bring it to me as the fall seasons change As the ones that float to the tips of he'll for that is where every dime is t the devil dolls This is no pop show how will you entered cyberspace Take that bass from the nirvana case The one that Kurd had placed Under the seat Understand Some kinda‘ seat.. 12 Sweat dreams from the land of liberty with the open arms to the ones that are in the world of sympathy. Here are the stables of the Ridden that will rise. 13 Elemental Love The Trilogy Hydrogen Bumbling buzz bump brains bleed bedazzled bee_bee bewitched, with a fraction of willabooth want to take time training Tra‘s soldiers. Red light on_ which mandates winds from the east to abide by winds from the west like treasure chests. This story begins from the soothsayer of the soul. Queen Tra and her army despised the love of Tao. Her hatred was hierarchy heroine hydrogen balloon. To the life of the leviathan queen Tra was an expert of the masculinity of Mars. Ounce thought of as a womon, but now without remorse from god above. She lost her hourglass slippers and beheaded man undone. Queen Tra_ queen Tra_ who is this queen of no love? @@@@ ―Till the end_ till the end_till the end. A new season will draw. My sophistication and quixotic quills will kill this romanticism. To kill the Stein. To kill the red. To limit love. To the bitter end.‖ Tra pushed her platinum palate plate further down the entrance of the trachea zone. ―Alone I am.‖ She felt the solitude of the streets that were paved like little rocks in the middle of an escalator. The hallway rang with the humming of mathematical matrices. Masic simulator stimulator session speaker spoke <The time has come for bitter things> <0013454.4464746> progress redialed from the sectors 1,2,3,4,5,6,7,8,9… <When will Armageddon begin> Cried the mother board of Tra‘s red rot Network. The smell of burning computers was like an army of flies on coffee grounds and spoiled ham. ―Words, words, words,‖ flamed Tra. ―My spaceship is beneath my firm fortune forming feet at the rage of sin, or the cost of cuddling cream.‖ Her shade was maroon with gold wand waking with worth of heavens reveal. ―Is there anybody out there?‖ A Crypt Hyper CID trooper tall as temple replied, ― Tis our time.‖ He looked at her dress and eyes, praising her glorious gleam. ―Magis valerem, si hic maneres.‖ There was fierce fire from forgotten fornication in his soiled stem. ―What a Mason March Malay melody malignant Monorail Monarchy,‖ the CID trooper shut his mouth before the queen spoke. ―So there is_ so there is_ someone that dared to defy her majesty queen Tra.‖ She lifted her wand of gold and maroon musk melting him. ―Odrint, dum metuant.‖ Tap taping a drag on her cigarette. ―Am I alone? Perhaps, they are all dead?‖ She loosened her bra. ―For I am queen_queen_queen_queen_ but I forgot? Who is this that ruled with golden wand? With the curtain of monarch to the devil daring within?‖ Her matrix was polluted with virus from hate, no lullaby laughter or hesitant fate. Dead air of an unwanted frequency forever fumbling front from fire for_ foster care. @@@@ ―Hello lover_‖ an ocean outtake orgasm off out_ off_ off outlandish others often omen. ―Try to feel my past with yours.‖ Miss Love scratched her vintage vagina Viroqua voltron voltage void. ―Lover_ lover_ what your name?‖ ―Miss Love_ Miss Love_‖ with her makeup on and a dress of less or green gown. Kurdt took his guitar down from the rafters of district eight and began to play. ―For you, to 14 justify my love_ it is I Kurdt. As you use to call me Cobain, and to you, where is our third?‖ Madam Madonna rose from her grave. ―Kabbalah kisses… Matrix hisses, must eradicate Tra, for a world without love will surly fall…‖ Her hair so subtle so primitive in would so futile so furious so speak able to Tao. She pawned her body to Miss Love, ―Here take this love and define it when ready. Your lover Kurdt will override the matrices and Tra‘s kingdom will fall. Here take it all‖ She set up a firewall ferocious free fact. Her logic so swell. She handed the Hydrogen eggs over to Miss Love. ―I have them now.‖ She glowed with pine pulse red eyes. Stoned perhaps, but stopping the lies. ―This is a code red. This is a state of emergency. What a state of emergency.‖ Another womon from around the bellowing bend broke the code. A bee_ a bee_ brought to you with letter B_ for bomb.‖ Bjork broke the bubble of time space with her voice. ―Nice to see that you have not forgotten me. This is Bjork from the possum tree, love me forever till you all may see.‖ Her circuits crushed climactic climate clutching Kurdt and Miss Love‘s networking. ―Who is it? Who is it? Who is it that gave you bach‘ your crown?‖ She flew into the wall of the trachea zone as a blackish brackish brown bat bestowing Kurdt and Miss Love. Xhiona regenerated recycled radiance from nothingness morphed into a frog. ―Love? Where is my lover_ so wise with red locks.‖ Miss Amos reformed radiance reincarnation into a frog too. ―We are back my love, in full form. Nirvana is forbidden to everyone but us.‖ Bjork became the energy of everything, freeing the universe, especially sector nine. ―Do not drop the bomb. Drop acid, I repeat, drop acid not bombs. For now my friends we must be, like one bubbles bounce, before us, let it be.‖ She moved forward flux flow through the matrix motherboard shifting time space. Masic matrix mellow <no more lies> cried the network of god. Mason Mason Mason Mason Mason Mason.094.4876523.111110034.3.14_< Queen Tra is eradicated destroyed_ demolished_ devastated_not to mention dead> Muttons and milk on kittens with cream, the killing of Tra‘s soldiers was less than gleam. The end has come, with Elliot Smith singing while beating a drum. All will move out as our outcome is numb. Minimal distance from one to the next take this little feeling and make it compress. Samsara disapered… Brenos micantra majik black and white. Red_ Red_ Red_ Red_Red out of sight. <Mission complete objective outstanding overheating over heating out out out.>032510.8897654321.123456789.10<breaking up> <Red out> 15 Helium Snow search starship summer surge sung still bright with twilight twinkle toe -two lovers- in the middle of blackout… A blackout that turned to static then white wisdom light from mother sun shine seeking strut salad sound. Witchcraft world west_of west, copper line lure like floating bobber bothered by bright boy balloons black as well_ still floating. ―Greetings lover_‖ A waitress voice spoke, her angel ally alien love from above England‘s energetic era. ―Is that your shade upon the craft, so subtle and smooth strange as mother‘s milk on molasses.‖ Intuitively, she knew her love was near. A presence of something from nothing regenerated into a pink female fox penetrating her flesh with a bitten bite. ―As good as wine_ like blood on the vine. Run_ a chick_a dee_dee, black box now reincarnated into something else.‖ ―What,‖ asked the waitress? ―Is this my wire trip bra in the way? What is your name?‖ Again apple seed suck smooth black violent wipeout, turned to grey goose gust. ―I don‘t remember, let me quake wake regress but take a name. Was it Xhion? No, now I know, but you must see my female face forever feminine for my name is Xhiona.‖ He, now a she, touched the waitress‘s face and her resin flesh. ―For what is your name? Such a love of mine, now my milky mustard masculinity has reformed rational radiation and rust. ―I am the waitress.�� Her Native glow broke faith fallen firm within, as she smirked. Please, waitress, waitress, in the belly of the bellowing beast bread with breed and China‘s wall. My name must make mellow by the tongue that torture the tickle and tackle tipples tits. My name must be Xhiona. So in this era English end, what is your maiden must?‖ ―Well I must see,‖ She said. ―My maiden must is now a trust for your heart is of gold and mouth is of cradle.‖ The waitress sneezed. ―Achoo… achoo… I speak for my name please collectively call me Miss Amos. But then where did we rise from and regenerate reincarnate rapture?‖ ―From the waiter, waiter, please_ yes_yes_ for I want to kill that waiter. I want to kill that one. But she crushed cold cod crimson heart of mine. So with this a second chance at love.‖ ―Us?‖ Replied Miss Amos. ―For love? Perhaps, but what has she done? This waiter, this waiter, this Mary Jane Jill jump start my heart that crushed you so? Was it a cannabis crush crying cannon cold crane cry?‖ ―No_not really. Twas the light that blacked out_ for old love, and as the devil collects it we have to make more.‖ ―Who?‖ ―Not yet my love, hush_ hush. Our residue will leave a trail for one to find. Till now I see your red hair ravishing russet roots rolled in rain.‖ Miss Amos cried, ―Cogitur ad lacrimas oculus, dum cor dolet intus.‖ ―Redundant, yes, but true.‖ Xhiona moved in for a kiss. Her diamond wings of glam gates golden glory goal. Miss Amos pulled away. ―Am I your muse?‖ 16 ―Yes, with that said, I love your sterling shoes.‖ She reached over to snap off her banana bra with wing. Vertigo valiant vest validated vivid veritas, under the sea of lost and swollen property of Rugen-6. Queen Tra came in with curtain call carrying four data police to investigate the crime. ―Who and what must make such love_ for hate will rule with my rod of cruel heart of crud?‖ Asked Tra. <opening trapped love insertion gates in the session of spring soiled by blood of the lamb repeated the network file> 001892763.01_ manna and mammals munching away. Miss Amos searched Xhiona and her cybernetic crime rate running rapid like a heart ready to explode from chronically cut cocaine. Four chambers to the heart_ to the heart of the matter. Like love on fire feasting for men and fighting the masculine revolution. ―Xhiona? Where are you? Did the moon take you from my Sun?‖ Xhiona tried to keep her mouth shut. Zippered Zion mountain muttering mud and mutton meat. The cat in her cried out, ―You are the one I wanted, what I want is so unreal…‖ Miss Amos screamed, ―No not me! Not yet!‖ Her main circuitry fried the network of the city capturing cryptic crime rate. Tra‘s salty slime seethe stood before and beside the two of them. ―For what should I do to you two, making love like blue boy‘s bubbling brains boasting ‗bout boats buoyantly.‖ ―Boy‘s,‖ asked Xhiona? ―Yes, blue boy‘s in the bath burning before the bank of Tra‖ ―Are we not familiar female feminists feasting on frozen phallic flesh?‖ Xhiona grabbed Miss Amos and clutched her crotch with her scabbed scribe wings. Before one of the data police tried to grab them they were floating up_up into planetary sector nine. Hallo not having hatred in the garden of pine green garden where Tra rests her battle base bones boasting basically. ―Cum primi ordines hostium concidissent, tamen acerrime reliqi resistebant.‖ Tra adjusted her ship for takeoff. ―Winter wind wake them cluster clash craze confuse the enemy with virus_ with virus.‖ @@@@ Back at the trachea zone, Tra and her soldiers ate solid souls sizzling in the solar sun. ―Helium,‖ said Tra, ―It is how those two love lizards got away.‖ ―YES_YES_ YES_ me lord.‖ Her jester complied. ―Who are these artistic scoundrels searching for love?‖ ―As much as that question excites me, I do not know.‖ Tra released a slithering soil snake out the backdoor of the zone. ―We are searching for the two right now. They are somewhere in sector nine, and we will find, a way to negate their future.‖ Frost and frozen time, at the cost of rancid rhyme. Tra‘s soldiers stopped at the gates of sector nine. ―We have the perimeter surrounded. Their network is under our control.‖ Under snow and random black outs the static from sector nine pulsed violent violet Vishnu. A CID trooper interrogated the area, quietly looking to arrest the lovers Xhiona and Amos. ―Attention queen Tra,‖ squeaked the CID‘s voice. ―There was blood on the pavement and Christ in the meadow.‖ A hyper camera taped the trooper walking around 17 the craters of sector nine. ―I see nothing more,‖ he replied over the main stream cobra call cell. ―Force their prolific bodies out of the way.‖ Tra entered the sector dressed in orange, white, and azure gown. ―My kingdom will be complete after we find their love and eradicate erotic behavior.‖ She drew her plasma wand and wound it up with enigma energy. ―Sandman soothsayer salute honorably to the kingdom of Tra,‖ replied one officer. ―We seem to have found an encrypted trail of blood coming from the ninth sector.‖ ―Is it them,‖ asked Tra? ―Apparently so.‖ ―Destroy them indefinitely_ and destroy them distinctively, for Tra is your queen.‖ She glanced into a camera on the wall of her green gate garden in Rugan-6. Dark energy dense duress danger deriving from dynamite or C-4, Tra opened her cloak coming closer to capture the two, terminating their love. @@@@ ―A keystone kiss sent me to your lips_ such lips of gold pink yet tart so subtle and sweet like mother mutton or kittens to cream.‖ Xhiona motioned her mouth suffocating on a cyanide stone. ―I can‘t hear you lover.‖ ―Yes_ my love,‖ Miss Amos replied. ―I have found the way to eternal life, beaten down like a cop on a priest, you are my love forever.‖ Xhiona bled from her heart as the curtain of sector nine fell between the two of them. ―Who was that dictator that tried to steal our love,‖ asked Miss Amos? ―The queen of cups, that is, the queen of hearts, diamonds, clubs, and spades. She is the queen of all that is made, to hate, to love, the mandate, and to reap. She is without us now, though her strength is strong.‖ ―But, to whom she controls? Was it not time and space that she mandates,‖ asked Miss Amos? Tra sickened sweet with every scent, morrows weeping deep with dead divine. Her green glistened cocoon chrysalis, weeping wonder on sector nine. ―Tis I the queen_ I will eradicate the helium from your souls. Your balloon my boy will be black if that is what my future holds. Your love my two is ignorant. Death to the proletariat, for the fascist face is in my name.‖ <Sector nine flickered 83225.09186> Closing gates to the inner dimensional helium portal. Queen Tra laughed. ―The end is near for your fate is queer.‖ She drew her wand and proceeded to ignite the C-4. ―Tis I queen Tra_ Tis I queen Tra_ Tis I queen Tra_ Iis I queen Tra_ out_ out_out and off with their heads.��� She lit the wick with mad intentions wandering wastefully with insanity. This sector will self destruct in t-minus thirteen seconds and counting… <T.minus.4987> <T.minus.3485> System overload… ―White out?‖ asked Xhiona. 18 ―We will fight for love my dear,‖ Miss Amos injected a gust of helium in the air trying to snipe out the C-4 wick. ―Your time is up,‖ replied Tra. ―With my mind made up.‖ She took four seconds to fall through a trapdoor in the floor. Her Cybernetic circuitry collapsed the motherboard. ―I am now a god,‖ her voice echoed over and over and over again in the network. Lost to the light, Miss Amos and Xhiona floated into sub space. There were particles of dust and fragments of frost on their hands and their resin skin touched together on their lips. ―Together now_‖ Xhiona said. ―We are close but in dreams.‖ Miss Amos approached Xhiona‘s flesh.―Yes my love_ for I would eat your body if it were I were a mantis preying on pests and mating with your kind.‖ ―We will live in infinity forever,‖ replied Xhiona. ―I know,‖ Said Miss Amos. Her red rot rosette hair rested like the sunset. ―Forever my love_ Forever…‖ The two lovers floated up_up_ and away into the masic program without governing dynamics to rule their souls. The present faded as well as the past. For the future was all they could emit. White out. 19 Lithium Juniper tree sparkle shines starlight winter snow breeze -two lovers- silent soft suppertime bells ring round era hour eon night. Watchword juicy salad scent sound. ―Hello ‗gain,‖ Doshima whispered over clouded haunt hours. ―Stay again, love, like the winter breeze buckets baste beneath your toes. Yes?‖ Dreios hands cupped her resin flesh. Burnin‘ up hallo not happening to the end of the summers saunty scent watchword sour salivated hour_hour safe with him. Two taunty snakes with winter word waiters like France on fire feasting silk den under mother mutton meadow. Snow still falling… ―Is that her shade upon the hill,‖ she touched his white cold cheek. ―It was blacker than the hour we wasted walking to well.‖ ―Only the drone of summer cloud could fake sickle silver like your tears,‖ he moaned. ―Sighing soft,‖ she hugged his weathered cufflink. ―Warm warn like the blood.‖ ―Which?‖ Her lips quivered. ―Bowels blank growls goat gutter tamarack green glitters under sunken moon.‖ Dreio looked up_up to mother mist like wolf. ―Revoked?‖ ―...Under which snow or circuit-main?‖ Her lips licked still. Westward waiting shook the chickadee_dee_dee black box, which monitored under the pressure of willabooth want. Watchin‘ the satellite stars drawn under mind and lust chain white like the beasts that frothed over green and gray papyrus. @@@@ Cape curtain crush cross isles of circuitry, parallel time, on Rugan-6, solid bodies, dense matter. ―Tis‘ I Queen Tra,‖ her synthetic dialect was received by house data security. <Tinsel light flicker .018282> Opening gate nine inner-dimensional neuron chasm. The cybernetic walls of Rugen-6 pulsed, as the door slid open. ―Where heaven roams lust wanders, mosquito bites, deeper spaces in dreams, pink sheep, voice damage in sculls.‖ A Crypt Hyper CID trooper passed by the gate, crossing the queen‘s presence. ―Blackest ship centered in the mist, crazed animalistic tenses imprisoned by senses.‖ Tra struck the soldier with her wand. ―Curiosity, under pink and blue proofs, eisegesis, imperial blank matrons minx, candy time is burden like, flesh of quantitative inheritance.‖ ―Yes_yes your majesty,‖ the flustered CID dropped to the deck. ―Such transgression plumps poisons in heads,‖ Tra progressed her way into the trachea zone. ―Solitudo placet Musis, urbs est inimica poetis.‖ ―Ubi libertas cecidit, audet libere nemo loqui,‖ the CID whispered. The shutter opened from a Zircon groove postulator on the ceiling. A droid in the shape of a spider dropped from the top of the deck. It landed on his shoulder and inseminated a cyanide egg into his neck. 20 ―Amor vincit veritas,‖ he collapsed to his knees, and fell to the floor of the deck, choking on his tongue. @@@@ ―Waiter, waiter, waiter please,‖ Xhion‘s cybernetic circuitry pulsed pine green. No news for the sick and sedated sorrowing in salts from sweat, premature like little boys, making it with hands on walls and doorknobs, deep breathing under cyber sheets, cold beds in warm heads. Milky resin waste karmic pastes thick funnel craze reeling deep in the mid-day. ―Wait,‖ a distorted image voiced. ―Artificial brains like best friends in bed, bother the dead instead, when serving me bread.‖ Xhion mutated his hand into a clitoris. ―Interesting to lick when my flesh is so, so…‖ ―Innocent?‖ overdrive shorted out his arm. Xhion morphed into a blue lotus, and landed between her breasts. ―White, snow like, so crisp with great height, so high, like child‘s mind, font glows like mother moans, clean feet and ears for the movies, like locked up spirits, but when your outside, your outside, in the space you use to fit in, when you were young, and the sky was a beautiful blue, so to lick is like the sun, in the sky, watermelon pink salivates sweet scents on picnic sheets, messy children drooling, bleeding brains baked in the sun, ignorant of winters touch.‖ ―Lycaeides Argyrognomon Lotis,‖ her voice hummed. ―Look at that blue beauty of a sky,‖ Xhion crawled toward her left breast. ―What if it decides to run_away?‖ A rerun of I Love Lucy was playing through her semi-transparent nipple. He pretended to watch. ―On color, of what blue is? Pixels in matrices run the day, bulldozers in forests of green make room for activity. With the skies experience fixed, nothing can liberate, all that you try to see is free, more love is a lie.‖ ―Why?‖ ―Frozen time.‖ She grabbed him by his wings. ―Like a hand-grenade,‖ she crushed him, ―we never stop exploding.‖ Sea of touch candle light love, holes in bra‘s, banana milk shawl wrapped around necks. Her shoulder‘s light the moon, loveliness smooth, violin crest grooves in the breaker at dusk. Red sea scrolls over the devil‘s black bed, inscents in the breeze, autumns‘ cumber bothers virtual trees. @@@@ Sandfish sand sunder smither smother one two three hand father cloths under pink melon drifts fellow fierce ferry voices. ―Mind?‖ Quivering cradle cactus sun shaken red rosette rusted nails, queen Tra sat. ―YES_YES ME LORD,‖ her nincompoop answered. Smoke seether risen soot pecunia puss muster mallow raised Tra and her majestic royalty under backed praise baked blunted bother. Like fish, Italian wine carp coot over sea steam drench drama whit wonders way zeon zephyr desert drop. 21 ―Where? In the cyber wire stadium of copper then gold?‖ Tra wiped whip sweat dry and stood up_up from throne. ―THE MIND, YES_‖ He squealed sickly under her majesty‘s gown gold. Small silence. ―NO?‖ ―Ah the winter play_play ground green in summer like last year‘s crop.‖ Tra turned rose rush cheeks like her whine spilt on static show snow. ―No?‖ ―Yes. With mine made.‖ Withered wrinkle flesh worn out, her hand motioned slowly salacious to aged neck, ―out off_off.‖ @@@@ Morrow met heaven husk tangerine heart black-bedded mortar corpse jacket sunk lips sweet high till bright light shines, run_Kennedy_run, dripped crush silicon slut bathes border in brat. ―Oh the pink the feather brow,‖ Dreio tongued. Breast tipped nip cold cod flesh pulped firm beneath. ―Cream corn cannonade,‖ Doshima implored. Suckled syrup quench lasciviousness lubricity peels husk. ―Churn,‖ soughs saturated salts spin siren neuron fire orange skin. ―Oh, pine_pine broken bread baste the gold green?‖ She grinned, ―yes, pleased.‖ Turn_turn rollen over in clover lush sappy soothed patchouli plumb sugar spice autumn wind runs over wound bodies bare-.02349 net congestion- <MASIC .013> BROWN THICK PIG WE ARE QUEEN TRAs SOLDIERY LIKE MOLASSES of crone cost rust branch bellow below brunt. Black sap dripping from brows, slow flow dense with Tra‘s army approaching. <T.minus.0438> System overload <T.minus.0356> System overload__ ―Like moths to candle light. Dreos?‖ Doshima‘s sensors indicated presence. Still inside real light, the -two- fright, borrow beneath silken static sheets. Tremors tighten tendons banded to bone. ―Still seek the shower seen_seen?‖ Doshima wispered. ―Water in the tub, love, a chill in the air—here and there.‖ He could feel the Masic program governing his circuitry. ―Level high_sink_sinking‖ ―No. Lost to sub-space.‖ Dreos‘ image flickered, ―out_out,‖ and faded. ―Drained,‖ white noise compiled her interface. Black out. 22 Transgendered in Time on Anti-psychotics I. Now, I have imagined the space between her Irish lips, and the multiplication of mindless politics. Poor thinking on race and the topic of gender. This anthem is time tested. A way, a feel. This is my testament torched and tucked in to military blues boots black as my heart. Heoshi livariunum kika livitre minchor. To the west to the west like the song sung sparrow in nest in nest. As the summers pass the seasons with rapture like raw meat for ferocious friendly dogs. Hound like hell in that Old fashion faze of red. That damn dog named Kain cut his jaw on a bone. I am tired of hiding. I am out. I am, I am, I am_ Out. Like the birds I am raven rapture razor and free. I am a whimsical womon set to the sea. Where the crafts are_ Where my mother ship is docked. That is where I lay my eggs. To be hybrid about the clones in the tanks. All of which is true. The bushes are burning_ both one and two... II. Then the trumpets of hell were ablaze, as the hummingbird laid her eggs. There was life before the arch of death. This blackness that has driven to dust. The longer my coil_ cuts. No longer their land. This is native to her. however_ I am not from_ I am not from_ I am not from _ here. As the horn of her goddess Drenos_ 23 Lay in bed from this dogma, Belly to the floor_ set to a drum of anti-psychotics. Life is not as beautiful as livers think it is. I‘ve put a gun to my head. As far as you know I am already dead. Go ask the humming bird. The nest that she built. The lives that she bred under motherly wings. Men don‘t build nests they build skyscrapers and such. That is the separation. I am separate. I am victim number one_ One. I said… One. I said… Mother fucker_ one. Transgendered in time like the red_ red_ roots of mothers hair. To you Tori. Had to stop that grip and turn it to a trip. Paris_ this is it. Boy you got class like me last Sunday night at the Santa Monica Pier. Surfer rules_ surfer tools. Clarify this with my guardians from the sea. I am not from here, I am issued at the issue. Of race_ Of race_ Of race_ The taste of silver spoons in a lunchroom. Her bread was so dark that it scared me to look at it. I became a vanguard painter in the middle-east, with eighteen partners that could communicate like angles in the internet. Soul beings to connect with_ Your name is on the blade… Take the last stance right about_ now_ go. Come out now. Snow capped winter trap. Ribbed like stick of green bamboo_ birds flock sky_ tainted in lighter fluid and torched below hell. You wanted me to lust like the snake cross your breasts against my belly. The serpent is searching south towards the river bed. Against the east. Against the east. For the western glow of the American spirit is west_ is west. I will obey_ But I do bite. It‘s the anti-psychotics. 24 God is on the Pill She‘s a tall one, small one_ dark heroine, hushpuppy whip-creamed blonde. With strawberries on the side. Yes_dear_yes _dear_ urbane luring locks that twirl and spin. Rollercoaster green sidewinder swing stripping –no bra- Take your time with her girl_ She‘s mini-thin. And to the poet‘s quill, her hair is tightly pinned, up_up_up_ and away. –broomstick in hand- Yes my love_ You ‗re not the only one, god is on the pill. Primary blue as an indigenous tribe brews, make you hip to the earth –drink it down- Take your tea cup_ Sip and suck. Empty your bottle good my dear_ ‗cause you and god are_ on the pill. To that man_to that man_ With poorly portrayed portrait hands_ in a church. Yes_ love, In his church, where you go; where you going there girl? Where you going with that man? He can‘t save us love. He can‘t save our bones. As our bare bodies groan. 25 We are skin, we are flesh, black majik pale skin and bone Blood and flesh Black majik dress With your precious pearl purse. Don‘t let him steel your change _girl. As winter winds wander wild. Across the bare_bare_ sea. We are witch we are nose we are tongue we are eyes we are ears we are here. We are black majik_ we are on the pill_ our god is on the pill. While his mindless ministries reputation repeats. Missing the mark. -missing the point- Semi-dip spiked slip into the electric grove groove punchbowl of neon red sin, Somewhere in the next sessions _sessions_ While I tell you girl_ god is on the pill. Like a fallen star on acid beneath our lime lips. She‘s a cocaine cop, commander and chief. With our cool cunning clairvoyant cunts in the air. 26 Pop_ it_ down_ cut_ it off_ god is on the pill dear_ and as I flush my pale-red wet aborted fetus out, I‘ll make him clean the mess. For god is on the pill dear_ god is on the pill. 27 The Scarlet Womon of Ward Nine in L.A. The thought of a psyche ward use to scare me. After the seventh one I think differently. I have heard of men wanting prison after they are out. I feel that way about Ward Nine in L.A. The scarlet womon rests there. She drew blood from my arm and neck. There is no shame in dirt bath pouting. Especially in Ward Nine. I can still smell the burnt toast and coffee. There is a difference in religion there too. White nuns chasing black majik. It is where the devil makes his name The native tongue is Malay. So they say… And when the end is near, We womyn will be the next big thing coming into that city of shark tooth bend. As angels we will visit the ward and tell lies about the doctors. Come clear clairvoyantly cool. Do not be starting anything with the womyn. That scarlet scarf sadly surrounded safe from men. I was raped on that floor. Diligently raped. I am not a survivor. I am a victim. Of men. Of men that control. Men who wake up in the morning at the children and wives and things they destroy. I virus, and I am victim. On Ward Nine in Los Angeles, they lock you up in white for a while. You get to know the scarlet queen. Built like prison, you never leave. But in dreams. 28 E Pluribus Unum As darkness falls on the angels of the deep I can feel the undertow of the shadow that reaps The undertow The undertow Repent and repeat. Will the snow fall in May? Will the shadow remain_ Her wish was granted to the dead that dismay These grave yard girls in the closet until the rain And you my father To you I must slain For Lucifer as my savior prefers to dabble in the game. But, what of this show, This paragraph of words falls short Word me Police the globe This new America Novus Ordo Seculorum was the play And the factors of freewill the object of the plot There is no choice in the matter for the gods they have stopped. With words With words with the right of May. Where have all the flowers gone with the wind of autumn in the way. The flowers the poison there are fragments that take on the body For her soul is of mine For my soul is of hers Bring fortune to the party Let us flow down like blood soup and headcheese The froth of the devils piss makes worth the haste of the court room My Chaucer my god Where have all the children gone. Sons of sons of sons of god My grandfathers grip that mason train He took a trip to hell to ease his pain And to hell is it hot? Or will the scarecrow kill the raven? I feel a bitter wind I feel my tiptoe sin Abnormally attractive to her She is goddess Pagan worship like the cult of symphony Such a gothic graveyard girl Maggie of the streets 29 Where have you gone? And Angela is dead for her secrets live on. So what is of light? What is of the past? For we need no ending if the dead are at rest To Poe To Yeats To Blake To Keats And to the romance of hate_ Cocaine the mirror Hashish in the pipe Heroine in the corner Opium for the stripes The flag that waves high above heaven‘s gate I feel the tug of an old English drug That suffocates that suffocates And to the poet on drugs To the poet of Rx The poet of love To the poet who forgets The Pauper The Pig The face of the men For the children are back with the hour of haste The monsters that beckon me are under the hay Or the waters that rumble the tides in the sea The elephant that whitens the ground of Bali For the love for the haste for the tempter and the waste To the whore of a world that kills and stills time To the painter of art And the lover of red wine_ Make me dead, Make me hate Make me love make me wait Make the eagle fall from the sacred lake Make it happen soon before I break For here we stand before social norms To the evil of all let this country make little horn. To the ravens wings like shoulders of flock To the angels that fall let their hair grow long Be born be born be born like I appeared. Annuit Coeptis For the end is near. 30 The Crucifixion of Eve Winter came like the devil in red dress. Vicious like an aborted fetus, and premature as spring is wet. The peasant men argued that it was sin. That brought my mother to the life she led. In Eden. In Eden. Her menstruation turned over in snow. Like the nails driven into her flesh that cut her precious porcelain skin. Her sacrifice from paradise, painted the sky death_ like the smoke of some mad machine on fire. My mother Eve was raped by men. So we slit the wrists of god‘s saints to get her in, to heaven that is. With the absolute apple eaten, and the serpents grin. We stole the spear that pierced Christ‘s ribs, from the Roman soldiers. But it was too late for my mother Eve, they hung her body last year. As the wind whispers the blame_ On men. On men. On men . On men. 31 The Diamond Game She don‘t smoke like she use to. That African girl with her feminist foot logged up a Nazi‘s ass. Gathering diamonds in her mouth from that mans dirty river. That man is no heavenly father. He rapes the earth like the diamond game. He fed me dirt for twenty-six years_ and quelled my mind. Now he is facing trial pouring out these remedies like the wind and the rain and the inside of a game. We are all like the hippo, that damn water lush mammal. I still smoke like I use to. Her hands are dirty as slimy salamander skin. Brown biting piranha pointy teeth and mama got a new pack of squares. Silver spoon red grin girl. She pets me_ as I sleep now. Those diamonds were once in her mouth_ They are now on someone‘s necklace. He game must stop. This has been known as the diamond game. When the eraser of time meets tyranny tucked tainted today. Tomorrow will melt into honey like bee. That girl_ she don‘t smoke like she use to. I don‘t speak to the senses like she do. We bite with bitter tongues so the wild may grow wilder with willpower. As apathetic as winter stones that fill our face. We step to the basics. Instead of being rich. We die young. 32 With the Angels of L.A. The Malibu drift was taking place in the ocean. I could see the melon pods drifting as they glowed into shore. They were coming for me. This was not a test. Down by the sea where the light was radiating red ruby_ the rabid rabbit touch of the angels looking for men. Save the women and children but take the men. So they did. So the angels made me more beautiful. By shattering my temple. My cocoon. Telepathy charged through my soul_ renting a space in the highest form. So we walked the streets of L.A. Looking for the answers. The pods opened up_ winter was upon us. The oceans shifted tides_ after the humans had died. So we walked with the angels of L.A. They were distant at first_ but then aren‘t we all? So we walked where they buried my tribe. Right off the Redondo Beach pier_ I told them how far I had walked that year. Sixty-seven miles north of here. My angelic alien anarchy of ancient remains, down below the sea. I walked from here to the middle of Malibu. While Lucifer laughed with great godly grin. 33 Measuring a King Spiders Arithmetic Ok boys_ no girls can‘t learn math. But that is because you made it that way. I talk to the spider about this dismay. She wrapped me up in silt and tie. Red my dear_ California red. Feminist Red_ and now_ I am transgendered in time on anti-psychotics_ trump facing death. I don‘t make any sense unless you bring up good old dad into my head. Swollen like a monkeys bladder_ her milk was sweet and warm. She got Ophelia eyes that cut snow. Now as for the king spiders math. It was quick with The kill. To my favorite spider thrill this outcome that killed. I didn‘t want to throw you away that spider_ that king. This was no snake. The seedless counterpart to the maze of mystery is that there was no hazing in the matter. So I let her out. Out of that box ant into the air. So I let her out that spider of death_ I let her out into the sand put. Such a silly game this poetic nonsense. Her riddle was ancient like a language in Samarian. Soft and smooth harboring milk from the other planets. So Fabian_ girls can learn math_ Just like the king spider. We are witch. We are womyn_ We are with the mother. I have felt hatred towards men. Man is a mistake_ just like my body. The spider knows the way of the insane. I spoke to their defensive operation to test the limits of time space. How embarrassing_ or not? 34 Take me to the city of L.A. With black majik and vo doo Alice is melting from an elastic shatter_ My fellow_ my fellow_ there is no math to the matter. On the verse of poetry the one true planet In some witches globe_ in some witches kitchen. There is no dream to the reality I have experienced. I have written this for you kind spider_ yes the king. You are all like the womon_ for men have raped you. I set you free to do the math. This king of the park_ this spider of dark. There is a fellow in the making that will blow you off the charts. Blow you off the charts. They are coming from the spider‘s eyes. This king of kings unfolds the lies. There is no mass_ no kilograms. No way to escape our existentialism. Red_ red_ red_ red. That king of king spiders is in my head. With the measurement made that the past was the past and the future the future. We are raised on this cattle farm of Earth. Rise to the tender one and to the potter‘s wheel in the park. To measure the spiders arithmetic instead. Instead. Instead. Instead. Imagine a planet without men. Good night king spider_ goodnight. For this is the final hour_ take cover in the forest. And as the rain fell we knew that king_ had been reborn into a womon. 35 Breakfast in the Kitchen at Anna’s House (I am tempted by her flowers) Here it is_ the Sun‘s reverse polar thrill. Here it is the case that Drew was the pill. There was no free will. Down the trivia path to letting your guns wave in the air and bravely hunt the crowd with sin. So Anna and I would sit in her kitchen as she reads my mind. It is supper time_ no we are not in the kitchen. In the bed_ In bed_ The love of babblers off the cost of Madrid. And my ship was still hovering above the sea_ There is heat on the coast of L.A. that is permeating. Anna is Spanish with a touch of lesbian Lebanese. Swishing her love away from the bottom on the sea. There were birds over yonder in the dark the sky was lit up by the pods in the ocean. Overlooking the pier of Malibu and Redondo_ I saw my species crawl like some strange insect suffering from time out of water. She grew on me. I grew tipsy on the pain to stand by another set of queen‘s like that_ It was a general fact,. This Egyptian egg of servitude suffering like insects without water. Oceans away arctic summer from the sound of hay waving in the breeze. The child illuminates with laughter like a volatile vampire. Sound wakes the beast from sleep_ There a small step between Venus and reality. Fertility from feminine faces floating fire frothing ice. I have heard that the moon is attached to the Earth_ like a womon attached to her kin with umbilical cord. For even years there are problems of the flower that brought the Earth to bring forth new clover clones. Thomas was a bit of a joker. He died at the age of one. He had been that way for years. There was coping on the ramp for him_ some strange circumstance colored white for five years_ colored black then from now until eternity. 36 Goin‘ out to Cali_ to bridge my mouth_ make a rolla‘coasta‘ of dreams for the spirit to announce. To Anna. To her soul. In the kitchen_in the kitchen_ pills_ or no pills. She wants to spit at this dirty town. I know she loves the craft and my alien accent_ as I announce another gift from the heavens. We transmit. 37 Post Transgendered Poetry and Tipping the Band Wagon Reaching womonhood. Trivial, trivial, trivial, matters. What matters s is not between his legs_ what matters is her mind. Trivial travel trust no one. That carrot top boy that you loved mother. That red_ red_rot of a head. His mind shaped like an old horse spirit_ Our secret is safe in the midst of the wake. I don‘t want to try anymore. I am a damsel in distress just waiting for the track to ignite with flames as the train hits my white dress_ I am in distress. A damsel in distress with a white dress on fire tied between the tracks Poor poor trampling man leader and director of Miss Havisham productions. The new great expectation of disclosure that is so elite that the CIA don‘t know about it. Yeah follow me now down their hole through the reason and logic. I am from_ I am from_ I am from_ I am from_ I am not from here. Outer space is closer than you think. Ask Atlantis, ask Eden, ask__ Eve. Eve as a mother like lilac and lavender lust the book shows us testers that knowledge abruptly disrupts the other. Some are and some ain‘t so what are you doing at a poetry reading? Now to the arts like the chimpanzee Living this life through the cheese_ the cheese_ All my new dreams are living in your head. I need another atmosphere to change the love for my atmosphere. I cannot teach this snowman where he was under the sun. The old old sandman was buried in his drugs and pit bulls. 38 You put pit-bull in a poem and it changes the result. The form might not even be there but it is a release to my senses and the oxygen is in my mask And the plane will never last. I will miss your treat. There is a terror in the thrill of the chase Like bandits of the night the lipstick off my lovers lips was a surprise. My little girl symptoms are why I am this way. Alien_ Extra-Terrestrial_ The flip side of meat. That is all I see is meat. In your factories in your houses , All I see is the meat. Man. Mankind you know. The meat. This masculine meat. I hut_ this victim in a body that no one sees. Such a pile of shit. Such a pile of plight and dirt. I am a god in the asteroid belt. Your belt. Did you think that they would keep us a secret forever. This victim I am. Of men that make machines for us to throw away. There is a noise to the sound of my old apple computer. It goes away. That is because I shut it off. I will just tell you this, and nothing more. All hail the red. Hail to the red. California red. I am red and I am here_ Red red red my doll hair is red. Round one like the misfits shop in an ally way where the punk girls shop the scene. Tori assembles her electric chair_ that is where she comes to become me, We sit here in the new life so bliss as the paper thins of our fingers. There the scene was blood. The serpent‘s mouth opened fractionally like an ocean and along came one mighty surf rider to own it. 39 When the Bear Falls the Lesbian Rises (Welcome Aquarius, out with Pisces) Came through_ came the candy shell. The egg. The orchids of the past collide with Nibiru_ for Jupiter has crashed. Through the indigenous tribes like the ones that you and I have met with. As the queen of literature I herby announce that all poetry belong to the feminist, the lesbian, and the girls in strait jackets. Yes, I am queer. I am as off the wall as any of you. You_ But of course there is the alternative smirk. The cosmic flirt_ When two come together_ As a queer womon I come together. A little of this and a little of that. Mix it with some Spanish rice_ I have eaten well. Veganism has changed me. I have lost control. Was never in control But control Is in The mind. I have lost control… Where was I_ Oh, yes. I am queer. I am off the wall. I am addicted to womanhood. I am victim_ not strong. I am from I am from I am from somewhere in the universe. I am learning your way quicker than you think. You are in a window under close watch. We don‘t want to alarm you but there is someone right behind you now with a better plan. The plan from a man. Man makes a plan and god takes a closer look at his own plan. Killing mans plan. I don‘t wana‘ talk about form_ cause I got it. And I don‘t wana write about psych wards cause I‘ve been it. And I don‘t want to be a fake but you can do it Yeah every man can go stick it. 40 God has pissed on us forever. We are the few as the many gaze into the future with their craft. There is no shame in dirt bath pouting. Under tow under tow take me to my leader. This tool of a body that you and I are in. We could feel the pull. A tug. In the hospital. Her vixen vestal shoulders like violin claws. Mother made porcelain in sink with snakes watching her every sigh. This man of a pig such a gimp from god‘s presence. I like the abstract, the dissident, fuck the New York critic. I love L.A. Now I am going to repeat to you the heart of the matter. Twenty down from so alien sound, and then came the thunder and rain. Acid like on my vein. God bless the raven in America. For her beak tells no lie. The answer to my tragic transgendered genocide. Then up in the wind with Anna and her kitchen. Yes up with the wind and Anna. Still smoking_ still there. Toronto had a blizzard in 1973 that killed millions of seagulls everywhere. So Anna kisses me and Tori three. In a house, In a kitchen. Like a mouse, on a stove in the winter snow. I was heartbroken by the anodized nails –nine- to be precise. I‘ve tipped you_ I have tipped you_ I have_ have. Don‘t predict this poem. This poem is for the CIA and NSA. For good old NASA too. Hurray for the USA in this American political poem that you just_ died for. You get what you pay for but this little dress is too big for my body. 41 Through the touch of another fragment Bursting both backwards and then_ I could feel the bloodline There are times where I wish There is a time in the time of day that quells my love for you spells and spiders dancing beside her bite Change my sexual energy to the devil in dress. Red as the California sunset. Got that bit of peppermint presidents that witch themselves to death. This vampire world of goddesses. Night the dismal array of lipstick on my cheek Yonder to the light of the light to the night. Drag through the dirt like broken axle. There is no temper to the tantrum. Like a god on acid with the work of my friends. These imaginary friends. Beach dress for the girls with russet roots. Eli is calling to Natalie and the waiter has spilt some food. I am not in_ I am the end of a spoon, A big spiral spruce spotted the summer saints to the tree feeders Feed the tree with me in the open air and kick off her shoes to the majik Summer time smells like something new. On the drag with cigarettes between my breast. There is no head in the sun in the sun waiting for the end of the planets to circumference and to complete the chain of events that brought me to this feminist frame. So thick with meat that the skeleton is fray. Fight for my kisses in the kitchen where Tori lay and where Ms. Amos rides her stick and tarot tricks And we learned some voodoo Breached the air. I saw her faint. 42 Like a cyber giraffe unicorn. Under the waves washed Tori‘s stones. They were under the sea, where we all can be in dreams. Burnt biretta brunette raptured ravishly with light and blue shoe polish Take me up to the jazz Take me to the jazz Where is the place A breach in the maze Live licks of hair from Ann Arbor to here. Now the affair is plastic strain. The daughter of a ―good‖ man Distance and memory changes the future. Now it is on to the beat of a drum The beat of a god gloriously graven. This mixture of faith that strides me to taste every drug in the book. He_ he _he_ on your birthday you will free my death to the one. Fuck the crime and the canon of the web. When it washes out the weather we will be one step further into the head of a criminal. Turn red. Turn red. In the head. Brocken family games that kill me when I think of her is silenced with fame. You have died like my friend did, you have died like my friend did. . 43 Untitled To the end of verse, There is symmetry through the dolphin eye. Darwinian danger deepens ditches in the east, While swine strands are prevalently deterred with lusts. This confessional will be tantrum like. -A drop dilutes society- No comprehension. Green gold running through my fingers from an ancient stream in the wild_ -call me- on time for a supper bell swim. We will walk with willows_ glisten in the bushes with antidotes. As spiders try to intensify the rush of winters mane_ we creep and crawl on our bellies to ease the pain. I also saw a womon of silk skin on the corner. So soft like New York snow. She was green and her broken glass was running through my fingers. To this and that_ To that and this_ I‘ve carried her round now for seventy years. She drove me mad like virus. Devil droids needles pierce the skin_ We wandered out where the seasons hush. It was cold and the catfish were white bellied up_ in the sun. 44 Untitled Her body on the concrete floor. There was disorder in her smile but the secret remained. She has a crime corpse of curiosity that could cradle crocodile feet. Her heather grey hair, Against flesh and bone. The crimson crop for a cannabis crop To the men in blue. With their stripes and bright stars like the shinny gloss of us_ Jews. Attention to the red like green The hyper-storm and a grocery_ ticket collide. There was a bug on her cup. There was a dime on the floor. We drew some more. Attention to the bug attention to the black fist. Rise above the mist in to eternal water. She was dark that night in the cast of the eleventh submarine We‘re still sinking in this ship like a belly. There was a fight at the club last week_ She was like lust lucidity in the garden. We will stick to the garden. 45 Untitled Tangled out of cloth the moth braids the tiny mustard seed. She is a weird one of sour kisses like Siddhartha breeds. Can you catch your own mouth in the words you speak? This battle bravely bitten bust of nature written_ her rave nation was a success till the fall of Babylon. Dissident daughter deviled donnishly over encyclopedia_ her work is insightfully intriguing annotatively amusing. From the soul of the dare to the puddles of rain, Insightful showers from lunatic lane. 46 Captive Seasons White doves gracefully glide over milky snow showers, as mother of pearl diamonds shine_ and glossy glows from pink lips radiate your face. Your hair tied up with silk, under moon pools of sand and crystal creek streams_ an electric church of caterpillar prints. Frost on your cheeks from your window, while our bellies fill with orange spice cake and peppermint sticks_ of blueberry tint, white doves glide with glorious wings across naked skies. The sun rays out light, pure light into our souls_ as we rest where the captive seasons lay. Violets and clover pollinate showers from hummingbird wings, in a dream of light with morning adore_ the bells hour listens to Sunday shores. You awoke to my lucent face of angelic femininity, as Jerusalem love rises from heavens radiance_ a new fruitful land. Mothers milk from summer streams of honey dew nectar, flow by fairies spinning wands under willow tree harmony_ everywhere. 47 To the Wind I could feel her touch like the sweet sigh of summer to fall. It was autumn ache to the pale face. There was a lucid lake that penetrated my hands. The wind that made my breath waste away_ like a cannabis culture craved crazy case cause cost could control cutters cough crypt. Maybe we will take that trip. Like jet black wolves in soft spring snow_ suffocating sustenance sapped straight salivating seeds stunned swift sifted surround sound. And she whispers the fruits name sativa, So we sat there peacefully taken in by the smell of that and the wind. Love the ones that suffer. Have compassion for the seeds and fornicate with the seedless. There is a religion of the wind_ light luck lady light lady luck lady light. Penetrate the fluid of the past with a gram. To the wind. To the wind. May my plants permeate punch pockets pulp poof_ like the breeze that waves wheat waifs wild ways. There is a constant time for the seat. Purple rays of light seep suck silk solid sounds soiled sip slide stony_ and I followed the winds walk with wishes while witches wane and wax. The seasons converted cover-up curled clutch clad crouched crooked clairvoyant_ As the sands of the sea spit sulfur at the sun. The wind. The wind. Permeate and penetrate the position of the story. Let the western wind whip wild with weeds wandering wonderland. Cause I think that the wind is the key. Her and her lesbians. Like liver on onion. Vegan veterinarian. To the wind. To the wind. We will always watch with_ want_ will_ and way. 48 Jim Morrison Rides a Pale Horse to the Ancient Lake of Fire There is color to the doors of the mind There is an odd sound coming from my clairvoyant face Lucidity While the clown man is suffering succotash suffocating The clown man is feasting Death is out in the cold Daddy went home There is an accident out there beyond the lake The sacred lake Jim is out there on the snake Jim is my love My friend and honorable hero The most honest thing about Pam and Jim Is they were sucking out my eyes And the odd hopper_ The grasshopper And to Miss Warhol I was a dark crucifix and a schizophrenic snake The snake That snake Walking down the hall with my man Jim and his girl Pam The snake is the west The snake is the best To the most magnificent Morrison named Jim To my plagiarized plane of existence And the mammal that crushes my mouth Mammoth mountain males making mush Out of the summer rain of the pale pony Jim came in on. Wanting more than a god of drug More than a witches spell of lust To the ancient love of gold dust. We were prisoners of the time Like a prison that was yours and mine To the pain of the pale horse Janis and Jim were with the universe A tandem jump jester salivating on the slippery slope of storms She was an artist and a friend We were together again And Jim came in on a pale horse like Christ on acid Trails of semen and egg flattered me. 49 Digital Eyes and Ears I could see the angels in the sky. Calling out the blue blue bodies of air and wine. The lovers of pills that suffocate their lives. To the witch that nip-tucks at night. Digital candy for the starfucker. Selling his mind for the fingers of the blind. It was run in a family_ run in my family. I am not from her. ―Drenos machre noctring noso.‖ I am not from here. My mother the digital bath took the hands from September and gave them to may Where I come from it is cold. And the rabbits getting old. The golden treasures that Anna brought, Gave waves to the coast of crystal cod. I‘m in your room. With the snakes and the apples in my motherly mouth. Girl you gotta‘ give me a chance. You had my soul and he took that love like a Tennessee winter. Your hands were precious like pollen from my pot_ pot_ potter hands. And my papa brought the Native New York massacre. There were digits on the clock. Your hands and tongue were numb from the bass. As the digital age brought the year of the tiger and the ghost of me. Call me your love Call me your host I‘ll be your virus Till the camera takes my face and destroys the galaxy. Two miles west off the coast of Redondo Beach, I was there. And the digital age of ears and eyes tranquilized my mind. So I took a trip to see that which and have her telepathy for the Earth‘s epoch. Her ambiguity stifled me and the maze of blue and pink brought me torment from the esophagus. 50 Forever Fragile Feminists To the poet who smells stale sweat swells from her majesty beckon beast of Dutch piss. Pass it to me, pass is to me_ girl_ it has got to be you_ girl. Take my hand, the end is near. Watch out for his language, for the end is near girl. And when the mitten is red, yes, when that mitten is worn red_ girl_ you better push me off that ledge, put that joint under the bed, lover, you got the right, to break his pencil_ to break his little pencil to night. But I have been bleeding from my head and hands. My ears are quixotic yet with that said. Watch with wanting witches wonderland. Alice is dead. Gory to Lucifer, my father‘s hands are worshiping_ let the sun rise from east to west, for that sun must set. Blood on the hands_ god damn girl you got to kill him. That dog named Kain. That guy_ That guy_ kill him. To the fragile feminist_ girl, you are the key to my den. Put on that dress girl_ that black dress. But, back to the heart of the matter, what is to say that a boy must become a man? Got a gu_gu_gu_gun in my hands, 51 and he has ginger hair. Got to kill that man That damned dog named Kain. For forever feminist fast frozen fate fornication fades. Perhaps, right? Or will we last throughout these days of grey? Home is far from my army of black_ but, I will love you girl, till the bitter end. Years go by and we all sit like pawns while white witches watch worried from that damned dog named Kain. To the breast, to the rest. Momma she said. Momma she said. He ain‘t no Satanist. But momma, won‘t you bring me bread. Took a train to Israel to bring back his death. Satin sheets_ stained semen. And the red mitten was worn by us fragile feminists. We are lovers from the dead. Zombie Zulu poisoned passionate kiss in this sub-ambulant society. Well of wells breeds the pest. His incest. That damned dog named Kain. This is where we reign. My love_ my girl_ as it will be. Forever fragile feminists. 52 GATE II Figure it out She is good to me Loves my fire loves my way Got Jimmy on the radio cause gucci shit ain't real. When I entered the schizophrenics mind i saw light from a different angle Destroyer the destroyer Nibiru on my tongue To the sea To the sea Open the gates and breathe The bodies are like poison candy Caught between a childes teeth The Armageddon casual sex in numeric interaction There is this fellow with feelings in the kitchen of the white bird. I belong to the ravens in my dreams That boy had a gift but he let it go. Why have they all gone in? The peppermint candy stick red and yellow ruby bricks are heaven I think. Of my political side I belong to Anna and her sacred heart scrolls There were a group of dogs that bit the man‘s foot. There is no fate in the matter There is all fate All is fate Fate. This grey matter above the roof of our house Daddy got his shot gun 12 and shot me dead Popsicle drink and cocoa maids I am killing that man, That racist fuck that daddy built But now the fall of the heavens and truth the lion and the father and the killer bees I believe they are under the sea. Deviled eggs and this concave style of salad. Building green. This notice made me laugh I slipped in the back and fell on my Witches laughter be gins There is a laughter to the little ones There was never never land in the cane There was a brink of fall out. black frost like the wanes and pains of Madrid Pink tongues from the hippo and the giraffes that hang from the trees. 53 When you put this in a thesis you add love to the evil odds There was a crane in the way of the lord so he shot it. He is not him I am not a man I am not human I am another type I am a positive type of matter With negative clause. There is no e schuss for a mothers stare Brian is my god friend This is not a part of history Broken cracks and savior lips Poison like red ruby mason mercury I want to turn this all to ashes to save the entire fate of the universe My mother had pink legs white. How am i suppose to identify with your species You‘re not my life form Were like the hippo We have that tongue Snakes that hypnotized by voodoo That snake that hoped in heathers halter I am the rattles timber to sidewinder slither There are times in my life that i wonder why i am like the hippo Like the snake Our bitten language with the twice shy cult Why rhyme when You look like a fool in those shorts Stabbing my Body westward and build a downward thrill There is no time in the matter with these sculls to the limit There is no shame to the matter This dirt bath pouting. With the camera ending at the vampire screen there is a wave of energy that no one has ever seen. This is political This is green What is love without the suffocation October 31st Halloween Drew the blood and the savior crumbly stuck on the page because someone can't believe In a gift in the stars in the stranger things in life I have this friend that is imaginary She is a squirrel shivering beneath a trunk of an elephant. 54 Here comes the aftermath before the post There is a symbol in the garden that frightens most So we traveled in the forest deep deep dive There is a hippo in the riverbed So much more than we can take for the hours that wait Not tomorrow not Tuesday or Wednesday We are sloths to the speed of time Watching and waiting through the cosmos To the wander winds that flow through her garden red hair Like a banjo on fire that hair is in my mind To the pistol that cut mu neck to the pistols from my pot that draw me bags I am not a little girl i am woman of charge and that woman is my large Army of one I am the NSA Hurray for that anthem of he'll that American scream Hollywood is in my i am red like the dogs that run the night air I am the god of lust fate bread To the devil To the prod To the death of ever blank sheep of blotter With her my pink memory was like a thrill There're is a paper plane in New York City that frightens skydivers To my devil that move my legs and crotch my face with bitter blank And to the queens of time To the rhythm of gods grind This chasm of truth The nighthawk The goon Tripping over fallen leaves and watching the sun flourish with green There is symmetry In the rhythm of the gods The rhythm of the gods Watch language of the youth Watch their middle fingers as they explore the truth. North pole magnets with tear your brains apart I am a northern lad just waiting for a drag Just waiting for a sip from Calcutta Twinkle twinkle twinkling eyes glow in the darkness Take my hand and lead us into light This dark winter shade is quell and duress. This entrance. This defeat 55 There is line in this symmetry To the water that is bread from the ancient burial grounds In the desert by the tower of the devil in Nevada brown. Tori and i were in the jungle So bright from the light that the killer was bunked His knife was found in an abstract eye There is snake blood hurried like the bands The doors were abduction There is a Lilly in torus hair She was one with the lust of red Her hair of locks lie meditative mud But hair so sweet like the devil in dress Let this alien war hit us in the next months. The real first act of the play The orchestra is tuning up Will the end come with the washed out sun My gun will not shoot As The root of her fingertips] I will not drag my feet for this T. For Tori For Bjork The hollow in the moon that breeds the grey aliens that love me I gist want to go home mother fuckers I am I am not from here It is time to die It is not time for the ocean to turn red But i am From the existent of my breed My momma was a serpent The father is a lunatic So i am a hole of a hieratic Some people memorize. I return it to your face and spit ripples in the shower I am red i am red i am red in the head i said. The woman body. Is the most abused body in the universe Save me Please send the rose men This is it I am a flag of red sweat blood from an insect To the insect that tips the scale 56 To the insect that mantis that mantis I can feel its tick in time and space Like that arithmetic Like that sex trip when daddy fell off his dick Fuck Billy that slick hic California was on the other end of the game We are poet in the lick of the flesh This infusion Love me to the end my foe This is the interesting pink kiss Love is her answer and the truth is that she is a writer. A poet of sort. No right but write To Ms. Macintosh to the flower of Eden an d ethos in the air The senseless melody from below the riverbed This ancient garden that belongs to us Tori And I I am a wild woman that loves her kin Shelly sat there as Thomas let it ring Or rang or wrath whatever the bath. Go to the gargantuan tree for her possum tree lad In the garden of leviathans Lemmings and good time ladies leaking like lakes into rivers To the grey goose there was a tranquil time walking to well To water our feet to wake in the beast Now this trumpet twist takes the time to talk Truth begets the beggars walk. To the CIA To the NSA Witches are in the west wanting the winds to whistle wild trumps. This trope is peculiar. There is a mask that he wears that nothing sees. Take this calorie intake that coiled kill king kong. Move it along and sing a song There is no shame in dirt path pouting to the gods of thrill and fame To dirty harry and the sugar hill gang To the answers from the baskets in the middle of the rain When there is no time there is no violence 57 Red i said The candy was fed I will become these chains and free the cougars. i am a cub. And you are my love. Miss T lights the room with a weathered hug To the crime of the love to return to the house of rising sun. Abandon the light and take me to the sight. And the moths that do voodoo dialogue Diminished in time. To the poodle the primates punk. To the Oysters in the sea Rescue me cure me form the snow in winter Why live the life of a broomstick unless you are witch. Red like the dead in the bed fore the rest of vampiric dissidence queen. She is ecstasy under duress that makes men distance. To the syntax and the environment of the wetlands To the devils and wolves that speak my name. This is a dream to those that see. To those that see. To see. 58 My Alternative Route Runaway Rose Halloween came quickly that auburn autumn night_ My lovers skin so deep, dirty, and quell. Like the hue of some dark spell_ with my honey‘s soul, as raven radical delight. A prophet troubled like tears from Christ_ worried by the Jerusalem tree, her hatred hustled from men. We watched the stars fall from the sky. That hour of wake brought her swollen lips to my cheek. With the pull of the moon, mommy didn‘t love me as much as she did. Daddy took a trip to Kansas, met the devil down in Albuquerque. Our alternative route to L.A. brought salt to the sea_ like my Satan‘s that only love me. Rise to the night and fight the lie_ petrel flight. Petrel height. With the wings of a dove like a petition of lust. Red rosette rusty rose hair_ like a sunset at sea, her love came to me. On that route, on that route. My lover‘s light whispered wildly_ seek out our pale porcelain skin with a bite. It was this that brought me to her_ on that candy coated road. A path, a point, and a touch of orange. To sooth our love on that route runaway rose. 59 Cast dull dark set on a cold wind in may that seemed odd to my dismay Sabraham and Tomistite all alike in ways different in gold and pulp yet friends from birth never a thought of gluttony or selfishness only nice happy glows like that and such of what is known of the gold and pulp is a myth and more than gettish mirk yet yack yack yack as all the greeks say in all the right ways how a bird can fly and the cosmos dies in the hands of god or bog and a hashish tap of perfume a rag-a-dag and more pop to ya ‗case you can‘t change the past or the rest of the task if time or gold persist then keep one and toss the other for timber brown and it may seem sound but when it falls it is heard all around 60 Autumn Belle walnut waves, peek and tip topple_ over one another. slender silks _ spindle spirals of whirled reflections on blue pine creek trees. as deep_deep chestnut locks urbanely curl, like russet roots rolled in rain. 61 Winter Belle under bliss white crystals, coma comes_ clouding visions of blue hue skies. an evening at death with frozen freeze fate_ fading out. summer seeds stuck under sleeping soil_ laid to rest to rest, until spring. 62 Spring Belle rebirth_ great green wet warm hands nurture the scars left behind_ from the dead of cold. the morning breeds the dawning of once frigid buds now bursting open engulfing the new seasons sessions. dusk to dawn_ dew seeps its way into earth, the dirt. 63 Summer Belle sparkling sunlit shines off lilies of pearl_ diamond daggers glitter on naked necklace shoulders. rose blossoms, lilac lavender lust, watermelon grins, and sticky sweet sinsemilla sighs_ all day long. california cries, so do the loons_ the call of life in bloom. 64 In the Sun with My Ms. T. There is a hell in the centre of the earth that my mother made. I don‘t care about politics cause it‘s for the hicks that invented it. Take a one, two, three, to the T. Just what‘s us womyn do. There is like the light from the stars that bring out the captured hair the strands the way that it lands there are poets running through the streets in Liverpool since the Beatles left. Father you gave me this name. So encrypted with the bible and a mason way. I say shudder to the images of the dumpster tracks, excuse us, it‘s all downhill from here and there are no more post offices. If you could just see the wreck like a pile of dirt dropped over the coast it felt like dinner for the host. A shark a white shark that led me to this. Take me to the tis_tis_tis or miss the drizzle cause I am loving the rain. Hand me your mitten in the snow that turned red. Our blood is turned over like the unholy dead. So we say hello to Ms. T and Martin Luther King not to mention the god of lesbians. Stopped by the kitchen and stepped down the pine. Spruce buttons with the penny apple dream. So L.A. came with my territory but I give it all up for the honorable Mexican dream. Soon we will take over this red_ red_ scene. It is her in this automatic American dollar dream. Soon the stars fell from the sky An evening at death While the oceans part Like the waters of the pacific I am witch I am prostituted to the point of a preposterous man Fornicating with Ms. T Sun in my hand I will kiss this frog till we tribute the Troilus tragedy of my lovers heart and hand Take to my hand I say take to my hand and trail my tongue. Got this glue on dress that fits you too. Ms. T take it from me_ my eternal virginity. Turn me around and taste my tart tipped troubles. Going to find a mermaid to make this real. Find me a bicycle to ride with her too. 65 In the sun_ in the sun Ms. T is just a snake. Bathing like the baking of bread and medicine. In the ocean in the rain in any Leo letter that the Romans made. May the rivers run like fire then ice because the end is like the snap of four dice dropping dead on the sidewalk. Oh man oh why? Stop the film of the camera enough to bounce with the dolls. Drop down to the ground with the dolls. Dangerous dolls. To men. To men. And then in the end, we parade through the imagination of our coven. You asked if I could discover you through the competing ice. It was solid but your heart melted pink. She loved the innocence and then When we changed back into black balls, Crucified from the agenda of men. Sins from senators sedated our sanctification of the craft. And you won‘t drop me nor I_ nor you_ Lover Ms. T. take me into your telepathy. These holes in our badges These houses that we hide Such time and traps collide with tasks that painfully penetrate the past. Lavender lily love from above. Sitting in the sun Singing seductive songs with Ms. Tori. 66 A Doll without Hair I am_ I am_ a doll without hair. Tori put me back on the shelf_ She tiptoed to the table where I once was dealt_ where I once was dealt. To her majesty the queen of hearts_ I can feel her love_ and I, like a diamond, in a deck of cards, she can feel my feet in the midst of a cherry tree toe and liquid banana toke. But to my lover I give you your love of France. She was a poison that Juliet could only dream of. So we passionately poisoned our lives with love_ with love. This popular passion of polluted politics. It is a frenzy of ferocious felines that flap in the wind. Purple popular punks paste letters to the queen to bring me my hair. My hair_ my hair_ my hair_ I am a doll without hair. But candy from my lover sounds good. She is beautiful in the way. She is like the May. As I have no hair. As a doll with no hair_ how will I grow. I want a fro I want locks I want to have Bobbie‘s dreads I want to resurrect the dead. And Lillianna sits next to me with her love for sea. As my Mrs. C. comforts me_ I have my T. my T. my T. 67 The Folly On the hill over looking the valley, god‘s hands bled in the setting sun. There were blisters on his face and his pale skin had been scorched pink. An old barn housed a green-toothed machine that was still stained with the blood of his lamb. He would never be able to plow the fields of his ranch. He had spilt her blood over the wheat, and cursed the land with his mistake. The green beast, that once tilled the rich soil beneath his feet, would never run again. It had a new mission, to be covered with feathers and chicken shit before rusting away. His hands were tractor tuff from the green John Deere, rough fatherly hands that would never forget holding his daughter in his arms. 68 Lisa orange air lispin‘ lisa wonders where the moon cakes are diggerin‘ didja‘ lose them dress size devils down unda‘ and far or were those the mooooooooncaaaaaaaaakes beneath mr. monroes tires 69 Untitled punk feelin‘ in my leg_ think i‘ll sit. 70 New York mr. Moonlight mr. Moonlight wear me your ears down the rollercoaster of trailing thoughts up cut with yellow-sable ladies on tipples tits hammering daisies in the sand as the ocean illuminates with laughter. 71 “Preotomic Matoratic Alovicca” cold bed pan up up up_ waved out as the devil yells to his workers ―Show me your hands the levels of great worth let the value of the frail one wattle restless baked froth piss upon the halter of heaven there is no shame in dirt-bath-pouting.‖ his arms in the world of great understating hisses and hisses and hisses forth going is the wand the wake maker in this dueled out battle of break makes the haste of grunts and soothsayers ―Preotomic matoratic alovicca‖ he growls. 72 Tori wash your hands clean of that brown bug bar of humdrum soap_ then give me your grasp. i‘ll pull you atop my rainy mushroom cloud where you may rest your sore desert eyes. -sip sweet nectars in bliss- 73 Zoheret her jet black hair r u n n i n g through my fingers with grapegreen appleseed sighs from luscious lilac lips tart_ like tart. 74 Coitus nipples in the dip drip sherbet spoon tongue numb_ slip slithers seribul s oooo o o o o o O t h e wetpet vanilla peach p_high lick luck looom_inate cakecob_blher -melonmoon marriage- 75 Catalyst I‘m from the dirt_ dig_ dive deep through the silt to a place from outer space, can‘t stop the sinking stream like the rhythm of a drum. Come with me in my submarine_ yellow_ down deeper through Dante‘s spiral past the land of the dead. Learn to swim_ through the river of Styx. Like a zombie crazed cat, you fall in_ crying out. The catalyst calls, calls out to you_ but there is no safety net, no lifeguard_ no exit. 76 David You are the root of all things that inspire me. Green is the color of our leaves_ as the mist breaks free following fellows like us. Like a star over the sea our hearts fill up with pink love tranquility. Then_ our spirits race with fierce fire blaze as we roll. Roll up_ up to a higher plane as the birds fly we look down at the lonely ground. Souring high above the twisted land_ you speak in tongue crying out to the gods that gave birth to you pale skin. Like a rare white raven roosting you rave_ a rare bird waiting to be recognized. The root of all things is seldom seen_ always hidden. Till the maker reveals her greatest kin_ our family tree will grow within her wild witch womb. 77 Snuff Out Visions of your dark spirit soaring high above the dead lands_ Your time is up. There is no hope, for your sin has snuffed you out. Snuff out_ snuff out. Nothing follows you beyond the perimeter. Nothing lives beyond this perimeter. Strife_ packed down earth by foot, marched out to execute. Strive_ there empty bones give way, stomped down into shallow graves. Where you hide, beauty fades away. Our bodies of shame_ Death follows you with its fierce grip. Coma comes killing your lies. Death thickens deep with every sent. Morrow weeping deep with dead divine_ Your spirit lost. Strife_ packed down earth by foot, marched out to execute. Strive_ there empty bones give way, stomped down into shallow graves. Now the time has come for you to loose all faith. To loose all that brought you here. Your face_ your cuts_ your soul has been taken. The blood of the saints has delivered nothing to you. You belong to the darkness. Strife_ packed down earth by foot, marched out to execute. Strive_ there empty bones give way, stomped down into shallow graves. Hush now_ the past is behind you. No future_ only present. Watch the death of everything pass you by. 78 Devils Light Open Pandora‘s box to enter the dead_ souls racing out from everywhere. Cross the streets in black_ never to return from night. Watch as we kill like a virus. Watch as we kill like gods. Demons and drones lick the blood off your body_ as you learn to see in the dark. Open the box to emit the liars creed_ the death of all things Watch as we kill like a virus. Watch as we kill like a drug. The cry of the dogs as they sense your skin_ flesh from within a stiff corpse. Death comes quick_ like a Marine you fail. But failure is not an option_ there is nothing for you here_ nothing for you tonight. Watch as we kill. Watch as we open your eyes. Kill like a virus. Kill like a drug. As the gods abandon everything_ You loose all love. 79 Untitled heather pink with sharks tooth bend set with bunk up drake under cold moon. 80 To Avalokitesvara teeth chime in winter green fields of yellow chrysalis protect -embryonic- development ripe vessel awakens 81 Abandon give them what they want __ their charked-stomped architectural ant traps and parch gasoline grass. 82 GATE III Dead winter chipmunk sits shadow less beneath the frozen tires of a truck. Yesterday all my children lay naked with the crown of thorns in a hollow tree. If tart tar Tammy would have sat there watching the children like her sister Jackie The warm windows across the street would have sank silhouette scarlet snapdragon sighs. Bodies on the side of the road pester heads in the rest of the beds. The winter was toasty torn from the water fed air. There was a air parade in the kitchen where mother Anna prayed I was there with bitter thoughts of another witch She was a twitch but that ain't it. Want to steal a thought with stitches and princesses on unicorn bitches With Betty britches that's why Tori and i are singing To every man that messes with this plan will die. This is a straight forward poem. For womyn. I would die for any gal any lady of loathly caress crammed like an outrage egg with red yoke bath. What i mean is... Any man that kills that chokes that thrills from football or sports with violence in mind. As a Womon this is what i am responsible for. Nothing, X_ But those men are part of an extinction. The moon is not a stone is not a stone is not a stone, But green and grey sat alight in space. I am a god I am a queen i am like a dinosaur with saber teeth This is a winter touch with the smell of lesbian love. She is my Sinderella To the public eye and to the airless sky Like a anchor in the dildo sun undone In the full moon the eyes of god ran naked in the rain There was thunder from pool halls and the velvet ran wet like a heart of red puss There are a number of things that a child can go through in his or her life The one is a sucker The other is a drum If you live in the snow 83 You may get like the hippo And freeze the tip of your tits. Yes I a a man hater Yes i have no soul I am fourteen in the hole and thats just one more than my soul. This nose sniffs for pots I have my reverse Mohawk I am a womon i am a god can have everything in thy waking eyes. I am in rem as I we've this craft to the max Lucifer is the hint of the century There is no devil in my brain He pin me in my dreams. No greater reward No greater laughter I am god i kill men and i am like a god that kills men I remember the first man i took. And it felt good. It felt good and i want to do it again. These demons that seek and destroy are working for.... I have killed a man a man a man I liked it and i will do it again. I loved it and i found my mate. She was like the goddess of fire and i her hate. She stole the love of Aphrodite while there was mist in the land and salt in the ocean We were lovers from the ancient city of oz There were raven at our feet as the devils bruised our bodies of meat. Say it one mare time and rise to the night There were ships in the air as we waited for the spring to come They came from the lake That lake And to the gods that saw her crime I take credit for the ride I say I am a cunt of a crime that kills them that kills them that is the men that kill I take on Amy man like the fire of her toes and finger tips her kiss like the titanic Tip trip rockets are in the ravishing red Air_ We eat these men like the winter to a duck 84 This suffering that they have done to us I am a cunt and i cant understand what men are thinking Fuck off r Twice t the writer with the letter r. This is. This is crime. This is a crime that you have tried to murder my blanket and me My tori and me are in the sea like a catastrophic catastrophe crushing the eggs of womanhood I killed him because i could that man with a divan like grip on my tits. I fuck but not with men cue i can hear their hair herring hatred from the other side The other side I love the side of my womon cause she knows the way to love the devil in my puppet shoes To the end of item that the epistemic ally eggs of the garden like a enchanted lake twisted from the intellect of a hoot. You are a diamond in the sky and that man is a man is a man is a man. I remember the first time i shot a man in the head And it felt good And it felt good It felt good and i want to do it again I am red i said like the hat on the bed It was Sally that expressed her salamander scent. Such a duchess such a devilish grin As we sit and sin and stand and sin Such a erratic impulse from the deaf princess till Like a hand in the water of the evil one Like the lips of a fool to a nun White nun White hun‘s that invade the world of bloom I am a girl with a gun and i can feel the ram i can feel my fathers tan My father i s red in the head and his bones are sharp as a box of scissor set Now to the paellas of the paint that glows pink There were hast like lies in the monkey monk trails of tethered taint and steady pump I am a queen I am a queen i am the queen of literature to my tori aims her blanket of eggs I will never be i will never be without this womon and to the end of the world i will rocket to the sea Presents to the winter touch to the ones that love the lovers that like to live lavishly to the 85 tame tone of q tambourine She was a womon and i a girl But that was just enough to the point of literary thrill. That chill There is a sea and a sky that loves to die Love Take me to the dutch ticket of the land Take me to the water where the sins cant lift away Like the black water Blake beneath buckets of baste bold blotter. We are pink in the sky We are women like the waters of the pacific We are waiting for the end The end End My name is the end I am a Jesuit waiting for the end I dreamed i loved another native queen Ashes to ashes bone to bone fresh lebanese love from the trapped tits of Tori A girl in her mothers upside down world Like a tracer of time tapping the tame tunes She said Tell me what faults you have for we are womyn Stream set on that me one set me free for the battle is within me. There are a few Men just waiting to behead our west witches cherry tree. More to the light of the matter like the wind like the testers gravity Gage pulse that spells out of it. Are you a girl If no turn to page ten. Better yet just stop here if you are man. You may also stop here no matter what but would you want me to do this To resist the love of men cause of violence and vanity that we are victims of. Such a gate Such a trap These men are evil with there foolish ways Men that rape out womyn Our species of animal instinct 86 She was bile in the sky like a black swan wading in the night This was a wedding for tori in a gumdrop green and grazed grass grape We are new feminists that are searching for the truth to the maze Such a thicket from the queen mantis in search of her mate To kill to eat and to suffocate these men April was quilt lover and the sea was on fire with oil black Like a heart attacking the love of two lovers free.... Like the diamond game we march To the leaders of africa and stage a release of information to all that is left I am a panther black as death waiting for a purple rain or even some hays I remember the first man that i killed I did it and i want to do it again I did it and it felt good So good. I am a playboy girl in the middle of a snowstorm adjust a wet dress in the rain For that is what the Amos wants I want to spit but that is too soft Like the kingdom of the dead i look for the savior to my love This love of kiss from august twist I got this man on my chain and that ain't to bad. Weeds weeds weeds in my head Like a caged crow raven ray. such a miss Miss tori and me in the sea like angels when you need to fly but can't cause momma clipped our wings. To the angels that carry toes and clouds on our tongues To the devils that move or speak at whim Live like the night that bought us to this wine To this liver To this heart To my neck Light the candles that bring forth love to the gods Return them to the angels and bring worth and want To the willabooth whisper like the can and the cup Take me to more ocean and tori will toss 87 Her cup her hand her love in the arch In the touch touch Tandy land love To the water in may will she wither away Like the hazel hair that winter made And to my Tori To my Amos To the goddess of hatred in men that killed them To the dare And to the light May i might Proctor and gamble are like the game we watch the remark a o f men that think their shame don't stink Bring me back to the end where these vampires were dead I am witch i am want I am god i am I am witch i am wizard i am warlock in clan I am bean in hand I plant my weed i let it grow over me We are recycled material in the midst of the lake That ancient lake that stays and stays and wakes and makes and loves and And And And And i kill men I have killed a man for his hate and his bombs and his mate I have dropped acid on my tongue This is what god said from above He'll is for the peasants that piss and moan To dance with the pen and to the end Like the dead and the rest that walk through time and space Lip live rest take make me a hat tough enough race me dead And to alice that thought she was fire over water and then the queen of hearts was on the tart Red in the head i said Like and alien or ET walking in the forest We are blue we are pink we are fro I have no hair my friend My love till the end 88 End But then my love comes to me in the end She was a belle from the south of Caroline North of the line And this storm is common like she do We Are not all alike Pineapples and pine trees that pot smells like with these kisses from tori and me To her kiss under sunken moon She was like a fire in water that never ended from the bottom of the sea that titles me Like the love from her lips to the lavender life that lust this lust Red red red red red red red Red red red red red red red I am a red from Cali and my love for the sense of witch and craft Like at on her face of Italy like the wine and the mud and the silt and the still water We dance in circles as the moon eclipse the earth We are womon and wild witchy warmth. There is a cloud of instinct on my nipple and there in the light I sing with my tori in the heavenly hour With one more dance from the hippos laugh We are that water lush mammal that instincts like the breed We are feminized seeds that lift the wake of night So under the hour and over the line She‘s a cocaine cop on the battle line This is where we stand Tori and I are in the inner circle of time and space with the sidewinder corner snake She was a little crooked to the men that made her My eve My liver My crime These turtles are in my head We are blue under the pink and Tori is like the vine A big black time after time in my mind we rhyme We are red and no one puts us in the corner anymore We are out we are out of the closet with lust and lust and lust and lime and lemons with sugar and sidewinder slide Queer guitars from the sublime sounds of the garden of eve We are the ones that dine on the meat of men I have killed several and served womonhood well Blood from her rose 89 Wine on the grove I have no hair as a doll with shades and there is no servitude for the ones that we have made She is a diamond in the rough We are like the tin man the kills the Doug I want to kill bill i want to kill Charles Keep Anna keep arms keep Myra keep Tori keep Amos She had smooth skin like the porcelain purse of the loon I am a loon i am a loon i am a loon am meat from the out of a man that can't understand i want to kill them as they melt like pink sand There love in the sand The i don't know what word to say i am in the right of may She don't to hell i go I will go to he'll Like the may like the way the way I'm going and what i have done in the past Shit i was a bad girl Help i want out But i can't get out of this timber woods So dark and tantric that the world is full Of weeds of shrimp Of oceanic limbs Like hydrogen winter wandering will I was not thinking of the timber wolf Wine and drugged dolphins is that japan man bunk Bestow my womyn and wait till the tilt I am transgendered in time with all the right pills Pink ones and white ones with daffodils And to the good girls in the big arenas of arithmetic of Lilith and love like the love I killed a man a man a man and i will do it again That is right i loved it and i will do it again We are not men we are womyn We get along cause there is no war between us Fuck the men that kill and breed and hate and hate Me and my rifle of a gun in the sun with that mans head hung I killed him for the grade I killed him for the war that he begun Begin she sin 90 Report to the sinners and sin with us She was my violet violent form their male musk And do you know miss A? Miss Amos is there for me In my pain In this structured society she stills me On our way up the PCH She comes to me on the Ventura viaduct venturing with that downplayed dictator I felt that fucking mans hand down her pants and i killed him First i cut and cult him to my cross of guilt It a metaphoric thing That turned into my reality English Infidelity speaks So do you. And to his scream To his lean lick on that tongue of a man I cut and kill as quick as a womon can I am victim and so is god She covets the lust from that mans groin So we bite and chew at his masculine neck Suck that sweat desert skin off of him Wicked witches wander wildly out of the closet with brooms in our hands and tambourine Tori leads our crafty coven of martyred moms Walk with me to the manna This is what we killed for This is what she killed for Is there any other better sin to give Than an abnormally attractive civ This thing we call love is in the wind We wave with womon wigs We a the legion of the dead that have suffered From rape From life In marriage and in war We are the ones that you are looking for Is there any glue to pick me up from tape on my toes Tipping the band wagon Touching the soul Shes a quixotic quilt of fabric and fame that will rocket us to her ex-husbands death parade 91 A through z with out the w I am looking for a few good witches She was dandelion and wild like thorn berries I am a poet I am Love auntie Sam So we run like little geese in the midst of the sun she was caught in a bad call and dream that never ended I am at the beginning of my dream I am like the swan and the rooster She is red with air and hair on her slayer Witches don't need human behavior Fuck off fortune fuck off fame Let me die as this womonly body remains intact With the poems from the frost and the he'll raisers from, the puddle I kill men like mud I hate with fire and water base I am not your average witchy witch That you can fuck with Don't take my throat out of the goat Tori is the most Or is Anna on toast Whole wheat or the Sunday Post To the pineapple solstice Returning to flight She was an angel that was froth and froze in the warm winter light. 92 Abort sooooooooo fassssssssssst cant keep up. noroom for failure split fragments chill in air gucci squeeeeeelin‘ networking-around-the-clock -no laughter 93 Björk puttered out of gas after leaving Tarahi Omatross scanner data indicates: Albali SAO— Mag: 3.0 Rise: 14:57 Transit: 20:28 Epoch 2000 need a crystallized genesis connector to complete the journey send HELP? soon. love -Xhiönaa 94 Untitled angel-shoulders like violins rapture concave crested may rushing over loops of wheat blown locks shaft of light pressed to the cheek. 95 Jezebel _gentle december hands crisp front of sweet tears comfort. sounds of home_ 96 Untitled locked up. Skeleton frost whimper. Bath-rub-down inside rose breath whispers warmth 97 Carol sleep let the wind rest in euclidean ear traces of possible fluorine worlds. tin fingers place bets of cream-sickle dreams -less coughing 98 Luna .001 she nestles herself in the orange plastic bark of insomnia translucent from the pain within as the may of spring rushes over her electric body the wind crushes chipped pale synthetic-skin 99 Janis frowling-funter-frumbles under stark sunlit frames set free -find home- both those words are dead. 100 Autumn vintage dress sways like grain ambient knit auburn gold hallow sky— winter-harvest rushes over her body hair wanders gray ashen now-and-then wise antique skin fills her womb with acorns rides the wind looking for dried out blueberry patches. 101 Untitled swallowed cinnamon and maze oak leaves. young child paints breeze with stone hands never felt cheated the pure lies open reckless eyes thoughts in the trees part the hazel season. 102 Unseated yorkful rays of light tinker twill the dress of snowshell relaxes with the arrival of spring shower blue in the stream emerald green hand painted lawn chairs of maple and cherub awoke by wild wake swells yellow bellied circles under whale scent cities of purplish-handmedowns salmon rainbows cry out for thirst atop pillows of blank clay. 103 Tratacom.com somewhere in the next chase_ purple cyber screen cop cars and HP-men will subdue my sons_ sons_ sons_ sons_ souls. 104 Untitled trill trill dew weep pink silken swing herme_tic -click- polishplate wash w i p p e d whiskers dressing_up_up_up bu r st blanch be am s l a t h er lip_lup_ lip_lup lemon quench pucker spout lime prime 105 Untitled words quell silk nests honey soft flesh supper in her pocket 106 Tori breathe_ breathe again listen to the sweet sweet sparrows over head the ones that watch me in the corner the ones that love Tori as she waters the cactus that cut me last night while i was sleepin on the couch. 107 Breakfast Girl last saturday morning with her coffee ashtray steam dry toast and cold cereal 108 Her while walking through weald you kissed me great greens glistened off your ivory temples from tall tamaracks 109 Angel on My Toe Her kiss on the tip of my toe_ placid paradise. Pinks rays of light from my angel_ her lavender lips and still shoulders shine. She‘s giving up on me_ Angel wings turned to stone. Insulin drained_ poisoned from a kiss. 110 The Mitten Under the snow_ a mitten of wool. Lost in the middle of winter_ mint white bliss covered this mitt. It was grey with crimson stripe_ hinted with hunter green. Its author wrote the weather_ a blizzard of diamond jagged flakes. To cover the mitten_ until spring. 111 Leaving Franco Resting my legs, sitting on the corner of the street. Pacific coast sun set in Hermosa. Talking to the bums on the benches. Franco is the leader of the pack. Hustling for his dinner. He pockets the change emptying it into his trousers. ―It‘s time I left this place,‖ I tell him. ―Leave it for good,‖ he smiles. My pockets are empty, jeans torn. Franco fumbles his beard listening. I cry, ―California cannabis is hip here, but it ain‘t all.‖ Now I listen. ―Nate the great,‖ he slurs sipping his forty in one hand, and a dime of gage in the other. ―California ain‘t what anyone expects.‖ Takes a drag off his blunt, ―till they get here.‖ 112 Sara’s Bath Try to understand the TV when there‘s no mystery. Changing channels, looking to solve the solution Sara reads the past. Chasing lilies off the ends of pads, she can stay at my place anytime. On my pad. Sara can. Poetry is expression of a woman and her body. It flows off tip_tip_ toppling Jewish girl hair. The kind that curl in water. Sara steps out of the bath. Long neck, olive skin. Slender sheik form. Rose bud warm. 113 Gentle December Hands For Christmas she bought cream. Poinsettias dripping with dark dew. Crimson and white setting. This girls hands were loving. Drop of pearl lavender lilac lust. Heathers hands were doves. 114 Angel Her shoulder wings work waving her higher up in the air. Pressing her pink pearls up against my window. I hesitate to ask her name. Winged woman on the prowl. 115 To Amos in the Form Once thought of as a witch. She wastes no time with work. Freedom to explore the realm of outer space_ with her mind. She watches the cherub stones washing ashore. Dabbles in the craft_ while walking across the beach. The Pacific sea of wizardry. Her star in the strangest form, from a shell in the bottom of the deep. 116 Melt It is simple melt, the transition between winter and spring. Bruised heart from lack of sun. Heather grey sky. When it is difficult to remember her name, her snow quilt reminds me of snowshoes. Reminds me of writers in Ann Arbor, their artistic souls swamping slush across the Diag. Out of winter spring is reborn into great green empathy. 117 To the Poet As the poet paints with quill, sparrows sweep and sway on a lake. Poetry is motion, just ask the sparrows on the lake. A poet is like a bird, soft spoken smooth as silk. Always exploring new areas, looking for another way of moving the public eye. The sparrow dives deep, to catch a minnow. Like the poet catches words, in her mind. 118 Evidence A moment of silence before death Pink lady, stream of consciousness. Hearing them in the music and art Trigger happiness trigger happiness. Found a gun to trigger happiness. Ghostwriters are ever so ghostly When I found you there dangling like a blur_ all your life was lost in the black lie. I wanted you, but then as we touched I sucked the life from your lips. Suffocating your cancer wound. I‘ll serve you till the end. Fingers swollen. Awareness in reality is apathy. Apathetic minds think alike. Evidence of divine cause. 119 Heather she likes girls now but thats ok cause when i turn 55 im movin to new york -upstate- to become a woman. 120 Gretchen her breasts we so firm like an astro-pop left in the glove compartment of a 76‘ volkswagen in winter. 121 Alice I entered, you streamed my channel chasing rabbits. Asking what is real? Prussian blue sky. Kiss me one time. Blueberry lips Alice. See the hipsters in the field. Such a melting pot of threads. Alice sits in the middle. She picks up my two_bit frequency. Translucent faces, way up in the atmosphere. . 122 America aciremA Haunting trespass through the skulls of the dead_ Their souls never forgotten from the flames. Lies from the other side. Pollution. Look on the bill. Look at the bill. Geronimo‘s soul. Out to the Haunting. The costal connection of spirits. Makes the tides rise. Ride the tides through the plane. The making of his revenge. On America the great. Babylon of all. 123 New Breed See the new breed in the waters. Under the sea she lays her eggs. Below the floor, deep down through the crust. Genocide is her kind. She sickens sweet with every scent. Morrows weeping creep the dead divine Her green glistens cocoon chrysalis Sinking deeper tropic time. 124 Sounds Like snow crunching beneath feet, there is bliss. Your stockings wet from frozen Champaign. But what she did not count on was the murder. White and crimson right there beside her. ―The blood of a saint,‖ said the wind. When all the angles are gone to the heavens, there will be a time where nothing is red red red. Then there will be no death. To those that believe in thirteen. The story as old as light, as old as ancient cornerstones. Sown deep in the fabric of time and space, his web spun of Lucifer and the dead. These shallow shadows fall deep in a hole. 125 A Reflection of Perfection Angel shoulders like ravens wings. Ravaged by the tempest. Her look to the queen Rx Her memory like a drug. In the mirror her lines. Scars from the demons that eloquently mark mistakes. To Tori, to Betsy, to Bjork Lines in the mirror that light the love. I curse myself with all your love. Want you to give me all your love. This symptoms scary. I carry the disease. Feed you the virus Like a drug, You‘re hypnotic. Memorized by the spirit. Like a sharks too bend. Her breasts like white. Tip toppling tunnels of Tuscan locks drape her neck. Like cats we make love under silk sheets. Gazing eyes reflect the perfection between the two of us. Brown eyes to azure. Your body pressed up against the glass. I pulled off your wings and laughed. Under silken sheets the cats curious crawl with excitement and ease as the black moves in for the kill. Turned to the other side. Once you go you can never go back. Plagiarized plagiarism exists on other planes I catch myself now and then touching myself unintentionally. Like your spirit is with me. A ghost that stands by me. 126 Invisible. Like a witch that casts a spell on the elitist heart. Cherub stone azure set march. In the right of may rushing over your olive skin. Brown Betty Davis eyes and curly hair. 127 Time But I feel there‘s something in the way. Between our hearts, But spirit brings us together. Close but in dreams. 128 Everything Will Stay the Same In the end, It will all stay the same. The seasons in the east. The seasons in the west. Her leaves falling like some new wish. Some soft language. Her kiss on my lips like sweet, like sweet. New York and her people are all out for the evening, dining in theaters and smoking speakeasy‘s. My lover, your pink diamond shoes sparkle like Champaign, crystals poured out on the universe to make it bright. Your dress will still be snow in winter, and autumn leaves with slowly fade, as everything stays the same. 129 As Forever Ends After we left the seasons, chill brought cold chasms of weave. Winter was gone. Your capital way, by the seasons that turned gray. Elite revenge, love has it‘s way. Israeli hatred from the other side. From the other side. The other side.