REDEMPTION

Look back in silence; the cradle of your whole life.

There in the distance, loosing its greatest pride.

Nothing is easy, nothing is sacred. Why?

Where did the bow break?

It happened before your time.

There were people there, lovely as you’ve ever been.

Tonight.

Baby you can start again.

Laughing in the open air; have yourself another dream.

Tonight.

We can start again.

Only the young can break away, break away.

Lost when the wind blow; on your own

Mother its cold here. Father thy will be done.

Thunder and lightening crashing down.

They got me on the run, direct me to the sun.

Redemption keeps my covers clean tonight.

 

The sun will shine again.

Are you looking for a sign?

Or are you caught up in the light?

Hahahahaha.

Hahahahaha.

Only the young can…

Lost when the wind blow…

My Revenge

Sir, Sir,

We're finally alone.

And you've got it Coming.

I want to get these hands dirty,

this skin covered in sweat.

I want to feel you rigid and stiff beneath me.

I've been waiting for this Moment

ever since I saw the way

you made her stain porcelain

with that last kiss goodbye.

I can't promise I'll be good.

You have to admit

we're incompatible in a lot of ways.

Like for example,

your hair is thinning

and I haven't got all mine yet.

I can't help but giggle

as you stare me down from my bedroom door,

that handsome, fatherly

look in your eyes.

"Get over here, daddy!

You said you had a lesson to teach me,

at least if I promised to call you that."

Don't you want

to get me out of this dress that is two sizes too small?

It squeezes and lumps everything

into tight little ripe bumps.

This girl has been cruising,

and there's nothing like a father figure

to give her the bruising she deserves.

I know

you've been waiting for this for a Long time.

So have I.

I could tell how you looked right through

my mother, the bride.

When I saw the way you inhaled

the ink

right off the pages of my Diary.

When I caught you,

your tongue quivering as it ran down the binding.

I knew you were mine.

Cover over here.

I'll let you suck on my perfect Red lacquered big toe,

run your hairy paws along my inner thighs.

I promise

I won't even flinch when you whisper in my ear

and send long drops of spittle down my neck.

Come closer, Sir.

I only want to smell the sweat on your Breath,

twist tiny hands in your hair.

You see, I am a compassionate woman.

so I'll allow you the pleasure of my scent

as I wrap my pale thighs round your fragile neck

and suffocate every last plea for life right out of you.

Now the old woman can stop clawing at her Grave.

Predicting the Future

VOLUPTUARIES

In the Morning I linger
long enough for us to feed our intemperate bodies, again,
too long for a shower before work.

I ride half an inch off my bike seat,
giggle like a proud teenager,
while the wasps you've left inside my jeans
engrave your mid-day bristles down my sticky thighs.

You call me
after I've washed
voice cracking with pluck,
to make sure you haven't left me
too sore.

I balk,
scoff,
prod you,
tell you
not a goddamn chance.
I don't recognize myself
clean and dry anymore.

I take you down a little
and you step right up to the Challenge.

The Hunt

I've wanted you

ever since you took me between your feral hands.

I was five years old when you pressed my Face to the dirt.

You showed me a microscope world

only sensed by the tips of antennae.

A history that, every day,

I crushed unknowingly beneath my feet.

I've been tracking you ever since.

When I was too young to know better,

I would lay traps at the bottoms of glass bottles,

bait you with chalky white pills,

apply thick layers of war paint,

and draw my own blood,

hoping you were at least attracted to the scent.

I followed your lamp light between the trees,

even though everyone warned me

you were too dangerous to follow.

I've hunted you

until you folded pliantly beneath my hands,

fell panting at my feet,

cut my open wounds wider than anyone Else's

so they'd be that much more deserving

of your rough tongue.

Yet, I am still lost amongst the

wreckage of sleepless nights.

My finger cramps are a full page

and no story.

You taught  me that I am no seductress.

Not even mangled hands and knees ragged from worship

can entice you out of your Den.

I've seen you sleep in a stranger's bed like a royal pet.

You don't tremble when she holds you in her Arms.

Muse,

I never asked you to Love me,

just to lend me your body for awhile.

If i could finally catch you.

pluck one hair from your coat,

carry a single claw around my Neck,

steal one more salty drop to brighten my lips,

it would only be for a heady, drunken instant]

before you wilted against the infertile floor of my palm.

So lets make a bargain.

I'm not the begging type,

just don't leave.

Let your paw prints track clearly in the dust.

Don't let me catch you too easily.

A simple brush is enough to satiate;

up close, even the finest pelt loses its luster.

I will lie patiently, forever, at a safe distance

if you allow me an occasional look into those feral eyes.

Promise you'll come to me

on the front line of my dreams,

whisper secrets in my ear

before you laughingly shake me awake.

In exchange,

I'll wipe the jealousy from my cheeks,

learn to love you in stranger's Arms.

I'll give you the Vessel

to drag by the scruff between your teeth,

to run wild to the bone,

to keep you warm at night.

Le Temps Detruit Tout

Time is never on our side, baby.

So just before the sun breaks,

let's spin, counterclockwise.

With each turn we'll rob this World of angular momentum,

steal seconds back from the clock

to lengthen this night.

And when we fail to fight off sunrise-

because you know we will-

pull shut the Curtains defeated by morning light.

Turn night twitches into heavy caresses.

Coax open dewy buds.

Then fuck me till my knees crack

and you collapse on my sweaty back.

Now don't  move.

Though our bodies are pressed so perfectly,

chest to back, limb to limb,

there is still enough space between for cold air to creep in,

for its tireless breath to dry our sticky skin.

So stay.

Whisk these sticky doubts

away from between my shaking thighs.

Peel back a layer of my skin

so yours can take its place.

Stay inside me

until the untamed beat of my body

pushes you out.

It's always from beneath You,

right before my lungs collapse,

that I can see the way our roofs start to crumble,

watch chunks of it work their way

between every crevice

we find to hid in.

Somehow, when you go,

each minute drips on by.

I spend hours trying to tease out

what I have so neatly coiled into my chest,

whole days thirsty from the way

you pour me like child's play over your skin.

We see too clearly to stay this close.

From a wide angle,

oceans dry up, mountains erode,

and entire civilizations choke

beneath this unbroken rhythm.

What chance have we got?

So stay.

I may Never touch you,

but it would not be a wasted Life spent reaching...

DECONSTRUCTION

It started close to sunbreak on a Monday,

when a woman on Washington

unhinged the East facing wall of our building.

The wall trumpeted against the asphalt,

sent river wind through the cubicles

to tussle us desk junkies down to the ground.

We all leapt from our levels and skipped

barefoot, loose in the streets.

This inspired a few taciturn transit riders

to pull out the cotton in their ears,

step down from their bus seats

and let the tired iron wheels roll free.

Just down the block

a kindergarten teacher put down her weapons,

surrendered her students to a lesson in seduction;

she taught them how to peel up hot asphalt

and carpet-roll her supine body into the street.

By this time

we had uncovered the keystone in our skyscraper,

formed a chain of nine-to-fivers to pull it free.

As the tower fell

for the first time everyone stopped what they were doing

to listen to the way the glass sings as it dies,

and metal finally let out it weary sigh.

We did nothing as a mother of four took her willing children with

her and stepped off the sidewalk's end.

it was a penny pincher who broke the silence,

dropped the first dime smile into the blind man's can that sent

the construction worker's hard hats high in the air

as we all broke out in applause to commend their escape.

But it ain't a good show if it don't leave you Hungry for more.

So we rushed around town,

pulled free every keystone ever cut,

gave our last and greatest commands as monarchs of this

paradise

by returning all we'd plundered,

threw crumpled dollars over our shoulders like bread crumbs

to remind us that we never

wanted to come back.

We watched as those incapable of change

readily let their Death grip on life loose

instead of risk the urge to rebuild.

Along with centuries of industry, their bodies crumpled back to

earth.

Now we're somersaulting towards the Sunset,

a mountain of urban ash at our backs,

and you may find this too cliche to be true,

but this riot and I,

we're no longer willing to live in a world

where we can't even

imagine this.

No Title

In the Temples of Aphrodite
priestesses would welcome Pilgrims with open thighs.
Each Spring they would dip their Breasts in scented oils,
and spread their sacred ass cheeks over cool marble floors.

They'd Fuck whoever came knocking
until the very walls exhaled their funk.

But our World
bows to pilgrims
who take the offering
and make no sacrifice in return

Sir,
when it comes to women
I love the cherry troublemakers,
the bombshells busting at the Seams.

You had Me

from the moment you exposed yourself
to the boy's debate team.
You told them,
"It's Every woman's right to
express, flaunt, or otherwise
exploit her Sexuality."

And that may or may not be
fucking 251 men
in ten hours
on camera.

After you finished your masterpiece,
breaking the world record gang bang
by delivering 251 happy endings
in the time it can take me to write a single page,
well, baby, even the camera lens was Steamed Up.

When you welcome them with
bring it in your eyes and
its hurts so  good dripping from your Lips,
your slick flesh reminded them of our first love,
pleasure.

But Sir,
they don't dress goddesses in sequined pleather,
or airbrush Styrofoam to raise Temple Walls.
The altar they built for you was nothing but a Stage Prop.

They may say
you took it too literally
when your mother taught you to effect from within,
to prove that it was your choice,
that a woman could simple love to Fuck.

They may wonder
if the seeds of your masterpiece
were sown in the trash behind your Apartment.

Six different men,
you said, they wouldn't stop coming.
What they don't realize
is that the seeds may have been spilled in waste,
but you didn't allow Violets to grow there just to watch them Wilt.

Warrior,
you have never Cowered.
You've never been a Victim.
Your Bravery is the purest Kind,
blind.

So Priestess,
don't let them catch your Bouncy Ball Smile
when they Laugh.
When they call you perverted,
scoff at you for risking Life to Disease,
just remember they're Jealous because
you have Lived.

As long as we can watch
our Children be cut down to defend the HomeLand.
as long as we let our lives go Punched away for the next dollar,
as long as differences are grounds for Murder.

then sex,
sure as hell,
is good enough to Die for...