As We Lie (Terminally Ill)


the bloody hand of Jesus rests on shoulders of eras until He disintegrates…

each prayer longs for light to obliterate night…

…a cobra rises within
…the dream escapes the mind

a conscious machine surveys the web…a spider drains a fly…

Death begins His Hymn with a grin…baring teeth wolves encircle inside
a nightmare galloping toward dawn…


dementia eats souls
as the feast rots
in the hidden chambers
of time bleeding


eyes recollect levitation
the lion is blinded by loins
the priest tastes flesh
the king seduces his nation


…the lord of the ascending hum will not be gagged

(silence narcotizes)



Spiritual Necrosis


poets and possession (hold the key
and watch it rust) midnight ejaculations
and murmurs of forgotten terror…


surrounded by dismembered dreams
and manifestations of spiders
my eyes search for understanding
souls… (I hear the serpent’s tongue)


distorted and oily profiles of visionaries disintegrate
within the Akashic vault (where all egos are pillars of salt)
we become an ocean still as death and forget our final breath


mortality hardens every-
thing… (given life man slays)

the mob gathers and drinks its pride
hunting monsters locked inside

borders of empires
gratifying desires


I have developed an intolerance to ambrosia
All smiles and sunny days seem sinister to me


A Draft Slams the Gate Shut

in the dusk of serpentine aloofness vast vibrations of strangers approach
dwellings constructed of ghosts and thoughts centered on Baphomet’s fur
bristling in the breeze of desert night frigid as liquid nitrogen spreading
the plague of creation and the reaping of rewards reflected in God’s blade
flashing in the dream dancing embers sprout desires praying alone crying

The White Flame of the Grave Widens

panoramic dementia waxes within
the ceaseless dream ambulating wild
mares and roses inhale desire inside
the unpronounced name exhaling ex-
tended lifetimes spent in robotic bliss
sturdy as spider-silk muting flies’ wings

Chasms Shine inside Pupils Captured

in mass-produced photographs leaking
oils and plastics into oceans eternally
churning secret species speaking sonar
beyond the corridor of human tongues

awaiting arrivals admirals of slaughter promulgate
fading flags of kings and queens aging on God’s throne
as veins rise to the surface and lines on maps bulge winds
direct tyrannies toward destinations cultivated by natives
beholding prophecies piercing membranes of skylines

families gather in gluttonous homes quiet as guilt
consuming bounties bound in card-board consumed
by glowing signals processing visions of impotence
and incompetence revealing its radiating birthmark
shaped like a deformed diamond vapid as brutality

In the Magic Night of Black Star Death

irrational caves dwell within
circling animals hungry for flesh
to devour and satisfy the hour

kingdoms wither in the fur of decadence
lined with piled skins of slaves sticking
to the mind of time rocking in futility
worshipping utility in western awe…

…release the sounds penetrating recollections of reincarnation
laughing maniacal philosophers take turns creating fascists
endless goose-stepping religions force freedom onto bloody pikes…

–listen to the woman in the wind she is bound in rains—

empty the seasons of their platelets
the mirror is the knight we defend
the slaughter lunges for light like roses…

the blessed liquor of Lethe
gives Poe no glimpse of nepenthe
as raving bones screech starvation…

Waxing a Wan Prophecy

Gaping open raw war exhales vapors
In the frigid gray stillness excavating
My souls for the unseen harvest
Reflected in the leaves desiccating

Through walls of fogs pale faces stare
And disappear like a random shiver
Like a slick violin string vibrating sad
-ness like a portent of a sickness open

-ing shaking thoughts of unknown frontiers
Full of four-dimensional forests and coasts
Where skeletons recite rhapsodies ravenously
Waving flags of unjust defunct empires wildly

In the encrusted fear demons lend severed gospels
Like laughing children without love keeping records
Of my actions and their forgotten complexions
Waning in the humid cold touch of misgivings

But the voice warbles without ceasing warnings
Releasing doves bleeding as they fall asleep
Descending into a valley where darkness shines
Limbs of unrequited hope desperately lunge

For the throat emanating light salvation
Indiscriminately reaping and sowing dreams
Seeming real as wounds which never heal
As flies hatch treasonous larva in the gash

And a new century is born and scorned
Now and forever have arrived starved
Demanding blood on the altar of profusion
Crying in concrete homes hallowing illusion

Until the last angel breaks illumination…

Out of Energy

a piano plays foreign tones endlessly like a house aging on a forgotten corner reality waits like a black-widow weaving her web my sadness recedes like dying rain my words arrive strained as an exhausted marathon runner trekking across a desert witnessing mirages dissolve

In Dawn’s Eye

Shining skies weep beads
Of morning dew on leaves
Of trees dripping languidly
Beside murmuring echoes
Like waves over dry sands
Chimes clink crying screams
Shoving dreams through seams
Unveiling souls walking near
Waters of time rippling clear

Reverberating Throughout Time

A grimy executioner’s grin
Drips with saliva spraying
Like drizzle on a balmy day
Mingling with perspiration

Unable to decipher the sounds
Or see faces within the crowd
The condemned closes his eyes
And prays under shifting skies

Winds rattle branches across
A graveyard adorned by dark
Headstones leaning and jutting
Out of the firm and frigid earth

The moon transcends its zenith
Echoes break windows in a house
Long abandoned by its inhabitants
The sensation of eyes encompasses