Power

There was a young man, ne'er do well, traitor, this side of oiled whale skin

who so embarassed God

that the Angel of Death

when sent to kill him

got murdered.

God had this man been through hell,

consigned and conscripted 

for 80,000 years

but he escaped with ease

each time with only eighty dollars

on the books.

God came down 

from his cloud nine 

made of tumultuous lime

to cast him out

to the Nether realms

but this time the young man

unscrewed the medical pins

from his right arm

and said simply "Here, as a parting present

between old enemies

the last Angel you sent

seemed like he could use

a new one to get by

and to shake your filthy green radioactive hand."

Well the man got cast out

to parts of the universe

that even God didn't like

but God, in his infinite wisdom

didn't know what the ulna was for

or how the man

without even so much as a grimace

had unscrewed it from tempered medical plate

and weilded it so efficiently

when he had been stripped effectively

of mortal and immortal weapons.

He remembered the speech

but without the man

he knew

it must have been the stink

of a mortal ego that had become tattered

in Holy Hell.

One day a message came back to god

(by this time he wasn't feeling too capital)

in a letter form

that said "Do Not Duplicate"

and inside was nothing

but a piece of parchment

with a left hand print in dark maroon

that looked like blood

that looked like blood

that smelled of wine.

The new Angel of Death

told god to his face

"Your ego

is that disgusting,

from now on, I'm siding with Him."

aerial combat

red hayseed
tumbled in mercury of Argentina,
you imagine
that I didn't recognize
his shaved lab rat sun
aping the motions
of a diviner surface
than the sunrise.

all he wore
was leather
when he jabbed that crux
into his decaying forearm
like anybody
who was a man
and hadn't reconciled
that pain of humanity
as removed
from suffering,
which is an impossible trap
when even flowers
remind one of rape.

I drank a beer
then had another afterwords
afterwards
and figured nothing
but a cliff's outrage
during the Battle of Britain
when the Hurricanes
survived armor piercing rounds
and came back home
to find a ruined and smoking factory
lit up by tracer phosporesence. 

Why didn't you tell the others with their radios
that they would have a small knife
between their shoulder blades
that couldn't be pulled out?

Well its because
we call that grief.

grotesques

edge of a funeral
hopped off the bus
where a cowboy hat
rested on a juicy corpse
all that liquid all over the floor.

lavender, rhodendarins, rose.
you and I
we passed through the train station
with its clunky mechanism
telling us only
to be cowards.

old man this side of green grass
not growing in wicker or wisps
all that dew
coagulated in blood stains
on the floor of the godawful metro.

things happen, these things
where a gang member
got cut in half by a metro wheel.

can I tell?
there are two I love and live for
not these sacks of organic phosphate
bumbling through the harrow
of drugs and life.

in Hollywood
I stole a cup
because you asked
and the transient evasion
set the ideology of the police
into flames
that burnt gawkers
and tortured faggots
because
because
they never could know you
and I realized the kindest thing
you ever did
was letting me relax my tired head
on your wounded shoulder
when we had no heat
but only third degree burns
after rearriving
from this side of Hell

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Mercury_poisoning

law and order (that's us every time, ma'am)

They said that no court
would ever convict him,
not because it was an issue of guilt
but because no punishment
would be as incredible
as the tortures
he inflicted
on the human blossom.

notes from underground

I would say something about the disgusting-ness
of things that are human
but the beauty in that statement
is just
that humanity is temporary
and its pain
is in fleeting victories
that seem in retrospect
to convey that meaning of proximity to ego and id.

One time
I threw a bible
at a bible salesman
and boy
did he quickly forget
about Jesus Fucking Christ...
maybe like those plague bitten rats
cursed as Crusaders
who wiped their ass
with the Virgin Mary
and knew only of Rome's blood-stained future
that shook the West
worse than an Aztec Lobotomy.

These days I just smoke
used to be
the other way around
where they smoked each other's powdered bones
like a cannibal carnival
only through them

only with them
do i know how to weep,
can you?

War As Historical Allegory To The Unfettered Dead

It wasn't supposed to be like that
where they educated him
with dull charts and gaping graphs
inferring superiority of the know
when the experience felt
like three seconds of alarm
and thirty minutes of pain
as the rifle bullet
had cross-stitched his messenger bag
and the sargeant
threw out blood smeared communiques
that looked like desperate love letters
written by a retard
to survive all of war's lessons
like the distance of Sarin
and the dicotomy of bombings
versus blast radius
that never measured a single goddamn geometry
except for human cruelty
locked in a purple vase
and kept empty except for blood red roses
swimming in earnest
in the houses that refused to fool their young sons.