Pheromones

what hides
beneath
finger
nail bed

what squirms
under cover
of sheets see
through

burning down scraps
turning copper
to gold reserved
for kings
in line

take a number
next to call
first to fall
blind sided
didn’t even see
those stairs

narrow minded
never mind you

ode to nuance
ode to bulldozers
ode to old

relinquish
stubborn beauty

pretty looks
pheromones
weapons of
not being welcome
here

I’d staple my
eyes shut
but your subtle
brilliance
lights up my lids

no need for
for violence
for questions
for callous
on soft spot
for blood let
for borders
for crimes
against
or crimes
deep-daggered
inside mind’s
eye
or mine

uninvited here
to interfere
to be sincere
on own dime
one’s own decline
take a number
get in line

a sweet fruit?
or are you
a bitter peel

quiet on the outside
but my insides won’t shut the fuck up

want to see
what’s inside
cellar

doubt it’s wine
of some fine age
more like rage
day after day

inspired by
aren’t we all
inspired by
surroundings

founding
past & present
merge in one
timeline
to rewrite
the future
destiny dumbfounded

best turn that lantern out
‘fore someone sees you
so grimy like the ’90s
not so polished like
the now

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A Cynic’s Confession

If only
product placement
could buy my heart
content

what would be
the price
of that beat?!

do you feel that heat wave?

it’s called
human compassion
what so many
are lacking

human condition
we are all so
conditioned

to grow inside
a taped up box
scraping soul on staples

there is no room
to really love one

let alone
talk
to
a

stranger version of you
(me, yeah, so are you)
allergic to truth
immersion in youth

the flame flickers
never meeting embers

human compassion
that’s the one
thing they can’t
tax
or ax
from the budget

but we’ve lost touch
with it ourselves
self-inflicted
bleeding stones

without fed’s meddling fingers
we’ve lost touch with ourselves

where is the solution
promised

man is
conditioned
to not solve
problems

(we are a) problematic species

man
is
not
so
great

i’ve lost my faith
in the human race

see you in another life…

one with
com-
passion shows
instead of
flagrant
pageants.

Hairline Tedium

Don’t want to meet
bad seeds
& weeds

rather feed
friendly trees
& loving beings

don’t want to be
bobbing around
down
in crab apple
basket

dropping flowers
on caskets

hiding behind masks

more inclined
to unwind
find myself

planting mantras
& well-being

songs worth sing
more time to lean

healthy reverberations
may heal fractured nation

divided time
always dividing time
grids & fractions
to prove we’re
soooo smart

where did the time go
tick tock, the clocks stop

dumbed down by hairline tedium

Ulcer

Why does it move us so
to know each other’s every move
to know each other’s dreams
and what we weep

what coin we seek in slumbers deep
the darkest depths we all must peak

why do we deep down want to bleed

Full Spectrum

Who would not prefer green to brown?
Well, are we talking her eyes
or are we talking grass?

Either way, spring is nigh…

I feel so low
staring up
into her high rise

when tradition trumps trying something new

all dressed up for a cemetery showdown
dapper and dying to be profound
left smelling flowers upside down

Psilocybin

1999
The year I graduated high school
The year I started college, reluctantly
Thought I was so cool

1999
And what is forefront in my mind
is psilocybin

Mind bent
on magic mushrooms

1999
I’d tried it before
and acid too
because, after all
marijuana
is the gateway drug

So what’s the big deal?
The big deal is
me and half a dozen friends
ingested a large quantity
of caps & stems
crystalline blue

and we gobbled them down
about a quarter each

1999
The baddest trip
I’d ever flip
sprouted from cow shit

1999
And I knew I couldn’t drive
But I wanted to be home
And nothing else mattered

Gave my keys
to my best friend
Said we need to go
I’m tired
You’re tired?!

Another friend passed out
Hit his head on a
pinball machine
I’d wished I’d done the same

1999
We hit the highway
Bright lights
were halos
from fallen angels

1999
Convinced I would die
right here on I-25
Just blood stains
and crushed metal remains

1999
But it was not my time

We got off
not two exits later
Pulled over into
an empty lot
My hooded sweatshirt
on backwards
merging with my skin
like a Spider-Man villain

1999
Fumbling for my cigarettes

We’re dying!
Oh shit!
We’re dying!
This is what it’s like!

So we got out of the van
marched into a 7-Eleven
That poor store clerk

Call an ambulance!
We’re dying!
Eyes were silver dollars

1999
I gave the paramedic
the last of my weed
Said I won’t be needing this

1999
Couldn’t remember my address
or for fuck’s sake my phone number

And in the hospital
all I got
was a lousy valium
and a phone call to a parent

The doctor was a smug bastard
Said, no, you’re not going to die
like someone had lied to us
from the very start

1999
That was an
interesting ride home
But at least I
was coming
down

1999
And boy was my dad pissed
At least I’d lived to die another day

Written for dVerse “1999” poetry prompt.

The Hatchet

When the sun decides
to kiss and make up with moon —
that’s when we’ll make peace.

Things She Says

Things were so much
more magical
when you believed
in the nonexistent

(we were so)
nescient
nebulous
nefarious

fading values
from a lost society

faulty valves
on our mental plumbing

she says
I can’t see you
but I see your
shadow

this is how we live
stealing warmth
from winter’s
cold heart