Mars Meets Venus in the House of Love

 

Dry scalp

someone died today

in blood splatters

and naked twists

dry scalp

I shot the tele today

for blood splatters

and naked twists

You've stolen our dreams

and hardened our hearts

for ice cream

and glow in the dark

someone died today

dry scalp naked twist

 

 

Stains of Syphisus

 

The hoards glimpse a roaming hound

collapsed on himself, a creature devoured

lost of innocence, in a word, deflowered

in the desert of silence he's drowned,

Anna Turon found this humble beast

Called by her own name, called chapeau

In a Saint Vitus dance, a waltz performed slow

she gasps for air, her private feast,

Tom Kinski cries for Anna, what dispair

he launches through life in a panic

Once he sleeps, all things are frantic

When he wakes, tis only to sit and stare,

Cry for the dead,for they are the hated

All the words they'd said, we've recreated,

Silently

a web breaks

so quietly

Atropos waits

for a whisper

from her mother

She grasps the strings

for but a moment

yet the sound rings

the glasses fragment

til gravity yields

to the rise

in ocean's fields

a dolphin sighs

at the monkey's cries

as he tastes

his loss of face.

 

 

 

 

Over the hill's crest

on into the valley

with no time for rest

entering hell's alley,

your body's on hold

and your soul's on lease

so watch 'ya gonna do

with the god-damned fleece,

you burned up your pity

and idolized your pain

building hell's new city

irrigated by the acid rain,

searched for ages gone,

lost all love to the game,

now your another pawn

who's been driven insane,

now you've got it in hand

but the gold's grown cold,

lost all self command

same old story told

 

 

 

orally

 

so the scream of torment begins,

lying low to the bloodied ground,

with curses being called my friends,

erupting with a most subtle sound,

an earthquake in the deepest sea,

toe to toe, a smile turned round,

trying to find the chains holding me

fast in the bind of days lost

past time corroded on my heart,

feeling the thorny crown crossed

upon emotion without a start

bowing down before her alter

praying to hell above and heaven below,

only images of how I adore her

moonlit reflections on the window

in the night, a candle flame flickers,

sunrise calls yet a new disease

with which I may afflict her

in the name of Love, a word to tease

the lust of the candle's red flame,

seize the knife and the blood flows,

to bleed, perhaps it may tame

all of the churlish dead crows

whose love I once did claim;

all those wonderful dead girls

told me to look to the rain

for the oysters holding pearls,

but the smell's driving me insane,

as I sit playing with curls,

on the track, waiting for the train.

Yes, I'm waiting, tied to the tracks,

webs running cracks through my brain.

 

 

Van Helsing's Passion

 

the castle walls

block out the night,

as a cloud across the moon

is a respite from sight,

the terrors within the home

are the easier to hide,

than the monsters that moan

when the sun touches their pride,

So the walls still stand

in tribute to the dark tower,

blind behind the hand

giving the sightless power

to rule the night as day,

the wall's illusion does fray

as golden beams break through

to the inhabitants within,

living death in lieu

of what's already been

 

 

Prayer

 

feet on the stairs,

come hear this in my head-

this man running up and down,

can you hear him running round

in my skull's sanctuary,

I'd thought my own,

he moves the furniture

and he opens the drawers

tossing the files about

setting flame to those sheaves

he dances around the bonfire

he's made of my memories

only saying he's the way,

I didn't give him permission

to treat my glass brain this way;

yet he says, "My right's my name,

as this glass is my domain,"

I asked his name,

he said, "God,"

I cried, told him I was man,

he left me in command

 

 

 

 

Undone

 

my head was turned by a sweetness so sour

wars are won in that fateful hour

children are slain, women are raped, civilians gunned down

in the dark hour, back to the hungry ground

you listen so silently, hearing every move I’ve made

in the theater called mind you’ve found the power

time to talk is done and I’m left guilty

scream

for in this, my lightless hour

I’ve forgotten

I was someone

Scream

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