Meteor Pink Tangelo

"How much would you pay
to live one night as a rock star?"
you ask, my Meteor Pink Tangelo juice
like sudden cookie fortunes
in a day that cannot be more bothersome.

I thought
that maybe it is clear
we should all surrender to Snapple
and its curious, though vain facts
if this world decays towards the trivial
and my bones wither to reveal platinum ores
of magical mythril.

They advised against my typical rants
against Jehovah's Witnesses
and similar religions
but I screamed
and kept screaming
that they were not just ramblings
of a hurt young creature
but memories of wounds
like the memories of childhood
that are not
unlike
the hidden and shameful memories
of most adults.

I drink up
straight up
'cause it says "energy"
and that I need
industrial amounts
just to keep on breathing...

Wishes of Peter Pan

I had a dream
to get lost in stars and garters
hoping to never grow up
for books were brains
and dreams were to fly
in my own dreams of flight
hoping to never grow up
although sky bursts
were never the flares
in the eyes of Mother
when she punished
and she did hard
with spoons full o'food
that broke my gums
i still hope never to grow up
for anorexia threatens my adulthood
expecting not to grow too much
not even an inch taller
but wide worlds within
hoping to never grow up
hoping to never
ever
grow
up
...

Tiresome, Irksome Expectations

Batteries unload their magnets
in my light saber
forced poem of force
written with what I don't know.

German boys sit on the next table
waiting for the same thing I wait
a better language
one in which
all sorts of things
can be defined
can be described
one that doesn't sound
like the scratching of blackboards
with bare nails.

Its tiresome and irksome this search
especially in tropical wastelands
without much music of their own
the search of poetry
by notes, rhythm and tones
perhaps that language is her
poetry itself.

Circle of Kin

Circle of kin
got you uncovered
as we gathered not around campfires
but within realms of family fiction
talking to our witching familiars
as we talked to God
by ways of prayer express.

Circle of kin
so many stories to forget
like aunts dead
and mothers lost to us
like sisters ill
and spiders comming to get them
I wish I could be a story
for the new generation
that promises to be a buch of stupid asses
who care more about coca-cola and playstation
that the letters that compose this poem.

Circle of kin
got me betrayed
as I left my home to find myself
in between forces of wind
and many a horde of hell
come to me in the form of lovers
and supposedly best friends
my kin is my blood
but the blood I chose
not the one I was born for.

Yes, Sweet Elijah

Cat or dog person
I swear I'm both
wrecked in havoc
peace the fuck out
"it's funny the things you find in the rain"
(fire comets
insert here)
We'll see how proud you are
yes, Sweet Elijah
We'll see how fast you are
We'll se how proud you stand alone
yes, Sweet Elijah
yes, Sweet Elijah

Where is Rosalina when you need her?
Gone to Spain with bulls to boyfriends.
Where is Juancarlos when you need him?
Gone to Texas like Preacher in first paperback.
The tropics wont'let me die
Iroquois flutes
against marching bands and drumlines
ancient war, Elijah
invisible friend
not and never imaginary
We'll see how proud you are
yes, Sweet Elijah
We'll see how fast you are
We'll se how proud you stand alone
yes, Sweet Elijah
yes, Sweet Elijah

Beautiful Fiction

Children state their wishes for summer
of wizard mice and talking ducks
it's Desire running amok
through a mockery of stairs
in a castle made of carton
in a place called Orlando

Am I really here?

Poet Kid tries to write a poem
dodging with hops and jumps
the bumps in the road
as cloudy day of summoned rain
falls cold and enters wet
through holes in the soles of our shoes

Am I really here...?

Swearing comes hard hail against fake
as we keep it real
searching for bloody real
in a world of beautiful fiction
'cause, aye, I was there
looking for comfortable, artsy lies
back when the buildings fell
not just during that terrific September
but also when ETA
blew that train station in places like Spain
and the American terror fell
on places like Middle East
leaving question and exclamation marks
in our heads and open, round lips
so I keep asking

Am I really here...

Prometheus

Curses are meant to be enouugh
as I throw my aerial rave at you
back at you
with 666 smiles hidden in smirks
and claws of angel
gnawing flesh
tearing bone
beaking at Prometheus
for the fire between his legs.

Tribute to Emily

I was thinking of your absent feathers
when I had an Emily Bronte moment
this love is beyond death
but we must die first
ridiculously together
from wuthering heights,

I said sir, please sir, that smile, sir
and then came the Emily Dickinson moment
when I scalpeled my heart out
and told you to piss and cum on it
to your own taste
for I was your slave, sir.

I was pulling my hair
when my shadow joined me
pulling too, to its heart content
my 4 black cats were away
and I had an Emily-the-Strange moment
when I blew out the candles
and turned off all lights
to stop my own shadow
to make you smile.

One Horn

Unicorn folds his wings
as horn brings forth
Avalon's fogs
whose entrance has just been revealed
a way out of this city
by sea inspired by countless oceans
as I gather my strength
and powerful spells
to always fight back
by means of yoga and voodoo
blessed by Unicorn
and Haitian loas
with little sacks of gris-gris
as I discover the Land O' Grail
opened by keywords
and the magic within.

Hidden treasures

These hidden treasures
for i said i wouldn't ever write poetry
if there was to be a cure
for intimate illnesses
forwarded to me by many lovers
these hidden treasures
for it's time, time, time to let go
whispers of water running from faucets wild
with nature's laughter going amok
with my lover's tongue sticked in mouth of mine
with children screaming indecencies to the four winds
for i'm an ejaculation gone wrong
all over the world
hiding treasures
where no X can make marks in no maps
for hidden treasures
are poems i can no longer read
not share
while there are candles blown by winds unknown
with no music to leave the next generation
with no point
with no taste
with no beauty
with no reason at all to live
or move on.

Spoken

god has spoken
to be broken
pain is limitless and unforgetable
all i ever wanted
all i ever needed
is here in my hole
words will never do harm
if you stay by the Whale's road
tracks of water
piercing through me
god has spoken
to be molten
pain is really unnecesary
all i ever wanted
all i ever needed
is here in my mind
words are my caresses to me
if you stay off my estranged path
dragons of space
phasing through me
god can only do me harm.

motherpearled eggs of seagulls

how could you think you wanted one?
as i revue our status as predator-hunted
for the last time
i'm not officially crumbled
i could never see no frock as beautiful as
Rainstorm's eyes
falling on gracious pastures
how could i forget the saddest torment
as if were never meant to be human
turned into something else
for i meant to say we would never see the same things
nor listen to them the same way
for i was deaf in heartened hardness
and you were lost in the tremors of decay
as we kept looking for the motherpearled eggs of seagulls
in dreams shared that were our only common soil
for we kept drifting always apart
oceans and 1001 oceans apart.

smooth wasps on surfaces unhealed

Crying comes easy
if you step on a wasp
come from the bitter islands
of unhealed skin
when daring homeless bums
put you through their toxic scent
I promise you
I'll always piss a potion
for your sting.
Crying comes easy
if you step on my foot
I'll be a donkey cute
as I search for little ballerinas in my head
always in my head
and I keep rambling
about elegant phalaropes
and smart things to say
as I keep trying to figure out
these strange zen lyrics
jangle the circle of Pan
if you find fairies laying there
with Peruvian sweet flutes
of fallen Incas
I dare say wasps
have gotten to my nerves
as i lay there with them
unhealed.

indian summer

Indian summer
flash my boob, knockers, knickers
and gay roads untravelled
a mother way to pray
to those departed not too long ago
for those i pray
in my Indian summer
come to the rain o' tears
when daddy disappeared
with his accent and black hair
as i lay down
bothered, molested
and gravely ill with heat
Indian summer
caught me unawares
with ramblings of a beautiful
redhead, Deliriums of beauty
for she was me
during past Indian Summers
of past unreturning lives.
ah, ah, way to go Sweet Elijah
ah, ah, don't forget always come home
ah, ah, falling in continuity
falling in continuity