Crilogy

The Senseless Crime

Daring and vicious
were those boys, he
a stranger to them
sitting on a bench.
Broad daylight and
kicks for the fun
of it. Pockets empty,
though no one checked.
Left to expire,
the forbidden celebrate
triumph.
They are stars,
this entourage.

The Impulse Disorder Crime

Merciless impulses
things stolen by you,
of mine.
Vigilance with
no exit,
sexually overwrought
and
deliberately not
responsible.

The Crime of Passion

Loss of control
with someone
he knows
pillar of the community
and thoughts
of burning her alive
become the antecedent.
A fury, a vow
to settle the score.
He harangues,
goes berserk.
Scissors in a
brown paper bag.
Nine times in a
parking lot.
Good riddance… again.

Lunch

Heroic efforts
fail but
he's too cold
hearted to care.

Some nobody
dies at his hands

and all he can
think about

is lunch.

Bento Boxes
are fancied

after a demise.

A compulsion,
like counting
granules of sand
on a beach where
there are no dogs
allowed.

Acidic coffee
residue still
lingers in the back
of the throat.

“Teriyaki Chicken’,
tongue and stomach
agree.

Staring Into the Mouth of The Beast

Paddling down the Wekiva River
alligators glide by
waiting for an opportunity
to put their great jaws in motion.

“If you fall out, mother,
I’m not jumping in to save you.”

Facing Fears in an Empty Barn

The fight between good
and evil
is only a state of mind,
a moral conquest.
If you listen you can hear
the visceral heartbeat,
beat, beat, beating
to extremes,
taking a rhythm
within personal conflict.
Old ideas become
new worries in
the imagination
of the imaginative.
Whether it be a
black comedy or
tragedy,
common sense tells you
to overlook
the obvious
ethical implications.
It’s survival of the fittest,
surviving your
own state of mind.
Can you survive
unconditional love?
Will unconditional love
survive you?
Facing your fears
in an empty barn
reminds you of a
childhood,
and the unknown.

Telegram

Warm air - flowing (stop)
over my skin -
smile on my face...
a little High feels good.(stop)
That’s what I want - I want
to feel like that. (stop)
When I looked in your eyes,
they shimmered - for me. (stop)
I should have (stop)
I just (stop)
should have -
taken you there.
I would get up - and dance, (stop)
I would -
lick that mouth clean (stop)
of those dirty thoughts -
your eyes expected.
I want -
to stay with you (stop).

Taking Flight

That old man,
now just like
a child.
Hiding, hurting,
running away from
constant confrontation.
Poor old man, who
only wants to finish
out his days
feeling free,
watching his hairs
go grey.
My old man, pops,
I like to call him,
the only one who
really understands
who I am.
Maybe I should
be there
through his tarnished
golden years.
"Go live your life"
he says,
"there's nothing for
you here."
This stomach,
not strong enough
to bear the
sadness in his eyes,
turns quickly,
no long goodbye's, for
me and my old man.

Glance

Hear how I would
read this to you with my
soul and passion,
sadness and solemn.
Breaking here,
Breaking there...
Breaking down.
Before the final break,
I fear the end is near.

See me… inside?
Shooting from one
organ to another,
stabbing through.
Causing first, passion
then sadness and solemn.
Broken down,
broken through, to
the very end of
where I need to be
but yet, could never
see, the hearing you.