Friday, November 13, 2009

Jealous Punk

Jealous Punk

Empty your heart of its mortal dream
To be like the gods in all glory
Infinite power and blessed grace
Rise above the mundane
Embrace the sacred and holy
Your image illuminating my mind

The slumber of darkness waits
Standing alone as in the beginning
Bringing the flame of divinity
Becoming like God, closing the gap
Removing all weakness from the flock

Darkly placed upon my eyelids
Poor, tired, wandering fool
Sold for a fleeting chance
My words sent forth
To reap what they have sown
Gather up the fruits of time

Mighty walls stand before me
Raised up by my free will
Testaments to my stubbornness
Victims to my crimes
Like fallen tombstone left to decay
Forgotten souls of the living

Recognize the devils that surround you
Remember how they tormented
Betrayed by your recollection
Justified by self-righteous fever
Your mind a lethal weapon

Its all about survival and space
Sending it all back around
A soulless, jealous punk
Rules made to be broken
An all together different game

Me up on the highway
Sure I’m out there
Standing there like Satan
The biggest dog on the street
Hiding in the bottomless pit


Tuesday, October 20, 2009


I thought of killing myself today
got my gun from the closet
I hide it way in the back
under old shoes, shirts, and other shit
meaningless stuff that gathers dust.

I pulled it out and looked at it
all shiny and clean
it’s a symbol of something
I forget …

I look around the house
searching for my bullets
remembering a routine from Cheech & Chong
where else, up his nose!

I find one in a coffee cup
filled with pens and pencils
and other more meaningless shit

like a stir from a bar
the night we met.

The bullet is jacketed
works best in an automatic
roll it a round in my hand
smooth and cold to the touch
such deadly precision.

You’ve got to admire the bastard
the workman
who invented such an efficient machine
I wonder if he ever thought
of using it in such manner?

I eject the clip
and insert the bullet
slam the clip back in the handle
click, click, clack
the sound of determination.

Cock the gun
and hold it to my temple

and I wait …

and I think for a minute …

What should I do?

Are things really this bad?

Would anyone miss me if I were gone?

Would anyone care?
Would anyone cry?

Would I be missed?

I gather up my resolve
and I press the metal had against my flesh
one more time
a strained look is on my face
I am oh so determined
to do myself in.

But, then I stop
I put the gun down
by my side
and I tell myself
no, not this time
not right now
maybe latter.

There is always later …

A flood of guilt washes over me
and I eject the clip
and remove the bullet
place it back in the cup
rushing down the hall
to place the gun back in the case
and hide it under all that stuff

A sigh of relief
not this time
maybe tomorrow
for sure later …

© Deep Piercing Cut 2008

Friday, September 25, 2009



Frana whispers a prayer
in case shit goes bad
she fingers the beads around her neck
moving in silence
a total disregard
for the rules and conventions
her best is never an agenda
she sees so much more than I
into the mouths of open doorways
they open for with ease
so little effort for her success
grown accustomed to the sounds of revolution
she frees a man she has never known
steady in the house of rage
I know my money has been well spent
as I wander eastward toward heaven
pour your wind through me
hold me close to your warm heart
let me see life once again
of only for one night
I am the hermit who rises in the morning
and leaves your door
with the promise of new hope
I fall faster than the cracking shade
down I fall into the tempest
surrounded by the whirlwind of desire
pray for my lost soul Frana
maybe I will find mercy

Saturday, September 19, 2009

Dear Prudence

Dear Prudence

Cursed are the compassionate
Revealing their weakness
Tears behind contempt
Everything is the opposite
Has long been the source
Holy flame of spontaneity
Dumb frittered indulgences
Time froze by power
A glimpse behind the curtain
Oddly Spectral avatar
Mixture of enthusiasm and despair
Prostituted prophet of discontent




The same as it ever was

This thing that still haunts us in the cold dark night

As time starts and stops without reason

Seemingly little happens

Among the weasels and red carpet beggars

The tired dancers working for pennies

Willing weary legs to move

Not to the music but to their beating hearts

Each one dances to a new song

Tempos, one step at a time

We all ask ourselves, when will the music stop?

They say they need a cigarette break

A short time to recompose

Recombining their collective energies

Selling them to the small local store

Dollars they earned in the war
Where dreams are sold in exchange for dollars

Selling chocolate to prisoners

Writing letters to their wives

They told old stories about long lost buddies

That fell before the shrine of world war

Bleeding for democracy

Video commercial, being the just cause

They bleed for you one drop at a time

© 2007 Glen L. Lantz

church bell

Church Bell

I make my home up in the old steeple
It is there that I sing out,
I sing out for the entire town to hear
At midnight on Christmas Eve
When snow covers the rooftops,
Like a warm and heavy blanket
Keeping you safe from the chill

From this perch I watch the workings,
Of the day as it passes by me
Quick to notice the tip of a hat
Kind gesture to a stranger
Hand stretched out to those,
Who need help along the way

Foggy dreams pressed to memory
Children that have grown
Toys, broken and forgotten
Smoke that escapes the chimney
Faded rose pressed between pages

Now my old eyes see betrayal
Sons of man who lie, cheat, and steal
Dignity slain on the altar of profit
More and more grows the desire
My heart longs for yesterday


Monday, September 14, 2009

Wednesday, September 2, 2009

She tallies up the numbers

She tallies up the numbers

throws the words “trust me”
around like a dagger
one night a week
taking out the camera
she says that we can do it here
wants to be frank with you
so full of useful advice
her obvious need
is to consider herself self-aware
despite the uncontrollable destiny
that hangs from nameless walls
panting like a stranger
on all fours
crawling whiskey across
walled up inside
she has a silver agenda
hidden between the folds
simply marvelous
down upon the cold
breathing florescent
she nails it to Thursday
long on the lost side of things
jammed up down below
clever in her sandwich
the crumbs tango across the plate
sitting on the ground
legs stretched out
bathed in dirt black
forgetting everything else
life chasing after her
sometimes with her
and sometimes against her
turning the handle
like mumbling pilgrims
covered in dust
inventions of her mind
true to the vivid
pillaged in the end
understanding the honor
of dime store deals
the real pain
and rustle of god
no one dreams of dark rooms anymore
least not her
she waits for it to be over
ripping out her heart
sandpaper sunshine
maddening stare

© 2009 Deep Piercing Cut

Tuesday, September 1, 2009

your mother of stone

Your Mother of Stone

she walks the earth
her voice undone
up from the depths
wild-eyed and vacuous
as she finds the truth
sometimes inaccessible
skirts the void
dressed in skulls
dangle and clang
from her waist
she dances staggered step
wearing a mask
bleating sacrificial song
enter spirits enter
fill her with your substance
the winged helmet does enliven our discussions
with the leafy green tea
she wanted so much more from you
more than you could give
still you tried
with all your might
and in the failure
I watched you grow
you became the spider of multifaceted dreams
of seagulls that speak in riddles
as they fly on currents of gold
river rivulets of time and space
um, she says
just um
more a grunt than a word
terrified of entangled shrines
drowning in abandon
curious damp happenstance

© 2009 Deep Piercing Cut

Wednesday, August 26, 2009

Wrap Around Emptiness

Wrap Around Emptiness

feel the helplessness
across the divide
it all spills out
comes out of the wraps
turning inside out
brazen and bared
absolved by more pain
a confession of intricacies
into an empty field
embracing the moment
this vile moment
that brings a bitter taste
finding the sad amidst the shocking
six holes of truth
one for every sin
real and imagined
the consequences
make you unworthy
the dark other stranger
that lives behind your eyes
that hides behind your ribs
watching the beating heart
feeling the pulse of the blood
flowing through cold and tired veins

© 2009 Deep Piercing Cut

Tuesday, August 25, 2009

eviscerator heaven

Eviscerator Heaven Issue5

Deep Tissue Magazine

Deep Tissue Magazine - January 2009

We create history in the dead sands

We create history in the dead sands

a subtle and powerful way
possible moment
revolutionary impulse
among the things I have adapted
my life to
in differing degrees
turned nemeses
encased in silver lies
uproot itself
planted in the envious
shedding new light
like outdated favors
bring the lavish plan
into bucket and boot
among the tidal wave
acute dilemma
once upon a time
our razor’s edge
flowering trees and
winter snowfalls
wanting to stay
as the sentence forms
the life struggles
with existence
moth against
the flame
we all hold are tongues
on judgment day

© 2009 Deep Piercing Cut

Sunday, August 23, 2009



Between shrunken self and echo,
drink from the empty fountain.

Reaching to elude us,
prophetic mournful discontents.

To be regarded as someone
who knows spiritual succor.

Moving towards tragic redemption,
with the throwing knives.

To keep within the hold
of small fractured lives.

Coins tossed for the wishing.
Sleek and shinny dimes.

(c) 2007 Deep Piercing Cut

Saturday, August 22, 2009



Mouth speaking full from heart
Withholding anger, not forming the words
Stand firm like rock and listen
Hope found when all seems helpless
Know the goodness that dwells within
Supposed fundamental delusion

Your eyes mesmerize me
Sexual and inviting all at once
I lose myself within
Fire burning me with desire
It grows in your presence
Something I find hard to control

To be brave five minutes longer
And not vulnerable in situation
Not a target for shooting practice
Life flowing from my veins
Seasons of futility
Willing the illogical
The bizarre and incongruous
Fighting with the reasonable
Separated from the herd

I have looked misfortune in the face
Laughing with confidence
Careful not to yearn for happiness
I have I lost that which makes me human
A divided soul of man and beast
Pride growing in my heart
A sight seeker in others’ reality
Not knowing what I hold
Free to take a chance
Burning deeper with density
The two ways of telling
Even now, immediately and forever
Like Brittney, an inspiration
A mind opened by wonder

Turn the wheel and press the tangents
Maiden of the valley
Content in your surroundings
Celebrated depth and intensity
Spreading, exposed revealing
Beauty thrust among divergence
Survival short on this orb
Underlying sentiment that informs
Aware of her presence, so aware

(c) 2007 Deep Piercing Cut

Thursday, August 20, 2009

fizzes and fiddles

Fizzes and Fiddles

jumping from ledge to ledge
it smells like victory
but it tastes like defeat
standing on one foot
the wide eyes of the confused
in walks the revelation
head held so high
sniffing the air with flared nostrils

sitting down and surrounds
with both arms
big and fleshy
wiping away the significance
taking it all up
in one large swallow

and lying down to sleep
with the absurd
the hoary night
held tightly in one had
underneath the blue pillow

I look at her sleeping
she is breathing heavy now
stunned by the feeling
like the electric eel
reeling with the power

her confession of pain
to peel off the civility
her romance with calamity
this talk of killing
I place in a small box
next to the glass of water
on the nightstand
I am still a spectator

© 2009 Deep Piercing Cut

Wednesday, August 19, 2009

sitting still

Sitting Still

without the minutes
ceaselessly attended
she lapses into
breaking, bumping, and falling
unpacking her long desire
harmful interactions
with bellicose strangers
mistreated kitten
a shifty worried happy
wide startled eyes
progress in dialogue
trying to pull it back
refuses to obey
laid down with the power
somebody dark and restless
they jostle each other
the visible person
someone you once knew
an uneven battle
slack empty beach
despair fueled explosion
every promise broken
real anger for the taking
a bluff speaks in high season
the hollow state
distracted by self

© 2009 Deep Piercing Cut

Friday, August 14, 2009

terra sol

Terra Sol

this light
this dark light
that fills us with evil
intentions that travel
down wrong paths
with the first whale man
the monster’s head
in hand
naked to the rock
dragon’s spilled blood
I study your pictures
they are black and white
juxtaposition your world of color
your nipple peeks out at me
a half wishful smile
I have seen this before
in my tormented dreams
back in school and studying Plato
we are still in the cave
you are a reflection
of the real you
that god keeps for himself
your smug self-assured look
as you knock on the door frame
pony tail and designer glasses
a new shirt fresh from the store
still slightly unbuttoned
your politics on your sleeve
you want to show me your femininity
as you squeeze my balls
trying to gather your ferocity
as it spills on the floor
you look for an escape
and I beat you to the door
dragging you in the dirt
letting it flow
from worse to terrible
I take you to the other side
and leave you there

© 2009 Deep Piercing Cut

Thursday, August 13, 2009

broken out paddy blues

Broken Out Paddy Blues

so much fury and power
blundering and fumbling
veering wildly into traffic
sucking in the world
passing by faces
drops on the skin
disturbed by the air
followed by silence
a captured piece
adamantly inclined
to be held and touched
she wants it more than glory
trades her inner fire
ways to rationalize
the beans into trees
a once claimed dance
obvious frayed edge
never could see the shape
coming around the corner
the dart flies to its mark
we watch and ponder
random consequences
boxers as trees
waiting for the fall
the axe against the trunk
grave questions ignored
my lifeless foyer
swept clean by digression
loose putrid dreams
a small wonder of august
this humbled place
jet freed dance
tying up the years

© 2009 Deep Piercing Cut

Wednesday, August 12, 2009

the prime method

The prime method

bellow beyond
taken to a measure
the rocket’s glare
smoky eyes
and old lungs
wave good-bye to random
grave bewildered ochre
shaken to the ramparts
the beleaguered simplicity
simple solid bonds
bound to us
mostly forgotten tendrils
they wither and age
my transgressions count
like the prodigal son
as the lead poisons your mind
above the broken silence
the fatted calf
tastes so good
like a god with reflective shades
I can’t see your eyes
but I know you have been crying
a bare unfortunate grace
the smell of truth
opens my eyes
it always does
every time
I once was a titan
a bringer of fear and hate
now I see through dim watery eyes
red with the butcher’s intent
and my forgiveness
I make
just like my past and future
I have harvested the fullness of Saturn
dreamed into august lives
a conceived swagger
centered lines of being
back to the beginning
when you wrote about love
and shared the treasures of your life
a drawn blue solution
the conversion of penetration

© Deep Piercing Cut

Thursday, August 6, 2009

two charms in my pocket

Two Charms in my pocket

should be so much more
tied up like a canal
just after five
in the afternoon
sun striking cinders
turns them white hot
just like a fix
lay down and cover my eyes
see a vision pull away
holding back the green walls
from time to time they cross
just talking outside
with their few minutes
a burst of sudden silence
unsure of who I am
where I’m at
half-gouged wall
it has something written on it
I crawl a little closer
remember it says
rigid jutting corpse
smiles and points the way
Narcissus at his horror
perception empties it’s contents
into a small wooden box
the evening temperance falls
down the stairs squealing
kicking the base of the skull
one virtue after another
leave me
like a whore with my money

© Deep Piercing Cut



no hope for this obsession
held between young thighs
twisted choking tentacles
squeezing out the life
the essence of being
potted with the plant
groping in the darkness
wrestling with confusion
slinks in order to preserve
wine of her fornication
a solitary tree
confined space
ride the heralded horse
with the naked angel
we are deceived
by a wild demon
thinking the dream is real
brutal dark blades
cut us down
in the midst of plenty
minds packed in cottage cheese
simple sinking aim
throat’s spilling master
not held by the path’s swirls
regulations spinning out of control
reaching for a handrail
touching on infinity
walking down a notorious sidewalk
the cracks laugh
as you walk by
they know your dysfunction
no longer abstract
but concrete now

© Deep Piercing Cut

Friday, July 31, 2009

come down from your tree

Come Down From Your Tree

no homeward spiral
imagine the Mississippi
the laughing woman
of lollapalooza
tripping back
down drunken hallways
an inarticulate mass
seeing reality
as you want it to be
past poodles and broken lives
they pool together
like dead flies in a windowsill
love songs and sad scenes
the dreams of farmer’s daughters
few and far between
the legs of promiscuity
they clack like iron wheels
muscles than never relax
they hold you in like a pasture
fields of erotic dreams
taste the tender calf
boiled in it’s mother’s milk
there is no disputing the facts
we can plug you into the machine
suck out your inequalities
make you whole again
the all-American boy once more
all we hear is the orange laughter
of a warm moist place
atomic screams in Dolby double digital
you waiting for the painted future
finding heaven in your eyes

© Deep Piercing Cut

Thursday, July 30, 2009

Gotta See Your money First

Gotta See Your Money First

a square of muscle
in the green field
of the least
and cursed
forever to be closed
to stop it at the source
to hold it back
make it cry for mercy
bleeding on these sheets
the muscle squared
pointing at your future
without a god
without a master
the Buddha of place
in a moment of weakness
the lost head
rolling down the street
looking for your savior
it doesn’t come
from these dirty streets
only pain and confusion
the flesh burns
just like the rest
watch again
watch it all melt away
like stick figures
against the wind
a tsunami of force and feeling
make your choice
make it fast
for the shadow has no patience
when it comes to skin
consumed by the fire
cleansed by the fever
that burns you and me
throwing us down the street
down the alleys of bliss
flesh and bone
sugar and spit
we are changing
it comes over me
making me quiver
as the drool runs down your chin

© Deep Piercing Cut

Wednesday, July 29, 2009

Raised and Schizoid

Raised and Schizoid

in the cavernous rage

on Detroit smiles

windswept streets

crave your name

engrave your image

into the souls of man

looking like a stanza

laid down the placid

slowly walk away

they were not meant for you

six minutes till show time

hands set like a mind

tormented life and contusions

hooked on dancing waves

astral child’s belonging grace

fanned down like shots

into the absolute

all alone in glass

holes through the wall

October in my head

certain land and falling lights

scattered across the plains

the buffalo hold no grudge

trees turn to mountains

together the severe bloom

exhausted dinosaur

listen to his roar

as he sits under the banyan tree

searching for enlightenment

in other people’s pockets

© Deep Piercing Cut