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

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

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