Dashboard Jesus

Dashboard Jesus

Your dashboard Jesus swims in contempt,
flexing forward with a revealing smile,
with that sick look of obsession.
He lifts his finger and points,
at the twenty-one gun salute,
a gift for the ballerina.
She has loved him since she was a little girl,
back in grammar school when she found him naked,
sitting on a park bench reading the Sunday paper.
Her looks at her with swollen eyes,
and a tongue that darts and slithers,
he runs it along the instate line.
He shows her his scars,
the spear, hammer, and nails,
exhibits for the traveling show.
Nightly there are miracles,
better than the primetime lineup,
more effective than lobotomy.
He thinks about his checkered past,
his time in Hell and the cold grave,
the nightlife surrendered for respectability.
He reminds her that he died for her,
to free her from her endorphins,
his gift is freedom from your addictions.

The Book I Left in the Whore House

The Book I Left in the Whore House

We are not futile
We are strong
I see you among the mob
Dirty winds tearing furious clouds
Pulsating with life
All its own
A human organism
I go to you for theater
Replacing your dreams with screaming sirens
Your intriguing combinations
Words that change the world
Corrupting the moral order
I don’t need you
For the pain any more
I just need you
Too scared to queue up
A tug of war
Between beauty and horror
Serving tea and oranges
Hearing the boats go by
She told you everything
The secrets in my head
You were just a number
A doorstop for the dead
We fought
Until the night grew cold
And we unpacked our belongs
Those we hadn’t sold
I have tried to be free
To fly from this cage
That enslaves me
To the rational
We sing
In a midnight choir
The butcher’s daughter
Plays the piano
You talk so brave
Your feet so sweet
As you dance on the stage
The world your partner
You were famous then
A bright and shining star
I couldn’t touch your fire
Without getting burnt

Looking at five weeks away

Looking at five weeks away

We look for signs
Any sign
As we watch the surface
To recognize
Like the churning sea
Would you have been more aware?

Remember the confusion?
It was an essential ingredient
You are still coming to grips with the idea

More Oedipus than king
This is no accident
Trying to find his way
And rightly so
The sorting went on within
Through squandered flesh
This private ocean

A wholly modern concept
Both of them looking the same
Flowing through my veins
Conveyance of the essence
Unsure which is which
Following the tides

The reptilian brain
Racing through the bloody
It shoots outward
Life among ugliness
Sky’s blended tapestry
The mix of affection

Discovered by fame and fortune
I staring in wonderment
Must squeeze through
It is so much easier to make evil
Dull as they are
Their feet of clay
I am still in awe

Showing all the intricacies
Thrill of the barbarous
Always poised to resist
With crisp cold air biting
To stand against the crime

Forming a little clump
We cross together
The small
Against the great
Our strength is in unity
Solid like steel

My openings and closings
The carefully drawn circle
We become solid
Experience and instinct were all
The breeze chilling the bones
Like stones

me playing the drums

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Before circumstance has its wicked way

Before circumstance has its wicked way

Living the insular
Settled blinking safety
Throwing it up to the world
Steamrolling the cutting edge
Rolling around in the grubby reality
Opening the window of subversion
Back into the crucible
Collecting your street credentials
Your tattoos now culturally relevant
They want to put you on stage
Turn this into a circus
Bring the fight on all channels
Torn apart by rich idiots
Three fisted close-ups
A sublime understanding
Sponsored by the military industrial complex
The undergraduate female
Ready for the visceral web
Old enough for the resurrection
Stretching this abstract place
Standing atop your concrete monument
The wind across the moment
You are alive in the underground
Ringing out your freedom beats
Riding the sonic wave
Shouting “Liberation!”
Under your hypnotic mantra
Feeling the raw power
Unity and belief
They can’t subvert your heart
Combined carrot and stick
They just can’t crack this
Descending like a total blur
No letting it sink
Settling into your panicked flow
82 thugs still screaming
Locked up with Clark Kent
They still believe in this soldier
Savoring the golden glow
All those crazy thoughts
Flying you back to London
Tweaking on February sales
The even steel of pipe
Fresh level stalking
Cranking your demo for Tarantino
Brand spanking new
A fresh face with a twisted mind
Being kind to your strangers
Seeing how they react
A systematic scan
Booting out the system
Having what it took to enter the world
Pounding through the walls
Looking like a friend
Bent on suspicion
The long tall silence
It never springs up again
Naturally irreverent
Just boiling it down

Driving this vehicle of vengeance

Driving this vehicle of vengeance

The frame for this poem is the evil that humans perpetrate upon each other. Humanity has shown itself to be capable of performing great acts of evil. Also, the American war machine uses labels of “evil” as a means of dehumanizing the enemy. If our enemies are not human, then we are justified in our violence against them.

You sit, safely tucked away in your ghetto
of confusion. It’s not really a ghetto, is it?
It is more like an enclave. A place where
like minds congregate and plot their
evil deeds. Your deeds pile up against you
like prisoners in Abu Ghraib prison. Poor
dark hooded creatures with wires attached
to their testicles. In this case you suggest
that the ends justify the means. They are
terrorists and deserve the most vile treatments.
You did it all in the name of liberty and another
man dies with a bullet in his head. His sin was
violating society’s boundaries.