TURBULENT VISIONS

“AND THE BOOGIE MAN IS…..”

Pulsating tormented stares

night after night, images

under hidden covers

in the dark,

newspapers read with

vacant anxiety innocence lost

in thrilling disbelief &

morbid excitement

tendons ripped

&

stab

wounds

repeated

silencing

the fetus of

free love and peace

when you get to the bottom

go back to the top, and

go for a ride

and

the boogey man

is Jesus

is the devil

don’t turn off the lights

“some people are going to kill other people.”

“SUSAN SMITH”

I can’t focus, this moment of silence

Everything is odd to me

I’m getting close, but not sure why

Abraham, oh Abraham

The black man must have done it.

I’m all over the place

What possesses a man?

Staring at me, you?

Did you die in vain?

The black crows are laughing at,

Or laughed at?

Something is amiss

My arms, shoulder, neck,

Middle of the street

not getting any closer

We are falling apart

The bloodied child, in his arms

It was her.

It is us.

“SMALL TOWN AMERICA”

Forgotten surf

unrelenting

silence

faded chair

deserting

tattered upholstery

lights

monotony

scheming

breaking

never ending

quiet flickering

shattered

fleeing

fear

grinding

broken

mirror, lights

closer

praying

barricade

looming river

headlights

larger

shakes

jars rattling

staring

sight

red, blue, black white

grey metal

clanging!

“YOU DIDN’T EVEN TRY”

Did you see it?

No, it wasn’t like that time back then before.

Adolescent wishbone heroes running wild, scattered grey synthetic shades of winter & cream-colored chaos piercing beats of scarlet in orchestrated German arrogance.

Yes, it was different, but the same.

Leathered pumpkins, crimson reign & reflective gods in divine waves of beautiful violence cast from thrones on colors raised.

Where was it, you know?

Silent rotary, touch-tone communications, an autumn reunion of meaningless discussions.

(meaning everything)

Were you distracted?

Ski-ball regrets & carnivals, malignant Salem chains, jeeps and wives, gambles failed, unintended loneliness, (or)

Did you just need a Pepsi?

But I really did want to go fishing . . . with you . . .

“A NEW LIFE?”

She doesn’t know

Five blocks to the grocery store

Small wire basket

just big enough to hold not enough to eat

Cracks in the sidewalks,

Don’t spill Tuesday’s dinner

Hamburger Helper, off brand

mac-n-cheese

welfare candy & Christmas underwear

lines around the corner

Red, white, peanuts and

even numbered plates

She really doesn’t know

Can’t buy gas with food stamps.

“THE GAP”

Endless thoughts &

spinning corridors

float nowhere on

compressed shale

twisted wrappings of

flexed olive &

turbulent visions

disappear into a

haze of burning

sky blue smoke,

freedom

and

anxiety.

“DORRANCE”

In the corner of the kitchen,

An open cabinet

Hides empty cupboards

full

of

old fashioned forbidden

thoughts, knee-high vodka

illusions turning rusted withering

blades standing tall and uncontrolled

while lighting up dark Vienna skies

but

the sunflower

loves and dies

in less than a year

“MY LIFE IN COLOURS”

Masquerading confidence

in bold strokes of faded blue

Darkness in light

interrupting my darkness

ambivalence of grey

Clinging to

a

sur-reality

Falling

in

bottomless

amber & phthalo green

“2016, A MOMENT OF PANIC”

What do we do now that

we are happy, insinuation

moving down, scudding the

taste for ornamental language

in the breeze, framing

polemical chatter between

virtue and not.

Of course, the windows and

doors are missing.

Blind is a quiet street, it

hangs you, it hangs anything,

odor so bad which arises

from goodness tainted.

Decipher the meaning of the

verse, above.  Creation by definition

is territorial, adept at

peeing in the woods, dressing

the hotel idiot.

Death by landscape follows

a failure to educate the masses,

spells democratic decay and

downfall, masters of slaves

become inconsequential despots.

Is not our own white best

to us in turn, the strangeness

of state of mind as the clean

wild dove comes to relish

properly the shadow of her

wing crossing my page.

“IT’S ONLY FOR THE PRESERVATION OF HISTORY”

Blank desires    

running down

tilted knees answer nothing

Black, white

yield unnecessary tangled gaps

Insecure red lines run

toward artificial explanations

      Sucking Christianity

from religion on

crosses of hypocrisy & inequality

                  Bitter blooms of hate

gun soaked Confederate theories, statues

            ethnic bodies & women invade

      non-existent science

Adam Smith

            &

            apartheid.