Inferno

your world is ablaze

 

you guarded those smoldering coals

\steaming hurts and smoking resentments\

convinced yourself

you were the watchman

lest a conflagration rise.

 

you stood in the gusts

\intrusions and degradations\

eyes shuttered

as if stinging sparks

were of no concern.

 

you felt the bonfire billow

\swallowed bile now volcanic\

while Hestia whispered

power surge sweet nothings

that brought your blood to boil.

 

you exhaled as a dragon

\savored the bite of rage\

dripped fuel from mangled fingers

threw that Molotov

just to watch it burn.

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Unwritten Runes

on occasion

verses attack me

faster than I can speak

tongue twister vortex

more frantically

than my fingers can type

keyboard pounding.

they tumble pell-mell

from my synapses

and I am helpless

under the tumult.

 

on others

I am dragging the words

from the page

fiber by fiber.

I strain verses

from amidst the paper grains

reading between the lines

like the rings on the stump

of a drought-stricken tree.

the fiercest

of my sorcery spells

falls jangle-mangled

ode

of the end of rhmye

 

this parched poesy

will be the rune

of me

Phoenix Promenade

I traipse these forsaken streets

where the detritus

of the maelstrom

lies powdered in the sidewalk

cracks, smothering the industry

of ants’ ancient machinations.

 

I was birthed in destruction

spewed forth

from the ravaged womb

\of she who was\

I flew

where others dare

not tread

 

and the blood of Athena

thunders

in my veins

Liberation Lyrics

give me your tired

doth proclaim

our lady of liberty

so we may sell them

snake oil extraordinaire

slathered upon their bootstraps

\secret to success\

upon which they pull

and pull and pull

hands crimped and cramping.

in our lighted

  • benighted –

lands

we shall work you

to fragmented phalanges

while we perk you

up with caffeinated cadence.

 

give me your poor

cries she

lady verdigris

where we will welcome them

in effusive inauthenticity.

our golden doors

\hang open, crooked\

on their frames. entrance

is free to all who possess

the hardware, unjamb

asymmetry and cleave

to our self-serving

engraved proclamations.

in our land of plenty

  • good and plenty –

well masticated misconception

you can construct

the deconstruction

of your well-founded

pipe dreams.

oh, wait, that’s quicksand!

 

give me your homeless

declares our storied

harbor sentinel

as we shall offer them

shelter in cold comfort

with the fleecing

of a lifetime

\movie, that is\.

we embrace your huddled

masses, wretched and

yearning for our

  • over-priced –

freedom, apportioned

\#overrated\

with disproportionate dissembling

to those who look and talk

like me.