A poem — See the slack-jawed stare of the love-sick fool Frozen in stone yet racked with tremors Constant motion that never moves Trying to squeeze his own guts out He will not learn the lesson He cannot change his fate And when the hopeless hour has passed His love will turn to hate…

A Poem of Pain — The cure for addiction is suffering You suffer long enough and badly enough And, eventually, you hit a breaking point Where you say I can’t I’m done Sometimes you don’t want to Sometimes you wish you could suffer more Sometimes you hit that point And spend the rest of your life wishing You could…

I used to believe in cinema The seventh and pure art of God But not now Now that everything is an advertisement for sex and consumption Eat this Fuck that Buy now Relentless prostitution A blizzard of starving rats so delirious with lust that death is the only cure Trying to squeeze another fuck out of the bloated corpse…

she is not herself the messiah but she orients my soul toward his

A poem of darkness — Darker, Darker, the long night stretches on With arms longer than God Reaching out forever Out beyond all light Passed the din and zip of human life Further than mind and body Have means to travel Into the realm of unfulfilled dreams Lost reveries of lives unlived The eternal zone of unquenched longing Still casting shadows into rooms They long ago Left…

A Poem of Struggle — I would not trade my sleepless nights For a thousand years of dreamless slumber I would not trade my bleary labors And the visions of my blood-shot eyes For all the long restful hours Ever spent in feather beds For life is to be lived And in sleep, there is no victory So why seek ye the living Among…

A Benediction — May the Sun shine warm upon you May your Moon always be full May the Heavens bend and bless you And may your sheep grow tender wool May no Evil overtake you May the bloodhounds lose your trail May the judges all forgive you And may your hammer find its nail…

Sometimes I sit in quiet darkness And think about how many other broken hearts Have listened to its sound Calling with the voice of Doom Beckoning them to cast themselves Into the pit of despair And leave their worries behind Tempting them to take easy peace Violent tranquility Instead of sitting Helpless Destroyed Wreckage incarnate Knowing they will never heal Never again be whole That…

A Poem of Apocalypse — TW: Violence — I dreamed I saw The Archangel Michael Lose the Battle of Armageddon His armor had been pierced By a dark and bloody spear Upon which his shattered body Swung limp in the wind His great flaming sword Lay broken at his side And I heard him crying something Too weak to recognize…