Praying

I bend myself into the shape

of your hands

As they pray, in their way

for release and rapture.

Your ghost, tapping on the window pane

Tapping into my lucid thoughts,

Dissolving their foundations

To nothing but a few grains of sand

on a landscape

under the flashing sky

I have surrendered to.

Curls and origins across your palms

leaves me a sailor in their grip

Navigating every crease and crevice,

Searching for a new world.

I sleep and live inside you

To the sounds of beating wings

and holy singing.

Bonnie and Clyde

Be my Bonnie

I’ll be your Clyde

An unstoppable force

Be each other’s side.

We’ll carve out a spot

In glitter and gold

And by the tides current

I will love you bold.

I ask you to show me

all your secrets,

You say you have no secrets

from me;

So I ask you to show me

everything else.

Like Bonnie and Clyde

of another time and place

We are partners of art and crime

Laying waste to anything

that falls into our path.

Burning rubber

and signing love letters

with tattoo ink and bullets.

My gorgeous beau

My natural born killer;

let’s overthrow the crowd

and give them something to talk about.

We are the outlaws

and we are the dreamers,

my love.

Brazen Blue

all i want to do

is hold on to you

deep in the nights

of different muse.

spike my blood with brazen eagerness

and lead me to your pastures.

we ride sky

and we get by

in these love and war disasters.

dance until the night's exhausted,

oh let me lick

your blessed skin.

and then with just one baited breath

we begin our love again.

kiss me

kiss me

over and over,

burn me with your eyes.

we walk on

saving each other

with passion, wine and lullabies.

Highway

I am realizing that my writing

is a lot like my mind.

There's more of it

than I thought there was.

It's not organized by structure

so much as it is by pattern...

I think.

I have no idea

how to make sense of it all

let alone how to arrange it

into any sort of sense

for anyone else.

And the poet in me

of course says

"screw everyone else"

but what's the point

in being able to speak

if we have to keep secrets?

So here's this huge mass of words

and images,

greater than the sum of its parts

but nothing more

than highway confessions of a madman.

"Got a look that'll kill, a voice that'll carry and a half a dozen women I think I want to marry." -Everlast

"And now I'm walking

down the sidewalk

and I am singing to myself.

I'm going to leave it all behind me now

because I don't need this,

Just don't need this."

-C. Pureka

Complex

underneath this two toned mask

I behold the scraps of disarray

and gather the tears

falling from loving places

on the face of my angel.

Peeling back old paint

and orange rinds

I watch the labor of my fingers

unearthing old truths

and honey sweetness.

And all last night I dreamed

of the spinning searching sound

we use to pry into the after hours.

The stretching and reconciliation

of our bargaining mortality

speaks out from old poetry

beneath headstones and lucky pennies.

Let's dive into the uncertainty

with stones around our necks

and sink beneath the desultory surface;

we protect our ability to remain complex.

Hours

may the hours between us

reflect an unending of possibilities

that remain like scripture

forever ahead of us.

let the pages speak

the language of two people

who truly love each other.

let me fly to you

on paper wings,

hold me darling

the road is rising.

my soul recognizes it's counterpart

from centuries away.

my love,

i stumble blissfully

adding momentum

to our private dancing.

concentrate on me

and feeling me rising

to sultry six a.m. showers

and the sounds of sirens

rattling my steam soaked windows.

be with me,

while i run my fingers

over the ink and canyons

of your sanctified sonnets.

and i’m not crazy

you know,

just whole heartedly drinking

knelt before your suppleness

unashamed and unabating

in the place

where time matters not.

Staining

I’m clinging addicted

to the threads of our laughter

sinking into the woe of reality

and staining it shameless

with love.

These words are like

abandoned children crying

breaking in through the windows

and leaking oceans across the page;

I drip candle wax and scripture

into the ointment of latter days.

Wrap me awake inside this fever

and then show me

all your canonized secrets,

this is a story of wicked roses.

You are the tipping back

of soused resolve,

you’re mona lisa smile.

With your fingers

start a colloquy on my cheek

as I beg you to look past

the bandages and cigarettes.

Haunted

I’ve been screaming out my weighted words

into this endless waving crowd

just searching and searching

for your face

and singing your songs out loud.

Sacramental rites and spirits

crawling deeper inside my veins

don’t touch me with your music

and expect me to ever be the same.

Telltale prose and positioning,

my words like a freight train

tearing through

it’s the morning of the night again

and all I need is you.

I abandon all my devils now

in the divulgence of your grace

never will I be the same

but always haunted by your face.

Boulevard

i’ve missed you from here

for so many years

with a love that won’t fall silent.

it keeps moving around

behind my eyes

like masked faces

obedient to midnight curfew;

she shakes me to the bone.

i turn to the cool side of the pillow

bury deep my reeling head

fight back the memories

as the bottom drops

certainly far from lonely

but nothing ever stops.

under the influence out of my mind

spinning

and grinning

through the madness this time.

i thought i’d be satisfied

writing from your white fences

but then in one word

you can dissolve my defenses;

love falls down where ever it wants

as i go crawling down

the boulevard.

“and these things i just want to tell you still” -C. Pureka