To my oldest friend, the night...

Spider lilies in my unraveled hair
"salutem" cut across my chest
You know I know the avenue
but I always loved you best.
Searching every crowded crevice
sizing up every scene
I've turned over nickles
For the clues that I now see.
Because every night it might be you
You might finally see me pretty
My adoration of your movements
Could tear apart the entire city
So here I am
and there you are
it matters not the coordinates
because we are bound by moving stars.

Falling in love is a lyric and a prayer,
wings spread and talons sharpened.
I rip a hole in the canvass of the universe
and kick the door of time
of it's fucking hinges.
My own goddess worships the same goddess
of wisdom, lust and kindness.
She drew a comma on my face
for a thought yet to be continued.
And I could spend eternal night
tracing every single line
and laying down praise in the creases
of her underlying grace and benevolence.
Roadside souvenirs, landmarks and cornerstones;
Yesterdays aren't always worth remembering
But never slip the surface of contemplation.
Eventually they dissolve and return
into the gaping nothingness
from which they've been rising.
A glowing diamond white tiger
rests her weary head gingerly on my lap
and whispers in the echoes of the night.
We watch for falling stars in a patch of clover
To be loved and embraced by solace
is to be a glow humbled by your heroine.
To look at the entire past and reevaluate
great expectations.
I never gave up hope
I've held out openly for bliss
But after so much time
your eyes play tricks on you
Making you and your counterpart
both the wild red fern
and the brightest stars of the dope show.

There is always hope in the sky...
"So I keep doing my own thing,
walking tall again the rain"

Pain
And sometimes nothing in the world is the key to happiness
so we are of a generation that must find
pleasure in the small things and relish in the freedom.
A deserving head on the pillow
after spending the day conversing in a courtyard of fools
and doing all the heavy lifting.
To be proud and memorizing
every single moon etched detail and reinforced with iron.
I require the skill to walk the tight rope
that's been lit on fire
but connecting the lives we have
to the majestic places we have yet to see.
There are amazing flights to be flown
and sun revolutions to produce an argument
to which the existence of time is question.
Born of a sparrow
burned like a phoenix
but rising in a violet cloud of flame and pyre despite the pain.
Pain in a driving force
and pain can be absolutely beautiful Like hurricanes, gravity and love.

Hover

With the midnight sparrow I spread my wings
and latch on the blissful wind
leading me in the arms of granite gargoyles.
The church bells are quiet now
as they whisper in Latin
the secret of life and the voice of God
into a rhythm only the sky understands.
The mutiny is hot in my veins
as I truly feel your echo pass through me.
I feel the dilation from an electric touch
Each breath I take I feel the oxygen
push through me and into your mind.
I submit to you the will of my soul and body.
Soaring wings push me to the abyss
and I scream into the void still mocking me.
She never answers in a timely fashion.
The north eastern wind capsizes my body
and makes the suggestion it is best to fly home
and wait in a state of dreaming
so the eyes of a tiger can watch over me.

Exhale the Madness

I am a golden child,
the fortunate fool,
and every mother’s nightmare.
I garner pieces of the city
best savored with a broken heart,
and claim it in the name of the poets,
hooligans
and vagabonds.
The rampage of night
crushes pedagogic endeavors
of my nonpareil mania.
I’ve gone and squandered my good graces
to kiss the lips of the pretty faces,
now November nights
bedevil my ragged breath.
Turpentine and motel matchbooks
strewn across my mind like broken glass,
I exhale the madness
and go to sleep at last.