I am a uterus for hire

she said ........... let me give myself to him as the woman I know I am. He is a strong and solid man, a good soul......... enterprising and ambitious,............ a handsome man. He works hard like a punished mule. I will take care of him, and bear his children, because I am a floater, a dreamer....... a uterus for hire, a drudge, a trollop, a caretaker ........... I am my brother's keeper and I am known for holdin' it all together, even when the rains come, and the sun disappears for so long that we forget the color of the light and remember only the naked times, when spread out in the meadows of our youth we gamboled in time, without curtailment, in moments jammed with conjurers and marionettes that packed the travelling circus of our imaginations, ............. trippin' and rippin' through the thin walls of deceit, ........ keepin' pieces of the fever in that separated us from God and intimacy and love and joy and hope.

the fool stood still garbed in the vestiges of some dark dreamlike trance called memory as a night bird quiet and secretive whirred its way through flight into a disappearing future black with a silence that bode no invitation for moonlight or the distant dawn. Wet streaks from rain mixed with tears dribbled and eaked out their meagre existence as they worked their way through the parchment of her face turned down now in regret, low and broken like a beaten bitch cringing in her wounds as time, impervious to the tragedy that pled for sustenaince moved on leaving nothing in its wake but emptiness and silence

and sadness

permeating everything her shadow fell upon, where, if light had ever dwelt there, saved nothing for the human eye to proof from and establish any thought of what it could have been to watch a white sun float across the small horizon line that girded her like some metal corset of the soul.

he took her away from herself that day, as his own departure into phantasy led him to the center of a passion only men could bear, a squeezing in the sinews of desire that shot through all his concentrated flesh tight and wrapped around the bone and down into his bowels and into the primordial nether lands of territories known only to the free where nothing fit for any language known or ever known could possibly attest to what was felt through shudders tremulously exposing all he ever hid from in his need to keep himself unreachable and distant inside the secrets he believed were his alone

and

she went back to the source of it many times with its indifferent vacancy bathed in a washed out magenta that flashed intermittently ......... seeking only permanence inside her eyes, while repeating, that, which had beguiled her from the start ....... a fleeting sense of God being faithful to his word, and angels in the parking lot bestowing their grace upon her from another neon heaven, offering her forgiveness, and hearkening back to all the promises that once had lived upon his lips ............ he ........... who having passed on through left only his drifter's language on the surface of her love, like drool slatherd from some evil traveler's mouth on a pit stop from Hell and back, that left behind it in its wake only the remnants of her ransacked heart

recovering from tomorrow

it was within the evolution of her pain, the insufferable realization that her psychology still held her hostage in the past and in the future............... trapped in some pin balled jazzed out puzzling bagatelle of mind that kept assembling itself in the citadels of thought buried deep inside her final archeological dig , the one that led her back into the right and wrong extravaganza of a life laid bare on the soul making desert of that last moment of belief that had the sermons falling from my mouth be true for all that ever bedded down with words like whores sucking life from eager misconceptions hurtling down the psychic highway into oblivion's hungry mouth poised on the brink of some niggarldy expression lying on the lips of God the Mother of it all .

there is something very bloated , something very overrated about an answer, it feeds upon itself nurturing on an arrogance that interimly carves its meaning of existence upon my face as a check mark for eternity boasting of another moment gone , a moment that might have been and coulda been The Big One's new proposal for the child up on the cross still jiggling in the memories of every smug important traveler that journeyed to the east and back again to worship at the sepulchure of stolen dreams down by the gatherings of skin bags for God's resounding come back in the narrow halls of faith force fed to the castaways enamored by the hue and cry of pimps for Jesus basking in the light of stained glass windows bespoiling cassocks that still reverberate the infant's final cry on the altar of dominion ............ the altar of deceit .

where are you motherfukker ? ....... decked out now in your slick profession called " your life "........... Hey big spender .........hey Konvoy Kommander ............ hey you self appointed Phat Kats decked out like heavenly bodies in the kandy striped streets of your suburban hideaways consorting with your high powered high paid uteri called imagination that jockeys for position inside the breeding stalls you hump your meaning of existence from into the night's sky filled with the slandered moon helpless in its artless vision to illuminate your soul and pave the way for romance in your fucked up kraven need for more .

I was seeking justice now inside the cold indifference of surrender as the sound of tinkling brass usurped my woman's cry for help and climbed eternity into the arms of angels waiting at heaven's gate with dust upon their wings . The ice cold razor sharp insidious edge of nothing sought excision of the lust within my prayer as Satan dark and erudite slid across my tongue like a miasma of evil inviting me to dine at his table laden big with new hope shipped in from sodom .

but I was mixing oil and water again in the woodshed days of yore , and I was down on my knees bending like a reed as The Man with all this Blow sidled into the au contraire mix of my new take on time with a stunning obligatto that nailed my feet to yesterday and forced me into the Genesis of new time arranged by Now .

so let's stretch let's play , let's get down with Civilizzzzation ........ let's stop and have a taste let's be elegant and smug and comfortable in our little lawn chairs with styrofoam and haute cuisine stinkin' up the hood by the big built pagan blown out edifice we call our Kapitalistic dream come true as , I , still dancing in my woman's final sob deliver myself from evil into the arms of Love while the echo of the system's last report establishes itself across the incredulous sky .............. "We are an Empire now , and when We act , We create our own reality." And dat's dat ma friend ....... yeah ! ......... dat's dat , and the truth shall set you free , set you free , set you free ...................... SET YOU FREE .

so ! ........... it's all in the beatitudes , clean clear and simple for the Blessed poor in spirit as the mail order brides from Darfur with their scrawny children hangin' like locusts from their breasts sell their cunts for hits of Big Mac in the Finger lickin' good extravaganza called democraseee eeeee....eeeee............. as tourists in the rape resorts defile in exile with the pediophile the children of the world fleeing across Brazilian streets into the raggedy population growth that feeds the ongoing hunt for more in all the darkened hallways of religion as The Big One offers Love For Sale again . Yo more Love For Sale ......... come an' get it .......... LOVE FOR SALE .

YEAH ! ........... christian , white bread , all american Love For Sale ............. y'all cum'n git it now . Bang Bang motherfucker..
LOVE FOR SALE

dark woman of the night

dark woman of the night
a tumbling frost in the wind
in darkness
tight as
the sky's embrace
you tremble like a dying moth
cupped in my infant hands

dancing on my mind's lake
you still sing
in
all the slave drawn streets
of all
my yesterdays

there is nothing left to salvage

I said " kill her "
there is nothing left to salvage
and she stared back
from
inside that small frame
with eyes soft as
eider down
trying once more to move
beyond
her confinement
into
my broken heart

the remains
bloated and
gurgling
moaning at times
reached beyond belief
as death
slowly
ate her from the inside out
training it's sights on me
in a fuck you and your GOD moment of ......... I WON
I WON , I WON

grief !
I am your indentured servant
I am hard , hot , lean ,
unrepentent
in the question of
who ........ yes , who
was looking through your eyes that day ?
as my hand reaching for
an answer
held you
in disgust and fear
as the drip by drip account
quietly did it's thing
salving the pain
in a death by numbers dirge.

and so it was
within this room
and
somewhere deep inside your
mist invaded eyes the show continued
as the spinning of
a new tale
floated high
above
your swollen face
while I
stumbling through the parking lot
too late for death
asked the toll booth keeper ............
" how can you tell me about the duck l'orange when all you've done is eat the menu ?"

working in a house divided

my mother smiled back from her final curtain call
her teeth
white and polished in
the distillation
of another spotlight
captured
only
the essential aspects of
the moment
that
though
unresolved
remained alive inside the
five star headlines
screaming their message
through the night

I was working in a house divided
anticipating
the usual resistence
until
the light
borrowed
from the moon
reflected off
the victims' eyes
busting their creative chops
and
grinding their frugal histories
back
into the status quo
of the street's hip collateral
that paved their way home
into
the side walked cracks of world's revenge

but time was behind me now
as women
opting
for sperm banks
in
the first come
first served credo of the day
infiltrated the
planned parenthood
urban
concentration camps
and
spread their
option giving rhetoric
across the
ashphalt
bhurka free
developements
of weeping angels born again
in the
don't ever
let 'em see you cry agreement
of tomorrow
moored
to
the shifting sands of time
and profit margins
and bottom lines
and love for sale

morning caresses my vision

the death toll from the homeland held steady at half a mil per anum while people smiled as cancer ate their neighbors and their aunts and uncles and their cousins and their friends and wives and lovers, feasting as it does .......... with it's insatiable desire for more , running rampant through the fields of their neurotic psychology in the fleshpot, eating smorgasbord , laid out on their table of humanity , as the "we do it all for you" brigade offered more refreshing pauses in a dazzling , jazzed out , fucked up "c'mon not me mentality ," clouding the infant's eye , in the deadliest year so far for the boy who's family slain in some Demokratic nightmare of religious fervor sat astride his mother rotting in the eastern sun, touting that war was good for Ali Nasir Jabur in that night of might is right and hershey bars to ease the pain of decomposing , as angels stationed all around him in the downbeat gravel of ancient sounding brass , offered passageways to freedom in this kill 'em just to free 'em grab all . Rat tat tat , whew ! ....aw shucks there we go again bang bang play dead you motherfucker . Die you commie pinko islamic bhuddist jewfreak nazi christian born again to kill again extravaganza called mankind . Jesus ......... the name was never trademarked and we use the name in vain again , again , again , it's plain , in this kill game , building smokestacks, building tailpipes building futures for tomorrow in this world built on scientific rigor mortis , rigor mortis , rigor mortis .

But I was no stranger to the blues or to the indifferent forces of the night feeling out the crowded sidelines of the quarter that in it's eternal climb towards eternity measured the economy of the gig with restless angels crowding the balcony that sagged beneath the weight of their new found armageddon of desire . I was back by popular demand , held custody by the very nature of my craft as the last hot ashes from a dying Lucky struck the hard floor of my intention . The night reverberated in a semi quaver as clusters of ancient sixteenth notes rippled across the faces of the mob agape , beneath, the stage right , stage left dark arena where the dream depleted of it's rescources waited patiently for another promise of tomorrow .

fingering the invisible scar ( for barbara )

my licks were smooth and seamless
connecting and disconnecting
as the gig evolved
hot and tempered
on the cold steeled anvil of it's destiny .

new territory appeared
as the old lines of demarcation
dissolved into the moment gone
while
dominion re-asserted itself again
with ruthless indifference
to
any previous
sound .

the unordained stepped out
seeking
the uninformed in
the lost legions that sought freedom
in
the holy grail
of this
small armageddon

and
I was blown sky high
into
the elegance of the moment
faceless
lost
reasigned to some new frontier
with only the money changers
as sidemen
brushing against me
in
another temple
of
comparative values .

I stepped outside of the glitter
seeing myself again
as the saviour of this new day
in the promethean marketplace
of
supply and demand
as The Big One's
recent currency
spread itself across my face
leaving
it's mark of caste
for all to see
as I stepped into my next dance
of
love for sale , love for sale
with a dance card
as full as a terrorist's back pack
on a crowded train
to
nirvana .

the showrooms of eternity

sweet jesus......I know the door is open
the streets
wet with the adhesive wine of blood and sorrow
call me back


this riff
this obligatto
this echo
reverberating
through the promise
of a moment
without thought ,
is offering oblivion
again
in the starlit showrooms
of eternity .
where
I , caught in another tribal ritual
watch
the shock jocks clamor
for attention
as the last train to xanadu
disappears
into
the
down beat headlines of tomorrows greatest hits

am a singin '........yessah ........am a singin
in this excruciating extravaganza ,
this cat walk
across the may day.........may day
streets
of another upscale suburban dream
smouldering
in
the burned out ashes
of
one more
fat cat's barbecue
stinkin ' up
the neighborhood
stinkin ' up the sky

but

the light lay flat against the silence
of her face
and
having found it's place of rest
it held sway
in it's own conciet ,
fulfilling beauty
while flirting coyly
with
this thing called
LOVE
this thing called
LIFE .
this fetal moment
waiting
for it's cue
it's stage right
stage left entre
into
a passing glance
a moment outside of
all those Uncle Tom
agendas
that hold this sturdy
vulgar
show together.

so !
fuck it , I said proudly
let's just get
a little and forget it all
and
start all over again
and again and again and again and again and again and again and again and again and again ................. and again

wake up call

it is morning
the air conditioning
kicks in again .

I moan and cry under the sheets
reminding myself
with those sounds
that
I am an animal too .

the monkey on my back
subversive and quiet ,
responds
to the light ,
and
as I stagger from one startling thought
to another
in the showdown
of a late dawn
I am driven once again
to deny
the wounded beast
and stumble once more
into
the automaticity
of this familiar trip ..............
wondering
as always ..........
what will I settle for today ?

good company

there was this feeding frenzy .

they stood straight up
surrounded by their thoughts

the wildfire
distant and quiet
extended itself towards them ,
illuminating the open maws ,
speaking
through them
the same incantation ,
the same primordial mantra
that had fashioned the world that contained
the past ,
the future ,
and the Now that had no name

time out

not long ago
when the effects team had pulled out and
the make up artists had fled
leaving me cringing
in the touch and feel absence of sound
I discovered
that no matter
how I tried to swallow the apparatus
there was no end to the silence........
I had no voice......
only a bed
with special plumbing and no intrerpreter
and the frozen faces of the onlookers
lip synching the litany
that had infected
their lips as
they moved through
the sanitized hallways towards me
in
the
moment to moment
eye blinking
yes! you're through
yes! you're through
existence.
Light shimmering and
like Jello with magic lanterns
imbedded in it's creative eye
blinding and
dazzling me
in the startling realization
of
that
YES you're through Eternity
and
YES !
I was through
wondering
why, I hadn't traveled farther
why
I hadn't stayed
a little longer

to tarry
with
my Self

image

your hand inside my soul ( a poem for a beautiful lady ) ?

for what refuge ...... what salvation do you seek
with your hand inside my soul ?
your touch
like light penetrating my body
from a new born star
in the world ' s sky
shatters this fragile moment
as
silence like a mime ,
dances
in the empty streets of all my yesterdays .....when
something
I called a man
shadowed me .......relentlessly ,
pursuing YOU
in the dreams that God had wrought
and twisted
from
a luminescent shape
called US .

this piece of time

the pre -nuptials were in place. This piece of time was behind him now , while its finality , rupturing the serenity of the moment,
parsed itself upon his lips poised , on the brink of some niggardly expression , that sought its home at night , in the tired and failing sight of his creation , begging for a blind man ' s fare , on an exchange trip to Galgotha with it's rotting cross , malingering in the fallow soil of christendom , by the martyrs bones that spoke of only dust , as in that dust to dust affair that every traveller everywhere has had with his reality , when revelations showed , that all was only memory born from a tale spun into time that kept the lie in place.

the pre - nuptials were in place but the nomenclature annoyed him as did the turning of the leaves in autumn when the devastating fire of summer left his body and overturned his frugal history to let him down again into the aggregate of all he was .............a sparse induldgence that added up to little more than what his peers agreed upon that he was worth.

he slept once more that night within the wreckage of his journey , his bones and body wet with the adhesive wine of blood and sorrow. The dead having evacuated the world that he imagined , flirted with his mind , and thrust their points of view across before the breaking of the dawn that this was all there was , and the story he alone had made ........and that the author , no longer was remote , or strange , or out there , but rather, logged into his hopes forever , and always had been travelling with him on the road to nowhere .

the exterminator

the black man came
spraying the perimiters
.
the enfolding began
as the day evolved
acquiring itself
a small future
a meagre destiny for the living .

it would take a day though ,
one measured
by sequential time
a ruse
in which the inevitable is measured ,
as the quarry ,
black
with brown legs
flailing into the diffused light ,
into the
no vote emptiness of eternity
struggled
with God
for one last moment of atonement
in all
the slave drawn streets
of all it's yesterdays.

I watched this calamity
and
without emotion
without remorse
offered oblivion ,
a baptismal of death
beneath the water lilies ,
beneath the bridge of sighs
by the folded signed reciepts
that told me
that
the black man had come and gone
and a royal flush
in this small room
was now
the vini vidi vici
of all
that ever was .

let there be light

and so it came about in the undilineated that time assailed itself upon eternity , pressing outwards , pushing away the immeasurable , the uninterrupted , joining itself to the unexpressable's desire to invent a past to learn from .

the darkness co-joined with the light established itself ,

announcing its arrival by assuming its autonomy in the what not was yet of never having been , separate and alone , distinct from its omniscience , in the ever lasting house divided by this bifurcation.

and............

I heard a child cry out , from somewhere deep inside the space between us that we had filled with time ........and the silence interrupted by intrusion began its gathering...........fragments of eternity appeared upon the emptiness and memorabilia hawked itself in the burgeoning temples of comparative values in the promethean market place of more or less and right and wrong and good and bad.

oh immaculate seer with your impeccable sight , point to the invisible now and SING the promise of a moment without thought .

it was morning and I was uncomfortable reading that Keter Betts the jazz bassist had died in Silver Springs today , leaving only his cold body attached to a cello nova , that bosso novo or no bosso novo was the metier that drove him back up to center stage and spotlighted the role of character musician once more , once more , once more , as the pope back home in germany celebrated mass for the catholic orphans in brazil , their death toll an exhumation mark upon the power of every spiritual fascist that walked the troubled waters of religion and soiled the pristine altar of the world's inner ear.

I stood firm.....I still do . resolute , unsparing in my ....REALLY ? ........OH ! ......you don't say attitude , born from full acceptance of what is .

a voice spoke within me............." let the winds of autumn blow , you've come a long way my friend , you have come through centuries of tragedy to claim this moment in the winter of your discontent . Nothing can dull the edge of this excursion . The distant lights , the northside stars of all your destinations stretch out across the midnight sky , and in this windowless retreat you sit now , reaching into nothing to catch a flicker of your passing in the intervals between your memories that lie outside the breeding stalls of all your next encounters with yourself . ....yourself ......YOURSELF measuring the cadence of a new conciet ..........a form unspeakable .....exalting eternity .......... in the undilineated silence of forever. "

living between the lines

the task was already done prior to going into it......it was complete . Time was the vehicle in which it would express itself , but it was not determined by time.

It was how he attended to his sound , his attentiveness to the silence.....the intervals that held within them all possibilities....the realization of all his dreams objectified outside of him in a form that never curtailed them , but rather , allowed them to unfold into the fullness of their own essence in a world transcendent to cause and effect .

The whispers were like the siren song of the lorelei . His was a seductive God.....a force that lived in and through him as a spiritual imperative , one that served as a wellspring to infinity , a doorway into silence.....no sound....no thing......the great womb of being , the scource , the unknown and the unheard that waited in the no time of forever to be recognized and to be heard.....be seen , and be shared in an act of Love....an immaculate conception that brought forth a form unspeakable within that which when pressed against the unscaled walls of time became the alpha and omega of his existence .

And so it was in the exoneration of all that was believable that he discovered absolution , clean and clear like a sliver of ice sliced from the distillation of every tear drop that had suborned his lips .

So ! ..............Can you see...........can you remember now ........how his small hands wrapped themselves around the universe ?And can you see now how OUR connection exists on some other continent of the never ending night that seeks to tame the blind and soothe the pain within the startled cripples on their way to another invocation by the steps of the church upon the hill between the living between the lines concessions that sullied the edges of his search for grace sustained inside his nascent journey to oblivion ?

I was listening to a boy today who spoke to me of dreams , while his parents stood by , unsettled by his vision .........wondering , ............WHEN ..........WHEN , would he kill the dream AND THE DREAMER .... and become a man .

auditing the weight of the skin

it was a dense and baffling rhetoric , a syntax loaded with a G - Man's staccato beat , like a Bren Gun shooting words into the mouths of the crippled masses genuflecting before the unintelligible while the deaf clutching at their stigmata claimed their omniscience in the light shipped in from Damascus . Their tragedy claimed the moment , leaving no room for salvation , time assailed them and absolved them of their rights . The sacreligous tragedy consumed the moment and the giants that once had walked the earth looked down from ancient points of view and scoffed at the banality of it all .

but living or dying........this being a choice , was neither here nor there , their bodies still persisted because they were thinkers . The annoying weight of their skin that everywhere they were persisted in the count down to eternity on layaway moved on in a rhythm of countless shrugs , a kind of shuckin' and jivin' peculiar to the dying that brought to mind the quivering petulance attached to a virgin's lips after her first orgasm.

The terrifying minds continued in what could have been a trail disposed of in the dawn of new proposals , but the trail of tears insisted upon itself its own kind of tragedy and the travellers , somnambulistic and pre-occupied refused to disengage , because the dance of death was still an option , a something to be reckoned with that wouldn't go away

the cost of not living

I lay there in the throws of some ontological exchange with this " Mercy, mercy , aaaaahv jes seen the Lord ." kind of bitch hangin' off the end of my dick. Something unmentionable was being revealed in this moment.......something unspeakable , and I was in the question that asked...." Is it love, or is it rape.....SPIRITUAL RAPE , stabilizing itself on the frontiers of a new creative reality ? ". Who cares though....who really gives a shit. Distinctions like this are for the morally crippled........those that after passing through, leave only pock marks in the snow and spoor all over flattened like a pancake souls that all along have been awaiting the insurgents, with their weapons du jour.......their sweet for cheerleaders batons.

Collecting myself and gathering what was left at the intersection of the cross , I opted for the past ( a painful state, but a known one ). Sooooooooo........harvesting some memories, some golden oldies, I chummed for pearls in the deep waters of my nostalgia , flattering myself with ample revision as God continued pimping Jesus to the cripples on their way back from Lourdes , and I , held hostage in this game fashioned by my past , laid bare the wastelands of my last excursion into intimacey , and chuckled at my wanton, willing act of surrender. Ooooooo.....oooo , la ,la mother fucker, hiding out in your white tribalistic " jockey on the lawn " frontier , spewing your theocracy into your children not yet shaken from your woman's womb.

I gotta admit....those traces of former moments plucked surreptititously from the arms of my youth were titillating my psychic funny bone and I saw you once again , outside and away from my limited vision as a moment of discernment appearing inside my seeing with no rebuttal. It was YOU....YOU , yes YOU as you always were , flickering in the silent movie of my clear creative eye......sparkling......receding, ........appearing and disappearing in the realization that selection is a stealer of form , and form , forms the world if only for a moment as I witness upon the screen of my delight.....YOU , yes , YOU MY LOVE , creating ME creating YOU.

the beginning of the end

it was the beginning of the end
or maybe the end of a beginning
because my penchant for so long
was to engage in one more lateral
arabesque
deluding myself again
that I had left the runway
and was flying high in the wild blue yonder
of a future entrusted soley
to my past
defining all I knew
as
then