Crank
Style

Part 1:
It was Tom's Idea
Send him your hate mail.

like an ancient and solitary tomb the doors to my heart
remained rusted shut...until you...
you came into my life like a whirlwind
consuming me in the fiery intensity of your eyes
you probed the very depths of me
where my emotions were buried beneath the dust
you explored the inner caverns of the canyons of my mind
and unearthed an overwhelming love long since dead and
forgotten

like a scoundrel you smiled as you stole my heart
from the pyre in my soul
you filled the voids i never knew existed
with a love that made me whole
my love for you grew like the gnarling knotty roots
of the sturdy timeless oak
as love became a tentacle reaching out and disrupting
the barriers built by time

i was lost in the tangles of our love...

i sat on the park bench for hours
watching the filthy pigeons
strut aimlessly about
as if they knew
what you and i will never know
i asked them for the answers
but they mocked me

i met a store-front prophet who said i'd go to hell
if i ever thought an unclean thought
or lived a sinful life
and i laughed at the madness of it all
did we get lost in the world
that together we disowned

just when you think you know the answers
to questions you don't know
inevitably the questions will change
and you're left wondering
how you ever go here in the first place

ramblings and scramblings
trying to escape the reality of it all
the street people know more than you and me
they found their answers in the bonfires
of a thousand cold and lonely nights
and now they hide in the sobriety of their intoxication

i sat on the park bench for hours
too amazed to speak
the filth of the city permeated my soul

i heard the voices all around me
they were ringing in my ears
i realized that the voices
were my own madness
my own sadness
and the tears of those who would not be heard

Generation X

X marks the spot --
I'm looking for a war.

doctor, can you possibly understand
the vicious terror of the bore?

christ, I am scared out of my skull.

prat prat prat
goes the rough tongue of the lazy cat --
he tries to lick the grit from My eyes
but they have swollen shut from allergies

(the worst affliction I can hope for these days)

I join the throng --

a legion of swollen-eyed, runny-nosed, antihistimine addicts
who roam along in a pathetic daze --
glad when we stub our toes on the steps of the doctor's office
so that we may sue him for
libel, or malpractice, or divorce
(or was that our parents we were suing?)

no one really remembers these days

we don't even pretend to search for brains to eat anymore --
most people, when you shake 'em,
maggots fly out their ears to the floor with a plump tapping
finality.

though, I've heard tell maggots are full of protein...

"huh-huh, huh-huh. He said maggots. maggots are cool."
huh-huh, huh-huh, yeah. pass me that inhaler, butt-head."

the picture

frozen hardblown dirt --
musty stillness covers
bareplank walls --
windwhips iceknives
into your eyes:
you brush away the frozen debris
to slowly uncover
the picture.

glasscracked surface,
velvety-brown
with its very own
deadcoat of
people & places past,
quickly smothers your reflection.

you wipe away
countless cares and myriad memories
with a casual flick of your hand,
and peer intently at
the picture.

the image accuses
you through the coldhard glass
(brownbeardbrwoneyesbrownhairbrowncrown)
and you start in surprise,
slicing your thumb
deeply
on the jagged splinters --
as thickblood spatters,
soaking into frozenground,

the image wavers,
smiles at you gratefully --
you gently replace it in its nest of debris,
and quietly return
into the howling
storm.

ALL-CONSUMING

Once I feasted freely on you;
sucked the honey from your mouth,
ate up the adoration in your eyes,
devoured your every word...
I swallowed your essence,
and nourished myself by transfusion.

In greedy hunger, I licked the salt from your body
and tasted what love was like.
I grew fat on my contentment.

You are gone now---
Voracious cells, grown mad,
have consumed you - totally,
chewing through places
even I couldn't reach.

Tonight, in my loneliness,
I nibble on carrot sticks & celery stalks
and later run skeletal fingers
over jutting ribs
and bony pelvis in the dark.

My life has been reduced to this.

Trip to the Candy Abide

Sleep my child and soon you will see
a place where candy will grow on a tree
The place the unicorn calls it's home
and many other strange animals roam
Close your eyes and lay down your head
so the angels can come to guard your bed
And the horse with a horn will give you a ride
to the place they call the candy abide

Close your sleepy eyes and dream, dream, dream
and take a long ride by the soda pop stream
Where licorice trees grow in groves
and the bread is made into Teddy bear loaves
The grass is yellow, blue, green, and red
where only the children are allowed to tread
So close your eyes and be off to sleep
for your ride is waiting and it won't keep

I remember the place from years gone by
where marshmallow clouds float in the sky
and the rivers are lined with chocolate banks
and the pumps there all have candy cane cranks
But I have grown and can go no more
it now is your turn to go and explore
and find the tin soldiers who march in a row
so be quick and hurry before you too grow

Grandma's Cure

When tears come into your eyes
And the blues chase your smile away
When happiness seems forgotten
and you can't face another day
When everything that was perfect
starts to go all wrong
just sit back and close your eyes
and hum a gospel song

when the beautiful colors of nature
seem just shades of grey
or the joy of being with a friend
seems to have passed away
when your heart is heavy in your chest
and your minutes are an hour long

just breath in deep and close your eyes
and hum a gospel song

Grandma played the piano

These Pages Of Our Souls

I sit, and allowing my mind to wander
through the words and songs of ages past,
I hear that same gentle melody; which has
always inspired the minds of minstrals and bards.

Though the songs are varied in their topics,
as are the tounges diverse and strange.
the emotions as deep as the midnight sky
can still be felt in every word and phrase
in every refrain, carved from the souls
of generations past.

Wether of battles or of gods or the tourture
of love or hate, the praises of admiration
the torment of affection unrequited.
These songs reveal the heart of "man"
and all men who've ever walked
and felt the throbing of emotion in their mind.

And on these the pages of our souls
we bleed the essence of our being.
Revealing life as a simple reflection
of the ages past.

Forrest Lovers

Misty, envious moon
Watches, shy sometimes bold.
Her cloudy veils are blown by playful breezes.
Lichen forms our pillow,
Fern fingers caress silken thighs
Rain wet lips trace spidery pathways
From snowy breast to my love for you and back.
While we, in breathless urgency,
Sway with the tall grass in our dance of time;
The envious moon watches, sighs and...smiles.

After Frost

The beauty of that November day
Did not escape her eye.
The wispy clouds, softly grey,
Passed her orchard by.
Oft-times she wishes
They would notice her there.
Sometimes she wishes
They would carry her away.
Maybe, from that orchard,
They will lift her to the sky,
Taking her along with them
To where they swiftly fly.
Maybe from that orchard,
Dressed in Hoarfrost lace and alone,
She will not escape their eye
And they will come and take her home

Snowflakes

The winter wind whispers,
It flutters and fluffs about.
Freeing the fulsome lady flakes to
Dance in their frost white gowns.
A singular perfection, are they,
As they lift, then take wing.
They are beauty itself
In their waltz of creation
With the unborn flowers of spring.