Your Word (Such a flimsy thing)

Your word, such a fragile and flimsy thing,

Readily given, quickly broken and quick to

Fly from pearch like crow on ready wings.

All the words ring hollow,

Like little mallets hitting heavily

On my belltower bound heart.

Trust, oh I try, tried and tried

But your word and action lie far apart

Your only consistency is to wound me,

Push away, keep solemn vows only

When they serve to make me pay

For my trangsressions, rightly wrong;

So I pay in blood while you move on -

And you tell me you haven't,

That it's a trivial thing,

And you know how it cuts me,

Every time we seldom speak.

Keeping your options open,

Now as was before, and I wonder

How long until my faith and hope

Give way and my stomach falls to the floor.

I try and trust, but something here

Is misbegotten, plain untrue or at best dishonest-

To me or them, the electronic horde

Who seek to slip in on those three words.

I try to trust, I try, I do try,

But what is there to trust when

So many words amounted to pretty lies?

This damage, this acid, it eats away

And if there is to be anything again,

It creates only more wounds, more pain.

And though I love, I do, I do,

It is these things that ruin my sleep,

And sew fear my faith is misplaced in you.

All the broken people say:

I'll fix myself tomorrow,

I'm just to broken today.

Yeah, all the broken girls sing

Shitty break up songs,

Out of key. Find salvation

From depresssion in the

Daisy chain of new arms.

And the broken men scream,

Their ragged voices in the night:

I fought the war, loved her more

Than anyone ever has before!

All the broken people sing

Withered hearts with weak words.

All the broken people scream

In defeat at the cycle they repeat,

They justify, they sought -they seek.

All the broken people sing out

Just let this guilt die, let the truth

Sleep, let me forever just be weak.

That Shadow (the dappled veil)

That Shadow, the veil

Drawn over the glass

Of grave visage;

Serene, silent

As still lakes

Eternal, undisturbed

But for slithering tears

Rippling in sobbing wake.

That Shadow, the pale

Light of cindery skiff

Smoldering after weeping

Flames to dancing stars;

It echoes deaf

In the creases

Of quivering lips and eyes,

Prideful, and of pride bereft.

That Shadow, dappled

And hanging in Sunday

Summer swelter, the

Mercy of leafy oaks-

The hangman's assembled shelter-

It feeds in slow voracity

Of back bitten tears and

Those stolen years

As broken necks are bowed in prayer.

That Shadow, the pale and dappled veil-

It feeds.

In the depth of boundless cimmerian dreams

And the captive soul's breathless screams.

Book of the Dead (Play at passion)

There's revolution in the streets of Cairo tonight,

And kids in Ohio holding solidarity signs

Sipping hot cocoa and cheering at cars passing by-

But me, I'm dying a little bit tonight.

For all the bleeding hearts being weighed

Against feathers, and being found heavy.

Fed to the beasts of their own desperation

Chained and chomping at the gates of hell.

Oh how hollow it all rings

To the men in suits passing by

Watching their kids play at passion

Before slipping off to get drunk and fuck

Tell jokes and take drugs without a thought

For all the men dying in the streets tonight.

Spare me your revolution, your misguided

Delusions that you're not the reason why

Honest men are fighting in desert streets tonight.

So raise your banners high

Chant and call into the night

Excuse your nihilism

With empty activism

Pump your fist in revolution

Sip your cocoa, your childish solution.

My Heart. Is Broken.

This is the end, the little death

That's been hanging in the wind,

And I wonder

Like a bird flying from a perch

Unobserved

If it was ever there to begin with

Or a trick

Of my death seeking senses.

My heart

Is broken.

These are the only words.

My heart.

Is broken.

The feeling of shriveled souls

Tears welling in a wounded chest

The mortal coil of deep love

Unwinding in my battered breast.

My heart.

Is broken.

So much suffering

In so few words.

All the nights we spent

Twinned and twined

Hopes and dreams

The swell of your chest

And I lay spent and pressed

Head on navel

Cradled between your legs.

My heart.

Is broken.

These are the only words.

Object Desire (The commodity of breasts)

Object desire

Fools, playing with wrapping paper

Their fucking hands

Always reaching, groping

At any gift left unattended

Minutes or moments

So eager to put their dick in something.

Object desire

The commodity of breasts

Given scarcity

Gives birth to desperate men

Pants and small throbbing cocks

All riot and unrest.

Tell me, tell me, tell me

Make me feel like a man

Tell me, tell me, tell me

Baby, tell me I'm in demand.

Object desire

All the plastic people

Prophylactic discourse and desperately

Talking each other out of their clothes

All the pretty girls

Sitting behind window sills

Wondering if they're people too.

Object desire

The innocence afforded

By being half aware and cheap

My conscience is low

But confidence is high

So baby, let me take you home tonight.

I have loved with all of the colors

I have ever known,

I have loved with each of the four

Winds that blow within a man's soul.

I have loved as ancient tombs,

As broken mournful stones

Hold ancient bodies

Silent in their vigil

And ever waiting

To feel the breath

Of departed passion

Singing through cracked teeth.

I have loved as storms

Flooding over mountains

Dark and brooding

And soon exploding

Full of fury rampant rage.

I have loved and been loved

In many, many ways.

Yet for them all, added

And and refracted with

Nostalgic eyes - Alone or

Totaled could make me stray.

I love you in a way which

Makes my hands wrinkle,

My legs weak and beg

In infirmity and age for

The aide of a cane. In

A way which makes my

Soul shrivel, in a way

Which makes me revel

In the thought of growing

Weak and watching your

Neck grow thin, your eyes wreathed

By the feet of fleeting crows,

Your soft hair brittle, gray.

I love you with the fertility

Of the cool damp earth,

The strength of an old

Rock carved with a pair of names.

I love you like a man

Loves a woman

When both are lowered

Side by side, into

Long waiting graves.