soakin up the meat sauce

was gonna go to open mic
but crapped out. the purple paint
spilled while multitasking the upper
and lower trims. one thing at time
in a spackled paint splotch over
a formerly perfectly good paint job.

there are chasms we can fill
with latex or dry wall mix.

rub at  emblems of futility
the twice done wrong.
scrape the measled floor.





*




i feel sad when
i learn of an ex lover's
new exness. like see stupid
i told you it wouldn't work
the conventional way,
that's your disney showing
your spider your violin your viola viola


i mean why did i have to go
thru my pain when your escape meant
you were only escaping.



i know why you don't believe in love now.
happy?


















*(0000

















today i felt another woman in my bed
because you stripped the sheets washed
with only a towel. wtf/ you claim
it was resin, but the duvet's
 still on the duster.with the spot
you showed me last nite.


i know how to fulfill prophecies you haven't considered.









777777777777777777777777777777777








let's put some passion in this play.some purple
stains of perfidy to complement the chorus.

if we are to survive.












)()()()()














but you know and i know
love blooms in the stretch toward
lightness of being, incredible says the sage.
forgive the bumps and aches
when we fall into the resonant  frequency of us











^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^)))))))















helium and less   coalesce
into a heart of gravity galactic
 perception fractactic, object subject
self and not arise from archaic veldt.

on silence and scrabble

you will be fine. the baby will be fine.
or not. you will both be fine. or not.
c'est la vie.

there is a middle ground you can try to walk
between falling rocks and rapids, but you still must
watch your step. two inches is not much distance
from gravity "snow and pine and the winter dark"
are   mystery enough. silence is a concept
and you can get there from here.  to stay
would be death. like a poem, printed.





















&*^



it's not silent tonight
the black keys play
relationship deferment
and all the drums
are not conducive to meditiation
i could change the channel
but it helps speed up scrabble
put the foot to the pedal
stop trying to beat the teacher
you hate that!


i kinda like where i am now
same place, different roomies
all i gotta do is go to work
so i just chill out when i get home
got no side projects. become addicted
to games on google app, rack up points
sans boosts, claiming i do it
for the grand daughter. to make coins
so she can use the cheats.truth is
it's like a meditation monkey.
the poems are below the surface
pushed down into being
why do i fill it with
such bullshit>


















****((((((




he wants to know why i sing with him at all
and it's not that it means nothing\
just  our definitions diverge. maybe this scrabble thing
is going to be the way to get me back
in more than one game. the smell of dryer sheets
wafts in the breeze , incongruous as tiles
drawn from a bag, concentration
on other than each other, other than
the winding snake of love. twice
 i could have used the word.
there's just not enough points in it.



i smoke more this way. it's been a while.
i've had some issues with you. not so  much you
just what i become when i'm with you.

now i've got a big blue line that dissapears
as i add letters. to you or him or that woman you left
in male gaze, frozen in flowery fantasy
wearing your favorite colorveil.





&*&&*&&&&






and and and. there must have been many
happenings, many lessons learnt all this time.
mainly i've learned that male ego is so bashable
and to make my relationaships work i can't be
as caustic as i want to be. you always take it
personally. it's just the acid in my breasts
the stick shoved up my vagina, the pedestal's spike heels,
that make me this way. and this blue line, it won't go awy
unless i post. i'm not reasdy, there's still tiles
in the bag.the daily show is once again on vacation.
so i could burn the two letter words into my eyes
or keep on making my own combinations.
or i could be silent, like after a rain
in the swamp, where mud makes twins
of birth and death.