The Marriage of Arty Minds

She knows who you are…

As she controls the machine, the road and my path for this brief period of time, she explains to me:

She warns me about your beauty
As if I had not experienced this breathtaking masterpiece firsthand
She marvels at your posture
Your gaze
Your contours
She offers only words of caution

Beware the passion of those married to art
their souls drown in the essence of their imagination and the products thereof

Beware the vigor of those married to art
Their craving consumes,
Intoxicates reason and leaves you only to feel
Like a madman…
A curbed cannibal feeding off sense and mystery

I wish I had stayed only a while longer
To force a moment of staring into your being
To cradle the core you shelter with only a motion
A facial expression to distract the eyes I disguise in only this too familiar way – I see you

She drives faster
Her lover engulfed in their trust
She keeps warning
Yet all I want is a little hope
A possible us

Beware! (I think to myself)
I am of those who are married to art
I might just understand you
I might just love you from the end and back to our start.

As all marriages go
My commitment is eternal and pure
I imagine her
I imagine her lover
The car and the highway too


This marriage alone could have never imagined you


Charity Dare

The paint on my face begins to melt off as the charity kiss arrived.

I did not look for it…neither did I ask for it, but it was given to me regardless and…perhaps I died a few kisses ago, because I felt nothing.

The mask…
That sweet shelter when stormy crows dart at you from everywhere(I am tempted to say that they aim for the core, the lifeline if you will) but – we aught to know by now that no person has only one of anything.
Anyway when I first started wearing it the lines were perfect – it had been just as I had always imagined… “The perfect face!” I thought…”Now all I’m missing is the attitude!”

His kiss was definitely not welcome; not only because we were both floating on the back of a world founded by empty bottles of beer, brandy and wine – but also because I stopped dreaming of him.

It’s been years since I tasted the lips of a male… I realize now that I do not miss it… And how dare he?
How dare he kiss me out of sympathy?

My face burns and the mask continues to melt, I’m suddenly raging. Does he not know how much effort was put into covering it all up?
How dare he?

How dare they?

How dare I allow them to take bits of me that were meant only to be treasured by one other than myself?
How dare I devise plans to hide my weakness?
How dare I become the one thing I’ve always tried not to be?

Why did I settle and attempt to convince myself that she was the one when I knew damned well that she wasn’t?
Now my heart believes she was the one although my mind knows better and I’m shattered.
How dare I?

How dare she?
She appears out of nowhere and pokes at my heart, gently… She’s so different – like a whisper, she gets stuck in the back of my mind, so that while the mask drips off my face I imagine her saying,”That’s better! I like your face better this way.”

How dare I?

How dare I imagine this?

They Sleep

No sleep

Somewhere in the crooked spots unseen she melts, cradles and cleans
Those bits of her that remain haunted
Stalked by:
What could be insanity, but

Is it?

No sleep

Her body no longer controlled
Maneuvers its way in confused motions around the breadth of her bed
Heat rising
Not arousing
She stares out of the window at Sky and dreams awake

She dreams
Of being asleep in the moment of bliss
In the absence of kisses
Replaced by an embrace
Lacking tenderness in ways, yet
Reassuring her that
Dreams happen not only when we are asleep

She sleeps

In waking terror
Running ever toward the place of
Darkened snow where
She waits for her
In a dream of her
And her
With her

Eye-lids close
Others open


The last,
Haunting sentence before they both vanish:

“We’re here at last!”salome

The Day We Stood Still

Propaganda has drained you
This breathing,walking,presumptuous lump of matter that
You perceive to be humble and spiritual is
In actual fact
A strained, cocky, lie!

You preach the lack of spirit in mathematics
You laugh at the suggestions of scientific fact
Tell me then – O GREAT,
If “God” created it, us;
How kindly would he look upon those simpletons who mock his method?

Earth is greater than mock-gods and stories of prophets
Your jesus died but once for you
Our planet dies each day.

You build kingdoms, destroy lives

Learn then not the falsettos of religion

I would like to passionately destroy you
Torture both of us until:
We piss out the water we’ve stolen
We puke out the tons of meat consumed so “rightfully” by us
Shit until lost bits of land miraculously reappear
Bleed for every crack in every tree with staples through its bark

For every scratch on your savior’s back
Earth suffered but a trillion times more
She still does
Her sacrifices performed DAILY so that WE may live

And one day
She will have the strength to be no longer
And it’s on that day
That we’ll stand still.