Poetry
Holiday recipe
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Caramelize the spirit, build a border, stir in balsamic hope, reduce.
Add Port wine, to sweeten the deception, reduce.
Add the veal stock, the reason, and reduce
attain a syrupy sauce.
Season with salt and pepper
a pinch of WMD for color
then sear or grill the seasoned and thawed slices of foie gras.
Keep warm on paper towels.
Brown slices of French bread, fresh from the guillotine
or ghetto
in the same frying pan used to sear the faggot or on the aspiration's char.
Put 15g of onion confit on each toast and press it thoroughly, to reach the bone
Place a slice of nigger on each toast, set on a warm plate, and baste with the sauce reduction.
Serve immediately, alone, or with a mixed wilted Gaza salad seasoned with balsamic-Dachau vinegar.
The Final-Final
Printer-friendly versionThe Final-Final
Everything has changed, the undistorted truth leaked
beyond the shadow of doubts
He was packing heat then pulled the trigger
hit by one stray bullet
antagonizing her sanity
The inquisition, her tongue spewing the last attemps at
reconciliation
gushing, "please take me back"
years of dismay forgotten
entrapment, extorted love
Juices of the gods inebriate only a fraction of her pain
the liability of future enterprise
position the bodies to be buried
telling headstones
I feel a queer relief, consulting my own pleasure
a conscience, once buried within the corners of gray matter, examines motives
wants or needs?
depraved homewrecker
Destination Unknown
BRILLIANT!
The Fog of 11/03/09
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after work
family intercourse
the fog began to descend in the fall
the street was clear, the sky started to blur as a hope
the murkiness kept dripping until the wife beater across the street
turned into a sound
it came through my window into the kitchen
enveloped my immediate sight
I thought I could escape
the smoke I exhaled felt like home
on the stairwell was clear
I returned into the kitchen, into the unsight
I could've been spotted
the fog of my surroundings is not universal
the roundness is unflat
until then
I conceal the existance in my L.A. Kitcken
like the deathrow inmate hiding in the cell.
mistakes
Printer-friendly versioneveryday is a mistake like a take way into my umbrella
and there ' s no rain to pourrrring down my cheeks
there 's not even a regret tear mistakes ,mistakes ,
1000 snakes on a dried rock by a virgin sun in an old winter.
so disgusting flies.
there's
something wrong about these snakes somehow forgotten by a foster God
Love
Printer-friendly versioni don't know why
Printer-friendly versioni dont know why i let this music to wash my eyes with all these crazy dreams about life
about a med life ,confuse and inutile
but then so sweet , too sweet for my understanding
bored ,to bored to, to,, to start something in the morning
Evil
Printer-friendly versionI am not the one
I chose a life of crime, stealing hearts, shattering them into
an unpalatable refuse
Only after the fact do they realize what was had, until it is gone
I walk away, without a blink of an eye
I am heartless
I am friendless
I am not your lover
I am not sugar and spice
I am woman
Therefore;
I
AM
Evil
The unfaught fight
Printer-friendly versionLet's fight until the fight is fought
until the living mourns itself
while the one is finally alone
undigging the trenches on self
waiting for at least one argument
a bullet or a funeral
a cry
without, the laurels of the victor
are defeat
Let's hide until the hideout is in sight
Until the predator ate its germs of conquering
in lack of a prey
let's die of solitude
until life brings death no more
ThE LeTtEr E
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I tripped into the abyss
Yes, you had me at hello and the letter "e"
The path of least resistance
Was it meant to be?
The years wasted in our youth
If you only knew what this means to me
The anticipation of your touch
The sound of your voice along the airwaves,
sustains me, quenches my desires, only for a moment
I can't have you here and now
I see no way out of this, falling deeper
Cup my face and tell me it's so
Are you a figment an illusion, or of human flesh?
Only fish can swim upstream
I go with the tide and wait for your lead
You had me at hello
You had me at hello
Promise you won't go, not yet, just a bit more time
To feel your sweet lips on the nape of my neck
Hands touring every inch of my body
Tasting the fluids of our tryst
Yes I can hear you say hello, even in my abyss
YOU had ME at HELLO
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You Had Me At Hello...
I long for your touch
To hear your voice sends me
I here the one minute warning
One day a week to see your smiling face
The glass that divides us, shades the color of your eyes
Cold iron seats, chipped paint, stale smell
Foreign voices, the yells for help
My ears bleed, insides screaming "let him out!"
He has paid his penance for the puppet show
It's his turn to go
The phone rings again, her voice the same
I push option five, you had me at Hello
Poetry Events
- Two Prize-Winning Poets to Read at Library of Congress on Nov. 12
- Poet Laureate Kay Ryan Will Launch Community College Poetry Project at Library of Congress Reading on Oct. 21
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