‘The Foothills of Heaven’  

(Said the Miller & the Tiller
In whose voice do you come ?
‘Bitches I come in the name
& the tongue
Of Bonita Applebum,
I met her once when
I was young & in the
Flowering of my fame’)

I Beat the Devil
Back to the Gates of Hell
But he didn’t take it well
& soon Took Me Off Track
Racing my Blood like
A Cataract Clouded by
The Might of A Flood
While sending me Monkeys
To keep the hump in my back
He challenges me to a fight
Which I may decide to win
If only my strategies &
My Pistols are Right
Though I may need some
Long Range Missiles
(If Nero Could Fiddle
A Nigga Could Whistle !)
If Only I Could Pull My
Guard Back In & Not
Misread A Slight
Nor be too quick to recommend
The Nooks & Crannies of An
Endless Night,
Except of course those
Crooks & Nannies
Whose Vanity Mimics
The Raven at its
Greatest Height
& whose graven images
Are Welded to Spite
Despite the Hands
That Held It.

And So I Proclaimed
To the Devil Himself
Whose Pronouns Can
Never Be Named
‘Meet Me On the Lawn
With Pistols At Dawn
& We Won’t Stop
Shooting Until the
Bullets Are Gone
The Price I’m Willing
To Pay For Just One
More Day Of Being
Alone.

---

THE MISSION OF VESPER SWANN:

TO HONOR WHAT GOD & EARTH
HAVE CREATED, TO MAKE CERTAIN
THAT IT IS CELEBRATED WHILE
PAYING MY DUES AT THE GATES
TO PIERCE THE PUSSY OF VENUS
WITH PENIS ENVY’s DISPOSITION
4 KEEPING ITSELF IN THIS POSITION
BY SELLING ITS SOUL TO THE FATES
IN THE ARENA OF PREMONITION
WHILE BURNING ITS DESIRES
LIKE FIREFLIES AFLAME
IN THE NAME OF BLIND AMBITION
WE BEGIN WITH ‘THE LAWS OF GOD’
SO THAT, IN THE END, IT’s JUST
‘GOD’ (& No More Laws).

More Equipoise, Less Hesitation,
& Even Less Reason to Pause.

---

And Blessed Are Oui !
And Blessed Are We To Know
The Difference Between Our
‘Issues’ & Our ‘Problems’
And That Our Issues
Are More Often Than Not
The Authors of Our Problems.

---

The Optometrist

I told my Optometrist
That I was leaving him
For a better Optometrist
& he said to me;
‘Go On & See If Eye Care’.

---

Savannah

The Savannah’s Uncertain
When the Lion’s Unsure
& there’s no cure when
They draw back the curtain
Until it finds the strength
Of mind to reinstate the order
That endures the tremors
Of trial & torture where
Heavy Artillery Waits
It’s never a good sign when
The Monkeys are Hurting
Where the Beasts Of Burden
Congregate.

Meanwhile, A Question that I’ll Forge ‘Ya
Is What Are All These Bitches Doing In Georgia ?

---

Where We Go

Where we go from here
Is up in the air
But as Long As We’re Together
I Don’t Care !
Could be in the Valley
Could be in an Alley
Could be on a train
With Long Tall Sally
Voiceless & trying to explain
The existence of Vesper Swann
& why it always rains once the
Flowers & their dreams are gone
I go where the stream gathers steam
I Know the River’s Breach
I’ve swam to where the swans
Have reached & have always
Dared to Dream that Where
You Are I Will Always Be
To Sweeten the Sugar
That Nature Gave
The Honey to the Bee
& to stand around your grave
& water it with my misery
& solemn promise to behave
As if I kept my dignity
With A Fresh Haircut
& A Shave, From All
The Money Saved
By Paving Stones
That Skip Along
The Rhythm & Ripples
Of the Lake.

The Brighter Shines My Solar Heart
The More Luminous it Aches.

---

A Pair Of Ducks Discussing A Paradox:

The Time We Are Looking For
Is Forever Lost To the Time We
Spend Looking For It.

---

HUH ???

THOUGHTS ARE NOT
CREATED BUT PERCEIVED
Vesper said this to me I believe
& that in a Multiverse,
EVERYTHING IS TRUE
& that Opposites are Complimentary
Components from a much higher view
That most of this is bullshit
But even that too is but Starlight
Winking its Eye at You.

---

IN KEEPING

In Keeping With What I Said
When I Lost My Tongue & Misplaced
My Head But Never Lost My Voice
Some Words Don’t Allow For Choice
Between What Is Sung Or Only Hummed
& Left Beneath the Pillows of An Unmade Bed
Or Perhaps Just Stuck in the Throat
I Should’ve Thought Before I Spoke
Been Less Callow, More Mellow
More Considerate & Cautious Like Yellow
Next Time I’ll Take A Smoke
& Be Less Likely To Provoke
To Which I’m Quite Prone
It’s Why I Spend So Much
Time Alone

& In These Alpine Heights
You Can Only Hear Church Bells Sing
I Can Only Hear Cowbells Ring
While the Pastures Empty
For the Night, While the Lights
Are Coming On to Soften
The Symmetry of our Sight.

---

FIRE & STEEL

Fire & Steel
In Time Reveal
That the Bottom
Of the Barrel
Is Too Narrow
To Conceal
All the Shame
That We Have
Lain At the Feet
Of Sorrows
Whose Tomorrow
We Will Blame
Raking Up
The Laurels
Whose Leaves
We Left the Moths
To Claim.

Shame, Shame, Shame On You,
YOU Know What You Did, & What
You Didn’t. But Truth Is A Train
That Gathers Tracks
The More You Think It’s Hidden.

---

BURIAL GROUND

I’ve Buried My Sins In The Snow
But once it turns to mud
The lies I’ve told will still be in the blood
Foreshadowing wherever I go
While stage whispering ‘I Told You So’
& Cutting My Veins, to Cover My Tracks
With East or Southbound Trains.

---

ICARUS

We Are Shaded by Trees of Euphoric Scent
Though Not Sheltered Or Bothered by What it Meant
When the Vultures Circled above our Complaints
For Neither Heroes, Whores, or Saints
Can Divide Up Our Riches & Pretend
To Be ‘Present’ When They Really Ain’t
We’re But Convalescents On the Mend
Recovering from Hubris that Fueled the Flight
That We Could Not Quite Sustain
Just Our Luck, An Eclipse
Blocking Out the Light
Of the Simmering Sun
While the Shimmering Waves of Summer
Melted the Waxworks We’d Become
& the Secrets We Overcame.

But Water Finds Its Own Table
So tomorrow It May Rain.

---

TROUBADOR

Troubador, Troubador,
Wherefore Art Thou
& Why Are You Stealing
Our Bread ?
Handing Out Crumbs
To Standing Room Only
While Standing On Your Head
With A Snake On Each Arm
One for Mischief, the Other
For Charm
You Say You Mean No Harm
But the Blood Pressure Of
Dharma’s Pulsing Vein
Is Suggesting there’s Cause
For Alarm, My Ego Feels
The Same
& the Crumbs You Feed
Are from Slices of Bread
You Stole from the Ducks
At Maggie’s Farm
While Ruptured Puppies
Bleed & Bloodhounds
Awake, Sniffing Out
Whose Blood To Take
While Foaming at the Mouth.

---

Ours & the Hours

The Hours Have Passed
They’ve Run Out Of Steam
They’ve Run Out Of Gas
While We’ve Run Out Of Excuses
To Save Our Ass It Seems
BUT WAIT, A REPRIEVE !
It Appears That We May Last
For As Long As We May Breathe
Retrieving Our Fortunes From
The Past, Rejecting the Dogma
We Believed & Its Attendant Drama.
No More Roughhouse Romeo Blues
& Only the Panoramas Perceptions
Choose.

There’s Nothing More to Lose
Except The Feeble Fears of Misfortune’s
Finger, Tampering With Time
As the Minutes Close.

---

ROMEO, ROMEO,
WHEREFORE ART THOU
ROMEO ?

“YO MAN, PUT SOME RESPECT
ON MY NAME, IT’S ‘Ro-MAY-O’,

what’s this RO-Me-O shit ?

And Where You At ?
You in Pittsburgh Son !
And If You Got A Death
Wish, Then I’ve Got A Gun.”

‘Ok, Sorry Dude, I Was Just
Looking For My Weed Guy’

“Oh, Then Why Didn’t You Say,
How Much Do You Want ?”

‘Enough to fill the Sky
With THIS Guy
So Incredibly High
That the Clouds Peak
Past my thighs while
I’m trying to ride,
& trying to speak
With the Cliff Dwellers
Of the Mountainside.’

---

The Simple Poems of Vesper Swann
(Because the Beat Goes On) !

---

And while waiting
for Vesper Swann
to Spawn
My Croissants were
Filled with jelly
Soon enough
They will fill my belly
After reading the Paper
On the lawn
To cross wits
With the Saints
While in the Garden
Taking root,
The Beets grow
On & On
Some will find their way
To master Dali’s deli
& the rest I’ll surrender
To Farmer John,
Whose Suits,
Always matches the
Cuban heels of his
Neon Riding boots.

I knew him as a boy
But these Mountains
Are Stark, dark, tragic,
Lean & lonely
Nor were Prisons built
For Joy
Nor for farmers only.

---

The Debris of my Landscape
Landed at the Feet of the Master
But he was a disaster
I only managed to escape
Because I could pedal faster
His ‘Teaching’ sucked
Nor could he admit
That he just wanted to
Be fucked
Their breed is
MUCH TOO HOLY
& far too lost in their cups
To drink of the Nectar that falls
Slowly, down the thighs of
The fabric it corrupts
To better frame a person’s
Intention to both Flex & Flame
& Eat that pulsing Pussy up.

AND THIS IS THE HOLY LIFE !
TO LIVE THE TRUTH
& leave our hypocrisies
With the Tear Stained stories
Of our Apocryphal Youth,
If not for tomorrow,
Then at least for the night,
Instead of covering our shame
While finding another soul to blame.

---

I WANT TO LIVE O LIONS !

I want to go
To the edge of the rainbow’s bend
& I wanna know WHY are bitches
Crying when I recommend
The outposts of the outer range
The sterling silver of a chain
Of Mountains & their majesty
Past inertia & its heresy
I’m a Tiger by the Tail
By any other name
& should I succeed or fail
The mystery is still the same
I KNOW MY AMBROSIAN RITE
By smell, if not by sight
We will dance on the face of the Moon
While the surface swims in light
Bathing in basking craters
Instead of being Imitators
While ignoring what cannot ignite
until it catches fire later.

ALL TO EXPLORE THE ORIGIN
OF OUR ROOTS & wrestle realities
Metaphors from the paraphrases
Deception suits best
We’ve transited our phases
& could give a shit about the rest.

---

When I Arrive at Heaven’s Gate
Them bitches better not be too late
‘cause I’ve a Bone to Pick with the Lord
Then again, I can ill afford
If they opened them up too early
Otherwise I’d be surely
Picking my own scattered bones in the grave
Where cobbled tombstones stand between
The ghosts of the desolate roads paved
Where once were lilies & pastures green,
Lilacs, foxglove, & the muted syntax of the unforeseen.

We have no Axe to Grind, only Love
& Whatever Else in Death I Find.

---

Peculiar Robert says that
THE WORST FORM OF DEATH
Is the one that we are left alive
to witness & that our psychological
attraction to HELL is that it speeds
up the process, a shortcut to the long run,
a curative for ennui, a palliative for duress.
But first, we cross the Sea of Shadows
Where Fate meets Misery, & Prices gyrate
And Who Cannot Afford the High Rates,
They Become Pirates, while Sirens
Beneath the Bow patrol the undertow
Blowing prevailing winds, fracturing the flow
When the same day begins & there’s no place
Else to go.