Watching the Body Decompose

Watching the Body Decompose

you are exhumed
your hair is long
nails twisted
inhale and exhale
like the black dog
you speak for the devil
we kneel upon your evil
your grace is a broken vessel
no wait, no quarter
the milk spilt upon the floor
it pools into a haphazard design
a lack of intelligence
there is nothing among us
we walk in our tragedy
our heads bowed down
tails dragging in the dirt
I have eaten you
like the dead
you were my enemy
your head upon a pole
the garish details
my capital, my atrocities
my wounds fester with love
under cruel hardship
crafted with my own hand

© Deep Piercing Cut 2009

Practicing Throwing Ninja Stars

Practicing Throwing Ninja Stars

I have scattered the fragments
in these desolate streets
these streets with unfeeling hearts
they pull on me like little children
I know all their names
call them one by one
as they sit at my feet
each playful laugh
is a treasure
the spirits move
in such strange ways
I know their motions
are only reflections
but, I marvel
at them anyway
finding my love sign
in a juke joint on Venus
she squawking on the harmonica
fresh from the blues festival
she’s a blowing
man alive
she sends shivers
down my spine
my pathetic spine
the devil is a creeping

this is the music we were waiting for
we listen intently to the piper
he played that unfortunate song
the one we learned in Sunday school
throwing the notes into the wind
it was almost human
in our fight for desire
to give it arms and legs
and a mind to betray
almost human
spilling out with abandon
out from all sides
in its sickness
suffocating
rising up into wave after wave
there is no golden treasure
with the sheet wrapped around you
we lie down into the sound
a curse that talks
and keeps talking
while the audience cries
death rides on
all the way to the coast
under the surface is a dreadful taste
something that makes you look
behind you all the way
arms stretched out
as a fume
and we shout
against the bastard
his boots do not sail
on these troubled waters

I found yesterday
hiding behind the sofa
it might have been hide-and-seek
no one was in the fields
as the fire scorched the crosses
without scarecrows
the seeds are small
scarred as they are
they lack water
buried deep with your alabaster cares
you shout, “get back into the fields”
no work is getting done
no stone is being turned
they watch us build the boxes
all have been measured
washing off the blood
before we put them away

© Deep Piercing Cut 2009

Starting Out Spurious

Starting Out Spurious

against the red dripping skies
strained through the coarse
you fear the freedom of utopia

intractable green eyes
the strangest of superstitions
hitting every red light

provided moral center
counting the licks
feeling each tick

a throat strong and proven
touching the wishful body
governed by riddled tombs

each bowed as placid dreams
hate is that shaggy animal
the thawed flesh of agreement

smoothed over by the parts
a hungry arrival
this is not light

cracking open the bones
extracting the marrow
more ropes blanching

spread through the hurt
she runs backwards
with hostile eyes


© Deep Piercing Cut 2009

post modern blues

Post Modern Blues

caught bare handed
beaten down by the misery
love’s company
you keep them all
a god crawls down your arm
as you sit in a strange room
there are many angles
all of them are names of life
strange names we repeat
over and over
as they come straight out
I am your voodoo doll
you stick me and laugh
neglected by someone awesome
the man with blue handshakes
entombed with excessive love
barren shameful wings
my green skin evaporates
one virgin scurries
past the sweet rain
she flies on waxen wings
over Waterloo
the knives to the throats
a pink melts off
and we remember

© Deep Piercing Cut 2009

fuzzy peach

Fuzzy Peach

slowly fade
into the pale
like a lewd dream
a Hemingway café
cigarettes and coffee
contorted relationships
haunted by the tibia
obstinate limbs
a tired bowl of things
out living the chains
inconsistent arms
the Sun with purple eyes
inspired bleeding lips
half under the curse
her half body of light
shines upon the rooftop
the same dirty knees
as your mother
sobs through the out door
unsure of the heart’s prize
a plastic melted graveyard
where the fuzzy peach met its demise

© Deep Piercing Cut 2009

Dying Every Day

Dying Every Day

mean and dirty song of the streets
honesty is not a privilege
it is not necessary
but it is sufficient
swift accuracy summed
pushed into the portentous
an appendage of macho
a rough crude likeness
exuding the carnal vision
each narrative fits the curve
machined by the voluptuous
never lacking the luster
a nucleus of misery
winning the right to toil
to question the existence of god
to wonder about love
the trap is set
with the lonely words
you cannot escape
we resist the sculpture’s knife
our shape is our own
the right to be ugly
and unsightly
this our claim to glory
cutting away the world’s tethers
refusing to be molded
we refuse to be ignorant and blind
to turn our backs to the light of reality

© Deep Piercing Cut 2009