you poured gasoline
all over our bed
flames erupted
torture in my brain
you lit a slick world
sparkling tinder into fire
igniting stark firestorms
hark immolation licking
fierce inside my head
instigating dark sex
remolding sexual forms
you poured lubrication
down my swollen throat
water wrecked with oil
reminding my relentless desire
spectacularly trim with elation
sticking receptacle words
to choice things I've read
titillation adds just another hex
vexation as a holy ghost
those trickster things we want
fixated on those mixed up things
we've so often dreamt and said
now we've paved over
love's cobblestone street
everything we once had
things that were good and sweet
forget those things that were bad
now tingling love hovers
ready to speed right away
waiting to disappear forever
trending in some other life
dissent and horrid strife
meant for some other
particularly hellish fray
if gasoline were love
all these emotional fires
would be
devotionally true
could be
love retired
when would be
love finally realized
gasoline was me and you
even twisted love
its turning totem
burned to elemental ash
demoted because
of detrimental shame
realizing gasoline love
was entirely to blame

               * * *

 

last chance
fixing your life
last chance
redeeming your soul
last chance
getting through your pain
last chance
everything's a mess
last chance
feeling worthless and insane
last chance
picking yourself up
last chance
off that city street
last chance
on breaking even
last chance
in life's ongoing game
last chance
from a bleeding frying pan
last chance
into a bloody fire
last chance
immolation's holy desire
last chance
with all that
last chance
when you finally wake
last chance
finding healing sunshine
last chance
feeling and remembering
last chance
living with one's real name
last chance
for collecting and recalling
last chance
when things aren't just falling
last chance
not so dire or mundane
last chance
before every intentional storm and torrential rain
last chance
healing wounded hearts
last chance
not bursting and breaking
last chance
saving your immortal sake
last chance
dancing to your tribal beat
last chance
living in the arms of your real earth name
last chance
more zeal still to gain
last chance
pealing off your face paint
last chance
in and out of reaching
last chance
opening sacred portals
last chance
divinity with its close advance
last chance
those blessed tattoos
last chance
before gnarly and knotty you
last chance
when your thirsting for that sacrificial flame
last chance
enduring this mortal image and captivating reign
last chance
before raptors and dragons come
last chance
moody human and more
last chance
before proud tigers and lions roar
last chance
before you ultimately die
last chance
vying and not just assuming
last chance
you've been existing
last chance
just simply scattered
last chance
unjustly shattered
last chance
your remorseless pain
last chance
my trusted friend
last chance
speaking distrusted poetry
last chance
dreaming misty dreams
last chance
it often seems
last chance
to play this risky game
last chance
to mend your broken life
last chance
attaching soul to a perfect frame
last chance
carte blanche and carpe diem
last chance
ascending Nirvana's detached being

                       * * * 

 

falling leaves
how much energy
does it take
creating every moment
reaction and reflection
painting upon water
let love greet joy
vibration is unfurled
libations of leaf power
look at power rising
falling silently revealed
donning some magic guise
so forests and oceans
come and go
emotional commotions
where leaves and water bleed
so many broken promises
all those falling
liquid words and deeds
reflections of what
we truly want and need
forever those tokens
leavened psalms and prayers
reflections of our world
so given hate and morbid greed
all that misplaced
energy that takes
synergism creating
organized love and life
atmospheric that
what makes
those virgin leaves
they keep falling
that energy it takes
recreating bliss and joy
keeps leafy nature calling
belief in love and joy
keeping that moving stature
leaves keep falling
faith in love and joy
leaves for all our sakes

                 * * *

 

cement
walls into prison
resent
pavement
keeps those
discontented
from digging
into fertile earth
demented
someone sweeps
gathering garbage
heaven sent
piles on this broken street
how many token dead
everyone needs dying
counting needles
spoken poems and lines
poking into veins
tempted by arteries
fentanyl wants
needs to make you
one deserving host
redemption
most of all
sample fentanyl
haunts those streets
moaning ghosts and zombies
restrained to zombieland
where dead people walk
staring into demon eyes
no heaven or hell talk
just some given reality
punishing riveting pain
keeps creeping and crying
always that steep drop
seeping somewhere
dim and black
where lonely souls sprawl
cemented to sidewalks
blood sweat and tears
filling every injected crack
all those street fears
all that fentanyl and  street talk
what if liberating god called
what if liberal creation
suddenly took us back
would cement tombs
keep this institution
would prison walls
with creation's restitution
fail then fall
would stony souls
hear god's gentle call
or would cement
resent us one and all
keeping humanity
restrained and chained
cemented within
addicted to our prison stalls

                  * * *

 

block on block
up one
knock after knock
up another two
talk on talk
stones into temples
one way we walk
trying to somehow fly
diagrams scratched out
so much colourful chalk
hop scotch for little ones
tall people and little folk
striving for upwards
dreamy times when we woke
we saw it was downwards
spirals with wheel spokes
one thought binding
taken abruptly to another
viral thinking is like finding
predestined forests of ancient oak
one block at a time
hopefully as we build
one era after another
we won't just choke
evoking line after line
like some sweeping vine
hedge work and handy work
ultimately by some divine
giant people and simple folk
improving what is
yours and mine
block upon block
civil is the real sign
sometimes I think
it's muck on muck
not much understanding
compounding what is base
so good luck
to us one and all
good luck
who face such yuck
so good luck
sometimes we're stuck
good luck
so if we must surrender
with all our hard luck
we'll find life
can still be tender
if only we can decide
we're safely unstuck
so block on block
building things up
towards an imminent sky
deciding we need to stare down
when things are amok
decide to refit gems
from creation's golden crown

                     * * *

 

once around the block
Vancouver's inner city
you've seen it all doc
what else is there
besides domestic pity
up and down the alleys
sometimes if you dare
through a homeless valley
past carousing fentanyl
count that terrible tally
such an arousing mental plea
hope is merely a concept
nothing concrete really
just a laughable precept
passing through
valleys of desperation
city places
where everything
is doom and gloom
beyond consternation
a hapless void my friend
a helpless place of indignation
if only God could
rein in evil's instigation
replace prediction
without condition
advise some healing medication
perhaps a garden still could grow
instill the self with predilection
be still the wounding pain
that so many broken folk
live with drastic homelessness
devil fentanyl a constant foe

                   * * *

 

so fallen angels
if there is resurrection
wings to fly us home
some new direction
like a prayer and a poem
admittance after insurrection
simply dying alone
control after dysfunction
samples of some after tone
craftsmanship with that distortion
everything and then there is none
twisting reality into relative information
some duality with collective donations
can you imagine how it feels
determining destinations
what if we are damaged
what if we just can't heal
still there is an inclination
some of us want to resist
try to see beyond some magic seal
why must we insist
that trauma and tragedy are real
perhaps our dreams
could remake our world
perhaps it only seems
heaven and hell is what we heard
in reality we're just fallen angels
trying to grow cosmic feathers
wanting to learn to truly fly
there must be so many angles
what we see is low or high
what we know is do and try
blowing like the colour of the wind
some of us will laugh
some will cry
hoping for resurrection
praying that we never die
wanting to balance where we've been
trying to see where we're going
hoping to grow wings
so we can fly home
amongst those directional things
speaking inspirational prayers
dreaming spiritual poems

                   * * *