ballad of a stripper and a bookkeeper

he shot a hobo

alas a hobo

my lover shot a hobo

it was love , so love

i was the most insane stripper

lost on a winters eve

he was a bookkeeper with a gun

we wanted to run together

passion and breast in flames

he tried so much to please

with bunched up bloody nose

another fight over me

he started to kill

for pleasure that winters eve

police would call

and i would deny

through a packards windshield

his face a policeman saw

once run down

no going back

mexico and jazz

we where on the run

but my passion waned

with his bloodstained hands

and made a call

to a deputy

our villa surrounded

he felt betrayed

as to the chair

he fried

my lover alas my lover

who shot a hobo

and broke my heart

dVersePoets

garments that have been pressed

seek her in her grassy tomb

flesh fleece and evening star,

murmurs rise from escaped soul

mouth a shrine to heavens kiss,

text on stone chiseled deep

scythe a scalpel to those around,

to a vow made on cradle key

in binding earth no more a sleep

a million flakes of tempted tremors,

noonday heat rises with the sun,

rise up on quivering breeze

her broken tongue is healing

love a radiant throng

the sick longing eye and dropping of

gossamer veil,

chants names of those  exposed

beyond wither,

whole flesh again

i wish back that angry fist

spirits breathe in sensual undulate

on pages of book no longer departed

i have said my piece up to space,

enameled hand paints gallery in the cave

images as she had been growing wild

reaching out,

some say i am a crook

a felon

a murderer

an abuser

LA has no cheap glories for them to remember

i am hunted,

drone circling over head,

zeal of vocal chords will not be heard

stiffen the twilight

wanderer rolls in half soliloquy

sick heart and eastern sky

death’s fair strokes to guide,

dull pain brings him alone

heart a charnel cave,

crushing cigarette in thumb twists

till nearly ground to nothing,

love once lit and believe

as it was then

snow now hated

broke about the house

fathers silver face tribute to strength

went from kitchen warmth to boathouse,

breast no longer sleeps

coronal shine through window,

gunshot one pause enough to vow

gunshot two now white marble will tell,

should i be penitent kneeling praying

wrestling with tears,

i saw his return crimson and gold

shotgun on shoulder,

mother has gone away he said

my laughing brow could not find a way,

i wished for nothing but hair golden

to weave light to the day

police came lights kaleidoscopic

around ceiling and stars

with my uncle i grew,

now back in this timbered and brick town

to see what remains

house now fallen into decay

this heart of man

was now my peace,

lay flowers in silence

remember my prayer

shadows have now moved underground

and will stay

 

 

 

at night with sand and wolves

the tablets where there

as societies protection,

as the waves in my mind

know no shore

to wash upon,

crushed i did not take them

scattered as broadcast seeds

that would never yield

a crop,

impulses long dark strangers

that occupied all living

space of my mind

tainted by coppery blood

that was not my own,

cities had corners

without lights

where i would stand

unnoticed and silent,

i watch you

i know you,

and i will wait

for you are my focus now,

before i move to the

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