Irises

FALLEN

Today is in mourning. Be like the day,
dressed for grief, wear black clothing,
spy, pretend, pervert, be smug or self-satisfied,
slide down pleasures steep decent into corruptions pit.

You love it there. But, if now your desire
like a black wall that confronts us
is to pompously parade where folly rules,
so be it! Lovely flames, dance among the ruins!

Your luminous eyes shine in the garish light of the city,
lust for religion, you lewdly turn others on...
Anything goes: decadent or degenerate,

look at what you are, red sky, black caldron-
every throbing nerve of your body cries:
Dear Devil, with this willing self-deceit, I worship thee!

A SPITEFUL SADISTIC STEPMOTHER

The world will become a spiteful sadistic stepmother
if your soul should turn Judas and hurt mine.
Sunshine hides behind clouds
at the suggestion of such misery.
The earth was more wonderful since we were made free, when next to the statue of liberty
we stood silently;
and its significance, like a knife,
cut us to the heart
with its exhiliration.

But the world will spawn vipers
in your skull, if you betray my soul.
I will go into mourning
devoting my life to grieving for my children.
The God in your heart will have died;
at the doorway to my family's home,
it will shame the fanatical faithful
and disgrace the mendacious crowds.

The wrongs you do to others
will be transmitted to me
through the manipulated medias
that distort your every obvious foul deed.
Filth of the street
contains your finger prints,
and like a pilgrim I will follow
your misdeeds even across the seas.

Shadows in my garden
will darkly depict your infamy.
A criminal you will sneak
into the deepest recesses of the earth
to commit your corrupt acts;
and yet when you lift up your victims face
you will see your features instead.

God does not want the fair breeze
nor sun to keep you company,
if you are a liar and a cheat
who would be a self-serving tyrannt.
God will not let you look in a mirror
without reflecting the hurt you do to me.
God will not let you sleep
except in a pit filled with your faultless victims.

Every day you strive to crush my soul
beneath the wheels of your vehicles.
A satieted glutton still greed will gnaw at you,
in every country at sunset
blood will flood the sky with your victims wounds.

My name will haunt you
though you excuse your misdeeds with one another,
and I will stick in your throat
like a bone that will not dislodge;
while you go about stealing or raping or murdering-
you will never forget me.

When you leave as surely you will
and die far from here
your corpse will rot beneath the earth
though in truth you have been
rotting now for many years.

You will feel my genuine sorrow,
and will receive the pity your life deserves,
one more of your many victims
whose suffering and stolen years
were totally unnecessary;
until, I too shall die and join you,
as so many ashes or so much dust.

IF YOU CAN

If you can forget wild flowers dancing in the sun,
or, the infinite blue lake languid in the mountains.
If you can forget the smell of the warm, fragrent forest,
then its safe to return and not be afraid.

But should you remember, then turn and run away,
back to the sullen city where dull days yawn by.
There you will see phantasms of prefabricated life,
hear grating engines and the shriek of sirens:

and, though you'll be safe as a corpse,
the shadows of buildings will fall on your heart

ETERNAL TRUTH

At the puritanical church
he knelt before the alter
and vowed to god on high,
to live a good and just life
at one with eternal truth

and he forgot his secret vows,
and warped his bliefs
to base self advantage.
One night he died in a crash in his limosine,
and found himself at heavens gate.

But, God thundered in a terrible voice,
"In my house of worship
you swore a secret oath
to live a good and just life
at one with eternal truth.

Go! Heaven does not yield
your kind of returns.
liars, rank with foul deciet
die, just as you lived
a stranger to god."

unhappy and unrepentant
he fell at the feet of the throne:
"Lord, for the sake of my children
I have been to busy
being your avenging angel,

eagerly destroying other people's lives,
to live a good and just life
at one with eternal truth.
Show me your divine mercy
Please, for heaven's sake"

WHAT BLIND LUST

What blind lust for blood
drives the mad desires of the earth
an endless river murdered,
brought before the terrible executioners?

Fanatics with froathing mouths
horribly carried away
with dreadful symmetry repeating the tragedy
the corpse-blue pallpable fear?

the explosions, as though caused by a malignant star,
the murders commited:

gaping holes fountains of red
dismembered arms and legs
and the bloody sunset of another people
so many lampshades lighting their way

gaping holes fountains of red
dismembered arms and legs
and corpse-blue palpable fear.
Huge as a moonless sky death
hovers like a deformed clock
with its hands blown away
rocking in the cradle of night.

YOUR LOVE AFFAIRS

why are your love affairs?
always instigated by the orders of others?
Why do you get more excited
over the duplicity and deceit
than an open honest love affair?

Whores, just like you, get paid too,
but are at least discrete,
to prevent public harm
from happening to their loves.

They know how to act:
even the cheapest bitch
burries her filth.
they don't spread their legs only to spy
and then later broadcast it about.

If I seem too severe on you
remember, I do not object to procreation;
but, to hypocritically prey on human nature,
only to bring about another person's destruction.

WE HAD

We had no clue, when we kissed;
and now we are three, a sacred
trilogy because of the throbing deep
within your womb. Find, even though
I feel it grow with my good strong hands
and listen to its pulse with my ear
pressed to your belly,
I will never know what it feels like
having its blood flow from out of me.

Now our union is one, holy like
my soul, which can never be soiled.
The smell of autumn leaves decaying
does not make me feel melancholy,
it reminds me of never ending transformations,
the tree of life regenerating itself:
all of this because of the human
fruit inside your womb,
like beautiful butterflies on brightly colored flowers.

THE PARK BLOCKS

Elm trees tower in two stately rows,
in the aptly named park blocks.
A municipal worker busies himself
keeping everything neat and tidy,
by blowing all the gold colored carpet of leaves
into great piles to be hauled off and composted.

There are three myoptic statues
in the middle of these parks, one is of
a lovely maiden bearing water done in
a new classical style complete with a tricolumned pedestal
decorated with harpies, of the other two
one is a 'Great' statesman larger than life
the other is a politician on horseback
who was a great fool.

There are benches and paths that people
either use or ignore, as they hurry along
to their different destinations,
or poke along and just observe; and,
no one ever comes along to tell them
to stay on the sidewalks and paths,
as a matter of fact usually nothing happens here at all.

Deep in the heart of Portland,
nestled among its canyons of towering buildings,
is this row of park blocks;
a place where people can come and go pretty much as they please:
without anyone thinking that they're vagrants, criminals, or fascists.
It makes you think that here is a place
where anything is possible that here people might even be Free.

GOD FRAUD 2

Right wing religious radicals, came
to morally clean up the town;
some even wore bumper stickers
that proudly proclaimed
"Praying for the greater Portland area".
They encountered two brothers;
one with two handsome sons,
the other with one lovely daughter and a son.
First, they tried to bring the uncle and niece
together like two lovebirds, in a demonstration
of their special family values which they
laughingly call 'family affairs'-
their own jocular phrase.
Second, in their mounting frustration over failure,
they desecrated the grave of the brothers
dead grandfather, this sacrilegious act
was done ironically around Christmas.
Third, bearing false witness
pretending the father was queer they
tried to solicit incestous homosexual relations
between the Dad and his two sons.
Fourth, during all of the above they played pimp
for their "loved ones" trying to love their neighbor,
but instead the fools, whose "legacy is shame",
taught their children how to play
perverse, hypocritical and licentious games.

I like Catullus am angry because you
have taken innocent and good people
and turned them into your whores.
Nor shall you get away with it untainted...
Old Lady Rumor is still with us,
she shall tell future generations
what bad news you became!

CHILDREN WHO

The children who adorned
with all the programmed propriety
and carefully structured through each day
lose all the pleasures in life;
their straight jacket lives
restrict them at every turn.

The parents are paranoid that the young ones
might do something improper,
or become covered with the World's dirt,
and are even fearful of the Bacchanal celebrations.

Dear parents, it is no gain,
the prison of your programmed behaviors,
if it serves to shut out
the healthy dirt of the earth,
if it robs us of our birthrights,
and closes the great carnival of life.

FOUR HOURS

With a stormy brow
you demand where i've been,
for the last four hours.

A line silently snakes
across the blind, white page-
A trail on a map.
My heart swells
with a forest covered mountain,
singing birds
and wild fragrent flowers.

I who have just been
a butterfly,
soaring up through
shaded sylvan trails
to soft alpine meadows,
turn into a tortoise
slowly bringing back an answer.

muted with distance
a silver bell tolls
over an internal landscape.

"Where have you been
for the last four hours"?