The Turtle Parade

I.

oh,
the filth
and
fury of
the
nightingale's whistle
illuminates
the darkness
to
reveal a
punch
drunk procession,
one
absent a
brain,
marching slowly
in
time in
the
turtle parade


II.

magistrates and
rancid
troupe men
grate
their crooked
teeth
beneath their
veils
while skeletons
in
the closet
remain
disguised as
coat
hangers in
the
turtle parade


III.

oh,
I see
the
foolish party
in
my dreams
at
night and
stir
awake upon
the
backs of
brutes
and as
I
hear cries
of
verity inside
the
grenade they
are
lost in
the
shrapnel in
the
turtle parade

Shooting Star

He
took a
moment to bask
in the
reflected
moonlight
that danced
across her face
from the
waves
on
the ocean
as the spark
in his
heart
disappeared
like a
shooting star fighting
for its
life

oh

sometimes, i can't wait until
i die so i can look God
in his smug face:

what the hell, man
...

oh

but who died and made you God?
the only answer being
God and God

and ill show him my poem
about the tree
and he will show me the tree

...

oh

fear

if fear
is love
than i
am scared
to death
i am
filled with
an uncertanity
so sweet
i can
taste your
lips in
my sleep
an exhilaration
so rich
my skin
prickles with
electricity so
that i
dare to
live more
in a
second than
i have
in a
year.

the two oceans of the soul

And God said, "Let there be a firmament in the midst of the waters, and let it separate the waters from the waters."
-Genesis 1:6

lanterns, their sources
and their reflection,
wax and wane
as the waves
crash on the
rock of the
void that seperates
the two spheres.