Why Must I Bash You on Your Head?

Why must I bash you on your head
to make you understand?
You say I have no rationale
and do so 'cause I can.
But reason's not in rhyme,
and likewise sense is not in sight,
so do not say you taste the thyme
in my unleavened bread.

On My Visit to the Hospital

Sterile,
The only word that can describe
the stench invading my head,
like Persian soldiers breaching Athenian lines
and moving through Thermopylae to attack
the vast expanse of inner Greece.
Here ghosts in white coats linger,
gliding from battle to battle,
stooping over the wounded and damned,
heralds of false hopes that fallen men
cling too when their fingers fall,
to weak to hold a sword or spear
in the face of the incoming enemy;
foes who blacken the sky with arrows
like a blanket pulled over a scarlet bed spread.
Sterile,
There is nothing alive here.
White washed walls scream of the monotonous
passing of the souls upon the winds.
Better the rancid rancor of decay
of Persian and Athenian more alike in death
deposited in decomposing heaps,
blood seeping to mother earth
flesh rising to father sky,
then the putrid stench of bleach.
For in the carnage of war
some may still come out alive.

I Will Halt this at Hello

I will halt this at hello,
for i know not where this shall go.
To where did star-crossed lovers flee?
The grave, sweet grave will grant reprieve.
A path that neither wants to walk,
so we shall part and no more talk
of past fantasies no longer
sweet, my sweet. Resolve grows stronger
to lock the chest holding my heart.
Pandora's lips, please do not part
and utter the forbidden phrase
that will hurl me into a maze.
For I will never come to grips
with minotaurs mouthing their what ifs.
Please my love don't make me choose
for whoever I choose, I loose.

One Night I Dreamed a Dream

One night I dreamed I had a dream,
an awful fate I'm sure you know.
Awoke in fright of things to come
and crushed it so it could not grow.

How terrible a dream it was,
to dream a dream is nothing short
of war between to evil parts,
an endless struggle, pointless sport.

What dream can stand the test of time?
Can man to dream eternal give
when dream to man no solace brings?
For I'll not live to see it live.

Nor will I die to give it life,
for I must make my own life long.
Like light I pop up on this sphere
and at the speed of dark I'm gone

So no more tempt me with these lies
Begone O' Nightmare, flee you creep.
Leave my bed in peace eternal.
Please leave me to my blissful sleep.

Ode to the Night's Silence

The muffled silent melody
screams out at night, you I adore.
Your absence, it is hell for me,
it leaves me wanting more and more.

Your eerie tones of brass and base
echo and echo in my heart.
My loving temptress hide your face.
I alone understand your art.

Lo' what cacophony is this
that interrupts my mistress' song?
Be still my love, take hold of bliss.
Peace, wait, this won't take long.

A crow had in the other room
across the hall began to squawk,
a noise not even called a tune.
Begrudgingly began my walk.

The door creaked open with sigh
"can you hurry?" It seemed to say,
"Night wants to sing, she wants to die"
Gesturing with wooden arm "Obey!"

"Of course, of course. I will oblige
though not for you I do this deed
but for my mistress," I replied.
I stepped in on my shadow's lead.

A monster, I did see it now
beneath the sheets it heaved and moaned.
Though full of fright I wiped my brow,
Now callous as if struck and stoned.

It snarled and spat almost in spite.
Its hatred for my love now known
And slipping through the darkest night
I struck, I struck it to the bone.

With knife now drawn and sheathed inside,
The bewildered thing gave a scream.
In blood soak sheets it promptly died
And I walked out as in a dream.

The muffled silent melody
screams out at night, you I adore.
Your absence, it is hell for me,
it leaves me wanting more and more.

A Half-Washed Graffiti Mark

Upon a bathroom wall I propped myself,
all that I am and all I hope to be.
A bet, a risk, a gambit, all or none
and come tomorrow, I'll be, hopefully.

I scrawled a bubbled word to leave my mark,
the tang of sharpie sang a job well done.
Its voice then mixed with smells of putrid fear
And so i left, awaiting Setting Sun.

At once at dawn I happened 'pon the scene.
Though black blood trickled down in flattened spheres,
the evidence of the janitor's rage,
My name still stood in ink. I am still here.

Never Ask a Monkey Why

I brought my clock to Mr. Chimp,
The smartest in the land.
I placed it on his office desk.
"Could you lend me a hand?"

A thoughtful look took hold of him,
He hooted his consent,
or so I thought that's what he said.
I'm not sure what he meant


"My question is why does it tick?
Reply was furrowed brow,
He pointed at the inner cogs.
"Already know the how."

He smashed my watch upon the ground
with a remorseless stare.
Then grabbed a piece with zealous joy.
"Already know the where."

A look of terror grasped his face,
he knew not what to do.
He then showed me the maker's name.
"Already know the who."

He swept the tenants of his desk:
a mad search for a pen,
with which he tapped out intervals.
"Already know the when."

So he took his chair and hit me.
A black eye and a limp
were all I had to show for it.
"Last time I ask a chimp."