THE REQUIEM FOR SILENCE
1998


PREQUEL


The Requiem for Silence occured between 666 and 777. Between death and birth.... rebirth. These are the events leading up to that event. These are the fangs of the Reptile House.

SUNRISE

Liquid ascention:
fire and water
boiling off
woolen sweaters
for the edge
of the
sky.

***

NOONISH

If breakfast was not
a meal
it would be
a furry kitten
laying on my stomach
purring in a velvet
sunbeam.

***

GINA

Eyes awide
with spring expectations
airborne pheremones
long black dresses
and long black tresses
long black lashes
whisper
asking
age
old
questions.

***

Sand to glass
lament for protein
chains broken

exiciting

molecules

bringing me
warmth in
ocean
contingencies
waves and
pheremones
love and
nature
beauty and
chaos.

***

Disarm me in gilded smiles
all the while in denial
of your filthy dreams
save your screams in crystal tears
so severe all your tears
will wash away.

***

Non partisan in the politics of love
without a platform
or a soapbox
from which to cryout your name.
No fancy slogans
no baby kisses
no superficial promises.
My smile is not practices
in campaign trail mirrors
or flourscent boudoirs.
All acts on my part
are genuine
one hundred percent pure
all American BEEF.
But you blush and
whisper to me

"vegetarian".

***


REQUIEM


It is time for our generation to break free from the MOLD of the previous generation. (MOLD only rots and decays us. MOLD only makes carbon copies.)

They broke free from the conservativism of the past. Is it tooo unrealistic to expect people to rise from the ashes of the past and hatch as a glorious PHEONIX of the future?

Every generation has an edict. Be it conservative to the extreme, or liberal to the Extreme or chaos to the EXTreme, or even EXTREME to the EXTREME.

Chill tha fuck out.

Its time to go back to a mellower groove of Silence. Its time to return to the Earth. Return to the mind and not the chip. Return to poetry and not TOP 40 HITS. This is the Apocalypse and this is my requiem for the dead, my Requiem for Silence:

Roving Bands of Artists and Poets will conspire against you:

Shrouded in shimming velvet veils
with leather-bound thoughts
and soul stealing stares.

Out from their caves to swarm
in caffiene crack houses
or down to the sea
like lemmings in the dusty dusk:
crackers become saltine sardine snacks.

Howling at the naked moon
laughing at trend setters
walking straight down bending roads.

Cover your childrens ears and eyes
lest we corrupt them with Buddha Mohammed Einstien
lest they grow smarter than you.

And Roving Bands of Artists and Poets
will conspire against you:

Planting the seeds of revolution.

Sewing the intangible into
quilts of words and paint.

Whispering disillusion into the ready ears
of your daughters.

Carrying the stick of enlightenment
to beat out stupidity
crush intolerence
smash fashion
and kiss your children
with the touch of true compassion.

Throwing fists of change
blocking punches of repression
stomping on the army of false progress
with blistered feet.

***

Drunk on wisteria wine
I'm fine my hysteria is gone
it's been so long since
you strangled me last
but I still have the bruises
proof of our past
off the road and on the gas.

And I've stunk like this before
more than with this blue funk spore.

I showered and shaved
and showed you around
before I found out
what you didn't want
was what I had become.
Sometimes it's better
to lie and cheat and steal
than do what you really feel.

***

DIRTY HIPPIE

She sees only
dirty hippie and nothing else.

She does not see
angelic smiles
shy wistful glances.

She does not see
daisies and violets at her doorstep
poems on her dresser
words I would whisper into
the solemn night.

She does not see
armfuls of kisses
or quiet walks on misty garden paths.

She sees only
dirty hippie and nothing else.

We are all guilty
of first impressions:
I dont even know her name.

***

BEE-ACH

We glided
inches above the pavement
to cool jazz melody
watching the clouds
chase the son
out of heaven
passed grassland apartment buildings
and delta townhouses
passed atomic age beach shanties
dressed up in trailerpark googals.

Rushing like harpoons
into the heaving bosom
of the lusty southern Atlantic.

By moonlight we sunned
on plastic throwns
and surfboard recliners.

And when the Italian lost the keys
to the chariot
we sat like three melting gargoyles
upon the hood
and I contemplated the karma
of the roaches we had massacred
in the Bacchanalian frenzy
the night before.

And the drunken daughters
of the Southern Atlantic
ran screaming through the parkinglot
for a sandy bed
and a
salty fuck.

***

Resistence to the
pearlessence of time
captivated in
whirling cogs and
splaying hands
brings me here.

I have been told by
shuddering prophets
of the dragons of the ocean and earth
with seven heads seven crowns and ten horns
jutting in a maddening array
and upon their brows
the mark of the beast:

.... 666
6 6 666
.... 666

6/6/1998

Apocalypse in her golden robes
descends to the Earth to give birth
to the new kingdom.

***

MEGATON JELLYFISH

Armageddon strikes
with its clammy tentacles
squeezing out
the last breaths
of society.

I am left
washed ashore
only bones and gristle:
the skeleton of humanity:
instinct and inhibition bared.

Will you find me on the beach
and take me home
to your tender alcove
and nurse me back to wealth?

***

On my back
wet with grassy dew
the heavens stretched out before me:

a roadmap to the diverging paths
of millions of astrological highways.

But as I study the intricate intersections
of the cities in the sky

I realize not only that I am lost
but that I dont even know where
I am going.

My house
somewhere in the township of Aquairus
my heart
somewhere in the spinning balls of gas and plasma.

***

YES TIGERLILLIES HAVE FRECKLES TOO

Sunrise complexion
alabaster and silk
tigerlilly tresses
in the wind.

Fairy footprints
tiptoe
off of your skin
onto
the bed.

***
carbonated kisses
for sodapop lovers
burps of passion
***

SOMETIMES

When friends run arm in arm
down the beach
I walk a step behind
to watch sea bird ballets.

When comrades flock in disco icerinks
to enjoy the company of hard ice
I sit in the parent's bleachers
to enjoy the company of hard seats.

Wehn aquaintences go to beer shacks
to drink away the lonely night
I go home to warm pillows
to stay up with an old book.

When all the blue cars race
through the lights in smoke and fire
I wander down the path
less traveled to pick wildflowers.

When kids break open concert doors
to have their ear drums pummeled
I whistle a 50s doo-wop song
to myself in the supermarket.

Sometimes:
I like to be by myself.

***

Stars are smiles from heaven
loving eyes staring down on
their children.

There is always hope that
the lone star winking
on the horizon was sent
by a long lost love.

And the brightest star
must be god himself smiling down.

***

LITTLE THINGS SEEM LARGER IN THE HEART

stars and freckles
lighting bugs

four leaf clovers
and tiny angel winged
seashells

buttercups and
the little creases
in your cheek
that is the onset
of a smile

azure butterflies
in the mudpuddle
and the small
sparkle in your eye
when I bring you
all of these things.

***

DAWN

Starlights parade
marched back to heaven
and the sky opened up
like a glossy blue glass
oxygenarium
terrarium
aquarium
for Aquarian minds
and Pisces dreams:

Never suspecting
life befond
the
fishbowl.

***

After the apocalypse
I crawled from the ashes
and with pheonix fingertips
wiped away the soot
of your
scalding sensibilities.

Romantics are cursed doubly:
to know the true truth
of the world
and to live inside
a self constructed shell.

I feel the restraint
on my wings
I have gorged away
my safety yolk
but with no eggtooth
to pry myself loose:
I need your
incubation
crush.

***

Poet and a painter
singer and a sculptor
liver and a lover
waiting for you
for lifetimes
timelines on
eyelid curtains.

These eyes are
older than this head
feathery daisychains and crisp
lightening bug constellations
for a moment I have
been here with you
before:
even though
we have just
met.

***

my smile
is A Requiem for Silence
from the chattering
of gossipboxes
and engines

the grinding
of gears
and teeth

the industry
of industry
and industious men.

***

granite blocks
on truck beds

on their way to
adorn casket heads

to remind the living
how many are dead

***

LAPPING CROSSES

All the poodle people
primp
pimp whorescopes

Worse than most
mirror
fearing christians

Blistering with holy combs
brush flustering
clusterfuct syndromes.

***

Wandering
Jazz Addicts
collect
in pools
of cool.

Vibing on
that
one
VIBEration.

***

Have you seen the
Surf Side Poets
flock
to
HARBORS
within
their own
MINDS?

***

Have you seen hate
swirling in these
scalding eyes
of passivity?

Have you seen me
lingering in shadows
of stairwells
hiding from the flocks?

Have you seen
the childish confusion
and fear
that has come
over my new
cautious stance?

Afraid to grow
afraid to love
afraid to die afraid.

***

Who will impale
your cunt tonight
baby?

Who will drive
off with
you?

Who will
make you
cry yourself
to
sleep?

***

THE FACTORY

Plastic people live their
plastic lives
The Factory gives and The
Factory thrives
molding plastic parts for
your injection-molded minds.

Plastic cities planned
and perpetrated
by evil men laying waste
to the gentle Earth
throwing her children
into cages
of brick and plaster
perverting life
into a checklist of
corporate accomplishments.

Since when was happiness
dictated by the
number of
papers you push?

***

222 years of evil
in the year 666
666
666.

777 is the mark
of creation
what will the
7th of July hold?

Will there be Phoenix flames
and revolution
or will we fall
forever lost

into the spinning gears
of The Factory?

What has numerology done but confuse the truth?
What has truth done but confuse US?

***

How smooth to use
the moves
passed down
from father
to son.

How nice to
fill women's
heads.

Can you fill
what is already
full of lies
from cosmetic
sources?

How wise
to try.

***

Are conversations necessary here?
What she wants.
What he needs.
What buttering up
is necessary to slip
it in?

A mutual silent agreement
to bullshit
for at least
an hour
before fucking.

Will she steal
your cigarettes
in the morning
or will you
steal hers?

***

JEFF

Are you the Lizard King?

Yes I am. I make the blue cars go away.

Good to meet you Lizard King. I have a little book I write my poems in.

Good to meet you.

Can you write a poem about that girl's ass? The one in the yellow...

Probably.

Will it be poetic or lascivious?

Most definitely lascivious.

It looks like she heard us. Shes coming over here to give you inspiration!

Oh.

***

Perfume and beer
mingles with
grease and pot
barely.

There is still the
distinct stench
of old lines
rotting in the humidity.

***

Sailboats and Powerlines are of the Same Lineage.

Trumpet blasts of
the Empire
will Vader get
his change?

***

BEAN AND BUD BUZZ HAS ME BURNT

Another sellout
an art school freak
in corduroys
older than himself.

Who wore them last
a loser reefer addict?
a disco-king a pimp?
a poet lost in his own lines?
a redneck?

***

For half a glance
it was there.
Behind shimmering
drunkenness;
a cry out
a call

help?

or fuckoff.

it's hard to see by street light.

***

SUGAR EXPRESS

Behind whitewashed and rigged
coastguard glamour
the blackmass of
the
"Sugar Express"
is tugged out to do
the dirty work of
society:
commerce.

Drunken sailors
do not see
the silent siloette
slip
passed stern
and bow
stern and bow
stern and toilet.

***

What spirit
do you carry
on your neck?

Amulet of love
vigor courage
or hate?

A plastic talisman
charm.

***

Cats are quiet people
preferring the language
of leg rubs and chest
kneading to that of
sappy poetry and
slimy comeons.

***

Armies of antifascists
rally
in
suburban
caves of clamor.
In full nylon
and polyester
cotton parachute pants
dogcollars
universal uniforms.

Squatter punks
and
pretty SKAunks
in frenzied legion.

***

Field of broken glass
stars lying in
the grass
temptations
for the barefeet
telling tales
of bacchanalian nights
and drunken fucks.

***

What is the price is sanity?
to live life in fear.
to miss all the intricacies of the mind.
to be the same person
everyday everyyear
until you die.
to be buried and forgotten.

***

Too much
socialization
has made me
weary.

Too many
smiling faces
to many
lying eyes.

Too much
society
is killing me.

***

Distant hazel orbs
stare out from
their sockets
and catch you
in their gaze,
like leather
and steel
traps
holding
you down.

***

Down to
thriftshops
and vintagestores
to
discover the derilicts
of the past.

Down to
coffeeshops
and tearooms
to
socialize in the
ageless custom
of rebellion.

Down to the
valley
girls and boys.

Down to
the lake
with the Factory.

***

Fight the Factory
Kill the Corporation
Starve the Society

welcome
2 the
ANTISOCIETY.