The Bus to Heaven

Sometimes
sometimes i feel the cold, gold bonds of the world that atlas must feel, strong shoulders straining to bear the heavy hearts of liars, murderers, and thieves. then showers come and wash it all away in a cleansing ritual of mushroom clouds and radiation blowouts. and my shoulders feel free. instead i can feel my arms bearing the much lighter weight of cardboard-on-a-stick, my heart ripped, still pounding, out of my warm chest and stuck, like glue, for the whole world to see. i feel nothing- the cardboard has my heart. it bleeds too much. and at the end of the day i return home and i salute the red, forgetting in my unroman mind the blue and the white, placing them, too onto the cardboard. it becomes heavy. drops. and my shoulders feel the pain again.

Dirge
Roses rain and turn to dust-
The young grow old and the old will lust.
Dance upon the silver moon,
Know the rain is coming soon.
The chain will break and start to rust,
Scourge the earth till die it must;
Falling backward to the night,
Till no one's living left to fight.
Howls across the midnight sky,
In their flash the dead will lie.
Roses rain and turn to dust-
The young grow old and the old will lust.

Untitled
Am I pretty?
I've got a few extra curves
To make me
Softer.
More cushion for the pushin';
To make it obscene.
I've got full, pink lips
And carefully arched brows;
Deep, soulful eyes that
Are brown but flash green.
My Pagan soul dances
'Neath the solstice moon;
Spins magick to hide the
Evils of the world.
My spirit flies free,
Unbound from the ground-
Wolfin' eyes glowing,
And Angel wings unfurled.
Am I pretty?
Yes I am.
But my beauty can't be bought--
Or sold.

The Bus to Heaven
Sometimes when I look a certain way,
I see her there, just standing;
Like she's waiting for the train.
I see her and I know that she
Is dead. That she is a soul who
Missed the bus to Heaven and now
Waited for the train to Hell.
I see her and I wonder, am I
Dead, too? Am I walking, breathing?
Does my heart beat? Or am I dead,
Just like her, waiting for my bus
To Heaven? And then I shake my head
And nothing's there; just an empty
Place where nothing should've been and
Where nothing was again. I smile and
Walk, free from fear, knowing that my
Heart is beating and my lungs are
Pumping air. And I am happy.

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