we...

"we were made the dictators of the words"

                                                      3 imagineers

once we went pop there was nothing left to stop

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=vTHEwyf4WD4

courtesy of the 3 imagineers and ance zu zu

macabre dance

Under the spring pine branches

in the cemetery of youth

i feel asleep for many years

as the sun rose higher

the un-mowed grass weaved

a basket that cradled me

like a child

yellow and white daises

turned their long necks

and broke in a shower

of petals and pollen

making a blanket

against the autumn rain

visitors sat with me during

my slumber

a woman in a wheelchair

struggled through the grass

and around the graves

and out of her own

begged me to come play durak

come listen to vinyl records

that filled her living room with

sounds that swell and covers

that cluttered

"Dear Martha," i said

"If i am not mistaken,

you

are

dead."

she had a look of horror

on her face,

"if you are not a ghost

why keep haunting me?"

love is a ghost...

hidden in our closet...

like a body...

devoured by the things to come...

 in the junkyard of my life

i recycle thoughts

put them in boxes

and leave them for others to dislike...

and the broken wheel chair keeps on turning...

like a russian roulette...

from the wheels of a child's bicycle...

to the ball of the roulette...

to the one in the pipe...

the barrel of a gun...

the sewage pipe...

that brings me back to the junkyard of my death

i live a life of bursting starsthat

drip with honey falling from the moon

my life- my velvet flower

sleeps in crisp twilight

warm and smoothcobble stones sitting idlyin forgotten photographs

i swim on the cream of herskin and softly fondle thetips of her perky swollennipples

caress the full and growingmoon inside her wombthat carries a shimmeringocean of hopes and fears

every moment a new dawnprospects for life swollen to the seamsthe soft pear melting like butter inmy mouth

but nightly shadows also passof women weeping and screamingin the corners of my mind

my mother stands in the raindrawing pictures in the graysand of a baby falling from a tree

a lover lays in the harsh florescent lights

of hospital beds, bleeding from a gape

in her chest

baby silent and blue cased in cold placenta

floats in a bathtub humming lullabies to itself

that tumble out the windows like boulders

a parade of faces vaguely familiar march

to beats pounded that rumble through my

innards after swallowing fistfuls of sand

These are shadows

I tell myself

sucking on the honey dripping

from the stars

Between birth bath

and death bath

constant hurry

Constant worry

for those familiar faces

still under earth

They will not know

the trees, the sky,

the ocean that held

A moon of creatures.

My life, a bursting star

sleeps in darkness.

macabre dance...

from birth do death...

imagine

the unthinkable...

think about the un-imaginable...

be the imagineer u allways wanted...

Remember, remember that rainy September

to my little unborn one...

i'm your father...
even if u don't know me...
i'm the one, who taught you how to ride
down the lane of memories
even if u never walked...
i'm your father
an almost star wars quote,
even if u never heard it...
"i'm your father..."

even if i loved your mother,
i'm not your father...
even if I handpicked your first bib

i'm not your father

you'll never know
how I could have held

you

how I could have whispered
lines of dead poets

to you

how your mother and I
slept under the new york
moon, sweating the night

you were conceived

and if you are like me
the not knowing will
make

you hate

the moon is the egg
I fertilized

And when you were born
an electrical storm

swept across the Pacific
lightning, white caps

waves smashing palm trees
rain like metal balls

and I while you slept

I went to a bar called SNAKE PIT
prayed to learn how to be a father

since that hour
I have not seen the moon.