Runaway Grip

White eyed ghouls smiling with snarling nail teeth
cling to white bone head ghosts with eyes of salmon
beneath harmonica warts with twisted mustaches
they sing for yellow baby chick people chirping on a string
writing in purple-green on a butt burned tapestry
near scared bellied weeping birch trees’ travesty.

Firecrackers, dead bored, uncurled I miss my girl.

My mind is gone, thoughts twist upside down swirl.
Half-moons munch quiet
leaving silver angels floating, drowning smiles - deceiving,
lost in clouds sniffing what once was pleasing.

Alone I sit my mind is grey passing time in one more chore
while scaly dragon’s fire tongue burns stuff to gore.
Spotted squid squealing arrive from meadow’s floor
where the naked tree’s whistle loud, “I deplore!!”.

Under mountains vague, my shadow sits.
Washed out shore from waterfall splits
at castles gate to not quite right.

I’d rather you be with me here tonight.

Air born white water from the hills and sky,
yellow ribbon candy, you’re in my mind’s eye.
One tear falls you, won’t stay,
charcoal barren landscape my yesterday.
Body parts orange are circles to explore
infinite curves did once I adore.

I’m the only man who ever sang of love at your door.

My pen screams the tones of sixty mouths all fat!
Your dreams never hear me shout like that,
like microphone's ungrounded exploding lips.
It's time you stand beholding my grips
through broken glass from hell’s ‘I quit pits’.