Poetic Justice

Forever it seems I’ve loved you… forever it seems, yet at some distance. What other place?

“CAGE” -- a thieve's argot. Behind this bridle, a seizure by the denizens.
Behind a bar of metal, of soap or of popular opinion?

…until the only thing left to decide is… what to do (but I won’t ruin it for the rest of you.)

Theory-lending by the effete. Tired allegories. Truth or something like it
(and leave it at that). It’s all a matter of shadings.

And so it goes. This part is over. Poetic justice? I only wish.

K.P.
* I understand you, B -- in acknowledgement to "Piers Plowman."

The Power of Crazy

The Power of Crazy…

The beauty of a place like this -- (squid ink protection for we and our little chimps.)

Together we have discovered the miracle of disappointment. Release! Women and children first.

Parked cars, brief pockets of fun, lovers kissing (trying to look ironic) and then confusion sets in.

Alas, a situation that must wait…

Deep are the flavors of our smoke; edibles in abnormally dark colors.
And still we wait! -- lest our delicacy of equilibrium be interrupted.

Nothing good can come from any exercise; barring an aspiration to grace -- the largest the law will allow!

Sing to us your Scary Jesus Songs, with your fiddles, for we have lost our way.

k.p.

Something's Wrong Again

Something’s wrong again

Something’s wrong again. Paradoxical humor.

The Spectrum: A visual pollution you call fashion.
A pandering glance…permission to smother in one’s sleep.

Upon this famously useless victim I am pulling the plug.
A phantom imprint or its large barge?… I simply don’t know.

A delusion to haunt; A borrowed nostalgia to protect.

The Ignis Circle…an octave overheard. (Für Elise) -- You arrogant whore. I will lick your face; You know I want to.

A space to catalogue; a sequence of steps to knock one into silence.
- Ashes to ashes.

A pretty pattern? I simply don’t know…

k.p.

** weaning