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grand guignol

We could never equal Buchenwald.

 

In those days before the war,

Everyone felt what happened onstage was impossible.

 

Our nightmares of sadism and perversion

Played out under angels at watch over the orchestra,

Our fantasies fulfilled in the private rental boxes

Once occupied by supplicating daughters of Christ—

We, aroused by the unthinkable,

The unwatchable.

 

Crimes in the madhouse

The laboratory of hallucinations

The torture garden and guillotine

The insane street urchins, prostitutes and apaches.

 

Lilly Laudanum became the most assassinated women in the world,

After she kissed the leper.

 

Shot with a rifle, raped, hanged, quartered,

Burned, cut with surgical tools, poisoned,

Devoured by a puma—

Strangled by her own perfectly matched pearls.

 

She is all of us, wandering blind

In this world afraid of the foreign, the unknown.

 

We could never imagine it possible.

Now we know these things,

And worse

Are possible in reality.

 

 

Litha

litha

It’s not dangerous to play with fire—

You are insured.

 

White-robed dryad dancing barefoot in the midnight light—

Daughter of the oaks, you circle the flames,

Driving away dragons with your magic words.

 

You satisfy the sun god—

His face mirrored in a thousand green masks,

Gazing down through the foliate canopy.

 

The earth tilts on its axis and the sun stands still—

Rising to the highest point of its circle,

And then turns back.

 

The day of the Lord of Light

The dying of the old order

The rising of the new

The beginning of the end

 

No one will believe you fled to the woods on your own.

They will say you fell into the inferno.

No one will believe you stepped down on your own.

They will always say you fell.

 

 

 

 

 

ghost sonata

 

 

The Ghost Sonata

 

Immoral and brave,

I ignore church bells and the threats of hell.

 

The cripple reaches for me.

I have nothing for him—

Not his pencils, nor his pleas.

I will not push his chair.

 

Your whole life has been a fairy tale,

A single thread joining it together—

The leitmotif broken,

Pink lace in shards on the floor.

 

I am the caretaker,

Sunday’s child full of grace, fallen.

 

The clock has stopped.

The marble lady in the square regards me with disdain.

 

She has never seen such a broken masterpiece—

Sitting in a closet, eyes unable to see the day.

I can’t stand the light.

 

Pretty Polly, bright blue budgie.

Polly, whistle and sing for us, blonde girl.

 

When a house gets old, it gets moldy.

And when people sit around tormenting each other for so long,

They go mad.

 

Be quiet, Polly.

 

My name is Susan.

I can’t wipe the past clean.

 

Oh hyacinth, flower of my soul—

Snow-white roots,

Innocent and reborn.

 

A Dream Play

 

Oh, Daughter of Indra—

Descended to Earth,

Through Daddy’s clouds and thunder.

His lightning pierces the anthracite sky,

As you fall, fall.

 

You want to know what it’s like

To be human—

Feet sunk in clay,

The mud and blood, the failing flesh.

 

Why is it so hard to breathe?

 

You have left the second world and entered a third.

Bright chrysanthemum,

Hating the filth, pushing to the light,

Only to bloom and die.

 

Wrapped in your shawl,

Absorbing the world’s pain—

 

My child, the rough wool will never be big enough.

 

The silver thread is snapped.

You are earthbound.

 

Then you know what poetry is.

Then you know what dreams are.

Then you know what it means to love.

 

Dreams are always better than reality.

The struggle between the torment of pleasure,

And the suffering that brings release.

 

Oh, daughter of the rain,

Do you return to the clouds unscathed?

Or will you bring our supplications to the throne of heaven?

The Next Day

affadavit

Damn the crimson tulips—

Their sticky silk closed

Into themselves, in the weeds,

Awaiting birth.

Mocking me.

Doom the trumpets.

Curse the spoon-fed saccharine myths,

The fairytale gone bad, horribly awry—

They betrayed me.

I’ve stopped performing.

This hurts worse than I’d thought.

The shaking will not stop, steeped deep in my bones.

There is not enough Xanax, or sleep—

But It will pass.

This spring is an afterdeath.

An emptiness and hollow panic—

A hangover of uncertainty.

It will pass.

The brass key to that last door,

Pressed in my palm—

Then released to the floor.

 

America First

America First

Dismembered, one stroke of the pen,

One dollar at a time—

 

The arsonists are in charge of the fire station.

 

Destruction plumes, forcing fumes

To an indifferent, hazy sky.

Books and art in the sulphur flames

Crackle and snap alongside

Food scraps for the aged and

Melting plastic eyes of children’s puppets—

The radio hisses its last static,

Then silence.

 

The water leeches its lead,

Flowing down the strip mine scar.

A fiery freight car carries the lost

To the pyre on the River of the Dead.

 

In this deconstruction of the administrative state,

We’re all going to be deconstructed, destructed and

Tossed into the mass grave of alternative facts.

 

What did you expect?

@realDonaldTrump

twitter

45th President of the United States of America

Washington, DC

Joined March 2009

 

Played golf today with Prime Minister Abe of Japan and @TheBig_Easy, Ernie Els,

And had a great time.

Japan is very well represented!

 

I don’t know Putin, have no deals in Russia,

And the haters are going crazy –

Yet Obama can make a deal with Iran,

#1 in terror, no problem!

 

Don’t believe the main stream (fake news) media.

The White House is running VERY WELL.

I inherited a MESS and am in the process of fixing it.

 

The so-called angry crowds in home districts of some Republicans are actually,

In numerous cases, planned out by liberal activists.

 

Sad!

 

Great optimism for future of U.S. business, AND JOBS,

With the DOW having an 11th straight record close.

 

Big tax & regulation cuts coming!

 

I am so proud of my daughter Ivanka.

To be abused and treated so badly by the media,

And to still hold her head so high,

Is truly wonderful!

 

Give the public a break –

The FAKE NEWS media is trying to say

That large scale immigration in Sweden is working out just beautifully.

 

NOT!

 

My statement as to what’s happening in Sweden

Was in reference to a story

That was broadcast on @FoxNews concerning immigrants & Sweden.

 

Maybe the millions of people who voted

To MAKE AMERICA GREAT AGAIN should have their own rally.

It would be the biggest of them all!

 

FAKE NEWS media knowingly doesn’t tell the truth.

A great danger to our country.

The failing @nytimes has become a joke.

Likewise @CNN.

 

Sad!

 

Find the leakers within the FBI itself.

Classified information is being given to media

That could have a devastating effect on U.S.

 

FIND NOW

 

Seven people shot and killed yesterday in Chicago.

What is going on there – totally out of control.

 

Chicago needs help!

 

Stock market hits new high with longest winning streak in decades.

Great level of confidence and optimism –

Even before tax plan rollout!

 

I will not be attending the White House Correspondents’ Association Dinner this year. Please wish everyone well and have a great evening!

 

MAKE AMERICA GREAT AGAIN!

Housekeeping

housekeepinh

First, there’s a bag, then a box—

And another, then many more.

 

You fill a rusted dumpster with

Mismatched chipped dishes,

Shoes that gave you blisters.

 

Those stiff taffeta dresses from 1959,

Still smelling of your aunt’s verbena cologne—

You keep those.

Breathing in the memory, recalling all.

 

The detritus of experience builds its curious momentum.

Memories trapped in the stone dust basement,

Hurled outward in a mushroom plume.

 

How do you wipe clean a half-century?

 

Quickly, an impartial executioner—

Rinsing the blood from your knife.