Reign IV

Each point of light another jagged edge,
Spotlight circle cutting and burning like
A surgeon’s laser. We wanted to dredge
Up something true delivered via mic.
(Ninety minutes and no intermission,
That was what we prayed for. Quick. Efficient.
A pie to the face or manumission,
Cheap laughs, tears, gasps, anything sufficient
To reach inside our chests, hold up our hearts,
And show them to us. Anthropomancy
Revealed what our minds could not, set apart
As they were, feeling from idle fancy.)
(We learned something abecedarian:
Leopard print and sequins aren’t Tyrian)


Reign III

The promises broke like glass, bright and sharp
Diamond caltrops against a black velvet
Floor. They were beautiful still in the harm
They brought us, to their infinite credit.
The pain reminded us of the power
They held. What could fascinate could also
Obliterate, what lifted could leave dour,
And what got us high brought about our fall.
We lived in a network of stimulants,
Danced with depressants, experimented
On our minds, self-appointed scientists
Desperate to synthesize gold from lead,
Or Icarus, star-gazing from a ledge,
Each point of light another jagged edge.


Reign V

Leopard print and sequins aren’t Tyrian,
Yet somehow you wear them like an empress,
Greco-Roman goddess, empyrean
Snow queen, or else a fairy tale possessed
Of beauty that drives men to agony.
But you are no urn and this is no ode.
And though I could write reams of flattery,
Fill libraries with choruses in code,
I’ll refrain. “Shall I compare thee…?” No. I’ll
Speak plain. I am honored to call you friend,
To know someone who is kind, both gentle
And unyielding, intelligent, a blend
Of qualities I myself strive to hold
(But in your hands, they are greater than gold)


Reign II

In our world (this green valley turned metal,)
We grew up as vault dwellers, told from birth
How SPECIAL we were, snowflakes and petals.
(But that was the vault, not the dry dead earth.)
How did we become doomsayers, preaching
The end of all things? Indigo children;
Products of forced evolution; reaching
Up towards the cosmos; holding communion
In some secret realm beyond human sight.
All these things we believed ourselves to be.
It was destiny that we’d shine, bring light
To a darkened world, set each other free.
It was promised, clear as notes from a harp.
The promises broke like glass, bright and sharp.


Reign I

It was always two minutes to midnight
In the land of the cowardly, those fools
Who had spent their lives giving in to fright,
Resigning themselves to living as tools
In the hands of selfish and simple men.
Their world was inconstant, shifting as soon
As they looked away. Their masters condemned
Them to a waking nightmare, lying, spoon-
Feeding them meals prepared from broken glass,
Fabricated from falsified figures,
Seasoned with warfare (global, racial, class,
Whatever worked, whatever would trigger
A search for the dark and not for petals
In our world, this green valley turned metal)


Lines Composed at Four in the Morning

As much as I hate that I do this to myself
There is something sacred
In this solipsism

The house is still
The lights are low
Nothing breathes but me


A Sixth Interpretation of King Eglon the Moabite

Tiny hands and a tremendous gut
Sat atop the shitter where they would die

We’re going to show them
How great Moab is
Let them see it
Let them feel it
Let our greatness spread
Like oil on water
Let it burn like a fire
Fit to engulf the earth”

They know, Sir, they know

Oh
Then, give us another slice of that cake
So beautiful
So delicious and moist


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