Best Gnaw Poems

Grim fog, I praise the shelter of your drear,
the sundown ghost morose not grandiose,
I walk alone - but, no -- with my despair;
a bittern bids...

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I cry, I cry
Why does my skin color frighten you so?
Have I done anything,  but, be born?

You judge me, from your own despair
and draw...

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Continued from Part 1

Hungary hounds harangue the highlands,
howl at skies and desert islands…
Below, unfettered carbon crows conceal the parting path she chose

Lighthouse lamps and lanterns...

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It must be hard
To carry it around
That load of hate
Weighing on your heart
A powder keg
Waiting to explode

You pretend it isn’t there
But now and again it...

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I dream that tonight I am a raccoon
And it is here in this body that I store the notion
That my sadness will last forever,
In the...

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It must be hard
To carry it around
That load of hate
Weighing on your heart
A powder keg
Waiting to explode
Hurting others but
Killing your own soul

You pretend it isn’t...

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LIFE'S UNDISCOVERED PASSION 

I reached up far to touch a star.
It only took a second.
I thought I heard a salient call 
alas it did not...

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C'mon you ole devil, take your best shot!
You kidding? That's it? Is that all you got?
I know where I'M going; He's saved me a spot
I'll...

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The skeletons and songs of samsara eternal
fleshed, fattened and flamed in karmic harmony,
your heart begins to beat in dark plethora roll
an in utero thunder thumps...

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tiny words

'went to the gas station
and opened my mouth 

filled my stomach
with gasoline

lit a match and 
swallowed it in

burned myself
smoked with fire

i spread like charcoal...

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Oh, please, drop something in my cup, a bill or batch of change,
to see me smile when I look up...my fear with hope exchange.
A homeless...

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Playing
          Russian roulette
          With fate

  ...

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Such explosions of love ecstatic
from fumbling youths and naive romantics.
In wedded bliss when passions flowed
two people alone in honeymoon glow
Flammable pleasure, ignitable moments to treasure,
we...

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Once commenced the fest of feasting and giving thanks for genocide,
‘Tis the season to be jolly to replace our thoughts of suicide.

Santa claws his way...

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Monsters may not want blood,
and they may not have claws,
nor the mandible, drooping—
the smiling jaws;
without scales or hair,
even growling, I dare
say that monsters may lurk
deep...

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