Short Ashed Poems

There was a firefighter named VanHoof
Who believed he was fireproof.
One day pride got the better of him
He acted when his chances were slim.
Thus in an infernal VanHoof went poof....

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Jutting out dangerously.
Attention needed urgently.
Gashed and hurtful no one liked. 
Grating metal barbed and spiked. 
Exposed wire to catch your clothes.
Dull and jagged everyone loathes....

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They say there was an eagle who came and took his chair,
and soon it spilt out black blood on you and me and off the East.
The gay man’s disguise is sexualised through the long legs
of Americas barbers chatter
as they trim out the last of terrors,
and as their reasons are no more,
the blood returns
to the red
sea, looking so black
and easy.
Curls of beard scattering
ashed terrain....

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black cat cast
what name
say you
leash
on
you
cat chaser
kitten pusher
poetry goo rue
pauperd inkling
blue pale ing lips
chill ing breath pin
pupils teach'ers pet
switchings apple test
sizzle ing towards pain
burning into remains
ashed sleeves dust
smoldering 
of
lust
shallow chains
locked aimed
bullseye view
attacking
you
rabbits hats vast past black cat cast...

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I promised to formulate a poem of beauty and joy
Out of this clay filled box...

But all I see is the ashed earth of it 
the texture of its brownness and reddishness

Like his skin it looks so cinnamony

Smooth
Like it would taste good
Though we both know it will not

I can drill a finger hole into the center of it and
now it is a square box ...with a round hole

 I do not fit nicely into either shape

as I am star dust and must just keep blowing around all the time...

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