Overturned in the valley

In a blood spattered car...

They'll say accidents happen

With a language so lazy...

There are lesions so sinister

Like a head in a jar

Left behind in a Freak Show

That has shuttered it's doors...

The police and detectives

Do their digging with care,

And though burning red signs point

The bodies aren't there...

What can one do but wonder?...

...And that takes certain strength

When our cultural zeitgeist

Is a spoiled fish tank...

Yes, there's mountains of questions,

Growing higher each year...

Seems we're fed tiny pellets

Then instructed to steer

This sinking raw notion to

The immortal beyond

With a maniacal flag whipping

High from the pond

That we all stumble into

On our road to success...

From up high in the canyons

The vultures descend

Tearing chunks off from truth,

They so thoughtlessly rend...

The remains of the carrion...

All that's chomped down and mashed

Still retains timely residue

So all hopes are not dashed...

With the magnifying glass turned

Up to match our wit's end

We could challenge what's favored

'til the picture frame bends...

Who knows what will emerge

When we pass through this bile...

Taking chances makes progress...

We must lay our own tile...

All the unsolved dead cases

Aren't shot or passé...

They just need a new breath...

We must venture to say

That we don't know the story

From it's back to it's front...

There's old lines that they feed us,

And no matter how blunt...

How shocking the outcome;

It deserves a fresh eye...

Stick your peepers into this

Sizzling bed of raw coals!...

Let them roast like

Cooked chestnuts!...

Set your gaze...

Let it hold...

Always hunger with

Lenses

That lean out

To grasp...

This earth needs burning eyes

Sifting though what is rare,

That will rise to the fight...

Filling tires with fresh air.

Bunny Villaire

6/27/23

Edit#2

At times I feel like an old book spine...

Fatally frayed at the edges, but somehow the pages hang

So desperately together, suspended in time

Like a 50's biker gang passing out smokes

outside a store they have plans to trash...

Or an ancient piano that you find in a burnt down building

That must have been a school or something,

But now has no educational function except as a time capsule,

Which is pretty damn educational actually...

Spray painted by perhaps the same kids that frequented the school once upon a time...

The circle of life...

Sometimes I feel creaky,

And snaky as an old alley cat...Meow!...

Maybe that's why I always love old alley kitties and reach to pet them whatever the flea ridden worm happy consequences...

My body beckons from the graveyard of life,

And I feel the soil inch up around me like a python hug,

But with each Mortality Tango

I come closer to tasting my youth in all it's raw acrid acid reflux abundance...

So often we don't know what we have until

It's forgotten,

Though the eyes of a child are never gone

Only shunned out of blindness, and disorganized disregard...

At times I feel like an old book spine...

Fatally frayed at the edges, but somehow the pages hang

desperately together, suspended in time...

Dipped in the liquid quicksand that passerby's so often miss...

From the future I watch you through the glass from the outside

As you live and breathe within this school before the fire...

The standard lessons slide right by you,

Arithmetic, and History class dissolve...

But there's something far more canny

That's being vacuumed

Up via your cranium...

The fly inside the ointment...

The rift that links both worlds...

I see it glisten in your window gazing orbs...

The sun goes down, and as it's colors dissipate

The school is burned to ash, but you still move

And change within the haunted bird who beats her feathers

Inside and upon the funeral pyre of existence...

The Mortality Tango

Has your number by it's sights...

...Holds my digits over waterfalls like the castrated balls

In a Mapplethorpe picture...

Spells the cut out words dramatically staining

The naked wall of a public stall in sleazy neon...

Rolls the icy hard dice, and then there we go...

...We're off and running!...

Bunny Villaire

6/24/23

Edit#3

Crackheads down South Street...

Runaway train...

Something in her faded leather

Boot is making pain...

She slows and fights dramatically

To readjust her frame...

Fixes the strap, and wobbles on...

Her addict friend slows down...

He's yelling that they must

Keep moving...

Aquire their Mark in town...

That easy John,

Some stupid prick

That drops his guard and cash...

Pants are hanging 'round his ankles

While Luella grabs and hikes...

Leaving him in dire straights

At least for two more nights,

Until he finally grasps

What's really put at risk...

The family farm?...

The sequin charm?...

The smile that was his pitch...

She rolls him for a sucker,

As her junkie pimp

Takes more

Then what she thought that

She was owed...

The scrappings on the floor

Are all the bald head chick

Has spent

For one quick pleasure trip...

Flying like a precious diamond

Over her flesh and clay...

That's her out there,

She threds the fix...

Her boot collects

Loose rocks...

Diamonds on the inside pinching...

Plucking on the skin...

Wind plays her guitar strings...

Discards her at a whim...

Crackheads down South Street...

Runaway train...

Something in her faded leather

Boot is making pain...

She slows and fights dramatically

To readjust her frame...

Fixes the strap, and wobbles on...

...Fixes the strap, and wobbles on...

Bunny Villaire

6/25/23

Edit #2

Seasons without reason change,

And we are thrown astray...

A kindly word, not thought as huge,

Becomes a heavy weight...

I'll have a friend who slips

Into the frame...

While another is tossed

Off my dock...

Come and go,

They run like paint...

New and old, they'll thread

Their knot...

Releasing and ensnaring me...

I'll see them do their

Magic dance...

It leaves an imprint, and I'm

Forever changed...

Like dewdrops catch

The sunshine's gold in a

Displaced field of flowers...

Will you be a forever friend?...

I've seen you show

Your face again...

Tomorrow they say

Your ship will sail,

But yesterday your swift

Coat tail was caught within the

Here and now,

And when you bent

To retrieve it's shape

You said,

"You will see me once more..."

I wonder, as you close

That door

What you will look like

At the next

Passage or backstreet

I stumble...

What new glow will your

Welcome face hold?...

What urgency will manifest

Into a brilliant manifold?...

Telling a story

Within subtext...

Are you in love?...

Has karma blessed you

With hot cosmos teeming

Out your eyes?...

I bow to bless you,

I'll bend an ear

Of corn

Along your path of gold...

Whether our roads are

Short or long

I'll smile at you

Inside the rearview

Of my

Lucky mind...

Bunny Villaire

6/22/23

Edit #2

Motor demon slashing by...

Why do you make the babies cry?...

Without care for when or why...

Pissing out your gas and sloppy semen...

See you sometimes in the threads of daylight...

Unshaven bygone pirate of a dead and buried age...

I do admire your fire and meat cleaver mentality

On the prowl for freedom from the normal hype...

Is anyone who walks or drives a modern rig

Just fodder for your will to burn it to the ground?...

All of the breathing, and alive in this time

Are we dead flowers in an insect infested urn?...

Motor demon slashing by...

Why do you make the babies cry?...

Without care for when or why...

Pissing out your gas and sloppy semen...

Every persuasion has it's flaws...

From 'The American Dream'...

To the latest flash mob...

From Hitler's Germany

To the Hell's Angel's;

We're all breathing down each

other's backs in different shifts

Like we know the world's secrets,

When no one knows a damn thing

Except how to boorishly shove

Their individualism down the next hopeless

Bystanders throat until they choke...

Motor demon slashing by...

Why do you make the babies cry?...

Without care for when or why...

Pissing out your gas and sloppy semen...

Why can't we meet both ways

And fight this fight together?...

I like your fury for the modern age,

And long for the winds of change to pelt my skin

As I go riding down at a hundred miles an hour either

Beside you or behind your Horse of the Apocalypse...

Why do you seem so eternally lonely,

Like your sunset's in the can

And the next get off will be a crash

That we both can't walk away from?...

...Where the future and the past

Become an amalgam for the present...

I'm already wincing from your absence

As you desperately remind us

Of your existence in the pocket...

Praying you'll make it through the mill...

Bunny Villaire

6/21/23

He was wandering among

The dumpsters where the

Heat crept

Through the streets...

In a beatific sort of daze

He was

Determined to retreat

Behind the places where sunlight

Glimmered, and stole in from

Cracks and slots...

His body moved at a slower

Frequency,

So he communed with

What was not;

At least in the sense of the

Red blooded,

And their predilection

To judge, gestate, and deny...

Always shaking crooked fingers

At the Howler in the sky...

He was wandering among

The dumpsters with a heaping

Hand of ash...

He has ashes of

The bridges burnt

Securely in bandana,

And he was praying that the plot

Would twist...

Though his mind was in Valhalla

That we can't afford to go to...

No, it ain't Cali or Miami...

Nothing you saw on TV....

You would have to be there

To understand...

Best to forget it, and continue...

Fuck off back home if you

Can't hang...

This is his story...

It's not yours, although

Perhaps you can relate...

He was wandering among

The dumpsters where the

Heat crept

Through the streets...

In a beatific sort of daze

He was

Determined to retreat

Behind the places where sunlight

Glimmered, and stole in from

Cracks and slots...

Will he find it,

Or keep wandering?...

Or is his recycled plot

Just an echo of the past that's being

Broadcast back your way?...

You seem fixated on his quick descent,

Though as for virtue

You couldn't say...

Best to keep both your lips pursed,

Until your speaking from the heart...

He was wandering among

The dumpsters while

You peered from your

Dodge Dart...

Bunny Villaire

6/7/23

Edit #3

Thanks Joseph Kempster Deakins

For first line of poem inspiration.

Coming through...

Is it all coming through?...

Did you stamp from above

And push thoroughly down

So the image is rendered

And the cynical clowns

Will see your full intention,

So the caged bird can sing?...

Shit...there's not enough ink...

Start again from the top...

Strain your muscles again...

Makes sure tendons won't pop..

Watch the sweat rolling down

From your nose to your eyes...

Put your best effort in...

Smacking back those horseflies...

Coming through...

Is it all coming through?...

Have you questioned your motives?...

Is it for them or you?...

Fitting in is for square pegs,

It's for filling up coffins...

Make a stamp that will resonate

With a space you go often...

It must tickle the ivories...

It must blowtorch the locks

'til their barracks is exposed...

And those dangling bodies

Which were rotting for weeks

Hung by necks double knotted;

Are presently exhumed

For the mass populace...

When they see future follies

Will it change how they live?...

Probably not, doesn't matter...

You're too busy to grieve...

Keep on pushing, producing...

'til your calluses bleed,

And the sun fades to nothing

In the back of the sky...

Coming through...

Is it all coming through?...

Bunny Villaire

6/7/23

The wind she comes

Without remorse...

The wind blows in, and

Shifts all course

Before we have a say if

Hairs

Should be flat or stick

High up there's...

The wind will sculpt us!...

This Mother Wind...

Her sweet abandon balks at

Whim...

I know so little, as she toys

With all my precious

Odd shaped joys

That someone else sees merely as

The scraps and snatches

Of static Jazz...

The wind she comes

From the meta verse...

Twisting the roads, and

Creation births...

Wild wind in fury indent my plates

And fuse a new erotic fate

Out of the fossils of lost love's

Who were destroyed by perverse gloves

Of some goosed psycho who's drink was

Spiked

By lack of love or

Other shite

That draws a stereo-

Type from dirt..

That wind whips vicious-

ly and flirts

With madness in his many forms...

The wind she comes, and

Throws up arms!...

The loose of heart hide seeds like darts,

But wind erodes each mythic stance,

Tips woven baskets

Right off staircase,

Upturning plastic...

Makes mates displaced,

Whilst also opening old sores

All happens without pause through gusts...

Flipping froze features, and cracking busts

Of manic preachers who tow the line,

Until they finally

So humbly take

The blame for pissing

In love's lake...

Bunny Villaire

6/3/23

Edit#3

I saw you at the crossroads

Of the chimera and the dream...

Both had grown out of the flowers

In the garden where I knelt

To embrace the scent of summer...

It was hidden in this veldt...

And then like flash lightening

Over ink black sky

It spread like wildfire in one night

Through stone pits and cherry blossoms...

Through every inch of breathing dirt,

Until the cold parts glowed with girth,

Packing a punch of pungent life

That brought the baby spikes return!...

O, please...bless them on their crooked, broken paths...

Just like light people float through veins,

Those networks of loosened street and asphalt,

Or alleyways with restless feet

That fret, and dally...

Dive, and dip...

And dance so awkwardly with death...

It comes so unexpected through romances of blind intent...

I saw you at the crossroads

Of the chimera and the dream...

Both had grown out of the flowers

In the garden where I knelt

To embrace the scent of summer...

Now the petals twice their size!...

I never will forget the curiosity of bugs,

And caterpillars that ran their entire length

Through my long finger tents

With fine finesse...

Now it is I,

Beneath the flesh

Of some great unknown hand

That's propped so calm

Inside the sweet, and succulent feast that's laid

In this garden at night where

I practiced my

Transition...

The flowers stretch so tall now,

I can barely see their bobbing heads...

The pollen drops like giant pixie dust exploding softly at the left and right of me...

I am within a wall of grass blades and

I'm inhaling the sights of

Enlarged life at night...

The flowers talk to me in dreamy hushed tones,

And they tell me I'm alright...

I have been here for sometime, but for how long

One can't tell...

I only know I'm off the grid,

And it makes my heart feel well...

Bunny Villaire

6/2/23

Edit #2

At that place where cresting waves

Reach high

To blend and part the earthly veil...

That sacrificial line between time and space,

Sea and sky,

You and I,

I did detect an egress

In the swirling Eddy, while the gulls danced

With the diamonds, on the periphery...

It was your eyes, and I

Locked on...

While the madness of the depths

Grew grim,

Your blue green windows opened up, and

A moonlight trail began to wind off

Into the horizon of your landscape...

I saw a dock somewhere beneath

A charcoal shadow to the right,

And I dropped my anchor there within your

Globes of sea and sky...

Suddenly a stillness settled over all...

The churning waves began to quell...

My hands dipped into yours,

Lightening cracked...

Your mouth to mine,

We gelled together,

Shifting clouds,

And mixing pallettes

While we lifted to the heavens

Just like windblown seeds so high!...

Arriving at this state of mind

With clouds gathering in our armpits,

And the blue water splashing far

Below our feet...

I feel you invade every swollen inch of my body...

You've encompassed me

Like the sea to sky

And you to I...

5/28/23

Bunny Villaire

For: Mavia Villaire

Edit #2