Saturday, October 24, 2009

Poems by Allen Masterson10/24/2009

Lighthouse and Lord's Prayer

The ride began at dusk
Subtle scent of feminine musk
Skin silk
Mother's milk
Paisley sky
Pulsating hieroglyphs
Painting a picture of an iris-coned god
Abstract taste of deciphered decisions
Fear of truth in petrified visions
Hands melting to Lord's Prayer
Orange death's horizon scare
Left alone to suffer
A hellish orgasm
Impregnating heaven
With one demon seed
An insatiable appetite
To appease a need
Take flight with amplified No-Doze
Find rest with juxtaposed benzos
Sweating nightmares on the Lighthouse Highway
No light in this house, though...
The family's never home

Conflicted Peasant

Brilliant minds are beginning to surface on the sea of peasantry;
we can't have that now, can we.
Original thought without the subtle guidance of a mechanical curriculum will only
create havoc in our beloved technocracy.
Inspire the artist to conceive television utopias in a blink of attention deficiency.
Eye candy drugs dripping from radio wave orgies of consumption.
In the silence of their eyes plant vicarious deception.
Holden Caulfield's goddam phonies fucking jazz while supporting our troops.
Bleed the land, murder the individual, and fill my tank with unleaded intellect.
Nothing here to save us, our savior found in nothingness.
The perfect midnight yantra is the navel of a diva floating on the frost ridden plain of our primordial hunting ground.
Four great arms to hold us and chisel out our infinite cosmic void.
We never quite appreciate the keepers of the light.
In my mind is the key, but the key is housed in silence,
and I'm afraid of death which dwells inside her... she who knows our fate.
Sex becomes more violent with existence dipped in war; the rhythm more cathartic; each thrust a parley with perdition.
Please don't let them know how I feel. Don't let them know I'm not DOWN.
They can't realize I'm capable of expression.
I've lived up to their expectations of an isolated maniac,
so I've been recruited to guard Plato's perfect city;
and of course, I have mouths to feed.


My leisure eats my intellect
With a hungry,belly-driven smile

Dimmed eyes view the world restlessly
In need of constant change And distraction

Stall the world
Stop the rotation

We're not worthy of the motion

A dictated disposition

An uncomfortable history created in the now

Dispel the laws of breath fuels blood
Breath fuels madness in God's new medium

The canvas of clogged pores
Emitting the odor of
Inevitable death

Premature decay
And away..... we go

Clenched teeth

Bite that lip, baby

Tip bad girl
Make 'er feel good
Make her feel..... oh, just a little

Water snakes off ice
In a whiskey cage

Covered bruises thankful for winter's cold

Starvation sensation
Suspended by chemical

Tongues lick the life out of death
Relations disowned

"But I still love you"
"Get well soon"


Then thrown away....

Kiss The Particle Eve

Silver and Gold enter the prism
Of mankind's priorities
Betraying the intended nature
Of our early being

The Helix cracks, shifts
Mutating quantum theory
For Mithra's purpose-

I kiss the particle Eve
Earth scented mother of man
I love to watch her cry
For our dilapidated ghetto existence

But it's OK
Adam's standing in the doorway
With a dollar bill to wipe her eyes

Love was never welcomed
Through the gate

Pure is the green
Emanating from my birth
Invaded by savage fluorescent technology

Cold, sterile floor at the entrance
Cold, sterile floor at the exit
Cold, sterile infinity in the void
Promising a warm smile when we reach the end

The helix cracks , shifts
Mutating quantum theory
Welcoming mankind's return
Maybe this time
We'll get it right

No Destination

Strolling through the Ethos
Along the windows of humanity

Peaking in on a dysfunctional marriage
Of savagery and technology
Longing to assimilate
To destroy my found ideology
But I stay in the cold
In pursuit of painful truth

Along the way the wisdom
In footsteps of great men

Sacrificed their comfort
For a taste of sacred fruit

Doomed to isolation
Ostracized by stunted masses

Hoping to be heard by birds
Of a brilliant feather

Appreciated by their kindred
In the cold, dark mist of night

Walking in footprints
On a path of lonely plight

Wheel Withing a Wheel

I lay back in a dream and gaze
At Ezekiel's wheel within a wheel
And wonder who are the chosen

They have their twelfth Imam
Their prefab temple stashed away
For the day
of their Messiah's arrival
Not to mention
The controversial Christ

Odin, Jupiter, Zeus, and Indra
Have a cup of tea
and smite an enemy
or two

I want to hunt and smell the victual
Fuck the metaphysical,
show me

The universe is flat
a two dimensional cat
That purrs as the witches burn
For what's at stake

I heave and wretch
To purge myself
of domesticity
Our technological hospitality
Which tames the Beast
And propagates apathy

From pedagogue
To demagogue
To God

A sacrifice for power that's arbitrary
For God is but a slave that lusts for the glory of the hunt
But has to stay back
Bound to his creation of misfits
At least 'till graduation day

Wednesday, October 21, 2009

Poems by Allen Masterson10/21/2009

The Elephant From India

Disregarding my delirium, I dance
with the elephant from India

She smells of sweet heat
that rises from beats
of butterfly wings
The women are so friendly here
in the Palace of Psychedelic Daisies

I must confess my impure thoughts
to the Giant Centipede who guards
the gates of the Great Honeycomb Pyramid

The queen of Wasps invites me to kiss
her hard-candied hips

Just as my lips reach lavender bliss,
a crystal god smashes the moment

Sending me crawling back to the village of Fire Ants
where I am elected President
because my skin sweats marmalade

But I'm soon unseated by a toad on a stump
who promises a decade of dead worms

Now I sail the sea of Buttered Popcorn,
salting the stars with paper cut fingertips

I long for one more chance
to dance
with the Elephant from India

Birth Pains in Spring

She's spinning in the rain
in the same place anger
assassinated melancholy

The victim is victor again
When midnight bleeds its back door
hint of anarchy

But she can't change blue to red
Can't resurrect the dead

A razor torn sky
lying exposed in bed

She smells the birth pains of spring
the infinite pause of sorrow
when the birds sing

Lift it up for me to see
The remnant of your melancholy

From midnight to the morning plea
The faded voice of anarchy

She's spinning in the rain
The same place promiscuity murdered chaste

But Jezebel is Mary once again
when noontime sheds its skin of haste

Hold it up for me to see
The remnants of your sanity
From midnight to the morning plea
a faded voice..... of sympathy

Dew Drop Remedy

This morning's thorazine dewdrop
slant-eyed remedy

Smile on my face with sliding tiles
and dictated memory

Time clock
punched-in persona
that once touched beauty's skin

Took on the weight of the world
feebly fought....
didn't win

You want to know why my soul is green
swimming in eyes of blue?
I searched in chemical mirth for a glimpse
of thought born true

This husk now slow dances with syringe fairies
on a lake of frozen drool

But there's a spark still in here
laid-back, laughing.... cool

A Series of R.E.M.

Overhead projections in the sky
Showing slides of deja vu
and tsetse flies

Floating on the sex of an amethyst night
Then drink the diamond dew
Of an afterglow dawn

Now trapped in a dirty corner store
Regurgitating memories for the check out girl
Who's burning in a hell of perpetual consumption

While non-committed maniacs
With coagulated syntax
Rule the metal mirrored landscapes
Of insipid binary thought

Volcanoes and lily pads make great nests
For the schizophrenic's Serpentine psyche

Lay back and watch as merry bastards hatch
While senility goes on sale

But we could slide out of this
Carbon based cell

If we allow our pineal gland to
Lay down the bail

These dreams are nothing
But a window....
In jail

Liquor Reflection's Augury

I'm feeling bellicose at the bar.
Bile rising as I reflect on violent acts
in an intrepid, drunken state staring faithlessly
into a liquor reflection's augury.
I can't take heed of my pituitary.
My chakras are twisted, folded, flipped
in a kind of cosmic anarchy.
I'm a masticated mass a liberal might look upon with
She held me once, naivety between the sheets.
Winter sparked in midnight's comforting delusions.
We had to work in the morning, every morning.
The hive needed honey, and we needed money.
Big Brother's eye passed from wallet to unsated wallet;
keeping tabs on our limitless greed.
She left before the holidays,
and I got to know the god Lexapro.
He held my hand as we walked through the land
of prostitutes, pimps, and parasites.
My heart skipped cocaine beats
in a hotel named after the the mother of Christ,
or his wife....
I'll have to qualify that with a gnostic.
I finally fell in slumber filled with benzo-klepto dreams;
where everything I stole was blue,
a melancholy hue,
that always seems to be my theme.
Eventually, I robbed a pharmacy;
thought justified by my hijacked psyche.
Now, I'm in Montana fleeing the law
and feeling bellicose at the bar.
Bile rising as
I reflect on violent acts
in an intrepid drunken state....