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
Climax
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
sympathy.
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....




















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