49th Day

On the 49th day, I dropped through a
crown of ether to embrace deformity
and the discomfort of abuse.
With a twisted leg of human bondage
my Summer never set


Roaches chased my dreams away in a
ghetto apartment filled with smoke
and sounds of pseudo seances inspired
by LSD and painful innocence
conjuring unfamiliar spirits to play with


Racial slurs imprinted upon my neural pathways
giving birth to fear and hate that took decades
to shake because time in a prison reinforced the
walls that divided me from the whole of humanity


The frequency of Om found my eye as silence blossomed
in the midst of madness to stave off hungry ghosts that haunted
cold hallways of societal abominations that may never seek
answers to nothing but the gratification of the their Self


But even in my arrogance I know the hungriest ghost
will find its way on that 49th day, and share my world of
beautiful horrors and follow the path to this page of manifestation
to share the same breath of the One’s transmigration



-Allen Masterson




©2013 Jerry Allen Masterson

The Saltwater Curse of Florida

I touched the world

with SSRI numbed

death trips to dull the

ache of her auburn memory

while suicide attempts

disguised themselves as

recreation with enemies


I followed a blonde whore

of Babylon to a shore of

sin and threw stolen Xanax footballs

across ocean waves of teeth

and blacked out the sodomy

because it was just too damned much


Overdosed in a hospital and

drank charcoal shots from paper

cups while a cop stood in a doorway to hell

and a doctor ignored me because he

said he had other patients that wanted to live

and had better insurance coverage


Cut a sleeved sonofabitch with a

butcher knife because he vowed to

put me under with nunchuks swinging in

moonlit absurdity while blood splashed on

my jacket and drool flowed down his screams

as I ran away from the saltwater curse of Florida


-Allen Masterson


©2013 Jerry Allen Masterson

Order Out of Chaos

Order Out of Chaos

Images of a pain filled sky accent

the faded taste of midnight's company as

memories of purity mock my house of sin

Mistakes magnify the shame of loss

and pull me under sheets of perdition

where time sluggishly tics infinite regret

Nowhere to go but deeper in the black water

No one to tell but the cold universe of self

as an audience responds with desolate laughter

I struggle against a web of imperfections to

shake loose the dew of my dawn and stave off

a desire to exhale forever and give way to entropy

But my thirst can never be fully quenched

with a demanding reflection of humanity

staring back at me with a scientific methodology

But the comfort of chaos is always around the corner

where she awaits in dreams promising a hazel shelter

and an auburn blanket of delusion and perpetual longing

-allen masterson

©2013 JerryAllenMasterson

A Butcher Knife and Pasted Wings

The knife in my chest was self inflicted.


Before the last beat of my heart I told you
there would never be another.


Shortly after my death, my corpse was caged;
kept away from eyes of disappointment, and left to ponder
the quandaries of cruelty, wallow in the past
just to escape the madness of the present.


I dreamed of you and the mechanized purgatory
that paid the bills, but cost us our identities.
Some nights, when violence filled the air, I imagined
your taste to trade one hell for another, isolation for quiet sorrow.


While you were dancing with robots,
I conversed with maniacs about the fall
of Rome and the con of the ever-shrinking
Little Debbie snack cake.


While you were pulling the wings off another factory fly,
I watched rapists walk out the door with sickness in their eyes
and minds scorching the Earth with flames of violence and sex.


The days of my death have long passed, but you still visit me
through the veil of sleep to remind me there will never be another like you
to pull my wings off and coax me over a cliff.


So now you’re the farthest you’ve ever been;
I’ve lost your smell, and your laugh is fading.
One night soon, I will make my escape with new wings grown.
I will break my promise to you, and breathe deep from the life of Mystery.


-allen masterson

Seeking the Zombie Cure

Fractal geometry surrounds melting fear as a program falters due to excessive ego output. Gaskets spring leaks, hydraulics of emotions buckle under the stress of heartbreak and third eye calcification. Delivery of dimethyltryptamine has ebbed to the point of disconnection as our host lay dying in an inescapable nightmare of physical reality; doomed to daily doses of bullshit and monotony. Punch clocks and baffle gates log the moments of misery as hollow eyes seek company in machine reflections rippling on crystal waters washing up on shores of decay. A cure must be sought; an altered state, a back door ingestion purchased from a dealer in the alleyway...

-allen masterson

The Elephant from India

A Lonely Truth by Allen Masterson