Yellow Bisque

Canaries swim beneath the depths of an ocean of futility.
Yellow tears dance their cheeky tango gracefully down green eyes,
On broad cheeks kissed by a lover’s blessing body;
The outside world is immediately incinerated.
The ashes douse the senses, manufacturing an intoxicating stupor;
Unusual emotional contortions twist heated auras.


Graciousness becomes indigent despite bathing in generosity.
The sun rises with a festive pomposity.
An uncertain madness is juxtaposed against a certain eros;
Its’ confusion reaches back to antiquity.
Traditions and social constructs shackle passionate immorality,
Dubious yet sanctioned,
Sacrificial lambs are roasted and basted on a hamster-wheel.


Stripped of light-hearted innocence;
Raw, yet stewing in bloody reality.
Pretentiousness cowers behind its transparent guise;
As humanity’s sun orbits your Earth;
The epicenter is hard to pinpoint.


A yellow Rose rests its aching stem;
Surrounded in the shadow of the valley of life,
It radiates gorgeous imminence.
A rival Daisy from its past,
Looks for shade under a sunflower.


Virgin reefs house aquatic yellow-tails;
Uncorrupted by pollution,
Yet woefully inadequate to withstand natural selection.
Those blue waters mix with maze to nourish a green-eyed monster.
Raging peace incompetently ushers in depression.


In its cage, the Canary no longer sings;
Its feathers, an imperial yellow,
Have fallen from grace.
Even so, its beauty cannot be denied.

Soothing Fundamentalist

Interwoven in primordial passions,
scathing hypocrisy douses an olive branch with gasoline;
An inferno will adjudicate this dilemma.


Earth moans in ecstasy cultivated from its warm soft core.
Nucleic acidity rivals popular neurosis.
Phallic astonishment laments a guilty pleasure;
pulsating gyrations erode a thinly projected exterior,
illusions are thrust deep into the world at-large.
An original sin raises much like a phoenix from the ice-age.


Progressive demolition;
Ecclesiastic rebellion.
Convenient isms taunt the natural way of things.
Social re-conditioning will luckily free us into slavery.
Isn’t this what we ask for?


Salivating sensations emitted from a feminine neckline;
A tawdry imagination liberated from human guilt,
anticipating a loving indecency ripe with contradictions.
That sensual arch is worth killing for.
A lifetime of promise is worth dying for.


A thermal mentality is often smothered in regret.
Passive frigidity is difficult to warm.
On a shared plane, springs cushion the essence of peace,
Reconciliation is propped with feathered comfort;
A gentle touch demands a penance it gladly receives without compunction.
All the while, an individualistic blanket keeps us in loving comfort.