Tuesday, August 10, 2010

Love Like Lemon-Lime



Not that I enjoy it,
but when we argue-
it's beautiful
So refreshing,
pleasant and intense
can sting the senses
just like ripened
citrus fruits

We devour one another
layer after layer
we're fresh-picked
Florida grove harvest grown
gems from heaven
shrubs of evergreen
sprout them, and when
you and I are scratching
each other's back
it's a full body bath's
worth of citric acid
two tongues lashing
violently

Tearing at skin
of the most soursweet
grapefruit, let me dive into
your rinds
rip peels to shreds,
strip you naked
exposing flesh lets both
you and I feel
alive

Will you slice into my
Persian lime?
then we two can
hybridise
form some new species
of pomelo formed
from our yelling, led
to agrume groomed
tangerine trees of
togetherness
I'll strap you to the
kitchen table like a crate
of Orangelo
peel you gently, then
I'll have my way with you

A body petite, yet satisfying
like a clementine
Let me climb
From the nape of
your neck, to the concaves
of your navel
the nipple becomes stimuli
same as tip of a citron,
it's as stiff as your upper lip
fact is, I actually enjoy the
frame of your half-angry
scrunched up brow,
and sullen face- so
I will taste every cave
and hilltop of your landscape
until we've solved the case
of what either of us were even
pissed about

Waiting to mature, ripen
so you can put seeds to use
strike at my very weakest moment,
pummel me to pulp
and feed from my juice
the blood orange which drips
crimson
tries to figure the source
of differing opinions
not due to cultural clash
or language barriers
she doesn't speak Mandarin
but I let her know
if ever she'd fall, even in
crossfire of our differences
I would carry her

Tangors or yuzu, seem to be
most unusual
no label to the way we lead the
path to our future, but
even when rocky- I will only
choose the winding road
which will lead me back
to you

I won't allow a
single bruise to ever
grace your body,
swear I'm incapable
in any way of ever
truly hurting my muse

But tonight- let's not
fuss or fight
let's make Satsuma
infused love

Smoothie, creamsicle or sorbet
a lime-ice, lemonade
cocktail, jelly, compote, marmalade
Our mainframe whips itself
into a fury,
juicing, whirring, blending
wildly
as it spreads itself sticky
over the surface of us both
like some sweet syrup
a delicious, finger-licking
pleasure puree

Shall we set aside our disputes
and enjoy the fruits
of our labor
Together, taking all that
weights us down and
makes us anxious
Freshly squeezed- your
sense of passion and peace
our bond like
Vitamin C
because this love
is the only nutrient
that you or I
could ever need





(c) Paul LaTorre 2010

Hello, McFly


Sometimes I wish I could
go Back
to the simpler times
The 'Hakuna Matata', no worries
except Mighty Morphin' or Ninja Turtles for
Halloween,
dinner- pizza or Mac & Cheese?
those little league, ride a bike,
playing in my fisher price
plastic kitchen, cooking random
shit with my sister
times

Why can't I build a
flux capacitor
Strap on my red bubble vest
Call Doc Brown, get my Marty
McFly on and go Back in Time?
Not to make out with my mom, or change
the past, but to simply revel
in the fact that no Libyan assassins were
after me- I'd hit the gas
rev'd to 88 miles,
clock my throttle in at 1.21
Gigawatts
Just you watch, this bolt of lightning
will shift the hands of fate
like a watch, but I may never find my
way back- can I remember the days?

The days when worries weren't over
credit, debt, bills, deadlines,
tax audits or court appearances
the onslaught of responsibility
fear of failure,
because I have to start my career
on time
shit, what year is this?

Wish I could turn back, look at
a past Paul and tell him
how good he has it,
How every second, every moment
should be cherished, he should
hold it close to his chest like
'My Buddy' or the stuffed doll of a
Teddy Ruxpin

But is this road reversible?
Can I hop in my 1985 Delorean
fueled by pure plutonium
leave the worries of adulthood
and beam back to when our House
was Full
Would it bring back those lost, or
put a stop to some huge disaster
I'd be burdened with the task
of having to save so many,
stop the bleeding-
or on 9/11 call a bomb threat
into the Trade Center just
to prevent a catastrophic
crash from reaching full casualties
due to distraction of the
watchful eyes of God

Could I regain all I've lost?
Or would I be destroying some pattern
of all miraculous
things which come after the collapse
of our castles
Is there any moral gain
in preventing major crimes
because in harsh times, we test
character, our shield of resolve
will truly shine
we climb skyscrapers, just to feel
the wind at our sides

Should I ascend Mt. Kilimanjaro
reaching the ultimate plateau
yet be distracted, staring down at my
2015 Nike Air Zoom, shock
technology adjusted McFly shoes
rather than peering out at the
wonder which is creation all around-
obsessed with my worries
more than picturesque
volcano-cone lifted views,
as if it's no gift to be
at the peak of Everest or K2

Or can I revel in the present?
Look forward to all to come...
proposing to my honeybee
one day in some romantic place,
then all her tears of ecstasy
which will flood, when we stream the aisle
Earth angel- Earth angel
please be mine
the triumph of time well-spent
alongside a wonderful wife- now that's
the 'Power of Love'

A future full of hills and bumps,
I'll take each one as a
character-building tactful test
though no battle may be fully flattering
or adulant
I won't run, but embrace what's
to face me- like the first steps and
bright reverence of a laugh from Delilah
the way her mouth curves
'cause she has her mother's smile

Or my son, on the incumbent day
which he'll arrive
fulfilling my fatherly dreams
only if I stay on path of mortality
owning up to my own demise
It is the real purpose I exist for,
creating, giving soul and vitality
to something that breathes
through written & blood descendants
these words will last much longer
than me

So fuck the trail of flames
in my car tires' wake,
fuck a change of fate-
this is the punch to Biff's face
letting me regain
my own sense of strength,
this young McFly has just
become master of his own 'today'
boldly, I'll venture on- to dance,
play, cry, be hurt and
build a family-
see the embers in my kid's eyes
because after all, though I
may have lived through all of mine-
still want to provide
and give my children
their very own
simple times.





(c) Paul LaTorre 2010

AwOoooUu!



A chilling howl
at la Luna
as rolling clouds part
to expose motive

This roaming grove of
Wolves
found a lone pup,
weeping in the tall grass
right then,
they took me in as
their own

A canine thirst-
hunting
tracking
marking
trapping
until attacking
fate-unfavored hooved animals

Estrous at times,
hormones raging, I enter
heat
yet with no
exotica to nuzzle
fangs,
lick my cheek
or sniff the
scent of what truly
quenches me

I was brought into
the pack,
but I outgrew and can no longer
travel as a cigarette

A lone, smoking
wanderer
I fear I can never
be domesticated

More coyote than
great dane,
More Canis Lupus than
man's best friend

Many decoys were
sent,
yet none possess
that primal dominatrix
scent

My broad back has
supported strikes to the
neck of a
Wolverine

And though other tribes
threaten me,
I can't view them as
anything less than a
part of the clan

With night vision,
I see them
Clear-cut through
the haze

I'm the Alpha,
with no Omega or
Beta- they can't match,
& no one could
combat my strength
& keep pace, until the day
she came

A Lupine Lady
who wouldn't
stumble feet, nag me to
put an end to
the chase
or encumber me, she
doesn't slow
my pace,
not a step or beat

We mate a pair,
two compliments to create
our own apex
breed
and she is the one
I required from the start,
just the Loba I need,
because my
Wolf woman will
surely always
run
with me





(c) Paul LaTorre 2010

(Secret) Identity



I am
the whisper on
the lips
of tormented, helpless citizens

The anger in
clenched fists of
imprisoned
formerly running rampant
vile villains

I am
an absolute
the last true hero
to stand up to
corruption,
the final scion
of my own noble family
line

When Martha and Thomas
were back-alley
murdered
over 30 years ago,
Joe Chill robbed from me
my childhood
& only shot at normalcy
a young boy,
punted by the lucid kick
of both parents' death
right in front of
my eyes

I molded a persona,
this code
in honor of my father
the way he saw the world
& how it oughtta be
including our proud
legacy
so I created this
way to cope and deal with
the grief

Into the night,
I dive
from rooftops
next to ledges of gargoyle
perched buildings
when the
sirens sound,
& calls come in
to police radios- I intercept
to keep a step
ahead of them

Lying hidden in the
bookcase
is the lever which reveals
my true self
a sacred lair which lay
underneath
vast black granite counter tops,
quartz-floored corridors
and eyes behind
paintings, cameras which
securely keep watch
over this mansion
many only know it as
Stately
Wayne Manor

Making my way
through caverns, I then
throw on this cape
grab grappling hooks,
strap utility belt around waist,
pull on my cowl-
covering the disguise which many
fellow acquiantances
see every day
but they
don't know this
mask
which I keep in this cave-
my true face

Riddle me this,
Who is half-man, but always
fully animal
what does the lunatic
chase satiate deep
within bones
endless quest for vengeance which
even the greatest act
may never fully
quench

Wings of this mammal
allowed me to
take flight,
combat the injustice
which bleeds through this
filthy city,
all the color sapped out
when it was once
radiant with a kitschy,
vivid bright view

See, this depiction of
Bruce
isn't a sidekick-equipped spin
riding the sidecar
to some evil-doer's hideout
in a swinger's club,
BAM!
POW!
Holy unholy mad cows!
The Uttermeister, Calendar Man
or Egghead plan
no 'Na na nuh na nuh na nah na'
campy
Batman

The Cryogenically frozen scientist
lost his wife,
now hardened
by a cold, never-thawing
Heart of Ice

A former actor, felt his
life slipping through his fingers-
but the Clay he rubbed on
his Face
bid him his final role-
an image absent shape shifter

The obsessive compulsive
puzzle-boasting
mindbending, egotistical little
pipsqueak who
wears green, posing questions
endlessly
but his Riddles are not so hard
to decihper
for me

Bane of my existence-
that one who finally
snapped my back
he broke my
spinal column in half,
yet even with his venomous syrum
pumping, this mercenary was
never a formidable,
nor my ultimate
match

Somehow the Iceberg Lounge
is always packed,
entertaining some Scarface
or Hugo Strange
maybe high society, the
impressionable debutants which
Penguin wishes he could
call his friends-
yet he threatens their wealth
and their lives with his
fish, birds and smog spewing
parasols

Beneath sewers, crocs swim-
and Harlequinn
looks for her puddin' through
all the madcap-halls
of Arkham,
packed to the brim with
those I sent to
atone for their sins

My former friend &
District Attorney,
Harvey
who's scars have
Dented him
one death, and an accident-
charred one side of
his double-headed coin, yet
left unscathed
the rest of him

The man/God they call
Ra's Al Ghul,
he controls nearly all
the tools to spell
demise, like the Lazarus pit
& his daughter, which
would finally be the one to-
well, almost
make me submit(commit)

A botanical mistress,
with deadly lips-
we call this miss Poison Ivy
her vines wrap
walls of this Asylum,
she controls pheremones
which can have any many in her
control,
one sniff has you under
her spell
but one kiss, will
spell your
death knell

The straw-stuffed man,
with a sickle
who you wouldn't dare to
cross in a nightmare
Scarecrow does have a brain,
and when he hits you
with that fear-inducing hallucinogen
laced toxin
you'll wish whatever's
been haunting your psyche
could be cut off, but it
won't
stop there

Finally, a diamond thief of the feline
persuasion, this Catwoman
stole
my heart, but scratched me
when even
for love
she couldn't give up
the rush of the
heist

...but wait, I lied
the grand list of my Rogues Gallery
comes to its pinnacle here,
the final piece
is one that completes me-
although pure evil-
has always shown the most
demented, sick
relentless, twisted sights
Joker
has never once
shown signs of sanity
& most hazardous, is all it takes
is one bad day
to make any normal man
just like him

The Clown Prince
of crime
we, two sides of the same
coin-
Comedy/Tragedy
he's taken so many dear to me,
so it's no laughing matter
he paralyzed Barbara,
killed Tim,
almost countless times caused me
to break my pledge
it's inevitable, that this great
rivalry can only
end in death
whether his or mine;
It can't continue
yet does,
to bring equilibrium
to the fight
I must someday put his permawhite
Smile
to rest

Dick Grayson was never fit
to be merely my ward,
a Boy Wonder
Since his acrobat teen
days, was always
destined to leave the nest
& take his own stage

And though I raised him
& trained him
he wanted more,
I couldn't restrain him
from becoming a
Nightwing
who flew free,
could bear no longer
to stand
at my side-
he's become a
valiant, soaring, young
man

I am just a mortal
no Super Powers
no alien origin
or fall into
a vat of toxic waste,
no close encounter with
radioactive waves or
altered Spiders' bites to
change my fate;
simply technology, my wits,
physical prowess,
agility, intimidation and my ability
to never say die
I decided
to take my life
and spend nearly every
second of it
fighting crime

I am Caped Crusader,
winged avenger
World's greatest detective
the protector
of lady Gotham-
my symbol
this bat-spotlight
signal
strikes the city's skyline
& I must once again
be nocturnal for one night's
eternity

This call heeds,
my people need me
& no longer
will they have reason
to fear the
Dark
because I am
the
Knight






(c) Paul LaTorre 2010

Papercut


I've been looking
for a break
not bone breaks,
heartache or
for Spring's sake,
but a clean shake from
these monetary burdens
a sense of balance
in an economic
landscape
where cutbacks and
restraints mean noone's
fully safe

Not sandpaper scrubs,
not filter paper,
litmus shows blue as the
answer's basic
our endless chase for
paper funds
results in marathon
but it doesn't always last that long
paper cup stability,
if filled too long- the bottom
falls off
when sogged by water
resulting in a river's worth of
liquid rampage

This papercut comes
without warning, and can
sting
deep- when paper's
cut fresh from the
U.S. Government Mint
we lust for its flesh
so badly, we'd give our own
vein-run blood

Even worse,
are cuts on open palms-
they never heal,
and inner-scars
spackle walls, throughout
buildings- paper cuts
reopening, even still

The newspapers run headlines
on what happened
to a recovering addict, and why
he took so long
from the winner's podium
he once stood on
but now fallen, because
his habit was the only
thing this scratcher
ever spent his
paper on

It's a pay-per-view
show, as this
paper airplane tragically
goes down in flames
sprials into the
Papal blessed paydirt
of a paper-lined
grave

The painter's brush
tells a tale of the fuschia-stroke
canvas
stained not on the paper's page
it's not the artist,
but the writer who puts action
in the heart of the actor,
foreshadowing beautiful performances
in witty lines
to reparte, with words
spilling from lips
as they take to the stage

A papercut plague
I can't recall the proper place
or time of day

The paper guts of
a plastic mannequin,
complete with a face made from
paper mache
molding what was once a palatial
Roman Kingdom rivaling;
fair, but violent
environment which is
no longer
Gladiator-based
through pride and triumph

A lust for the funds, have made
many men slave to a
paper-trail, Totalitarian
Dictatorship
led by Paper Tigers-
all flex, no bite
but when ignited, they'll sweep
through- a wildfire, and when you've
extinguished purpose,
you paupers are discarded
like a
paper plate

Income will define status,
& those with it
will reign supreme in this
Day & Age
all the beauty's been cut
from out this frame,
& it is sad to say
that once-
where love, passion
or expression would fulfill
the hunger which
ravages that vacant space
paper
has cut us all,
and the artificial will
take its place




(c) Paul LaTorre 2010

Greatest Hits

Ribbit, ribbit
can you tie
a piece of ribbon to
my finger?
Remind me of the times
when we'd sing
'Maggie May' together?

Wake up, Kimmy
I think I got something to say
to you
It's almost early
September-
and I can't wait til'
I'm back at school

I know you didn't
raise me foolish,
but I can't help to feel
fazed & confused-
this is
hard living
days beginning with
the missing of
your whistling ways

oh,
pick up the line
I need to hear your voice
that soothing, somber
"I'll always love my momma,
she's my favorite girl...
I'll always love my momma,
she brought me to
this World"

You led me through
a storm of 'the Stylistics'
hidden wisdom in
lyrics you'd sing to me
"Smile in your face, all the time
they wanna take your place"
but never did I grasp
a concept of backstabbing
til' I felt the dagger
in my own shoulder's blades

Rocky Raccoon never checked
into his room,
because Mother Superior
jumped that gun,
way soon- gettin' hit by
the ricochet, and another
fragment came
stray-shot disfigured the smile on
Rocky's face,
and he can't even find
salvation
in his Gideon's Bible

Life's a bitch,
then you die- but I can't
be that pessimistic
let's analyze living
like scientists experimenting:
Control = life
Variable = decisions
make the wrong choice, life
becomes a variable
disaster of life's
path on a
collision
course

A daredevil swing from
flying trapeze with
no
safety net
makes your feat seem
even more
death defying- but
falling
is everyone's fear
so why waste breath
in the crowd?
Just jump in and take
to the air

You know that
'It's a Wonderful Life'
every time a bell rings,
an Angel
gets its wings- well in this
story, every time
one of your hits play,
somewhere
an Angel sings

Cause I can always
be sorrowful,
mourn your loss like it's
the end of
you,
or recall you, in every day
amber aura &
maple-syrup sweet
voice as you'd say:
"You're gonna miss me someday
when I'm gone"

And you were right,
but let's sing-alongsong to
Hey Jude,
don't make it bad

This is no Swan-song,
not the last one
we'll ever truly have
because en perpetuum
in the smile & laugh of Mia,
hug of Joanna,
shaking of legs,
in finding the love
of my life-
Dom & Chris also finding
their perfect match
in black cats
or redheads,
in the melodies of
Beatles, soul or
Motown
you ever passed forward
& handed down to me
in the chorus
of every song, I hear
you











(c) Paul LaTorre 2010

Boom

I feel at times,
I was brought into this World
paralyzed
never intimated sensating
wonders of life
like what it's like to walk
down that aisle
because I always had
this crippled back

Simply want
my Sun to rise,
can it shine on my
infantile
once gum-toothed
bubbling smile
it's stifled
by the
clack of your
gun
which is loaded
and aimed

You put me under
the scope's,
duress
ignite the powder;
chamber smoking and
heat compressed
taking the life
of not only the woman
you were 'made to adore'
but your child unborn
a vessel
forbearing no more

Won't signal the first
in a long line of
family- not for he or she,
not you
and not for me
just a wide, vacant
gaping
hole
in my chest



(c) Paul LaTorre 2010

Just That Time of the Month



Dear Mother Nature,



Can you stop being a
bipolar
slightly schizophrenic
estrogen-filled
menstrual
crazy bitch

Get up off
your high horse, set on
that nimbus cloud
which you ride upon,
waving to royal
subjects with a flick of
your wrist
and make these gale force
hurricane winds which
are ruining me now
simply cease
& desist

Is it that
time of the month
when your
visitor comes?
Have monsoons bursted
right through your
Tampax corridor
to pour
onto humans a
continuous flood?

Will it drown all
herbivores & innocent
stray kittens in the
street,
overflowing soil from
the river to every
ever-rolling valley, it's not
nourishing when
you rain gratuitous, these crops
runneth over
too much of a good thing,
does more
damage than
Immigration policies did
to the state of
Arizona

What's your forecast?
I'll chart a timetable
in reply of how this life
between you & I
could shakedown if you
take me back,
oh damn no honey- your ass
doesn't look any fatter
in those pants
than it does on the average...
Wait, that came out bad-
hon, I did not mean it
like that!

You were just fiery,
now you've gotten frigid
once soft-spoken,
flip a switch- then you get
rigid, this
hot & cold game
has me losing control
of internal thermostat
at first I suffered
heat stroke,
but now I'm struck
by hypothermia

Can you please
tone it down
for me,
for just
one month?
Can you stick this out,
are you feeling gentle
or vigilant,
your constant
mood-swinging has had you
acting quite
drugged

Can we go back
to how
we used to be, before
World War III,
and gas emissions came
to disrupt our
ecological harmony?
before the Springtime climate
hit temps of
113
& wintertime didn't make
me desperate
to wind forward both my
hourglass and
clock's speed

Let's just work
this out
so we can both be happy
as when we started
this Marriage was
a solstice of
flawless conditions
back in our
Honeymoon phase

Let's go back to
those days!

I cannot exist
without you,
We are tied like
grapes to the vine-
I may keep growing, but
with the sweet flesh
of fruit lost, what's the
reason if I'm
only wasting my climb

Let's talk this out,
this is illogical
it's hard, but we can
patch things up, at least
be civil for the kids,
make the best of this for
our family
so every season year 'round
doesn't crumble,
let's kiss and make up,
and once again
make this union
one of
good company

I still stay awake
to watch the early Sun rise,
and every single time
I do,
I think of you

Don't tell me it doesn't matter,
to agree to disagree
& part ways,
it's meaningless-
you know this isn't true,
and how can
I exist,
when in this universe-
all this man ever
needed was
you

A forecast severe,
with signs of incoming
inclement weather
can we brave the storms
together?
I never meant to crack
jokes, I know
you're sensitive, with the
changes you've
been going through
and yes, I sense
you're feeling tender,
but as your eyes
are parting,
the skies will darken
to coincide with my
sense of stubborn pride
we'll share this life,
or I swear right now
I'll give right up,
& just buy my coffin

I'll give my all
to prove
you are the reason
this blood-pumper still
ticks,
yeah I move for you
and when all this is through
just know there's nothing
that I wouldn't do

I need to feel
you, I
miss you terribly
I freeze,
and lose all track of
myself when
I have you nowhere near
my side

I'll stop the world
to bring you back, yes
I
love you dearly,
I'll always be near
counting the days



Signed yours
Sincerely,

—Father Time












(c) Paul LaTorre 2010

Who Else?

Shakespeare was
a woman
this I've determined as
pretty much a
given fact,
but do you know what else
is true?
That all your historic
idols
like Julius Caesar & Alexander
the Great
were secretly
homosexuals?
James Dean, Langston Hughes &
Walt Whitman were also
closet-bound gays?
That's a mindblower, eh?

That our greatest 'man made' sights,
like Egyptian Pyramids
were architect product of
Extra-Terrestrials
These same aliens sent
Tom Cruise
to pattern our mating habits, establish
a place in our culture
embed himself
in our movies, tabloids- and on couches
of Oprah
to make fool of himself,
then report back to them
a Scientologist missionary
playing journalist with Earthly news
doesn't it make
you wonder
what else this normal-minded
media has
been keeping
hidden all this time
in plain view?
...and you thought you knew

How'd we let the public eye
become blind
to the obvious?
The self obsessed never notice
those crying out
loudly for help
right under their nose

Narcissism
can mask faces which
were always right in front
of us
shattering archetypes
brings dictator Kingdoms
crumbling down like the
walls of Jericho

When ruling social class is
anti-everything different,
we find diffidence
How can any individual
separate from politics,
grow to be anything
other than anti-social?
(And despise their own mug)

To sling hateful phrases
in the direction
of those dancing to beats of
their own drum tools
how can we compose
new music
when being persecuted
the rhythms we would thirst
to sway, sing or
make love to?
They put their
pointed finger
on the button labeled
'Mute'

Your parents gave you a face,
some sense of place
and structure
but we all make up our own
identity
don't fear rocking the boat,
we'll ride waves
into this vast, fresh
& unventured sea

I pray to see evolution
of opinions
When clenched, beating fists
transform &
turn to open, applauding
hands
Where today's social outcast can become
tomorrow's leading man
someone sitting in the back of the stands,
being mocked and stoned
becomes one
to take control,
jumping on the stage-
seizes a microphone,
no crowd control
for he's the host,
this has now become
his show


Fuck it- no person's
perfect
Despite how hard some
attempt to portray
and perpetrate,
know noone
living in their own skin
can become somebody else
why impersonate?

You'll find it,
not in a lover's arms,
nor in superficial fiction,
or in fame,
not in notches on your belt,
not in cars and not
in wealth
but only when you stop
running away,
fully embrace those
weirdo ways- when you
accept this:

yourself.




(c) Paul LaTorre 2010

A note from the Chosen One



Hey Hermes-
will you deliver a message
to uncle Hades
for me?
Tell him that Heracles
says hello,
great grandpa
Perseus died for not
and you're
no longer family,
but foe

The Great war of Gods-
cultural holocaust
came at cost of
this ruling Empire's
casualty
the fallout of this
divinity-driven obliteration
was not a myth,
parable or
oral story told
this decimation of
the Grecian Golden Age
was nightmarish
reality

You & Hera
sent two assassin
rattled-tail serpents to
strangle life from
my infant lungs,
and yet as I lay in that cot
a mere baby boy,
turned both hit-snakes
to limp shaking
musical-toy maracas,
and mother made
intricate patterned boots
from the skin they
shed when strangled
and stripped

As a teen,
I tricked Atlas
back into putting the sky
on his shoulders
killed the Nemean Lion
wore his hide,
slayed the Hydra,
fetched golden apples,
and captured
the Ceryneian Hind

So, uncle death-
I'll hop on the
winged back
of Pegasus, riding right
through Hade's gates-
knock the breath out of
your Cerebrus,
that guardian three headed
dog, and put
his bark right back in
its place

Cut your woman
Persephone down to size,
and take a
dive in that
Lazarus pit of revival,
show the pyres who's boss
of this Underworld
realm of
hellfire

I know not what it takes
to be either
Man or
immortal
never truly been either,
as a Demi-God
I possess strengths
of both denominations,
but doubly so
I possess their flaws

Climbing to the top
of Mount Olympus
is fruitless
if all I do is hear
lecture from the Oracles
of how I'll never be great
as father Zeus, or
reign up high, king of Kings
and they're probably right
harsh as that seems,
I'm not even
sure at this point what ascending
to heaven really means

What I know is that
a normal life
on Earth,
ranks higher than
flawless sky floating-
the artistic influence of
Harp-plucked music,
art drawn on rich tablets
and banquet feasts
of decadence
symbolized the peak,
diplomatic Greece's
happiness was discovered
and its
apex reached
greatest stride with
the last days for
this reign of
the Coliseum

Being alive alongside
mankind
when wrath comes
is truly the only
adventure worth having
when you're born
half-God and have the
safety net option of
immortality

I chose to be made
vulnerable;
to feel both
love
and pain,
and be equal with all

Embracing this Fall-
to die
with my own
human breed
was more heroic
to me,
than any
Herculean
feat








(c) Paul LaTorre 2010

Junker

Guess this is
truly it
You and I split,
sound the violins
as you hand over
the title

Didn't feel
I was worth the effort
of putting in
extra work, spare parts
rather throw me to
the scrap heap
of a junkyard's
parts pile

You drove
'til we both seized
mechanically, as far as one
bond old as ours can go-
also physically
chassis and body gave out,
pretty much literally
guess all those memories
of when I kept you warm, and
brought you to sights you knew
that otherwise, you'd likely
never see

Together- to the edge of
the Rio Grande,
you took Miranda
then lost your virginity
right next to me,
we raced time to see
the sunrise at
Point Pleasant Beach
so many shows at
outdoor venues, we'd watch
cheesy B-movie
horror pictures
& throw popcorn at the screen

Guess I didn't mean shit
if you could just rip
my heart right out
from its frame,
and relinquish
your keys

This is just like when Lebron jetted
from Cleveland, and left
for Heat of Miami,
to a flashier team which he saw
as greener pastures
or when Will Smith put an end to
the Fresh Prince so he could
become a more respected
Oscar caliber actor

Much worse than when
Jen Aniston had to stand on the
red carpet, watching
Angelina pass by with Brad
or Woody Allen leaving
Mia Farrow to hump and wed
his adopted kid
becoming ultimate
creepy combination of
Husband-slash-Dad

It's that bitch, the Dish
eloping with dipping utensil
which she seduced
ditched her husband, Cup
and split the happy marriage
of Fork, when she
ran away with the Spoon

When Michael moonwalked out
on the Jackson 5,
became King of Pop
he felt he had to go solo
on that ass,
but since then- what has become
of them all?

You take the last
gasp of air from my rubber treads
and leave my four
forward-moving means of transit
flat

Take my substance-pumping
cylinders, and
remove reason
for ignition,
make me idle,
I'm just a shell now
of what my purpose once was
where can I go
without an engine
or tires?

All I know, is
I was your first
you were my last,
and if this is how you
treat those you love
then I feel shafted

And despite all flaws;
dings, knocks, blemishes
stalls, quirks,
odd tricks and problems-
never once did I
abscond or
leave you walking
t'was the less stable human
to declare-
"Listen here, old friend,
we're through"

I always fulfilled my word
maybe it wasn't enough,
but as that redundant and
cliched phrase says-
"What's done is done"
no point in lingering on reason
despite all the good times,
a goodbye was inevitable
remember- although we've reached
the end-
you were the one
to die
on me,
I never
once
broke down
on you.





(c) Paul LaTorre 2010

Silhouettes and the City



On the main concourse
of the
Epicenter
of the known Universe
lies the sarcophagi
of most optimistic,
young, bright-eyed
bohemian artists to
walk the Earth

Now corpses,
destroyed by commerce
in the large
Macintosh Apple
with cultural clash, tourism,
dirty dealings, subway systems,
constant apartment evictions
footpath-bridges &
capitalist massacre cuts

Hear the pulse of
impostors, the abusive
heartbeats of manufactured
knock-off kings on
Canal Street
which line curbs
like starving leeches
with Manolo Blahnik scarves,
Prada purses &
faux Giorgio Armani jackets
the sounds of passing cabs,
sirens from police squadcars flying by
which pierce insides of
the eardrum
with a blaring wail of their
cries

How do the pigeons here
get so fat?
How do even the crappy restaurants
always stay packed?
How does the pusher man
make any kind of profit
off the 1.5 gram
Ghanja packs straight up jammed
into what he sells to you
for merely 10 dollars
a bag?

Always some reeking air
wafting
stench of hot ass garbage
mixed with candied nuts,
hot dogs, falafel,
burnt soft pretzels
and billowing smoke which spills
from every visible
manhole

Take the endless flowing
traffic,
a sea which seems never to cease
honks and beeps,
swears, curses of
pissed cabbies, chauffers,
& watch- as even homely
soccer moms become
road-raged, desiring
cold-blood murder of the person
in the next lane

The beggar panhandling
for whatever you can spare
ten bucks he swears
will go toward an
honorable need, the deed he
dedicates his whole day
to, asking strangers-
"Can I get some change, to build
myself some shelter,
or take a bus to
unemployment; cab fare to get
myself over to welfare
or a 5'er to buy myself a
decent meal.."
yet in reality,
all he wants to feed
is a habit,
the powdery granite which
he heats with spoons
to pass through
his veins

The old Arabian jeweler
believing he has truly improved the
world by supplying the
landscape of flashing lights-
but how so?
By providing already rich
women with brights?
Breitling watches,
diamond lockets,
or maybe a 'take me back' necklace
pawned to the business man
who needs some way
to re-enter himself in the good graces
of her bedside, after he
cheats on his wife

Do the bars
outnumber gyms?
Do the 'her's
outnumber 'him's
Do churches here actually
offer helpful hymns,
or pass judgment upon
any and all who may
falter
in this single largest
on Earth,
tainted Metropolitan island
of Sin?

Manhattan,
have you forgotten
the way we used to
idolize you
as kids?
You were once the
home of Broadway,
the Lion King, CATS and
Mary Poppins
Stores like FAO Schwarz
or KB Toys-
which to us, felt like
Nirvana
Maybe those majestic, Towering
Twins
which got knocked down
around the time of 9-elev-ummm...
wait, when was this?
I can't quite recall
the year, date or time
they fell from the sky
did our hopes
somehow implode,
die
& crumble
with them?

Central Park's become
a terror-zone
unwalkable past dusk,
a forbidden forest
with evil night lurkers
wait for virgins,
to snatch-grab, while they're
tucked behind a
hooded mask
where once a romantic
passageway existed,
we now find mugging victims,
rapes, killings
and the change of how we all
see beauty in nature
decay

Yet it's still a
city of wonder
This atmosphere hasn't gone
completely rotten
Some sweetness left in
the orchard,
it's complex as a chain of Carbon
and has cemented its place
as the most modern,
enormous melting pot
in just one combing of the population-
one would find:
A pulitzer-prize winning author,
stylist, firefighter, doctor,
an accountant, two barbers,
a chef,
countless young starving artists,
few scattered kings of industry,
about a hundred paupers,
street performers dancing in
heat of August
because it's never too hot
to move,
ten teachers, three lawyers,
a World-renowned architect
walking with his blind daughter,
a diplomat, with two escorts,
three hookers and five strippers,
a future pro Football player,
keeping watch over his little sister,
an aspiring jazz musician,
his guitarist and
two chemists who may
someday cure AIDS

In this nocturnal,
incandescent-lit insomniac
coffin
is a lifestyle more addictive
than narcotics-
defies all logic,
the way street vendors find
energy to all-day push carts,
Graffitti markings become
works of art
pedestrians power crosswalks,
the sewers are chalked with
shrieks of rats, vermin,
cockaroaches which will outlive
you, me, and every
human being on this surface
we see
they infest the city
with infectious hissing,
like the tactics of every
politician's lips

It's always awake for us,
still breathing until a tsunami
tide wave overtakes it,
leaves it awash
erodes the blocks from
Staten Island all the way
up to the Bronx

But remember, these skyscrapers
will keep you
a few degrees cooler
when temperature skyrockets
will protect you
from crippling winds in the winter
a barrier to provide
this city huddles you close
like a mother to fawn,
coddling you close to its heart

If you can make it there,
you can take it
in Hell
or even Delaware
Once a 'Yorker, always
forged with strength
no other locale could compete
embedded in the very
patterns of your speech,
yes this place is hard
to live in, worse to live without
it's the best place to
be thumping

I lost my mind
when I crossed the
Holland Tunnel
and flipped my lid
on my way
back over the
Brooklyn Bridge

Somehow we kooky kids
in urban cities
find enthusiasm in the Empire
of advertisement flyers,
in the grease of Gray's Papaya,
feel enlightenment
when jogging a read of the
New York Times,
and to be honest the salesmen
don't bother because
we're not phased by the ways
of pathological lies

We have a real shot at
becoming the new genesis,
Genius minds which may
someday emigrate
into the greater United States
leaving project buildings,
highrises, and tight alleyways to
find our peace of mind
and some space

But still nowhere
on Earth
can compare, or hold a tiny
flickering candle to
the gleam
of the island that haunts minds,
bucks trends,
breaks fears and doesn't
concede to sheep
it's a waking
fantasy
it's the City that
never sleeps.






(c) Paul LaTorre 2010

Sculptor

Take time with your
sandcastle
as you add to it,
condensing its structure with
salty Ocean's water
don't build too close to the
tides, they'll wipe us
clean off the coast

Cape Cod
cannot contain us
don't you wanna take
a trip to
Lackawanna Station
where Crackhead man
will tell us "Black is Bad"
and that he's
"curious as hell"
before cursing out an SUV
free-wheeling his way
almost to a vehicular
manslaughter
SPLAT, PANCAKE;
behold!! Crack-man
you've been
saved!!

Wouldn't you want
a getaway to the island of
Lost in your eyes
where my Wolf-woman and I
can wield through trees
like Jane and Tarzan
let's make nature our bitch
grab a bunch of
Platanos ripe, peel their
green exoskeleton and then
fry in a bubbling cauldron
so we can feed
one another maduros
o mofongo, and
be dos locos en paraiso
without a tock of clocks
we'll mold a life
with the sands of our
biologies combined

I would like to-
I mean, truly like to
write a Haiku
to express the emotions
which pump through me
for you
but I can't
control the flow
of words which spill,
every syllable from my
lips they spout-
soul to mouth,
it just Niagara
Falls out

Gonna put a ring on
that third finger from your thumb
the one which symbolizes
cyclical and eternal
Love
build an adobe hut
with the mud we
collect from our jungle
once monsoons soak
these sacred rain puddles
as the world swirls
whirlpools from our
Amazon flood

Won't get lost in the
shuffle-
just find stasis in
creation of
this forming, template of
a temple of 'US'

my future begins
and ends
with the clay
in your hands





(c) Paul LaTorre 2010

Masquerade

I don't need a James Bond
"Shaken not stirred"
Globe-trotting, yacht-hopping,
helicoptering adventure to take
me away,
Simply feeling- quite sincerely, and severely
that this man right here needs
an escape

From the mundane,
from Monday-
from the routine I feel
has made a prisoner
of me- can I break free,
find exploration
be Samuel De Champlain

Cloak me in a novel's page,
wrap me up in a
comic book hero's cape
'cause facing 'today'
makes even the most creative
captivating mind
want to Silvia Plath
a toaster, plugged-in
and then hop in their
bubble bath

Marco- with eyes closed,
cries out loudly, in search of
Polo
Wants meaning to this reach
in the dark for unknown
factions tell us to keep scratching
at opportunity's door
America rallies- "WAR, WAR, WAR!!"
but never satisfaction reached
by victory, always crave
greater- can we ever once stop
to question what's root of
reason for invasion?
Who/what are we fighting
for?

Magellan and Columbus
would be proud now-
'cause every single day,
I see people all around me
pretending to be
conquerers- yet they've never
pioneered a single thought,
or led even a tiny, scenic
expedition to the Sea
of originality

Just non-factually lying themselves
into stolen identity,
false sense of security
I tell them-
keep masquerading
as what they wish to be
'cause reality can
be crushing

Hello humble buddy,
don't be glum- you're actually in the
majority
this country's paved by those who
only care for personal glory
So just keep on spitting rhetoric,
claiming pious prophecy,
throwing c-4 bombs at civilians' feet,
debating and impersonating
true great men
impostor of philosophy

Ding dong;
hey there, fellow neighbor!
Trick
or Treat
this is no
Happy Halloween







(c) Paul LaTorre 2010

Gillette Kisses & Totem Heists



It's not Expendable
the way you
S u s p e n d
your total
Sense of
belief

When you claimed to have
ever
believed in
'we',
secretly-
were lying about
how you saw
the World,
how you
S e e
the bond 'tween both
you &
m3

Origami art- \/ 3
you crafted dreams,
incepted
mirages, the mere
facade
called your 'Love'
were visions
put into my
subconscious,
the true emotion was
locked
in a safe deposit box
which
you extracted
during the job

An infinite spinning top,
cannot stop
its gyroscopic, forever
floating sense
of false promises

Never needed
a microphone, because these
W
-O
--R
---D
----S

Have always
been flow!ng out like
endless
acid rain
into my drainpipe
a fallout shelter
flooded with regret,
it folds just like
a paper heart

you were the ultimate
illusion
planning each
maneuver of deception

cut me
when I touched
the
Edge

left me in Limbo-
I was the mark

Who ever knew two
candy
lips
wielded by a thief
could be so
sharp?





(c) Paul LaTorre 2010

Some Assembly Required

JENGA?
No, not quite-
this tower topples every
time I try, in solitude
to construct structures of
your thighs
bridged upon my
knees and palms
waiting for
the right roll of the die;
it's snake eyes,
so I tumble
and fall

If I could connect the dots
of beauty marks
which line walls throughout
your body
to the freckles
peppering spots on
both cheeks
elaborate designs tracing
sightline of eyes which
peer into my own most fondly
held memories
reflections of shared moments
beyond any foregone
coordinates
not even DaVinci himself
could chart a more
accurate map,
I follow that path
to find my way out of
the labyrinth

Sudoku is one way to
figure out equations
which may express
the code which slaves
follow,
every less than 3
signs define where
boxes containing 9 digits
can lineate- and in this way
I find myself
caught in
your logic

A Rubik's cube? Yes-
me and you, each
shifting constantly;
hues of White, Yellow
Blue, Orange, Red
and Green
we never seem to lose
track of axis
when disambiguating
a pattern so
Enigmatic

A nonogram, sangaku,
sokoban or Soma cube
can you defuse the timebomb
of ciphened clues inside a
crossword puzzle's line
like the words which spill from
my lips?
Tell me,
are you prepared for
this test?

Tetris pieces,
Yours an 'O'
mine a 'T', we fit best
when flat-locked,
with me on top, wedged
horizontally,
or depths- we fall so
hard upon a well called
the 'Matrix'
all you needed was the final 'I'
to clear the field
but quite unluckily,
some force unknown
sent you a 'Z'

Do I enjoy assembling jigsaws?
Interlocked adjacent
configurations,
finally figuring out the
bigger picture
when enraptured
in you
I care for nothing other
than what combined image
depicts- a master symphony
before this,
I was truly incomplete

You are the
awkward edge,
to my even more
awkward edge
smoothing out gaps
in each other, interminably
two odd ends,
drifting through the box,
doomed to be rough and
jagged eternally
but when we found our match,
it seemed to just
click,
at last- some symmetry

How do I know you're it?
Because you filled the only
hollow and wanting
part of me
and since the day
we met
you've fit my design
decisively,
like my final
vital
missing
puzzle piece







(c) Paul LaTorre 2010

Apollo 14

Hello crab Nebula
how was interstellar
flight? Through Orion's
belt- I see you're still
in orbit, kicking asteroid
ass; alive and well, without
any stray comet, fiery-taled
plotting to melt you on
return to noble Earth,
while in Aura-eyed
plain sight

All these kids we grew up with,
got lost in the cause
(We now know it as 'reality')
became clouded by dampened
thoughts of fucked up, torn &
crushed dreams,
cynics because they lost
the luster of 'what could be'
washing up on-shore, coral drying
and dying upon reaching the coast
of Greece

Celestial bodies, dancing
rhythmically to the beat of a
funky metronome
Our paths rest inside our dome
your future may only stretch so far
as one's ambition can roam

So wrote Sophocles:
"Wonders are many, and none is
more wonderful than man"
yet, quite contrary- we find
men to be most destructive
moreso than Gods, than demons
or the beasts roaming this land
The hand of Hyperion gives light-
an ion of sight to Eos- the dawn
which rises to greet all things

Antigone insists that we take
the River Ammites, but with reprieve
we could trek over Mount Olympus
& make it to the Adriatic Sea

Ptolemy brought me to
a common street block so you
could swap my colors 'round,
like a Rubix Cube- moving the
World with patterns elaborate
& mural-fused, so beautiful
you tell me of planets we can visit
far from both our moons- yet
Neptune's not nearly as cold
as Zeus alluded to

Blinding-bright stars that we know;
Poseidon, Triton, Thetis & Eros
made this miserable high-school like
building a place that was worth
attending daily to grow, and
somewhere you want to go back
a reunion of swagger, visit old halls
& of course- primp, brag and gloat

Asteria and Selene made night
skies serene; Apollo gave us
the chords for songs to follow,
as we hum and sing along with
Charite- so good hearted, donates
gifts, always to cherish and keep

Erato and Euterpe gave us means
to make poetry- recite, write, scribe
but like all given equations- with positive
outlook, there's negative minds that
bring unduly balance to every
sonnet, ballad, song & rhyme

Ursa Major- was a player,
ever since he was a minor
Echo spread his heckling
Hera shot me in the eye once
Hedone would secretly sneak
many warriors in her shack after class
Athena once challenged Hercules
to an intergender fight
Hermes always took to the wind,
stealing what he'd like at his whim
Hecate and Lamina- the two
vampires who drained this high
school of love & virtuous gifts
and necromania's all that remains
Aphrodite might be the one I
designated to be my future bride, but
now I realize not all is based upon
appearances- but what lies inside

I find that as we move- from students
of life; to tutors, leaders and rulers
that some were meant to sky-rocket
and some are better off
left burning in
the atmosphere
of our Universe-
it's better to shoot for your
passion and miss,
even if no guardian God is there,
reeling you in with their lasso
to never dream at all-
that's what it's like
to live life
in a Black Hole.







(c) Paul LaTorre 2010

Phil Lost Sophy

This first session of
couple's therapy
troubleshooting just how
this relationship's plague
escalated, reaching
its trembling peak
we find ourselves
knee deep in this war zone
of whipping words currently

See these two star-crossed
learners met three point-five
years ago at a convention
discussing medical ethics
they found a storybook connection
took to each other quickly
latched lips and never let go

Yet today all we observe is
fighting, clawing, scratching
and returning back and forth as if
this were a tennis match
opposition on a court,
made of clay or grass
all Phil can do is receive,
while she serves

Yes these two young lovers
always argue, to a fault
with their shouting matches,
can cause quite a racquet
with the line judge watching,
their therapeutic debate
somewhere along Wimbledon's
stage, our couple got caught in
the net with their scorching claims
some threats which the doctor surveys
come to fruition with the flames
heaven or hell be damned,
these two would be the reason
to bring a close to the grand slam

See, unlike a tennis game-
it's hard to define the way they
volley, both play rough
because when deadlocked
at 0- so impossible to say it's
'Love-Love'
Hard to split blame, and detach
when it's Game-set-match

Because Phillip NEEDS proof
to call something truth
he is a logical thinker
Yet Sophy's more the type
to invest in hope with eyes closed
doesn't question her creator

As you could guess, when it
comes to a test of will, like faith
and religion-
they never align or coincide
he's an Atheist
she an Evangelist
seeing eye-to-eye on things
like the Earth's genesis
or if our architect has abandoned us
is not something this
loving duo could do

Sophy strongly pleads-
"Honey, what if God was
one of us?"
Phil softly remarks- quite scoffingly,
"Well, he'd probably look exactly
like Liam Neeson
with the voice of Morgan Freeman...
but I guess he'd ditch the
white robe, so we couldn't easily
disturb him on quiet evenings..."

"Har-har, that's hilarious- just remember
to keep cracking jokes when
you're rotting in eternal
hellfire with all of your fellow
heathens."

Always offering opposing sides
of the spectrum, intricate theories of
"Who are we, and how'd we truly
come to be?"
As higher functioning monkeys
both fighting over the highest
branch of their humble apartment's
tree

"Sophy- Pythagoras and Cicero
formed all we study and see, they changed
the label from 'wisemen' to philosophers
took Aristotle and Heraclitus'
sophist dictations in times of the
Athenian Democracy

Socrates was a king, of the mind
when speaking
Yet when climbing out from
a lit-flame cave of ignorance, even
enlightened eyes may take
time to adjust, to
seeing the light

Knowledge is a fruit that can be
sour on first bite
But as an acquired taste, it grows
sweeter with every discussion,
debacle, question, or fight-
you'll only find truth
if you commit to never accepting
simple 'yes' and 'no'..."


"Ummm, yeah...ok Phillip
so suppose we form our everyday
decisions around the ideals of
some old dead dude like Socrates"

"You're right, it's wiser and more
cerbral,too, to pause when the wicked
world is defeating you- and simply ask
'What Would Jesus Do?!?

Plato is so much more
than the dough you molded
as a kid,
he was the first forward thinker
paving way for
Descartes, John Locke,
Zen, Bushido, Confucian theory & Taoism
Rousseau and Sigmund Freud
so many who filled a void
whom shaped all modern ideals
defining every term by which
we live

Karl Marx started a socialist party,
led an entire government-gutting
mind raving, war raping and
red flag waving revolution!"


"Fine, let's total radicals
local activists then, take our
children's college fund and spend
it on some plane tickets
Hit Nicaragua, take the easy way out
No bad deed, when done for
the greater good- all our worries
can end then..."

But it all came to a crashing halt
when Phil found out that
one major piece of intel
was kept from him all along
some malfunctioning fatal flaw,
her beliefs led her to be someone
she never dreamed- a monster,
life thief

Sophy was three months carrying
this tiny embryo,
an egg in her womb
the fetus fused by both these two,
yet still unmarried- to boot,
knew if stomach showed through
while unmarried, her parents would
reject them in sin,
say no child of theirs could bear
out of wedlock- with the watching
judgmental eyes of the Virgin Mary
it was Sophy's choice- but she acted
without consulting Phil until
the day which followed
the abortion

Vomiting sick, with Phil comforting-
though disgusted by her act, no tact
in her not even asking what
state of mind her boyfriend was at,
he'd serve the last crippling shot
from a penn or wilson ball
which would cross the line and
end it all

Packing, he left the house-
that day losing the love of his
life, and also his woman
Knowing every time he looked into
her eyes, he'd see their unborn child's
iris color of hazel/blue combined,
and he couldn't

Is it better to live with dispute,
constant argument, fallout, disagreement
should we discuss and decide
when beliefs battle-clash
and cause internal bleeding?

Is family worth abandoning
because isolated idealism led us
to question our ethics
all I know, is Phil and Sophy
could have corrected
the moral plight, start over and
do it right, with appreciation
for each other not think only of
what their values suggest

Being kind to one another,
talking out scuffles and blunders,
with humble understanding
think of what they would want
not just what you want
from them
Never lose the trail to
what makes two happy
because of religion or some
society's judgment

It's better to die trying
than to live with regret
to lose fighting,
than forefeit trying
due to pride and mindset
compromise, let love decide
and you can form
your own philosophy








(c) Paul LaTorre 2010

Mimic

Spotlight on an empty stage
but look deeper- and see an
impersonation of a person
his face a masquerade
how much would you
pay to see the
future
lying past today

Friends claim to have
hella soul like some
platform shoes
from '72- but how much
treading on the hooves
could you endure- stepping
on holy ground of cloud city
Could this Archangel fly straight while
approached by false prophets?
Well, hell no-
You must bid them 'Adieu'

Let's strap on a mask
for acquaintances, now
known as a smile
364 more steps to a fresh
Solstice- let the sun set for
a while, sweet child of mine
put your toys away
no time to play- it's a grownup
World without place for
hijinks and an elaborate
imagination
just take one last break, then
we can waste and watch all
our youthful dreams
incinerate

My eyes
filled with fumes from a
flickering inferno
different colors segregated like
Mandela-protest apartheid times
a pink pure-cut diamond
with jagged rinds, still too rough
to even shine
This rock is bloodshot,
pried from the hands of a
dead soldier in disguise
We're all sight seperated by these
Cape Town Republican tribes
with a checkered past, it's impossible
to see past
black-and-white lines

I've got heart
but I am not a Love
machine
I can only emulate
passionate reactions
which I've seen
on TV screens

She tells me "dame contacto"
yet I cannot, though- 'cause
I really don't know what a
human truly feels like
not made of flesh and
positive-O blood type
I'm merely composed by words,
anecdotes, witty sayings
and insight

Could I please someday be
Gipetto's real son, not some
wood carved facsimile
give me pain, give me the
ability to feel some sense
of empathy

I am some thing which has
yet to be invented
I'm a clone or remnance of
the boy you first fell in
love with, or scars
of premature pregnancy
baby lost in the second trimester
the father you don't remember
or your cancer-stricken brother
your best friend who died last summer
or your mom with
a bum heart

I'm your potential,
you will come to realize me
someday-
all you can do for now is
wait, continue to not
fear life or death, or trying
every wild thing under the sun
and fucking up, one day
we'll find perfection- 'til then
just keep up human tradition
lose & find love,
and I'll keep
experimenting
with fate






(c) Paul LaTorre 2010

Ruby Slippers


Dorthy surely had the
right idea
'cause if all you do is
chase Toto,
you'll never make it back
from over the rainbow
or find that elusive
Wizard of O
finally reaching end
of that ever-winding
brick road

Click your heels twice
good advice if you believe
in fairy tales, happy endings
like long farewells with sweet
kisses- and good always prevails
over the flying monkeys
after you drop houses
on the Wicked bitch-
Witch of the East

Auntie Em seems terrible, when
all you want is freedom
a place to roam free- all she
heeds is for you to steer
clear of Emerald City
because it's no place for an
impressionable young naive
girl like you to be

When greeted by the sweets
of munchkins carrying lollies
you can't help but be dazzled
by the candies which they
are offering, but you don't see
that all gifts they offer for free
come with underlying prices
and rot teeth

Without rubies to illuminate
you can lose courage,
or way home, maybe your
heart and brain- function of
vital organs, no streaming blood
you collapse like deep gasps taken
with punctured lungs

Our friend the Tin Man
came home early from work one day
and to his dismay, heard
his wife stir with nervous energy-
makes his way to his master suite,
he hears bedroom floor shuffling
of four feet
Knowing he's become a casualty
of adultering, he grabs his ax- uncertain
yet she was the one to
chop his love in half, saying-
"Baby, pay no attention to
the man behind the curtain!!"
Ripping his heart from
his body, soon after she left
with the other man-
and no Oil Can can ever
clear this rust from the
vacant hole in his chest

We're not in Kansas anymore?
Damn right, this is a dangerous
chaotic Tornado zone
left on your own, it's hard to
guard the cover of one's sternum
when you're deserted by some
whore, now that's a horse
of a different color

The Lion we know- was once
King of his pride, he'd roam
a stretching Savannah,
all his own- strutting proudly,
with his red bow & curly hair hourly
but then the hunters rummaged
the entire horizon- to kill, to poach,
maim and leave nothing its same
way, as it was before they came
Lion left impotent- no more of
a Panthera Leo's thirst
stripped the Alpha male of all
power, see- his pride castrated
he shrinks back, feeling trapped
this Lion's labeled Cowardly

Our posted Scarecrow would claim
watch over rows of corn, the
endless streams of maize
He'd patrol the field with
hours, days, months to kill
protecting from blackbirds
he'd ward off, but no substance to
days, he'd find other ways to
keep himself entertained
Grew some poppies in his own plot
of land, for the opium
although this possibly harmless plant
can cause sleep, eternal- he divides it
to two alkaloids: Codeine and Morphine
Taking his heroin flight
straw-filled trips to the sky
no ambition, but chase dragons
it may drag him to a dungeon
of euphoria and black light, but
there's nothing save for
Hydrochloride which can pull him
back from drugged-trips
but due to this, mixture of miosis
and intravenous kiss- he drains
every brain cell from his head, to
tip toes- now becoming
what he once hovered over
a mother fuckin' vegetable

And dear young Dorothy?
Sold those ruby slippers-
to the Wicked West Witch, did some
severely obscene sexual favors
for the Wizard as he promised
to float her home, using his magic
if she'd fulfill every position
he envisioned in his own pleasure dome

Passed out in the palace, our girl
lost her little dog too
Pigtails untied, her dress and stocking
astrewn, tears running
her face mud-sullen and bloodied
sometimes chasing
the Rainbow- all that lies
at the end of your journey,
is only just one large
and troublesome rain
puddle

Follow
the yellow
follow the yellow
follow that
yellow brick shimmering
road,
one last remaining
glimmer of hope
No matter what obstacles
stagger you- don't adhere
to the Wicked's words- that
return is impossible
keep your head up, hero
through the cyclone,
murderous trees, flying monkeys
a ticking hourglass, or poppy
fields which fill your head with
dreams to roam
never lose the trail back
because there's really no place
Like Home.





(c) Paul LaTorre 2010