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

My Muse

The spirit of Aphrodite
with Marie Curie's brain
all the intangible sexuality of
Cleopatra
thrown in a petite 5'3" frame

She has the body of a Goddess-
perhaps in a dream one summer's
eve, I molded her
out of clay
Her holistic and sacred ways-
spell out Indira Gandhi or Joan of Arc
with patience of a Saint

Daring like Amelia Aerhart
sense of guidance and admiration
for Earth like Pocahontas
taking in her John Smith- this
European settler sets in, I swear to
do no harm to her land of promise

Freeing my ways, like legions of slaves
No Tubman here, she tells me only
Sojourner's Truth
Leading like Queen Elizabeth the 1st
she lets actions speak
her selflessness living proof

Jane Austen with her words, I plead
with sense & sensibility
Jane Goodall couldn't have a better
way with apes than the way
she always tames
the beast in me

A Mona Lisa with freckles-
Desdemona with tattoos of
Phoenix and wolf's tooth
Turtles find their way to her breast
and nose, she breathes out to exude
everything you'd want- Audrey Hepburn
with no narcissism to flaunt
her burn mark, every scar only
leads me to appreciate even more the
essence of what flawed images of
perfection can be when held
in her bracelet- lined arms

She is Frida Khalo with her fingertips-
painting her brush strokes eagerly
on her way to my heart
the greatest opus- I could never
compose, more vivid than
a dream's imagery
somehow was sent to me
I'll tend to her needs, frame her
forever-
she is heaven, she's the angels,
and our creator's single greatest work
of art.






(c) Paul LaTorre 2010

Garden (Mind) State

This here is a symposium
for blind ears and
deaf eyes
Opening the shut vault
of tastebuds, crack open the sky
let two bites from
this ruby red
pomegranate
line your stomach
with seeds nourishing,
to blazen six senses
while tickling your insides

Let the arils of pulp
compress, feel that percussion
in your chest- thump pressing
like a Dr. Dre beat, full of
bass but no treble, your ribcage
implodes from the tremble
let cardiac debris from the impact
hit walls, whip-lash into me

Taste the motivation
a springwell from the
Appalachian
Mountain's streams, dance
down your esophagus
quenching your carnal needs

Flaming sword from a golden stone
used to wield its way into the
trunk of this fallen tree
The serpentine nature of what
all men can be, yet we want to
lead; not into evil, self-shamed
naked debauchery- but purity

This vine-ripened birthplace
of the most wonderful
absynthe-laced, temptation
laden daydreams of you and me

I grab one shiny, bright, fleshy vessel
of knowledge
a utopian sprout spilling out
from a paradisian cornucopia
not sure if I'll be forgiven
for all my sins- but must live
while alive, so I do strive to make
mistakes, we humans are prone
to fuck up- and we hope for lust

Despite all the side effects;
endless bliss, headaches from citron
the fear of losing your citrus mist
grapes, seedless with purple blood
or figs and dates sweeter than
any pie or chocolate chips

It came tsunami-tide riding into my vision
a cascade of horrendous truth
none of these things were ever
the forbidden fruit,
that was your lips
yet still I will never
resist- an Eden from which
I can't unglue

Of course none of this
is my downfall- no end
of Man because of what his
Woman pursued,
I act for me- if either us two
should slip and succumb
to any pleasure,
we'll remember that it's
the flame of passion which
sparked
the Earth's creation

A Big Bang after it all,
placed oceans apart
these bodies of ours,
like art- when interlocked
in this promised land, our nirvana
it's not wrong
honest to God truth,
I only found salvation
tasting you







(c) Paul LaTorre 2010

Pop

There's really no
point
in living in a bubble

Circular paths have no
end, but the beginning is
where you decide to stop
going through daily motions
of routine- a repetitive
scheme of life's struggle

If this existence is
what you make it
take that bull by the balls
and shake its sack- reign
him in by the horns and
create days of remarkable
note, on which you can
look back

Gestate inside that soapy
piece of real estate
float on high with eyes
open- and don't blow it

If you adhere to all your
fears
and let that feeling
render you helpless
you can't conquer the
binding chains that
hold you
that encompassing structure
of a sphere
that controls you

Sometimes it's best to
scrap the safety net,
not caring what may
come next

Let's make love
and be loved
because if that is
all you need

A passion for something
greater than self, a calling
& a rebellious philosophy
is how to obliterate
the chamber of
captivity

Pop the bubble that's
holding you back
greet gravity
turn the key

Fear may hold you
hostage, but
falling will
set you
free.




(c) Paul LaTorre 2010

Redemption Song

Those who are miserable,
even pitiful
for every failed dream,
wallow in self-loathing
they won't wish you well,
dispelling hope- laughing back,
dwelling on negativity;
shit talkers supreme

Vicarious inhabitants
not qualifited critics for any &
all of y'all's chosen actions
Then a flick-switch, stomach flips
They get sick from your
accomplishments, snap at you
just 'cause you have some

The selfish one in conflicts
caused by constant
'I want'
conjuring convoluted false
beanstalks, reinventing history
as they flaunt- oh yes, indeed,
they may twist the tale,
to make themselves
aim of every scandal,
haters just want
to be the orbit-point of talk

Rock-em-sock-em robots
Boxing over our
Pride
It's a strong sticking point
many men have died just to
Prove to another
"I'm right"
Stubborn, right?

Good always prevails over
Vile, vocal villains
Their threats will hold
No filling
Minds like idle cars
with melted engines- there's
really no use in stealing

What would be the point
of living in tense of
past precedents
never bringing path to
present events toward
some established sense
of happiness
an arrogant front-
swears to be the greatest
thing since sliced bread
what's reason to cut another's
hopes, if you're the one
growing stale instead?

Champagne for my real friends
and real pain for
My sham friends
Cheers to non-genuine enemies
Let the fake be spitfire grilled
We rotate and toast them
due to all the imitators who
pretend to be

Pinnochio knows no nose
grows, so long as
we keep our word,
lies won't go unnoticed
if our truthful word's heard
Stars shoot, planets move
life adapts as we do
Let's reflect light upon
Dark surface of heart's moon
Luna's blessings bring
birth, a burst of life right
from Artemis' womb
prism of refracted rays
a prison too hard to harness
our feelings with
bent shapes of rainbow array
a ROYGBV harvest

We must tell the truth
to those we wish
to create a castle with
and build a bridge,
concrete and marble beams
pillars we call honesty
and honestly, I've been tryin'
to stop lyin' like Simba
too, but it's difficult, to find
a will to adjust when I
just Can't Wait to be King

Gotta come clean like
a urethra filled with bleach,
and no matter how much
it stings- we must always
be decent, sincere to all
even those who wish
to instill fear, shouldn't we
live life, and forgive while
still here?


Persecution of the Jews
Chased through Jerusalem
Seeking not retribution, never
asking apology from pursuants
Reciprocity will bring you
All one could ever request-
respect, wisdom and progress
are the ultimate revenge


Fighting fire with fire,
only leads to a hellstorm
Cool flames with
icy extinguishers of
Understanding
No pandemics present
wiping cities clean
of racist regimes
Coexistence- we demand it
dramamine fed
intravenously
harmony through a
bloodstream sings:

"Don't worry
about a thing...
Because every little thing...
Is gonna be alright"

Bob Marley was right
a redemption song ignites,
so long as we smile- we can
crush the might, of any
vengeful spite

Native American eyes which
Shed a single tear
Land nourished and given
Praise has been ransacked
Plundered, drained the blood
of the soil since arriving here
Extinct because we came
Near, we came on a Mayflower
to escape some opressors,
but became the aggressors-
taking what we please at our
Leisure and leaving
behind a wake of crippling
Disease, destruction, waves of
dead buffalo without offer of tribute
or sacrifice- we don't love nature,
respect the creator- crops are taken
yet never replaced
Eagle's wings clipped just
for sport, hunting, the thrill
of the chase
We taste the sweetest fruits
engorge ourselves until sick of it
Then throw away the pits
Don't savor or give
Thanks to the place from
which it has risen
Now isn't that ignorant?

Manifest Destiny- settling land
already claimed, supposedly exploring
a cultivated kingdom, being
stripped of Natural splendor and grace,
amber waves of grain, or for
purple mountain's majesty
which we turned to
chemical plants, no refrain
for Earth's original plan, don't
see what's best for environment
sewage dump in the Pine barrens
oil rig in a gorgeous canyon
we take God-given phenomena
and man-make them into
Nature concentration camps

Justice is not
Revenge
Not spite
Nor hatred
Not violence
Not bloodshed
Not evil
Not rape
Murder, nepitism, vindicated reciprication,
Not battle-
It is balance,
It's to nurture those who
badmouth, inflict damage
and seek to hurt you

Despite infinite need
To be deceitful,
evil acts to match evil
seeking eye for an eye
are you blind?
To leave us all without sight
would further justification
For crimes
felt wrongly trespassed against
family of mine- they tell, nay
Command us, to follow orders
because when it comes to
a corrupt system being
trial, jury, judge
and executioner
there's far beyond
Six Million
ways to die

But in truth,

All you need
Is
One
Reason to
Love







(c) Paul LaTorre 2010

Namaste

Namaste, sin namaste
I wonder what the
Dalai Llama'd say
You offer your body-
yet to my heart's dismay
All I wanted was
your grace, a simple gesture
but still not a single effort
when you walk my way

Passed away
the old you, replaced with
a new
but what values could
One hold if no respect
for a flesh temple
Pure anatomical gift
that of which
you abuse

Tongue-lashing
komodo dragon
All poisonous spurts
from the glands
but no teeth
Full-on-bark, no bite
but still might paralyze
if I set into her sights
with honeydew sliced
from the vine- she sips
the juice as we await
her next phase of
skin-shed, through speech
so calmly she evades the
swinging pendulum blade

Perdon a me while I
rest upon this bed
and unspool this
entire ball of thread
I suggest she and I get
some rest tonight,
yet she bewitchingly says-
"Let's be Gods, instead..."

It's been the phantom
hanging from an olive branch
Dropping on your windowsill
If lips could kill
She'd plant me with the very
Last kiss as
I hit the graveyard
of her poppy-seed soilfield

An oil spill of hymns
Hurricane of hallelujah
Woo-sah winds whip
Namaste, namaste
What would the
Prophet Muhammad or
Virgin Madonna say
Llama me mi salvadora
no escaping your aura
the negative refrain from
breaking your stance while
tip-toeing down my
bedroom's window frame
amidst crickets of the night
planning silent-escape

'Namah te'-
I bow to you,
despondently you catch
all the praise I
hoped to lay, pledging
Obeisance with each of
my hands
pressed against the
grains of sand, like a chapel
locked airtight to
suffocate the rain

A Yogic saying
Similar to Peace, Mahalo
kind words of praise- Shalom
As-Salaam Malakem
Aloha- shall we be taken
with humble greetings
we so for granted take them

The spirit
in me
Greets the spirit
in you
The divine spark
ignited by
chakras- floor to ceiling
kneeling mats of
floral tribute

We are all equal beings
on this plane
of sacred domain
How do I say this
in plain English?
Is it pure, is this too
unfamiliar like coded, scriptured
Sanskrit

No 'Pinky and the Brain'
tonight, scrap plans
to World dominate
Confiscate selfish ways
put your ego on layaway
For just one day, love thy neighbor
Do unto others as
you'd want them to do you
and you too, may find
Nirvana in Dharma, the end
of a path to reincarnate
our youth

King to reigning queen
Pneuma to your Psyche
World to your Meaning, the reason
for each new solemn phase
the God in me; the Goddess
in your meditative state
when we find Chi

These hands, like scissors
Cut through every difference
ever existed between
you and I
For hatred ever kills,
Love never dies-
Honor the purpose
in your life,
when you bow, and pray-
"Namaste"




(c) Paul LaTorre 2010

Achilles Heel

Is it tethered by connective
tissue to
the quadricep, a root reaching
from the ball of my foot

My one weakness,
does it follow no matter
where my paranoia
carries me

Past the river Styx
I become dipped in the
currents
of invincibility

but one part of me
left out, and therein lies
the only target for poison-tipped
toxic Hydra blood
covered arrows to fly
into the one narrow
spot which would spell
my last breath

Should I just succumb
to urges of fallacy
forgive to forget tragedies
I erased from the
frames of a mental tape
which I store in my brain
as a reference page

It corners me,
like Daniel
in the Lion's Den
but I must vanquish
the beast
before it pounces
when it's HIM or ME
you'd best believe
I'll be standing with their
blood
painting the square
as leather canvas,
some chariot of carnage
I will ride like a parade float
to the Temple of Solomon

Is this surreal or physical
some organ or literal
body part
can we tone it with cardio,
thigh presses or squats
can calves be
protected
so the tendon never snaps
collapse and buckle
like the legs of fawn
who were just birthed from
mother deer's womb

Sneaking through gates
of this city of Troy
in some forged plywood,
kamikaze
Horse
we coarse through our own
flaws and find the
path to remorse

In life, one finds it's easier to
betray than
be trusted
to lose the ones you love
than be the one to
fall in-luck
worst of all,
you usually falter
due to your own
giving ways

Because pride, like a
tunic or chestplate- it
lies by the breast
can easily be wounded,
punctured or removed

It's deceptive, you see
that all this time one spends
obsessed over feet,
when all along Achilles' Heel
beats right here

it's my Heart.




(c) Paul LaTorre 2010

The Skyy is Falling

The scene:

backdrop lit, a summer's eve

and on a very unassuming,

unfortunate first date

Bloomfield ave. and the corner of 8th

Newark, New Jersey

little cafe- a modest place, is where

our unsuspecting young

couple sits and waits:

The man, Justin- just hit with some

stroke of inspiration,

looking up to the purple backdrop

mauve-lit sky of an inner-city

liquor advertisement

on the billboard behind his girlfriend's

eyesight, where a tagline allures them, seducing

'COME BUY, COME BUY!!'

Justin complies, orders a nightcap

"Please, waitress- for my girlfriend and I,

a 'Cape Cod'"

(Which is Vodka, Cranberry juice three blocks of ice, and some Lime)

Hoping if he loosens her up,

tonight could be 'their lucky night'

Suddenly, comes a haggard,

frazzled old man, with a stank aroma

out of nowhere-as if fallen from the...Turnpike

If I'd have to guess true whereabouts

of where the old man- let's call him Mike

came from earlier that night-

I'd hazard to guess Luficer's asshole,

by the smell of him, it'd explain why his clothes

were tattered, and he looked

so disheveled- like he'd never seen

a crowded main street in his life(...least, it might.)

"Did you have a good time tonight, Victori-"

but before the young half-buzzed casanova could finish

his line, he would be interrupted-

"Hey, EXCUSE ME!! Young man...but the Sky is falling...

Hope I'm not interrupting, it's just that I thought

you'd want to know...or be worried...

...because the

Sky

is falling."

"Yeeeah, right- listen,

I'd like to chat...really, I would

gramps but I'd like to get back, to this

chick of mine-and this drink,

it's calling my

name...I don't think I trust

you enough to tell

me what to think of the sky."

"Fair enough, I can't

force you to listen up.

But I did try to warn you...

The Sky is falling."

"Oh really, old quack?

I never heard that one before-

'Ooooh, the sky is faaaallling'

I mean I seen em' predict rain- in the form of

Cats and Dogs, and somethin' bout

pigs taking flight in the late day(that's all)

And you!!! Mister wonderful ruiner

of precious moments, being a

prophet-genius, sent from far in the future,

to deliver us allllll from some ominous,

horrible fate--& oooh look!!

A Unicorn just came ballroom dancing into the cafe-

from the Corner of 3rd and Broadway!!

Let me shoot her..."

"Fine, don't listen to what I'm warning...

but the Sky

IS

falling..."

Justin ignores the old man, and

the fateful forecast of vengeance

from the skies- instead, begins

rubbing fingertips up Vickie's thigh-

he hears hormones calling,

night growing old;

he wants to try to pry his luck and

slip inside

Yet should his tongue drift a sigh,

or a line in the narrow hallways which

connect a woman's earlobes

to her mind

Whispering to her, featherly-

"Can I take you home tonight?"

moisture forms around her pantyline-

"AHEM!!!

Boy, I SAID the

Sky...

it's FALLING!!!"

"Listen old man, I've had enough

with your rambling

hallucination having

selfish, impetuous old homeless fuck-

who gives a damn if anything

you say, does or doesn't

come true...it won't hold up

Next thing you're gonna tell me

to watch out for Chupacabra too...or BOOO!

Should I be

scared of the Jersey Devil- or no, I should

be ware of 2012

because if the Mayans say it

then it HAS to be true!!

And ooooh, wait- our President's got

death camps he's currently

constructing, to lead us all into!!

Elvis, Tupac and Mike Jackson

are really all still alive-

somewhere stored, frozen,

waiting next to some popsicles,

deep in some cooler in New Mexico

right with the Aliens at

Area 59.

Stop talking out that fucking

lying old ass of yours-

and purchase your pathetic,

musty self a motherfucking life...Can't

you see me

smoochin' with my girl here, would ya throw me a line?"

Then from nowhere- blinding bright flash,

clap of thunder

a few rusted hinges creak,

SNAP

whoooooosh,

swoop- swipe!

Then SPLAT! Goes two tons

solid steel

crashes the concrete-

cracking the pavement

twice on impact,

making spiderweb sidewalk-lines,

came from the lofty height

of the apex of a billboard, hanging off

the lips of a 22-foot gigantic bikini model

a 12-time real scale sized,

sinister

almost smashed our couple

to bits, calamitous

cobalt blue bottle

Had been hanging there for weeks,

hinging on the smallest blow

of the wind or

knock of the breeze

snapped, came swinging toward the

young couple, but the old man

saw it falling onto Justin

so he leaped.

Now, eyes wide,

catatonic paralysis

Justin shakes off everything

that just happened,

right in front of

his life-flashing eyes

Is he actually still here-

did that crazy

old-as-time apocalyptic crusty old

man really just save his life?

Mike gets up off the prone

24-year old,

brushes his sullen shirt off,

tips his invisible hat

gives Victoria a kind silent

bowing gesture of

'You're Welcome'

for that

turns to Justin, lifts him up-

points to the label of the

nearly fatal

broken bottle, below and says-

"The Sky was falling...

Told you so."

(c) Paul LaTorre 2010

The Great White Death

Two tiny drops
crimson-speck stain
a cresting wave
then I wait, as
blood
dissolves
into the water
that's all I need to
track down
location of my prey
& pound
resoundingly into your
chest, rip flesh
of perhaps the leg,
no- your neck

leading you
unknowingly, right into
jaws,
of two-ton crushing
pressure threshing,
tear at the bone to leave
red clouds
in the water

all thanks to a relentless
10 foot radius
bite
slaughter

Your final sight,
my gills
as I swoop in
for
the kill-strike

Search for a target,
this sense
of scent so strong
& is within
range
even if
it's more than
a half-mile gone,
it's still in sight

A fin
piercing the surface,
as currents
of this salty ocean body
shift and stir

There's not a poacher
on Earth who
can rival
my blackened eyes,
penetrating glare
soon as you catch
their stare
not a chance
you'll survive

Razor sharp
rows of serated teeth
ready to saw
skin into soft, red tissue
then feed
& feed

I thrash,
but hell hath
no frenzy-
like the lone hunter
it's only me
fear me, indeed, as if
I were my own
army

Call me chordata
by species &
genus
linked to the dinosaur
but you may know
me as something
more
intimidating and
summer-beach panic
motivating

Electromagnetic pulse
I can detect
half a billionth of
a volt
so if you're nearby
best keep that
heartbeat calm or it will
cease

I am a Great White
unintentional
unconventional, inhuman
serial murderer
I'm prone to go berserk
yet I can't tell
whether you're seal, squall
human, fish or surfboard
any one can be the main course
in fact, I think
I'll save a morsel
for dessert

Apex Predator
Da dun
--da dun
da duh da dun
---da dun
if you ever hear
my theme,
swim at lightning bolt
speed,
race right out
the waters, yes
you'd better run

An Amityville
horror
if you tangle with
this snout
I'll gut you,
believe me
quicker than your
vocal chords
can even formulate
a dying shout
or plea

Don't listen to
the two-legged
buffoons at
National Geographic
I'm the undisputed
King of Sea
and if you cross me,
you'll soon
understand that
it takes no special 7 day
schedule of
programming arranged
by Discovery

silly humans,
every single week
that I breathe
is
my week






(c) Paul LaTorre 2010

Golden Ticket

When did heaven become...like some grand lottery?
Something only the most righteous, pious and blemish-free fortunate souls deserve as an ultimate home?

When did having faith and an imagination for something greater, require entry in a sweepstakes akin to getting into Wonka's Chocolate Factory?

Heaven will
never be
what you expect
it to be

Heaven can
only be
what we conceive
in our dreams

What we perceive
deep in a translucent
transcendental, luminescent
ever-present and
element-sent sleep-
yet if 1 in 3 don't believe
in God, Jesus or
some sheperd of
lost sheep, no Allah,
Jehovah, Shivah nor
really any deity
how can they
ever achieve
true amity?

Doubters would plead:
the afterlife's just an
elaborately crafted
church-conjured, and
fear inducing scheme
forcing the masses
to attend mass & service,
and confess to a priest,
pay them offerings, or be
the ones wielding the power
in God-fearing pagan
communities...

But can't you see-
It takes not the rifle or knife to
make a wise man leak,
all you need is signs for
a blood drive, to make
his heart unleash tides
unto the crimson donor sea,
he is living charity
think again, we don't
need temples, religion
or overseeing Papacy
to reach the palace
of immortal kings

En la Cidade de Deus
do we reach Nirvana
reincarnate in form of
some DHARMA shark
or a mystic chakra
to deliver us from
harfmul karma

it's not reliant on some
pious or compliant
divine philosophy
it exists in
you and me

that other realm
we tapped into
before this earth below
befouled and tainted
our sacred, pristine
innocent infant feet

we came from it,
it came before us-
so someday, we must
return the deed,
just as mature trees
create, sprout, spread and
disperse seeds
we'll ride the wind
just the same as them
when we inevitably
leave

When you no longer breathe,
does it mean you're deceased?
Or simply living without boundary
land, law, or bodily;
omnisicient floating harmony

No sacred chapels
up in sky, no gold-lined
sidewalks for you to sweep
or harp-plucking, winged
cherubic baby angels
to welcome you to
Galilee

It doesn't need to be
about idyls you don't
kneel before
or the prophet you can't see
all heaven can ever be
is the completion you seek

Is there some
courtroom
for judgment day,
a list with all those who
sinned past point of
repentance or covenance
a judge's chair with
a sandaled glowing man
but you never feel his
hand or see his face?
Is this the place?

Heaven is not the seat
where 'they' judge 'we'
or the strong imprison
the meek, throwing you
to fire and brimstone
condeming all for
long-ago atrocities-
no "lock them up in hell,
throw away the key"
It's more like a
'get out of jail free'
a ticket to resurface clean,
once submerged in a
turbulent sea, and left
their Earthly body back
awash on the beach.

Is there a place for a
civil agreement or treaty,
where good and evil are
not met with enmity
absolutely no war
or displaced animosity
erase sense of race, class,
we start from scratch
embracing differences
each dispute is machine-gun
pelted with pellets of
peace- all hate
would cease, communicate
through translations of
any language, everyone
speaks one universal code
eased by knowing here
we're all home

So says the Nicene Creed:
"We look for the resurrection
of the dead, and the life
of the world to come"
so if we dream of pitch
black stars in light, would
the conga-beat of drums
surpass the moon's fall on
the path of lunar greatness,
surely not- so don't race
the fate of the grave, we're
all assured its touch someday
just rest assured, that once
it comes- we make our own
way into this terrestrial
forever soaring safe-gate

It's where playlists of all
our favorite songs
reside on repeat
best meal we'd ever
hope to feast, is everyday eats
and our most unattainable
goal is the one we tackle
because the fear of failing
died with our pulse-
and no gravity could ever
knock us off our feet.

Where my mother will
run at full speed, her amber
hair a red torch behind her,
barreling into me with small arms
rapturing giant hugs-
the kind I've been missing
most of my life,
I lift her up, giving at least
202 sequential kisses on the cheek,
she introduces me
to her first love
although before, we did meet
in life before this-
we barely had the
chance to speak

She'll catch me up on what
she's reading, some favorite
places to eat, the best bars
clubs and all the concert halls-
"Maybe we'll see us a show
or two, later this week..."
Grab a pizza, sit together,
watch whatever's on TV- just
laugh & bullshit as she recalls
memories, bragging as she shows
me her John Lennon auto-graphed
Beatles' vinyl copy 'Let it Be'
then, finally I'll watch triumphantly
she swims with her Dolphins-
sunrise beneath; yet here,
no moment ends, unless
we want it to cease...

this is heaven to me.

Is it across the Universe
or beyond the stars we've searched
is it logical or beyond our compass
astronomical atlas
is it humanly possible
to conceive how inter-channel
spirit travel works?

Paradise is not some high-blown,
far off kingdom we can never reach,
only if we here on Earth were to have
lived life perfectly

for we all sin,
we all falter
we all bleed
we all need reason to believe

that
Heaven
is a place
that we
can all dream.



(c) Paul LaTorre 2010

Name-Brand Cola

My irises spread wide

Screams of "Encore!" & "Bravo"
Lighters held high

Into a microphone I beckon- "let's fuckin' go, are you ready, Tokyo?"

Blood vessels in eyes
Shatter, like
Bricks ripping through
A church's Last
Temptation of Christ
Stainglass windowpane

Signals in nervous system collide
From clear-cut lines

Spectrum shifting hard,
as I'm rearranging shards,
turning colors; kaleidescopes
nuclear bombs explode,
Praising the sky
With white lies like a psalm

Let me tell you, bloke-
First time I tried blow
was '99- in Iowa
after a Titus Center show

Snorted clear off a mirror,
through rolled up
pages torn from
Gideon's bible in
some groupie's
Old immobile
motor home

Spotlight ignited
a lit sea
of faces, a trite
five hours ago

Now impossibly
trying to cope
with eighteen hour
withdrawal,
weening me off slow
They use methodone

It goes like this- climb
highest peak,
take the fall
Rock bottom comes
much realer than
wrestling holds

Austin never
knew a stone cold
stunner like
losing your record deal, vocal talent,
Fans, wife and children
all in one summer

12 steps, 10 phases- fuck I just miss marquee stages

dust yourself off
and try again?
Except this white horse
kicking habit
has me feeling
quite the sadist

They say I should
Just stay until I
no longer feel shakes,
chestquakes and pupils
don't diolate
because I'm not
invincible, haven't felt
This helpless since
The first grade

Once the hunger pangs
subside- you realize
all the sick shit you did
Just for two quick-sniffs,
start inhaling daughter's
pixie stix
snatched from a
Lunchbox on her way
To kindergarten

I jerked off a man
In Tampa to
Get my hands on
Colombian Bam-Bam
Bought a gram from
Pawning my
Wedding band and
The groom's suit too

Sold my son's
Bronze baby shoes
Just so I could
Get zooted
Lifted a Disney princess
TV- it shouting obscenities
at me like we were
watching 'Blue's Clues'

Once they label you
An addict- it usually sticks,
no quick fix
for split marriages,
lost custody
of both kids

Malcolm sees me on the
playground, embarassed
He ducks down
Having a junkie papa
Not something any teen
Would brag about
Sabrina'd spit in my face
Soon as I neared the place
If I returned, 'cause I
Disgraced my own house

Mortgaged my white
picket fence, for a white
mountain's sled
to leaked nasal passages
All this from bumps
of name-brand
Soda, let's call this
'Coca-Cola, ENJOY!'

Almost Hendrix'd,
Kurt Cobained my
Way to an early grave
Now my best friend's
a syringe, biggest
concern of the day
Is where I can snatch
A sterling silver chain
So I could buy
myself an eighth

This is what happens
when you trade
Art for addiction
sacrifice real life
For vices, lost my
convictions- made
my decision
Detached commitment
Lost love, fame
Family, my mind
faith, religion
concept of time
All of this snowballed
from when
I sniffed my
first line.


(c) Paul LaTorre 2010

Family

Drop

Drop

Drops

Filter puddles
to an IV Drip sea

The EKG
pumps,
whipping backlash
a led sledgehammer
hits the lever,
ricocheting up a scale
to a Carnival bell
win us a stuffed animal

So this is what it's like
to fly above your
own body, watching
everyone gather
around your hospital
bed, faintly sobbing

Water, water everywhere
but teardrops you
don't drink
the salt will dry
your insides, and pain
would only increase

Lockeisms of religion
"Can I tell you a secret?"
You and I play a game
of Checkers,
black and white sides
& all these human
lives are our pieces.

Waiting for some
rescue crew to release me
from what feels like
prostheses- limbs which
don't swim when thrown
in the deep end

Drown,
float,
drown- don't
resist sinking now

Convulse sweetly
here beside me,
lock your wrist into mine
feel my divinely
running river as it crosses
the Rhine
valley of blood's
stream, on a life-raft
amassed from flotation
device urinal pans
which were last resort
ghetto innovation designed

Who walks the tight
pulse-line between
'to die' and tomorrow
Doctor or Desperado?
which one writes
the deceased list
who grades thesis if all
life time is borrowed?

Tremor
tremble
tremor

hold onto your strength
"come back to us all, my lovely
family wants you
here at your best..."

send 'get-well-soon' balloons
high up to a
golden moon, tell
heaven give us a rain check
we're not ready
just yet
to send amassed roses
on soil to bed
I digress, it's too soon

thump-
thadump
thump,
lungs bring fast burst
a last flee

If you love me,
don't fan the flames- they
only spread, and can
scald your skin worse
catching lightning
in a bottle, almost
never ever works
it may burn, but you
must learn to
let go

falling apart
helps you see,
the ones who are willing to
grit teeth,
lose sleep,
give up their own spleen,
claw, scratch, clasp, bleed,
and never accept
defeat to
keep you whole.



(c) Paul LaTorre 2010

How to Survive a Scorpion Bite

Are you the type
of statistic
they mark with
an asterisk?

You know, the kind
of feat accounted for
but not acknowledged
as one who actually
lived?

Are you the critic
who judges movies when
you've only truly seen
half of it...

Type of person to
yell at a kid
when learning to read
but just hasn't seemed
to grasp the syntax
of syllables yet

force-feeding brilliance
children admonished for
shortcomings when they've
not discovered
what on Earth
is and is not
worth becoming


Are you the kind
of sub-human
to incessantly update
twitter or FB

statuses so neurotically
they send followers
into panics of cosmology
whirls of useless info;
shit noone but the author
themself could care to
hear repeatedly,
a self-obsessed
a-hole anomaly?


Make decisions so
wrong, and since noone
seen it, right? You can
wipe the scene clean
erase the happening
pretend it was some guy
No, not you, psshaw- no hay.

"Have you ever danced
with the Devil by the pale
moonlight?"
if Jack Nicholson asks this,
in a Gotham museum-
Prince boombox blaring
on sight- you should clutch
a gas mask, take winged cover
shit, run for your life!

Jokers don't travel far,
claims the thief in the night
but I crawl along the desert,
quite smooth.


A scorpion's known
to strike
only when it feels threat
you hope to resume
living, when arachnid-cornered
in dunes

If you cheat, steal, lie,
you'll see deeds
recyclically fly
back in your eyes
the kharmic payback
smack-dabbed in
your fucking face
twice.


Predators with venom
sting
quick-stab of the tibia
humans can't flee
when Metasoma hits
artery- it's curtains
spelling certain doom
neurotoxins occupy your
body like a womb

Since the time of
Babylonia, we coexisted
and they know if they
could just gain your trust
tactful arachnids
spin no webs
unless you let them
into your home, as such
they can wait long enough,
claiming shelter-
though rock hard
exoskeleton,
still soft...
somewhere past the
glands,
clawed manus
and poison
tip, somewhere still
misread- no 'aim-to-maim'
or Zodiac villain
just a small, wrongly
depicted as monstrous killer
he's just a little
creature with a
lonely heart.




(c) Paul LaTorre 2010

Fusion

Can I envelop
myself
in your sweat?
Wrap Taina
thighs & legs
lovingly 'round my neck
like a Dixon
Ticonderoga's wood
to #2 pencil lead?

Can I unravel,
promise to trace hips
Downy-commercial gently,
not even
Snuggle finds skin-soft
linen to compare-
yes, alluring a trapped
snare forcibly grabbing at,
wrecklessly rapturing
firm tressels of
dark oak the grapevines
which I entangle my
fingers, called
your hair

Even Berenstein bears
would have
cornered Goldilocks
had she possessed your
magnetic, intoxicatingly
hell-risen
temptress' stare.

Can you please, take this
left hand...now place
it on your chest-
not breast, but what
beats past ribcage, that
chapel of vital
ventricles keeping me in
duress- yet not by force
these chambers
hold me, cardiac
captive by the organ
which knows
me best

Inspiring me, inside
of you
constellations align
just us two
So how do we feel about
you & I
becoming one
tonight?






(c) Paul LaTorre 2010

Chasing the American Dream

"Why do my eyes hurt?"


"You've never used them before..."

(The Matrix-1999)

It is the single
oldest
thing, not in
this universe--
but in modern
civilization

Not LOVE,
not WAR
this is God
in our capitalist centric
indentured servant
worker-based
pod-slave, complacent
Nacirema nation

We seek out the green
backs, dead faces portraying
leaders- here & past
Andy Jackson, Queen
Liz'beth, Ben Franks,
and Trujillo's
smiles gleam from
nicotine-patch needled
addictive G-stacks.

Root of all
lethal acts,
Evil hatched from
the pursuit of supposed
Happiness
yet lead you down
the lonely path
of emptiness
we crave-night, day
with a crackhead-scratch
we itch

leaving us searching for
Zion
in tight designer jeans
only praying for a
new Beam-W,
or 52-inch flat-plasma
TV screen
these etherial, superficial
things, invaluable-
materialism is the
crying creed for which
why we die, to raise
the dead sea.

Pursuant of the
virtual, nothing
of real certitude
like family, legacy
any greater dream-
MLK rings through
am I tripping, or does
this sound absurd to you too?

Aim for the 'finer things'
yet none worth having
in actuality
there's no comforting
thoughts, which can be
bought
when the brain
atrophies


Once
more
down
the
rabbit hole
we keep chasing
gnosis
or illusion
the differentiating
decision is
yours for
the choosing

is it escapism
or harm, some alarming
example for youths
in programs which we view, do
you control- advertisements,
computers, palm-held devices
or do remotes control
you?

(Whoa, Déjà Vu)

Red Pill:

Swallow reality
skin-trembling injection,
booster shot of absolute
truth
which we resist facing
at all costs, yet no
ascribed medication
can replace holes in
a soul gaping

Blue Pill:

Amist a cloudy, falsified
paradise
we remain mirage-induced
by own fantasy
mescaline high of
denial, alive in
a hologram, we hang
blind- from a
dissolving noose,
hollow caracass
in Gucci shoes

we are all afraid of
what don't come easy--
a life lived in lie isn't
worth living in the least,
see, when numb- cerebrum
loses feeling, unless
your mind don't mind
finding ladders to climb
toward Sistine
ceilings, collapsing insight
before Michael-
angelo paints himself
a single angel's jawline.

Simulated plush, luscious,
rich, brush-stroke
Skies
absent of clouds,
no rain in drought
can shelter birds,
heaven, sun or air,
with demon-stars above
an unnatural disaster,
no miraculous beauty
could ever survive

Build not your temple
of sand, but mud-
a red permanent clay
concrete which won't leak
from money-lust existant
on Earth to speak
leaves none spinning;
auburn autumnal leaves
or grows impure pits
into peach trees

invest in knowledge, love,
encourage success-
which can't be
stressed or measured
in funds
and someday you
may detach tubes,
and become the One
to unplug.

Perhaps it's all come
just a glitch too late
the body dies when inside
without mind to dictate
and it's hard to digest
a harsh truth, when fed
too soon, going against all
we ever knew-
All one can do is
show you the door,
it's up to you
to walk through.







"Ignorance is not bliss; it is consented idiocy"



-myself





(c) Paul LaTorre 2010