newtown jesus chant

this ain’t a rainbow poem,
or the heart sutra.
it’s a jesus chant.
what the fuck you doing?
get your ass over here.
you want me to beg?
till my knees bleed.
you’re queer like me.
babies are being buried,
st john of the cross,
had adam’s heart.
i felt the squeeze,
during this holy season.
the first time i saw murder,
was from a tower in austin.
thirteen dead.
32 left bleeding.
my jesus chant,
almost in jest,
where the fuck were you?
are you tired?
with your army of saints.
i’m not innocent,
or more guilty than you.
on the other side,
of the world,
you walked on water,
while others drowned.
i think about you,
you were before light,
and you left us in the dark.
i have better teachers,
lovers and friends.
i will crawl,
on my knees,
back into the lotus,
and sleep a little longer,
and chant differently, tomorrow.

having fun while waiting for the end of the world

saturday morning,
i’m getting my cigarettes and juice,
at the circle k
corner store.
when i see them,
mingling about.
they’re soldiers.
dressed to the nines,
a regiment on foot.
like k-mart mannequins.
they’ll catch me naked,
to share the watchtower,
and witness to me.
they are nice to me.
i wish to be as brave as them.
we crave the same man,
over thirty, slightly hairy.
with an aura about ‘em.
they call him jehovah.
i call him hot.
a god fearing buddha,
i’m a yankee doodle dandy.
an american queer,
chanting om mani padme hum.
in a month or so,
they will catch me again.
pulling weeds.
he’ll look up my shorts,
she will stare at my nipples.
and share a verse,
from a well worn bible.
i promise to pray for them.
they’ve done their job.

sex with buddha

he served me tea,
with sweet and sour nipples.
spit in my mouth,
and i swallowed it all.
he wanted a cowboy,
i ride my ponies bareback.
he grinned,
and galloped away,
to the sunset room.
where he washed my hair,
and polished my teeth.
he caresses my tongue,
with flavor,
while stealing my wind,
with a perfect fist.
thumb on the outside,
knuckles to my chin.
he chewed on my ears,
and blackened my eyes.
i live out the spirit,
of my youth in him.
the 12 year old virgin,
jacking off the first time.
my belly glazed
with human glue.
everything new again,
he was my teacher, fresh.
my strong summer ending,
wild horses scattering.
the monk writing his book,
using his letters,
until his alphabet is drained.
he’s the speech of trees,
the leaves slipping from the branch.
i step into his song,
i see nothing to attach.
he is all young men,
with big cocks
and big balls,
seducing those
willing to be seduced.
their hole to deep,
for me to crawl out of.
i will not bully them,
or fuck them.
they are not human,
i see god in them,
the sound i hear,
is him.
and i remain,
except for my bone,
tied to the sky,
if i remember right.