Selling Saunas In Hell

February 5, 2012

Far beneath the earth where the cursed creatures loom
Beyond the churning, fiery pits and seething seas of doom
Deep in the dank depths of blazing hell
There dwelled a salesmen who sought out to sell
Sell saunas to the sinners and vacations to the vile
Lighters to the lustful with a mere wink and a smile
Hot tubs to the heathen and Lava lamps to the liar
Matches to the miscreants after he set their feet on fire
until one day he became unsatisfied with his fraudulent feats
So he began the journey north in search of cleaner streets (and sheets)
He toiled over the monstrous mountaintops of perpetual pain
and along the endless highways, past the corner of Crazy and Insane
Exhausted and downtrodden, he thought it was quitting time
Then he looked above his head and saw an illuminated, bright red “Exit” sign.

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Blue Eyes and The Wolf

February 5, 2012

There once was a pretty girl named blue eyes
She went wandering through the woods seeking clear skies
She stumbled upon a wolf, so melancoly and low
She stopped in her tracks and approached him very slow
“Hey wolf! What’s wrong! Why you in such a funk?”
“I’ve lost my tail. Time to get drunk.”
“Don’t be silly,” said blue eyes, “There’s no reason to fret.”
“I’ll fashion you a new one. You’ll feel better, I bet”
So she weaved rainbows with glitter and honeydew
She plucked stars and tied sparkly bows, too.
“I once saw a unicorn with one just like this.”
And then the wolf was happy and gave her a kiss.
And blue eyes and him could finally exhale.
Fiction? A Fable? No, it’s what we call a “fairy tale”.

July 15, 2010

http://www.hollywoodrow.com

Margarita Monday

June 29, 2010

Hair matted,
tattered and tangled from a frenzy of flowing air,
bullying its way through the roofless vehicle.

Squinting as the blazing sun comes to rest
its weight on the horizon.
Cold metal imprints criss-crossed patterns into the bottoms of bare legs.
Imperfect purple nails impatiently tapping patio furniture,
waiting for broken english and broken tortillas.

Diced tomatoes, graded cheddar, and shredded lecture
piled high upon mountains of beans
with red hot lava trickling down its slopes,
erupting into spicy hues of crimson and ruby,
forcing small droplets of salty tears to spew
from bright eyes to calm the fire.

Chunks of flavored ice,
a floating sea of slush,
contained in a cactus cup
causing the time to pass slower
and my balance to become unsteady.

Nom Nom Nom.

New Room

June 25, 2010

Social Media, flashing in real time across the lightning bright face of a Macbook Pro.
A cluttered closet with glittery garments strewn across baskets and sneakers.
Hues of imperial purple found in creases and ruche, dripping wax, the heel of a porcelain stiletto, and in the eyes of an american icon.
Chocolate wood, champagne colored satin sheets.
Word upon word, piled face to face on the floor and on the bedside treasure chest, exquisite words.

Mondays

October 22, 2009

Mondays

Sunset hues of powder from the black compact
falling loosely upon black ruffles,
steeping into the seams,
staining the ebony lace
Autumn leaves drift downward,
not so deliberately,
littering the landscape,
marking the final number
of the Days of Summer.

Curfew

October 22, 2009

Curfew

Stealthily crawling toward the stairwell,
sweaty palms propel me forward as they’re pressed
against the polar marble path,
making every possible effort
to avoid the wrath of the sleeping mother,
along the basement carpet, I am creeping.

Tugging at the stubborn sliding door,
and slipping out into the still darkness,
the crisp night air calling for the commencement
of yet another escapade.

The sound of crushed gravel
beneath stilettos,
stained from last winter’s salt laced sidewalks,
echoing softly as I tread toward the SUV.

Silently, clouds of smoke
pour out of open windows
and up toward the protruding limbs of tall oaks,
as the summer wind grieves its own passing.

The flicker of lighters and smoldering cigarettes
allow for the outline of adolescents
to be recovered
from the depths of the shadows.

All squeezed into the rear seat,
Shotgun, my eyes meet the end
of the unpaved road,
but only long enough to receive
another load of teens armed
with eyeliner and faded jeans.

 

Limbs intertwined, we fit perfectly.

Two pieces of a perfect puzzle

we’ve already solved.

Our movements in sync, like

we’ve rehearsed them for years

and I could lay right here,

frigid feet wedged between legs

warm breath just below the back

of my neck.

If only,

you

could stay.

 

The Final Week

October 21, 2009

The Final Week

Six empty energy drinks
perilously stacked,
a tipsy totem pole that marks
the hours that have passed
perched on this futon
with only the pitter patter of keys
being tapped gently
to fill the silence.

Unwashed garments sprawled
across the unmade bed and
books with frayed seams
collecting dust
under the worn wooden chair,
near the cluttered desk
like the cobwebs in my head,
hindering my progression.

Crumbled cough drop wrappers
lay upon the mountain of disposed items
spilling out of the trash receptacle,
pleading to be taken out.
The frosty window pane is cloaked
by the satin curtains
that insist on obscuring
my view of the snow that freely falls.

Untitled

October 21, 2009

Untitled

Urgently traipsing along
the treacherous terrain,
beneath the dim glare of the street lamps
The scream of the train
pierces the night air,
mocking her expedited pace

The raw chills crawl up her spine
and the heavy wind
creeps along at her feet.
It’s pulling at the tips of her wavy hair,
grazing her cheeks,
taunting her with its frigid touch.

She passes the hulking glass door,
scurries across the poorly lit hall,
and swiftly down the mildew scented stairs,
and waits cautiously for a sign
behind the door that’s been left ajar,
where he claimed he was alone.

Hushed laughter floods the room
where silence should have been.
It is spilling into the hallway,
where she anxiously holds her breath,
preparing herself for the inevitable,
the moment it’ll all be over