RBC

The Rotten Brain Candy is running low.
Republican side coat blues on the way side.
Abstract ideals of somebodies body laying on the astral floor.
Laughing in the dark to scare crow poke outs in the phases they craze.
White water washed down, skeletor torpedo brushing against skin on a cold day.
I was hurting the moment you walked away and back into my life.
Fully catching me off guard with my catchers glove off.
Milk maid microwaves, fans the heat trembling up inside me.
This is life forever, this time it will be different and/or better.
The surrealism of this moment calls for repairs and plain language.
Fake time and smiles painting on the back of heads.
Why aren't you here holding me and feeding me sushi, like it was with no other ?
Discover the magic in the minutes holding my breathe to see you.
Look past me my lover, I am forever trekking on to afterworlds.
I hope everyone still loves me, walking past crushing toothpicks.
Used memes and introductions water down the arguments I was about to make about space.
The places in between, squeeze me alive again.
Beer can holiday and work day cigarette smoke.
This was always me, now try and un-believe me.
Take me out of your coffee can reality and tea.


Dru

Intox.

I can't feel my legs I just stepped on a pataphysical land mind.
Hung over on napalm death and overtones ringing on my creep radar.
Drink this swallow that and come back tomorrow and tell me how you feel.
I am an under cover rubber with a loose leaf stud, stoner for boners.
There is a tragedy unfolding in my jean pockets, spit medicated pussy for the G-spot.
Play with me make fun of me and allow yourself to feel better by the result of it.
I am in love with my sickness, much more than I could ever love yourself.
Ugly to the sunlight and moonlight combined, just dig a hole and jump in.
A noose is no good use, the closet tells me all your secrets bone by bone.
You are a slave to your bitter indifference and my own hatred for you.
Enjoy the view of blindness and the silence chaos brings each new praying moment.
I am a religious man, but no good in churches.
I am the downstairs, I am the cup.
The vanity that keeps you clean, breathe me in each morning.


Dru

Better

My body is an atheist.
It doesn't mind the non-belief in belief.
Its abstract and/or amoral non-attachment.

Fail to believe in myself for yourselves.
Lost in the all nothingness and fuck ups.
I hold so much hate for such wonderful wastes of skins.
These people matter so little to me.
But yet I loose emotion and material over them.
To the lions and gallows one by one.
Step up one and all, loose your footing please on the way down.
I am no ones somebody marching order.
Make sure to be tolerant to those you hate the most.
Pathetic bugs flying into lights that heat and sear the skin most profound.
I am a mystic lover, singing and sending you songs you always ignore.
It is fall when I am most alive and sound.
Rain falls on this resurrected body, Jesus bones, timber and twine.
I am still dreaming of a dance with You beneath the moon.

Dru

~*:

You  are in my bones like a cold morning breeze, at about 4 am.
Just as the sky is turning to day, sunlight chasing away the night.
I am on a strange high, in between jealousy and knowing fully well I never had You or ever can.
But I stare a hole right through You and dream about what if and shit ?
Attack me with Your silence, passive aggressive voodoo charms hang from Your neck.
I can never get a real feeling for You, the unbecause of unbecoming again.
I am an unambiguous wreck at Your tiny feet , unwashed  in appearance.
Can You forgive my sins for I no longer look to the Pantheon of men for guidance.
I am just wicked and ruin, lost under the 12 skies that keep me all silent from the coming attraction.
Blinded by eyes looking away too many times.


Dru

Shut Up

You are stuck in my mind, haunting me with Your very smile in silence.
No one notices but me, loosing my mind by not having You here.
I catch a glimpse of the future during those moments I dare to make You laugh.
Acknowledging me once again, everybody knows but me.
A naive fool, selfish once again in my own pleasures and deceitful dreams of "ought not too"
Forging a way through the nobody broken becauses, in flight spare times taken off.
I inhale and take You all in, leaving no essence of Your breath behind.

I sink along the sails of Your songs, forever in love repeating deaf mute melody sighs.
My sorceress drums are broken from too many snake charmers feeble mistakes.
Electrified on the inside, but letting those thoughts go invisible again.
So be a vapor to me once again and stop the beating in my head.
Cut the hands that heal the cuts, wounded from so below.
So low, we hiss and hum around a medicine cabinet rooting for a new method.
Dents all along the exit to better places around here, circle gravity center discarding light.
Life of the lusted resulted in pain blues wardrobe malfunctions Thursdays.

I feel lucky and miserable with nothing left but your remains.


Dru

Lost Unfounded

I am longing for a touch from You.
Recalling to forget regret and heart fainted bows.
Lost in the spectacle between all that is because of You.
I am hushed ashamed of all that is spoken of in oily ears.
Flying towards the skies with dust blown tornado sighs.
Well into the night I glow, forgiving the terror secret sleeps.
Unrelenting criticism falling at my feet of golden hue.
Forever intoxicated with bitter love and loneliness.

Dru

Post-Surreal Traditionalism.

I am your mysterious blood soaked vein alien indeed.
I need the blame and you to hate me of because.
Damned be She the needle tearing my ass flesh.
Only coherent with beer in my belly.
The nightmares stare back at me in disgust.
For the only thing that scares me are clowns during the day.
Playing in the grass, allergies reacting to the smoke.
Its a beautiful day out, but I am all ugly inside.
Boiled and decayed from selfish fears.
I am so alive, but equally wanting to die a glorious death.
Erected  statues to my own house hound holiness.
Stinking to rot this eternal happiness to the core sounds.
Cut my thumb on a broken smile of yesterday.
Blood all over this French imported tile floor.

Hold my hand as we dance on the skeletons of indifference.
Make love to one another then give birth to the despair of another personality.
Glowing pathways on my ride to work, so lonely even when in Love.
Not that I ever allow myself the joy of another body.
I am just as much a stranger in my own flesh, never mind mingling with Yours.
In Your eyes I see the future, it looks very much like the past.
Because I am there, in Your arms holding You back from all things.
I need psyco-chemical stimulation just to function with others.
Sunshine brings nosebleeds and verses of poetry used up on Whores.
But then again I love Whores, myself taking the lead.
Into the snow blown night I ride my scooter.
Half drunk, but totally naked and in love with the Idea.
So I close my eyes, call your number, hear Your voice and hang up.



Dru.

Foggy Glossy Truth.

I fell over all my vast conspiracy clothesline nose clotted blues.
House whites traded in for bartered Canadian sherry 74's.
Crossed the line many times in vain trying to find recovery.
At the bottom of a muggy glass salvation was found.
Groggy mornings and other details not worth explaining to the cold mornings.
Frost was found on the basement floors even with the electric heater on.
Awake to the new glory of a new born baby.

No one cares that our feet are freezing and about to peel off.
That is the essence of existence, the haves and have not's.
But never the Because's.
Damn the reasons off passion and will.
Free thought be consumed in a full blown fire of fundamentalism.
That is what the man with all the nice sounding clocks says.
The 23's turning into my triple 6's within nervous Tibet.

Dru.

Egg

I pass you an egg while being lost in your beauty.
Not sure I have any idea what it all will entail in the end.
Stares and glances from across this steamed filled room.
Bent over and blended, forever in love with the glow.
Softly making love in blankets quilted together in haste.
Bushes poking the edges of my feet, aware of the open skies.

I am the Pagan Christ giving birth to frivolous unending wants.
With my pen writing off anti-copyrights.
Pirated away my ink and stink, with out saying my last goodbyes.
Curious of all those zeros, folding back onto themselves for the storms.
The aeon of bagging for the right thing to say.
Spraying the crops with fox hole crops, the bottom is less intriguing.

Leave it all alone, undone song curses crowd control butt fucks.
Period always at the end of your thoughts, unless otherwise unstated.
The meaning is imprinted in the little scribbling that no one notices.
I drink my beer alone in glasses made by heat from the moon.
Landing in time to circle around the sores left from last month.
Just recall the memory of it all, but change for the better.

Dru .

Misanthrope

The phone rang with some wispy drunken incoherent voice on the other side.  The chicken is ready sir, explained this now somewhat familiar voice.  Alright I said, be sure that its been out in the sun for an extra hour before processing and as always, extra skin goddammit!. Well that was how my uneventful Saturday morning started, nothing with nothing to be informed about.  But at least its in good hands, or as the religious extremists say in gods hands.  Misanthropic coat hangers twisted on alert no doubt bout that.   She met an untimely death down by the train tracks.  Always cracking on me at the wrong time and wrong end.  Don`t misinterpret me I was forbidden by high command to not get along with you.  I always loose the silk coated wrapping that mother sent my ties with.  Smelt of my childhood and better times, or at least innocence.  Now we understand too much and are so very much aware, so we spend late nights drinking to forget some things.  Its intoxicating enough this remembrance of self, these words.    I don`t follow directions directly just generally, that is how I live, generally.  Plopped among the many shelves of this mad scientists lab.  But there are no mirrors here or regrets.  Just the past fading in like a hurricane, only last moments to think upon.  I will not be here when you figure out yourself, cause I figured you needed  more than a my life`s worth. I am driving up a mountain road just for the view of myself below, crippled and blew. I stutter, I shy away from conflict with the living, but bring on your dead.  My reflection is most apparent in blank expressions.  Sigh and hum, if poetry was something amazing I`d dress the fuck up or at least put a light on.  Only warts on a putrid infected anus, talking too much shit like most a muse.  God was never alive to die.  Poetry? perhaps keep your faith in god.  But stand and gasp, be amazed.

Dru