Return of the Painted Dinosaur LP

A Rotten Time

Circling the village and smoke stacks, I

"Are you really happy?"

"I'm happier than I've ever been.  Never acid again?"

"Never acid again."

The thwup thwup thwup thwup of rotor blades
can send a boy deaf if
the whine of engines don't take care of it first.

Pick a spot.  Wherever is good.  I'll meet you
up the block.

It is okay.  It is why we came here.
It is why we can't get any god damned air
between our Osprey and their muzzles
throwing metal.

It is okay.

Circling the huts and
the roaches.
We brought mechs.

Ready now?  Never acid again.  "Let's go, boy!"

Crush them or die trying.  Headed toward
the blue flare
smoke.







The Valley of Light


Winter burly still the wheels skip
rear drive up hill across the spot where
the sweepers turn into hair pins and 
hydroplaning is more than a concept
in an article.
Changing lanes
was a bad idea
hearing the pop of solid transaxle 
bang the frame like a whore's kiss,
left rear hopping the curb before biting 
concrete and tearing 
her ear off
with teeth.

Can you be? Can you be?
Can you really eat me.

Not today, on a wing and a hope and a prayer.
Fringes of vision beginning to gray
with speed enough to pave the way straight
to heaven. We go and go and go faster.
Nose bleeds no.  No still means no.
Snow fall comes in the depth of the night,
tearing apart the Summer highway and 
I can eat it all if I open her mouth wide enough
with fingers.  Spit inside.  The clutch slips and
torque tears a hole in the sky inside tunnel vision,
did you know if you strike
between the eyes they call it seeing stars?
I see snow white, waking up,
the driver side door slamming and try
to catch a flake on my tongue.

Can you be? Can you be?
Can you really eat me?




Dread Not (the code)

"I look after you,
you bet your ass
you better be
looking after me."

The phone rings and I am asleep
talking to you. The phone rings again
and I am out of bed and on my saddle
looking for the spot "I know" between the tracks and trees,
still sleeping while I kick the pedals
to get where the getting is good and by the time
my consciousness decides to rise everything's gone bad.

We timed it.  The cars of coal behind the engine
will not stop for anyone
on the tracks.  The grander scheme, gilt.
Polished and coiled iron and brass and,
plated gold, depending on where it's going.

no one's there
in good spirit, but I brought my own and
home is where the hearth is,
bonfired and inspired by a thing as simple as
a time of day.
 
Spitting distance to the river,
laid back on
railroad rocks and backpacks for pillows
eyes night
it would be good to be near you. Everyone else
the bonus.
A beat machine on a handheld
kicks up the way I know you and you know me
by smell. Teeth spread in the star eyed sky
like blue glow sticks and we,
for a few more minutes, cash in karma points
between the rails, mine steel and held down with
spikes large enough to be Raptor finger nails and 
before the new year sets,
talking about the trout licenses
over the phone
that we will never get and who won what
long bet set last January and
the river is crystal clear to the people there.
Begging a stone to be skipped.

"I look after you,
you look after me."
We skate a little bit.  You, at the riverside.
My voice lost with coal cars bellowing, metal on metal
at each coupling,
on both sides.




Interlude I

"...choose your own adventure.  It's kind of like 
the first time I left home and it was either
come back in a few days 
or find work and there was only one way..."

"....you heard the story about
Onibaba, right?  She was
one bitch of a motherfu-..."

"... to live long enough to
gain access to 
affordable replacement parts.
At least, replacement parts you can sell
everything  you've built
for, if scheduling conflicts mean less to you than
where you spend time
in an ideal whorl..."





The Toast Never Said

All I want in this new year

Everyone has a right to a new year's wish.
The difference kicks down a door,
protocol and extreme prejudice,
everyone has a right to wish.

Is peace on Earth

Everyone has a right to a new year's wish.
The difference kicks down a door,
protocol and extreme prejudice,
everyone has a right to wish.

Even if I have to kill

Everyone has a right to a new year's wish.
The difference kicks down a door,
protocol and extreme prejudice,
everyone has a right to wish.

Every last motherfucker

Everyone has a right to a new year's wish.
The difference kicks down a door,
protocol and extreme prejudice,
everyone has a right to wish.

On this God damned planet.




Super Easy (stick the landing)

Catching snowflakes with a tongue
is an art.
It is cold outside. It is cold inside.
What else is new?
The sledding has been
a task.  Remember when adventure meant coke
and it was easy to understand?
Laughing like this years before
disposable cameras
were the rage, I ran round and round and sought out
opportunities to steal.

Snowballs still
make the same sound.  When they pepper a party.
Everything changed and nothing.
Watching it all fall down.
Do not be so
whatever it is called.
Hearts are
doing what they do.
Along the expanse of drift covered parking lot,
street lights and all,
there is space to dream between flakes,
until headlights scream to a halt at your knees.

Glaring, 
the bloodshot pair of eyes behind the windshield glare back.





Interlude II

"The ground shook the other day."

"I know.  I was there.  Chairs moved themselves"

"Was it an earthquake?"

"I'm not sure."

"Aliens?"

"Could of been."

"You were not alone before.  Do not piss your pants
when angels make landfall.  What is different now?"

"Nothing..."





The Great Destroyer "Goodness" Breaks Communications

Velvet hammers require
a standing staff of no less than
fifteen thousand souls
to make their engines go.

Destroy your goodness, they said,
brought cellulars to hell and
orbited XRF-Ac77's horizon
at a safe distance
until it's crew went to bed.

A fool takes the name.
A drunk believes.
A prince commands.
A king thinks.

Destroyer Goodness, they said,
brought cellulars to hell and
orbited a wound in time
at a safe distance
until it's crew bled.

The great destroyers
ply the seas
between the planets and 
bring eras to their knees.

"Destroy your goodness", they said.
"Bring cellulars to hell" and
orbiting XRF-Ac77's ecliptic,
after com-links failed,
worlds went dark one by one, and
the angels fell.





Antiques

Lying in the sun
beside the maple tree
the shade retreats
and I don't know why
the sun is dead set
on making bacon
out of me.




Return of the Painted Dinosaur

Hi.  Can I interest you in sex today?
It's been a rough week.  I've been keeping a 
backpack on, in case something comes up
that needs solved slower than a boxcutter
and faster than a trip back to my apartment
to grab a water bottle and Allen wrenches
and Teflon tape.  
There's a ball gag in there too.  For me.  
To help me
work better.  I cannot go wrong with 
a spare chisel and tin snips too.  Five fingers
is an over rated theme.  Have you seen my cellphone?
It's a rock that I throw when my voice is too small,
distance too great, or a fax needs sent.
Have you polished your scales today,
coiled inside your cave, where the cool flat rocks
can soothe the hot bellows of your gut?
Tango in the "it's good to be tall, isn't it."  
The color really comes out in sunlight.  It's worth
the going over is gotten shady.
Era's error.  I am not unhappy
a rock ended us.  
It makes sense, the sar-chasm.  Or don't.
You don't know me.  Quite alright.
I was born eras before yesterday
and then I stayed up all night.

The Night Shift

Someone mends the bones.
Someone walks the halls,
picking up this and thats.
Someone comes behind,
replacing everything alphabetical to the stacks.

Tests end and classes do too.
Paper cups reach garbage cans.
Pencils are collected and sharpened.
Anxiety vomit cleaned from stalls.
Chewed off fingernails swept
into baskets along with
muscle balled notes.

Bookmarks are removed.
Trash cans are end upped again.
Skeleton keys turned and lights 
turned off.  

Toilets are flushed and mirrors polished.
Shoes to their bin
and cross stitches sewn
to close broken skin.

Yawns are taken.
Bathroom stall questions asked 
are answered in marker.
The aggression erased 
with steel wool.

Dust is swept and sprayers spritzed.
Vacuums run and museums built.
Little by little.
Before morning dares to touch to a cheek it's lips.