Sunday, September 15, 2013

He Takes

He stole the gold
wrist and neck chains,
pawned 'em
for good money,
took the cash,
rings, coin collection
-gold and silver,
collectors guns,
an iPod and
its speakers,
cashed in the
savings bonds
and his own
"lost" an iPhone,
smashed a car,
blew out engine one,
blew out engine two
(different car)

He's a thief
so he can be an addict,
he likes heroin
heroin eats him

He's a liar
so he can be an addict
he likes heroin
heroin speaks truth

He steals the truth
so he can be a lying addict

he says
trust me
so he can con me


too late for locks,
nothing left

©Eusebeia Philos 2013

Sunday, September 8, 2013

Your Word

Your word is only a sound you make,
a physical thing
it seems
     an involuntary response
          to some distant stimulus
chord vibrations that are pleasing
some center of your throat
in your cat-ness

for it has no connection
to what is here,
right now, in front of us,
was it even an interaction,
your reaction
to what I said,
cognizant of my sound
but not my thoughts?

Random follow-ups
put you in some distant place,
or perhaps you were never here
to begin
this sin
of pretending to understand.

©Eusebeia Philos 2013

Thursday, September 5, 2013

Wedding Dancing

Aches and pains
at the open bar
in open fascination
of the pulsing,
writhing mass
of dancing bodies
in techno-trap-

A few quick
dance lessons
from Jack Daniels and
the music pulses in
matched synapses,
gives me that old
fashioned primal beat.

Salome, you dears,
don't ask for my head
when you nab me
for a dance, you
three, barely
daughter's friends,
in your combo of
youth and virtuosity.

Escorts at both elbows
with one leading the way,
to their dance floor domain
we go, those three
and my gray goatee to

to the rhythmic method
of da-da-dancing,

definitely not the father-daughter dance.

©Eusebeia Philos 2013