like I being shot by a diamond

I ascended the stairs, stopping on alternative steps.
A memory had cracked the sky,
For the first time in the 4 years since it happened,
It was as if I was shot with a diamond.
There We were Colleen all those years back watching Apocalypse Now,
in my bed,
but not really watching.
I got up and asked you if I could put you in the torture rack.
You stood up, slipped me your underwear, and I lifted you up onto my bare shoulders; gently, spinning around my room
until we both couldnt take it anymore.
I woke up and heeded back down the stairs.
there will be others how could the breaze just fall out of the sky?
tides pay no toll.

poem by Jerome Moore
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Cats Cradle

Upon our first meeting I began to rhyme.
You sucked the saliva from my tongue, then hid away
when I came up on you clumsily stumbling
you grabbed my pupils and hindered me,
closed me, and inspired me,
but you failed to tempt me,

My shoulders bare of savage sands took you by surprise,
the freckles played games in the lolling sea.

Your body began to quiver when the gusts arrived.
with conspiracy behind moonlight and mountain.
Spilling droplets whith slang stinging drag.
In time. They all took a stab at you.
They threw their robes at you,
smothering your decadence with their virtues

farewell avid tier
farewell sunshine

poem by Jerome Moore
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Frottage Heavy petting mutual masturbation

She tells me to meet her where the street dancers busk it.
leaves In the crowd I find her and begin a frotteuristic grind ≈ 'i want your body on me'
electric hands on her waist her butt rising in heat and sinking like on the tide of the hip hop. Then I follow her into a changing stall at the galleria where we engage in heavy petting, then we finish ourselves off in the elevator to the street of mutual masturbation … When I get to the apartment with a new shower curtain they are sitting at the table eating some sort of Pasta and meat sauce Cam telling her to EAT! …

News: sexual assaults on bunker hill, car arson in alston, bodies found gang style cement shoes…

poem by Jerome Moore
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Real state

Sally getting drunk at the bowling alley then arriving at the casino passed out, can barely stand 5 dollar bets arm in arm between two people blindly pushing buttons, eats shit once I fell so she wouldn't be on the ground alone, pappy with the pinched neck, Jude, Julia, Whitney, Mustang Sally, she had two bloody marries pitcher of beer and pizza at the bowling alley, I stole bowling shoes, snaked peoples turns threw all gutters, Sally drinks 4 or 5 shots barely standing call… tells about her dad friend who everyone calls HB for Hardly Breathing... she chokes me in an elevator, bleeds from her head... all the losers crane after the drunken girl stuck like the middle reel on a money machine...

poem by Jerome Moore
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I tell you Courtney what your room is missing is a Black panther

I tell you what your room is missing is a Black panther

We stood at point!
where your kitchenette met your dinning nook.
We did our circus act without a net,
You revealed me your new brazzier with nude lace.
We melted crayons with a hot glue gun,
where you melted my toes, my palm, my neck.
We took our chalk to the street,
You drew upside down crosses on the church wall I drew a pentagram.
We wrote BLACK PANTHERS ALL OVER NEW LONDON!
where the alleyways sucked their bellies in, and the bums vomit.
We ate hummus pizza on the rooftop with shiraz wine,
you asked me if my batteries ever ran out and I threw my shoes over the ledge.
We laid distant while the nighthawks drag raced with the cops!

poem by Jerome Moore
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Please Remove Youre Eye Makeup

Mascara
Let us pretend you are defending your eyes,
when inquisition rains bring skies twinkl'n downwards
in the night; putting faces aside, burning peripheries that
I can only remember in visions of nights back when
derelict busses hummed along and silent bums cried.
Torches are lit and raised like ether to the greys of daunting
shadows, led on by a pipers piquant fog,
Shells hanging from your diamond eyes on cut-up chain-gang roads;
with echos and clicks,
with sirens that laugh.
lighting lashes in its cul-de sacs,
rocky and spine-like.
Through it all I have your eyes defended by mascara
under this canopy umbrella sky your fires open wider.

With that erotic mascara melting away
and beneath it I hear you sigh.

poem by Jerome Moore
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Exterminating Dante

His body mauled by white leopards.
then scant black Wolves scatter his bones
His new journey; an eyeless search
into some humpty dumpty-like absurdity.
Dante hitching down the road to hades, waiting for the next guy, with his warnings and fearful enlightenment.
History needs a fresh page, one that can grow organically here and now with the science of earth of consciousness.
Those who are with crucified limbs stretching from Heaven to Hell, shackled by this pernisious bondage, pledging obedience to an odious faith becomming hearded abjectly to an abstract master.
indeed 'Abandon hope all ye who enter here'
I see a wheel of a knife thrower.

When mastery is hard to find
with the lie being like nightmares to justify snoring.

poem by Jerome Moore
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Alley littered with Yesterdays news

hanging on the high brow off urbans nocturne,
Impotent bowels weigh down the boulevard,
there is too much shit with no place to go.

how it stinks

Boulevard
has its dirty mouth, no clean clothes, and a taste for liquor
Boulevard
Has no job, and a hangover that leaks when it storms,

Decency is rotting under milk crates with the rest of them.
The harlequin all meet on the corner cafe
ready to eat up your baby dolls,
oh what sad girls walk up and down the boulevard.

Spotlights show vermin through projector still screens,
chalk white bone painted caricatures on alley walls.
By day its worse,
dried up like a desert.

[...] Read more

poem by Jerome Moore
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If My Baby Was A Weapon

If my baby was a weapon
Shed slice off my eye lids.
She turns me like a skeleton key.
We built a scarecrow and hid in his ribs!
We threw dishes across the room and fucc out loud.
In a factory turned loft apartment the snaking river leads us home.
Staring up from her bed at the crack in her ceiling
we watched for the ladybugs that come from its womb-like vestibule.
In the fields we throw laughter to the wind
and she spread out on our picnic blanket under the stain glass canopy

her panties ruffled under the vestibule like dead leaves.
and her juices spread like honey next to the tall glass at the bottom of the world.
and I was blindly stalked by her scent into to a bloody mulberry tree.
It was all clear when she'd smoke then blow it through the keyhole, now it
seems forbidden and undone.

poem by Jerome Moore
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Remember those cruel months?

Remember when I found you my dear fawn?
Remember those cruel months fed from ages;
how we danced those months eyeless.
How we first felt when we were shy.
Reserved out on the eyebrow of the forest,
your laughter on the tattered gazebo floor,
karma, the drooling grapes of wonderlust,
of mystery in bed with purpose?

Remember when the band would play F major, K332, just for the two of us,
and when we couldnt get free from the brambles of boredom,
how we would watch the log trucks pass, smelling their oil and chewing their saw dust?
We dreamt of our escape under those intervals by the melodies of sweet beat woodsman and wolfdogs...

starved of your laughter
i would fall from clumsy barstool knees to faceless floors out of arcane tarpit desperation

Hugo make me a boy so we can escape as brothers.

poem by Jerome Moore
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