POETRY ATTIC: Conditions of the Surrender

// Photography: Jeff Wolfe //

Make the school halls
dangerous again w/ poison ideas.

Graffiti in the stalls,
girls stick to darkness.

Plans cobbled by library, sweat
overnight delirium.

Motherless masochists make
force by moonlight.
Walk on dirty water,
fake a few miracles.
A new bastard makes believe.
Set trash bin fires
for a séance.

Circular chants let loose.
Suddenly I remember a box
placed inside.


My cemetery thoughts
exhume a body full of heroin
w/ punk black eyes.
Freudian death pact made.
An occult transfer of mind.

Let the world know your threat.
Crown the boy tyrant,
feared names cut into trees.
My dim radial lights
draw them in.

Lined paper manifestos
hide under beds.
Snatch a few sins
to swallow.

Reports of the missing
forgotten under their own nose.
Risen retorts rake the face
of the town’s masters.
Unstoppable cars spin out
under the stars.

Wild pack of tree climbers
cry to raise the dead,
kicking over the head stone
of Darby Crash.
Fingers poke into
the next dimension -
reach across time.


Owe your payments to a future life.
Frisk away the ashes of the toll keeper.
The neglected gather to
storm the gates,
for knowledge of the damned.
Blood-thirsty mob
devours its celebration in time.
They can be trusted no more.
Trembling wave of omnipresence,
catch a loud display of intuition.



Follow narcosis
down the line
to the sickly vagabonds.
Flared eyes.
Rhapsodies made sated
on nectar.
Personal forte put back.
More neologism nonsense
and sordid acts.

Eyes burn under perspiration,
piety words to choke on.
Full grown apparitions rise - tempestuous danger.

Screens go blank and
prepare for significance.
These endless riders of
defiance under the eaves.

All seeing death inside.
Blue cheeks to face the rubble.
Pissed your last offense,
make a perilous complaint.

These are the conditions of the surrender.

The forlorn petal
has been plucked.




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