LEOPARDO

‎"LEOPARDO"
-
My tongue is a dangling trap
A minted display of baited crimson
Dangling from the weighted hook of my thoughtless brow

Where instinct and appetite recoil from the sandy grains of earth and flesh
As they begin drifting apart down and away in a blissful tremor of anxious separation
Arching into a translucent drift of fused geography and breaching lightscapes
Lifting out and up reaching pulsing forcing
As the bridges begin to dim in between the shaded silk canals of its shadowy membrane
A firma destination that eases forward and settles back amongst the terra location
Gripping at the glowing sliver of tattered light cascading down like a barely whispered breath
Unevenly teetering against the crumbling edge of the deep microscopic chasm
In amongst sharpened ridges and razor outlines dangling across a trembling wake
As the heaving mammoth folds his arms around a tarnished silver haze poised in open ecstasy
Welcome anticipation arrives in the distant ocean of trees with a thunderous crashing echo
And departs in reach of a molecule with a roaring sigh that whistles like Mississippi oak leaves
Passing out along the drifting current of divides and breaching particles
Concurrently waving alongside the wild high pitched hums that soar high above somewhere in the distance
Its squeal burns just outside of where the sweet air smashes up against the drifting flakes
That I capture in the snare of my sparkly super sonic crimson blur

Written By Errin Milam

Posted 07/10/12

‎THE RAIDERS

‎"THE RAIDERS"
-
Plenty murders - blood - everything rots out in the open.
Meat torn of its flesh sits alone - awaiting our appetites to fulfill the only empty purpose we ever gave it; and even so - its purpose is barely served.
The only bit of our revolution that was left untouched, when we sliced open the cheeks of every child in the nursery, and raped what was left of the wet nurses before using their bones as backscratchers.

And the army that’s left behind is the same one that he used – when he bashed in the backs of all those babies’ skulls.
The only two shells left – and I promised I’d save the one on the right with my initials carved in it for my hypothetical son;
I’ll be happy knowing I did my best to prevent him from seeing what’s left after the mess we helped spawn from beneath this plague of massacre, is finally over;
When we can all start to forget those evenings spent surrendering each other’s souls, as we tried to drown the world in a stale ocean of sweat.

Written By Errin Milam

Posted 07/10/12

SPECIALIZED ANTHROPOLOGY

"SPECIALIZED ANTHROPOLOGY"
-
Shit stained napkins that I took from the counter at the Dairy Queen up the street from my house begin to make their presence known; 
and all of a sudden I don't feel so alone.

Written By Errin Milam
Posted on 07/10/12

HENRY II

"HENRY II"
-
Do you think he suspects us?

His enemies have grown strong – and are now poised to strike at each other in order to maintain their supremacy.

I will hold fast and steady - as the blood born from your mothers womb races to join with you, his brother, in the light of the world.

Collect him, care for him as if he were your own child, see that no one ever succeeds in harming him – the blood of you, born out of your mother – born out of her mother; cursed to cycle in the darkest and loneliest confines of consciousness, endlessly, until collected and then spilled.

A prince of biology – empty aside from the neon glowing hue building constantly towards infinity;

Assuming steps that we have yet to give our consent to know – as those who are not afraid of the chaos locked in a broken knee or a burning cassette tape; take flight through their own individual will.

He is available - always; at a moment’s notice.

Written By Errin Milam
Posted 07/10/12

DEATH TAKES A HOLIDAY

Its slick like plastic, and smells like wood stain,

Life is the new systematic, 

Death is not the only means of escape, 

There's always the possibility you’ll be eligible for stasis,

Leaving others with the responsibility of looking underneath that sandy new born elastic

flesh once properly restrained,

Where correlated hopes and wishes bring the promises of someday and maybe they

might find someone who could know the right question to ask anyone that would find a

cure,

Storage units become the only way your name is viable in the eyes of this new system,

Every unit locks into its proper place down through the lines of barcode inspired sheds, 

A design created for an allowance consideration by the new systematics own intelligent matrix, 

It will be many more years before such an honor as prestigious as consideration will be

bestowed upon this group of units again,

Rejoice;

For the ooze feeds the people - oxygen is no longer breathable through the

new methane fog that -

I swear - has the same glint as cat piss and the same sting as finding the guest list to

your own funeral,

Survival is no longer determined by nature,

Survival is determined by ones’ own ability to obtain the new necessary equipment.

By Errin Milam posted 05/05/2012

‎"BIRTH MARKS"

Rhythmic pedophilia dictates the instinct for friction

As the wide drip of flesh collides against the dangling cascade of gravity

Open mouths composing the air in a swirling amalgamation of conscience

Breath hints into the wide green palette of an iris,

Now plastered in a seductive plastic sheen of artificial blue

While the violent spinning heels of human history direct their presentation as an agent of

potential,

The clichéd notions of organized conception arrange themselves in a slather of neon and

frantic heaving,

Making the ticking of humanity a palpable sensation as it raps against the towering bosom of existence

A blind dictation of the future is read aloud from the contractions of every muscle in the

room,

As uncertainty gives birth to a sea of new tradition,

In the space between drops of perfumed carnal perspiration and the crashing tide of

powdered derma.

By Errin Milam Posted 05/05/2012

AS SHE APPROACHED THE DOOR

"AS SHE APPROACHED THE DOOR"

My golden calf is born.

I am awakened to discover my toes curled and my senses filled with the fine olive tinted powder left over after an unexpected cosmic regurgitation.

The premature understanding of the immense individual purpose - hidden;

Lost, behind the veil of that special kind of decay - the original decay, brought about by constant viral infection and subsequent reproduction.

The stalking quiet notion of each cell as an individual; locked in a prison of reverse cyclical understanding, as those who are probably most deserving of a face – churn endlessly in an instinctual desperation to be felt; infinitely lacking in their ability to comprehend the benefits of a soft cheek warmed by the intimate nature of molecular reaction.

Those that live only to cast their reflections in our piles of eyes - forever alone, but always as a whole;

As the ancient committed demonstrations of individual efforts, and unequalled will to produce for an infinite whole, earns their every precious moment of rest.

By Errin Milam Posted on 05/05/2012