Author: Aaron Echoes August

• Capitalistic Splatter

  

  The ancestral drift of dinner plates

  5:15 am egg glow

  a smile in a mirror

  old antique wall

  ghost teeth

  a creepy smile

  an old hat in a mist

  a scarecrow in dawn’s early light

  a fake patriot

  cradling a cobalt bomb and a Bible

  in flames

  burnt toast in the air

  poems of debris

  lovelocks swaying

  in an apocalyptic morning breeze

  blonde and braided

  velvet curtain pulls

  at a blood-red opera

  a scarecrow girl

  working the downtown diner grill

  hash browns and hashtags

  do dirt and dreams matter

  in a world of capitalistic splatter

  sore teeth, sore minds

  black welt bubble babies

  skeleton parades

  tears of love in April

  fits of rage in November

  A turkey thrown

  cranberry sauce upturned

  A wet berry bloodbath

  weird Uncle Rage’s screams of agony

  screams of frustration

  close the magical eyes

  multicolored tulips

  under the sun

  it smells like breakfast

  and a woman undone.

  

  By

  Aaron Echoes August

• The Big Dip

  

  A small airplane poked a hole in the cup of the Big Dipper

  Ran it right through… like a missile kiss

  and all the sauce from the other side of the universe

  creamed the Earth like a big, sexual surprise

  and Matadors on heroin and hot sauce

  slowly sliced open the beef casket

  and it rained light and unbroken love.

  

  By

  Aaron Echoes August

• High On Guard

  

  there is only time for love and then departure

  everything else in between is nonsense

  even through the trees I see this

  while the world so foolishly spins around out there, down there

  far below this mad altitude where I stand

  where I pray to no one, for no one

  all the listening blinded by blind ambitions

  and the damned ones decide

  that war is better than peace

  that starvation is better than food

  that hate is better than grace and a kiss

  so I turn away and fold myself up

  like a secret

  they can never touch.

  

  By

  Aaron Echoes August

• Lust Light, Dust Mite

  

  When in the back of your mind you know you are dying

  and you try to push it away … because you are still young

  every breath at night is an elaborate excuse, every morning you arise is a triumph, of some sort

  and daddy is broken

  I feed him pills and artificial limbs

  I am broken God

  yet you piss holy water into my eyes

  you know I hate you

  yet I tremble at the spires

  I am licorice lust

  Man, how they dripped so innocent today

  in that carnival van … it all smelled so sweet, percolating plastic dolls and candy bars

  rumble on, ramble on, to Vegas for a good trip

  where we will smoke Heaven’s lost luggage

  and cough up spirits of unbridled lust

  break my bones against the sandstone

  buy me MuckaLucks baby

  so I can stand the desert sweat and lust

  mobile home whores

  rusting in the dust

  a fair kiss is well enough

  I have shit scattered everywhere

  Like life bleeding out on an Atlas

  muscle roads French kissing barbaric wounds

  from the road, from the tender cradle, from the broken grave

  I am flying through space

  on a comet boiled in a broken heart.

  

  By

  Aaron Echoes August

• The Translucent Wander Pain

  

  Looking through her red box

  On a stormy, sunny day

  A cold room full of hot heart

  It was a different time

  In a faraway place

  Found out all about

  the only unforgivable thing she did again

  Had to fly away from the bad news

  Park my ride and drink away the hard bruise

  And the record just kept on spinning in my head

  The same song playing into the dead

  Of night

  As the airplanes roared overhead

  And the traffic snaked all around

  And the lights popping off like a multitude of aneurysms

  Some mad security guard come tapping on my glass

  I had no cold fire to offer the air

  Up there

  She’ll never know the stories of my diversions

  A belly full of rot

  As I stumbled through the throngs of mad Christmas cheer

  Alone, depraved,

  Stark raving mad

  A sea rope noose at the ready in my attaché

  Mumbling in the cold

  Whilst the rich and the loved

  Relish in the vibe of their misguided, pompous, materialistic
  ways

  I froze to death

  A thousand times

  In a world not of my own dream

  But isn’t that just me anyway?

  Like a tarnished and unpolished lamp

  They preach the Word

  As they stir my scars

  Love to lay the blame

  As they lay down in drug-induced sin

  To live this long

  And to hold so little

  Sans the breadth of memories

  Too broken to carry along

  To my little downtown room

  The lone light above this broken desk

  A hot plate and some food

  A fire escape and the moon

  A place to sit tonight.

  

  By

  Aaron Echoes August