Unappealing unrevealing this meandering of a meaningless mind
Stay tuned, skin-eating flesh melting consuming disease spotted in california
no notice of carbon copy cat cataclysm cancer crooning via TV
mass media video drome metronome nomenclature remote control consciousness
BMW oscar myer coca cola sea world anti-christ conspiratorial capitalist propaganda
seeping viewing coursing spewing from a fiber optic vaguely gothic
holy hole of super extended distant detached me me me instant gratification generation
communication breakthrough highway
noted as unusual, the usual female abductions
from shopping strip mecca’s malls like fly paper to lackluster lackadaisical rapists
and their prey drawn by compulsion and revulsion
Psychosexual deep confessional resolves to fashion and it’s dangers
pathetic parades marauding morose veterans of foreign wars
selling pink trash bags from oxidized wheelchairs
while thai opium flows in and out of asian made needles
day workers on daily corners
mexican wet in foot sweated side step lawn jockey do the things we won’t
beer bellied tan cowboy get ups sporting machismo mustached smiles
Asking for a hand out a leg up a life
meekly mannered whisperings of later wife abusive beatings
projected dejected infected affected immigrants of big business bowel movements
leaving them like ugly brown stains on the white tissue of white collared toilet seats
earth quaking soul-shaking mother tries to warn us
of her imposing doom hanging heavy
over our palm tree lawn tree free lined streets of stolen recycled el dorado gold
refrigerated freon spirits suspended animation seeking decontamination for their sins
the millions flee damnation from televangelist cartoon avengers
in packs of false prophets eyelashes and fishy propositions
changing names while pricking poison pens into the multitudes of selfless self esteemers sacrificial lamblike lambasted fingers squeezing blood till it runs green
command control stepford lives wind on and by
like stiff and sturdy cogs in the menial wheel of productivity
ATM fucking machines make more for the open endless mouth
of human greed and ignorance
and still the people move in silence

Written by Circe Link
July 1994
Copyright 1994. All rights reserved.

The Time (for MF)

I was warned about you, you know
and here it is finally
the time packed with piles of magazine pages
orphans of the print they drift in your collection
bright and fluttering you pin them down for travel

The time soaked with songs that can no longer fit
inside your head as you have given them
to everyone and they float
in our minds like Macy’s day parade balloons
bobbing and knocking into thoughts and clouds
and suns and moons
buoyant and lovely in our sky they will remind us

The time filled with friends changing like the winds
you dive towards
mad in your dash across the country
a pilot at the helm of a ship made of dreams
and aunties antiques, markers and black felt pens,
glitter and glue, toe tags with secret wishes upon them
each one awaits your landing

I was warned about you, you know
and here it is finally
the time last and laughing
has come for you to go and take with you
all the nights we would write more songs
as the city burned down around us as we were little fires
all the words and phrases we would stalk like hunters
tiny trophies for our gentle game of catch and release
all the these things and more
I have come to love, you take with you
But I was warned, you know

Written by Circe Link
September 3, 2006
Copyright 2006. All rights reserved.

K-town Sunshine

There are a few days a year like this one

The sun is shining and the air is cool and moving

One of those days where everything looks clean

Even dirty streets and bus stops

Broken windows and stone doorways

Antique buildings that line the streets of Korea town

Where everyone looks sad even when they are smiling

Where happiness is present

In the firm grim acceptance of one’s lot in life

And to merely notice the moving

Setting sun is a triumph of will

One of those rare days of urban clarity

Where everything is good and right

And everyone is too tired to fight anymore

Written by Circe Link

Copyright 2010

HUCKLEBERRY

Black as the huckleberry night

All things swoon in the cities darkness

The streets and eyes, tar and moon

The shoes and dogs of endless suburban neighborhoods

Where hot winds blow and strange dreams grow

Wild in the alleys and side yards, unattended

Sweet as a huckleberry a gift from the forgotten past

Seeps wet and weird across my lips

As if to say the season is changing

While dark caterpillars driven with desire for self improvement

Mad for metamorphosis make their way

Along brave distanced journeys to secret retreats

Where a future unnamed and limitless awaits them

Smooth as a huckleberry my eyes revolve black pupils

A shudder and shade upon this soul

Leaves it’s mark like the brand of a cattleman

Somehow tender in it’s violence of protection

And all things yearning forward towards their finality

All things leaning in from the vertigo of gods own art

Mysterious and grand unknowable and fathomless,

Yet common like the green of this fruited thicket

Written By Circe Link 05/19/04

Copyright Circe Link 2004