poet, etc.
Posts tagged: poetry
There’s something in the sound
of one cut-off, expectant
trilling
That beckons pain to the forefront
of the imagination;
like an emerging
emergency.
An ambulance cry,
a consummate darkness strangled
dispassionate mercy moan,
a singly inconsequential and
utterly bewildering meaningless
reminder of twenty-two seconds
of heat
for a single cup of obsequious
good-natured bravado for
the all-too-long
April night.
Lie awake
bewilderment
death-fear.
Hopeful tastelessness
in desperation
for added
meaning.
He asked me for passion
I gave him compulsion
complication
Swallow it down
in finely vibrous
viscant
conducant
contractive
inanimalate
animystic
Full-on contempt.
Bend or break
We only live to bend
or
But break
similarly
(we reason)
there are
two options
to overcome
disconsolate dualism:
Fit the mold
or
B R E A K it
Choose wisely, said
a
wise
man.
(His name
has since
been lost)
Maybe it was Carol.
I think it may have been Carol.
Carol
Coral
Coraline
Corralling
Kerosene
Ketamine
Dopamine
I don’t mean
to be obscene
Let’s come clean
Let’s go green
Let’s
lose our Impact
Done.
Lost.
Let’s
drown our Worries
Done.
Drowned.
Let’s
bemoan every last
loss of innocence
come our way
Yawn in the night
Don’t fight it.
Fight it.
Don’t fight it.
Right it.
Don’t right it.
Write it.
Don’t write it.
Never write it.
That gives it power.
Gives it a voice
And we are all
We. You and I.
are all
well-aware
That a voice
is the heaviest
Burden.
How you want to deal with life
is completely up to you
and
how I deal with life
is completely up to me.
We can all keep to our business
or we can question the motives of
every passerby
and wonder what it’s like
to be infinite.
Creation
does not exist
without Love.
The act of defiance—
Immortal invocation
sweeping rampant;
is not a lost Art—
does not exist
without Sacrifice.
Our bones and Our
winter Heatwave
decadence
allows empty shells
in empty chambers
of empty firecracker
pop burst flame
Emptiness.
Do not define Thoughts
as Vessels for Action;
submerge those silky
ecstatic
n o t h i n g s
into frothing Upheaval.
Not for one moment
should you believe
Life
does not exist
without You.
We are the Becoming
and we are the
Stepping stone
of Martyrs.
What one discovers
when searching,
Set apart from what’s
found on the sly;
Unrelenting in how
all these truths are uncovered
R e vealed for what they
meant only to hide.
I wantnotto know
And I wantnotto care
For unease is a burden
I wishnotto share—
But if glances at cracks
in foundational tracks
in the sand underfoot
Warns of trespass, beware;
Then I’ll cope
with the loss.
Suffer trees, muffled moss.
with no hope
that
chirped Notes
are Enlightened despair.
If I had closed my eyes
for a single second
(One full second)
I’d’ve killed us both.
These limits that I’m pushed to
(My body
cannot overcome.)
are atypical; immoral in consequence.
I cannot vaguely sweep away
the dust collected on my eyelids
only to, time and again, dislocate
the very sensation that brings me to life.
Stop toying with the idea of
(The consciousness
of Others)
bringing error to light
and instead embrace
( The gift )
solidarity.
Suffocation at its most elegant.
Does it shine through?
Does my belief,
my unending questioning
and absurd relief,
ever break past
the fog of inequity
between you and I;
between souls?
No.
No, it does not matter what you say in this moment.
For this Time does not link us. There is no
continuation of thoughts and doubts for you
to express as you will.
Please don’t.
Please don’t try; it’s a wasted effort.
A faithless ploy at determining
true meaning in a whispered word.
in a contrived and hateful
spreading of the tongue, lashing
meaningless.
Let us not forget
who we are
nor who we will become.
I don’t know, of course — and neither do you.
Isn’t that beautiful?
Remind me of a time
when history did not matter.
When tomorrow was yesterday
was today
was Everyday.
Everyman needs a cluing-in
to the perception that
One’s words
Are not One’s motives
Are not One’s beliefs.
There is an immense string of
Give. Of tugging and pulling,
before asking;
Until a single instance
of spiked knowledge can pervade
A mild word
or a meaningless prayer.
Give hope to that which pulls furthest
from the flock,
Stretching towards a less-divided
Existence.
What a terrible gift,
and an infinite pardon
To do as you please
and then go;
Go past what is meant,
ignored and then
squandered, Only to reap
what never was sown.
Time does not hasten
for wishers and dreamers
waiting for fruit from
the tree of the fates;
Yet give the imprisoned
an hour of freedom
And witness that Time
puts no stall in its gait.
Only the hours
and days and weeks
and months and years
we own —
We’ll solidly shake them
Until they reveal the lives
into which we were thrown.
Remark
how adoration
turns
to dislocation
How
devotion
Becomes another
subservient set of rituals
Until the rituals are damned
Murdered
Left to rot in a past moment
a fleeting instant
Then unraveled and
allowed to twist into oblivion
The very essence of comfort
Of sensation
and withdrawal
Goes hand-in-hand
with moistened palms
Into irreverence, Long-forgotten
Destitution.
In the wake
Of these losses
Bobs a fragment—
a single thought:
“We are alone, all of us.”
And when the ripples die down,
There is only silence.
Contentment.
Come dance
I’m tired
Come sit
I’m restless
Come taste
That’s tasteless
Come feel
I’m sweating
Come breathe
I’m drowning
Resist
Unrest
Resist
Undeath
Resist
Undress
One mouth
One breath
Come live
I’m death.
Mightier than the sword,
We have a dilemma:
An immediate deliberate
Systemic panorama,
In which we choose to
Abuse through
Life’s infrequent
Choice of grammar.
That this inconsistent notion
where a Paragraph is
Another self-promotion—
another gimmick
Through which we
Cause a commotion
A singular
Improbable
Immediate explosion
Of rhyme and reason,
Of time and season;
We hold our treason
Before each judge’s
impeccable
reactionary
more-than-you-can-ever-believe-in.
So what combination of
Letters of each nation of
words and voices in elation
Allow for our decadence
To echo a relation?
Between us and them,
A foe or friend;
Loss or gain or
Thrust to feign.
We’ll just suppose
There’s no refrain
To juxtapose
What will remain.
What we’ll retain are
Syllables as a container
For the remainder
Of what once
Was anger
Retrained to be brave
And encompass pain for
What we learn to save
In the time we behave
Let’s just act
And react
To those we hope to save or
In fact
Just to savor.
Long streets are not lost
on those who know
What path they wander—
a brisk pace
to embrace
A brisk wind pouring
Over our collars.
Anticipating
an ever-longer soul-filtered
Solstice. A cigarette-stained
Nighttime sin-filled
Reminiscence. Of times long-forgotten
and times never-had.
I will not weep for
the Gentle underbrewings
Of a city not lost. Identity
crises only serve to relax
the roads
and Sift through;
Pave. As we are
Meant for so much more;
As fault
Would have you believe.
Don’t allow it. Don’t
become a part of it.
Disenfranchise
and taste release in
An iced coffee
or a bus ticket.
In a soft and meaningless
Touch
from a passing Stranger.
Or a quick glance
down a dark alley.
That which surrounds
will always be
More beautiful
than we can ever know.
I wish
the world were transparent —
Wish I could see through
all outer defenses to
Understand
the underlying matter of
Every Thing. Of
her and him, of
loss and discovery, of
Death and Love and
Life and Love and
Struggle and Love
and Love
and
Love.
This opaque world
does not fit me.
Turn me to gold
by moonlight
Watch me transform
As it were.
Stand with me now
and always.
Ask of yourself
what I ask,
chance Occasion:
Seldom true.
Will we fold o’er
To gilt dawn—
Or stand transfixed,
macabre in
Our pearlescent
dew-stained dreams?
Teach me only,
through pure breath,
what once was and
What will Be.
