Wednesday, July 30, 2008

she feels exciting on the inside,
this idea I gave her a splendid name on a springs later date,
soft plushes like the clouds with a hint of lightly shaded
madness, forested urbanisation we mimicked
what we couldn’t patent or plan for, development
scattered to the four corners of the sphere,
silly annunciations for my triptych intentions,
mentioned written a history forbidden, locked away
a page a day burned and ingrained, they left
them under a concrete slab, all of these wonderful
pieces, some fit together, others left themselves alone
tombs and marked stone
rotting in seas awash with memory,
the winding fabric in the wind,
millions of stench and cancerous scents, irritation
and procrastinations.

Tuesday, July 29, 2008

four cornered excess
loves my instability,
my insatiable quest,
my unquenched thirst,
give me spokes to
refer the purchase,
give me overpriced insincerity to
lead the others from myself,
nothing without proof,
my name alone proves no worth,
as importance in angles,
heightened stature purifies my soul,
in a sense that nothing lies beyond
what’s cornered for my view,
once you’re inside
the smells get sweeter,
the names heighten the interest,
more examples to live by,
of emulated excessive,
in worth found proof,
everyone marched around the choices,
all encased untouchable
in glassed ownership

Monday, July 28, 2008

a message to myself at midnight
I’m peering out again, to the obscurity.
The blackness,
the dark infinite nothing as I affectionately call it.
The faithless alone, the individual lost, intertwined
in a sea of ideas and ideals, goals and unrealistic assumptions.
Without distinctions classified.
Pursuing advantages over little battles worthy of no regard.
Beside the bedside of my demeanour.
Overbearing instincts leaving confusion.
Decisions, decisions, decisions.
A constant run amok among the chaos of ambition.
A little known fact shot out in conversations to deter the belief in someone else’s bullshit. The everyday alone, meaningless of regards, classifications and periodical belief structures. Towers of infinite mass growing steadily, forward, beyond, evolved.
Intellectual ramifications, statistics and planned associations.
Systems within systems within systems within systems.
In cloning my way I attracted many others.
Questionably assuming that which I know is that which is.
Negligent of reality I live on with the idea of I, calmly reassuring importance.
A fed dosage of docile.
Breathing conclusions, exhaling transgressions.
In violation of myself.
I resonate and radiate a confusion that I cannot control but hopefully may learn to tame over time. A soft glow permeates a shadow glimpsing.
Of imaginary sense descriptions, imagine nothing.
Imagine absolutely nothing.
What can there be within something that cannot be described by our own just description. Something that is so far beyond what this is, it becomes an impossibility.
A fraction of value among what stands as solid.
Beyond structure, beyond reality, all that remains is nothing.
The impossible sits just outside my window cell, I can’t see it, but I know it’s there.
It’s always there, just waiting for my hint of recognition, and horror of realization.

Sunday, July 27, 2008

for the sake of generalizations.
we’ll always have our doubts.
your stories are fine. blessed.
the way you think them to be.
my subjective reality doesn’t
quite fit here. we felt that about
your kind for the time. them too.
forgive me here in my confusion.
I’ve left what was meant back
where they’re sitting. them, their
house isn’t for our kind. it’s built
from the ground down and you
can here where they leave.

Saturday, July 26, 2008

leaving two fragments of a shadow
to pry awry with the mirror’s reflection
whoever lost his mindful measuring cup
may suit these plastic eyes, in a glass jar of ceramic
attitude, she and him fought the roles played
by and by the drips from the oak tips laid
and layered along the winter strands, the withering
snow sands caress wild willows left before
my childhood memories, my grandparents farm
is now overloaded with rural shame, and in machinic
like perishables soaking the sewers with well
contracted out and built worth, approaches to
an ancient underestimation… we may have always
had our history, they’re just working their wealth
so as to burn our memories, capitalizing on small
H history so, cause it needs a template, refinement,
justification, and why, why can’t I walk down the
streets in my city and yell like the mentally aware,
why can’t I face up to the real live free market.
may my poverty one day imbue me to steal from
you, rich motherfucker, cause it’ll never be the same
for you, no matter how many times you contract out
your soul, the fictive nuances of validation will give
presence where it was never due, and love you like
a paid lover should, cause you’re only worth the hour.

Monday, July 21, 2008

their burning and screaming in a german accent,
sneezing along the way home, forgiving
those that left, older friends unapparent,
neglecting born potential and sweet
nemesis is falling from an eyelash, gliding
through the tunnels and following the
birds, a terrible sight for a sober mind,
but it may still be strung up and hung
from the branches left to settle, weightlessly
seeming swaying in the moonlight, glowing
with disbelief, how could this happen today,
how could you let it, the dark beings blinded
by the cup, filled grimly with passing acquisitions,
sitting below the spell of majesty.

Friday, July 18, 2008

Absence in more torn icicles
form a dead space miss given
and received parcelled
collections from my elaborate
presence minds my orient
of a china cabinets untold
stories
ten fold in return
my reluctance
simple
of perpetually forever
and never
and perhaps once
again

Thursday, July 17, 2008

in a distant memory of recent origins,
sheltered in satiated ambivalence,
shadowed by three, entered through
the back door and down to steal
what was wanted, it is a wonder,
who to care for in circumstance,
the asshole who steals it versus the
asshole who didn’t need it, but
still hardly few get it, they’re few
in this fascination, and few to find
for friendship as I begin to question
its authority, pausing, there’s a want
to crush his very skull, ending whatever
it is that he thought he was, leaving him
past his circulation, all of these allegiances,
them against them, us and us, dualisms
and the like of binary codes, columned
into stasis and forewarned to the next we’ll
meet, it just may distinct in our apparel,
and then the many may move in notice,
in death we reap our own, sowing
the seeds of need, in shared passive,
it was never what I expected, but I’ll
take what I can get.

Wednesday, July 16, 2008

winding down the last of the alleyways,
upon this pertinent view of reality and
history combined into one lack
as particularly as anything could have
been, drenched in the sweaty remedy
fuelled personifications of the life
we’ve never led, we’ll hope to lead
in the needy times with red dusted
jumpsuits and iconic memories of
highlighted misinterpretations,
I’ve lied a few and far between digging
for a truth they’ve never understood,
it’s seen in their eyes of judgment
(assuming that I believe in fucking
ridiculous assumptions like legitimacy)
the fact is I’ve lied, lied everyday
from the morning into the night cause
I can and they believe, so astute in their
own assuredness of increased importance
occupied in the pud muddy of their
craniums, that little soup of consciousness
firing in the middle of a drug trip turned
and running, jumping from the first
cliff found, the cessation in the drop,
all these days and nights spent
thinking about the end, now that it has arrived
knocking on my window like a stranger listening
to a conversation between you and yourself
in the wee morning hours amid days and nights
making foolish the attempts to recollect, gaining
a strength of obsession, laughing at witty
efforts to get back into the discussion when
the name your parents gave leaves you in the darkness,
in identity and safety there lacks the anonymity to stare
back at yourself and know you don’t exist, not you personally,
but this thing that isn’t there, in nothing and everything
is escape, I’ve ran head first towards the bloody pool of
my longing, the only problem being I forgot where it was
I left the next best thing, they welcomed me in, took the coat
of skin from my sinew, and left me to bleed, flowing into
a transitional nightmare mopped up by the garbage of my dreams.
drawing out the lines of confusion
clearly stable writhing
with the clouds in my eyes
surgery and stapled throats
crying blood on the inside
undertones of unhappiness
porcelain fires have burned
me solid frozen waiting
dusk glistening across the shadows
travelling upwards and peering
loops and little digitals
stealing away the physical
number crunching space
and eternity making madness
lessened banks and free money
only worth the smell of dirt
freshly scented in chemistry
we were made for each other
but maybe four years down
the line it might come up
again and then the roads
will be wet and the trees will
have a million little silk worms
dangling down and sticking in
your hair, and the crows will
come out by the hundreds, and
we’ll photograph the absurdity.

Tuesday, July 15, 2008

so many beautiful things, said, done,
forgotten, glamour of a day before,
but not unfaithful in recognition,
it now may force itself to an ending of proportion,
we’re here now and we were here before,
I still stand up as much as the force of gravity
weighing down on my invertabrittleness allows,
noticing perhaps the reality of time,
but still destructive in the face of the inevitable,
a beer by my side and a joint in the drawer,
some coke a phone call away and a rock
waiting for me down the road where some old
friends leave a chair out,
the beauty of this oblivion, leaving a one day
memory to fight its way through, waiting for
tomorrow with a hint of dismay, a never ending
decay rots the innocence from within,
anger, depression, these famed vices waning
away ambition, we’ll call them all out in a
night of grand tuition, come on out fuckers,
lets settle it once and for all, we’ll bleed and
enjoy it, feel the pain and love it, then die with
a smile that only the dead can laugh at.
late I hear the passing travels through the city
as it’s moving swiftly steadily carrying
ones community in constant broader terms
leaves the nest forging new bonds without comfort
and to see them pass
in such perfect unison and timely fashion
we’ll always be proud of our efficiency
the ability to acknowledge the quirkiness
in a meadow in my head people never travel
they only look in different directions
when one does contact the other
in the brief half second of bashful
an immediate turn to nothing
so as to save face
an interest in my fellow
shall never touch but stare
and give weary glances
but never move for we cannot care
once placed inside the soup
so thick and pungent
swallow breath of freshness
and we never taught the carrier
its message lost in the abyss of mass transit
There is something pretty
that I forgot to mention
its relation isn’t far fetched
some others dementia
isn’t it like it was
the park situated
between block houses
four cornered
next to brick
it grows and dies
within the city
embedded in wandering
decay and superficial
realty people
selling, buying, lying,
right next to it
trees and dead winter grazed grass
down to a wilt of dirt and straw hats
wishing for when they’ll be seen
again in first days sunny heat
melting the streets we walk upon
unseen, appreciated in presence
at a standstill life slowly cyclic
while flutes play the stars a melody
and we leave ourselves to be
the trees sit next in witness
quietly
red headed in the corner
blooming flowers next to me
sunshine and fancy
prancing and dancing
summers hairs in the wind
glowing a burnt hazel dust
in lucid swarms collecting
one another in shapeless forms
of imagination
subjectively his slow mind measured
tints and tinctures recreating
ideas thought out
white gold glistens the cell next
orange brown stripes and whites
I named them all for a sake
a dark dirt worm filled birthday cake
night time mares running freely
over open fields
that we’ll never see to understand
to name what was not ever again
ageing ticks one digital beat to a time
of four based clocks in a minute to hour
twenty five days later
twenty five years before
I never existed
A stranger stares back at you,
one of familiarity,
but so far off in the distance unseen,
what may be, could we,
as it approaches,
slowly facing the past,
slight memories begin to focus the blur,
a memory appears,
a memory of what was,
someone who once was,
staring back at you,
facing you, with mute words mouthed
no sound need be spoken,
we remember ourselves,
we recall what we were
before the split, before the pain,
before we forgot,
as I face the mirror
for the first time in what feels like years,
I remember,
I remember myself,
tears fall from my eyes,
washing the pain away from my being,
washing the past out so I may face the future,
as the water cleans the thickness from my skin,
I run my hand over my face,
has it been this long,
how could I have forgotten,
facing myself for the first time,
I’m no longer afraid.
she was looking up at the stars,
making them out to be something
they weren’t, they were speaking
to her, telling of her shambled
existence and sub-par talent,
she made a qualified
decision, it was definitely time
to do another line, times were
getting boring again, the high
wasted on limp conversation,
three key bumps later out of a
plastic baggie painted powder
white with abuse, five more
out of sheer terror to return
to where she knew she was
headed, she let back
her hair and opened her shirt a
little, just enough to feel the
breeze, risen on a park bench in
an unknown city, forgotten
and lifeless, obtuse without
a fertile spring to see, only
winter left before hand,
cold, dying in the breeze
my new found silence,
reductions, a slight electrical trickle,
lessening and then reappearing,
noticed them and they wonder,
if it appears older, or younger, avoiding
strung variables laughing it off, the anxiety
within, but then realizing that my cat has just
shit on my floor because I forgot to change
the fucking litter again, can I still say agony?
could I repeat it and smear it over in large
incoherent lettering masked as expression,
then repeat it mindlessly and endlessly until
someone notices, further developing a theory,
a myth per chance, an absentee marker recording
nothing but saying whatever is asked of it,
it’ll even out the rest of them, they’ll think
double twice before blowing the trunk of
ever pubescent authority, we’ll record
and call, and in waiting, you’ll receive the
answer you always wanted.

Monday, July 14, 2008

why was it that it was decided to quit
anything, can’t it be had, paint it right
white and red and black and blue eyes
in the morning with stuffed appraisals
and soot, buckled to the light of day and
pain of remorse in reality of nothing
to say but to expect it again for the
price that’s paid, i want the remedial
significants, i want the reason to be,
i want a minute to minute realism
where i’m absolutely aware of
everything i take and neglect, some
would argue a victimization is at play,
that’s the most arduously simplistic
and misinformed argument since the
concept of race, it’s control, the control
of being that drives the understanding,
that’s all the morning and night
ever said to me, that i’m never out,
and starring into the new, i’ll make the
choices of the past into mistakes and regrets.
in the murder of the days awake
atria passing one to other courts
with veiled fencing yards drawn
from the silk of the spice trails.
that perambulation in my mind
sitting dead in a flaneurs post
mortared concrete romanesque
secretive whispers. tremble
minor literatures where choice
deviating anew centre from
a whole periphery of closed
symbolically stratified expungers,
soaking up identity, and roses
left six thorns to decay in lay
with love of the myriad day
parades along the boulevards
designed and deranged helmed
revolutions of secondary and
primary inquisitors. one on
the line, the other.