Which name these flowers go by,
under which guise of man-made beauty,
is for finer machine-heads than these
fingers typing
into this
note-taking app.
How to expulse this beauty
in electrons,
while remaining relevant to the tedious mindex
(think: roll-a-dex of the intelligencia)
in applicable wordings,
to make the superbly gifted
children of these
times
realize that,... beauty is more than a pricetag
or an employable designation.
When simple poet
(such as am i)
can not even raise one adjective
for
such a fineness;
such a fondness;
without finesse
or any other co-conspiracy
the public & the publishing industry has come
to honor
as worthy of particular accolade, heavy-laden with accomplishments
to entice & incite one the other
to eXplode with the furious abandonment
of right and wrong.
To me,
the birds,
the bees,
the flowers,
the trees,...
Ad infinum,
are creations to,
for mere & unadulterated moments,
pull our minds away from the trivial diversions
twisting our thoughts into the hell of super ego,
where occupy the shattered and scarred remnants
of obscure passages,
through the darkness
of societal existence.
No, Miss So-&-So,
there is no room for love to roam
in such a sterile environment.
Sooner or later
everyone will have to realize,
Frankenstein could have only
been written
by a woman.
Thursday, January 30, 2014
To Be the Not {as far as bees are concerned}
Finding the bottom of the pot
As rushing between necessity permits
Babble on
Babble you glorious heads of beef
Sing every moment you have left
The Spring really needs to know
Your law is held in reserve for higher profits
Price per barrel; priceless
The cost of love
When you need to eat steak
Or gnaw off your arm
As rushing between necessity permits
Babble on
Babble you glorious heads of beef
Sing every moment you have left
The Spring really needs to know
Your law is held in reserve for higher profits
Price per barrel; priceless
The cost of love
When you need to eat steak
Or gnaw off your arm
Her Favorite Sport
Not as one would suspect
(I most assuredly am able
To acertain)
Is the love of all the flowers;
Hair & nails;
Shoes & fabric;
Fine food & things
Printed on green fiber
Dug from the soul
Deeper than the earthen
Clay pots of hieroglyph
Her's is none of these.
She wants to run
& watch them bleed.
(I most assuredly am able
To acertain)
Is the love of all the flowers;
Hair & nails;
Shoes & fabric;
Fine food & things
Printed on green fiber
Dug from the soul
Deeper than the earthen
Clay pots of hieroglyph
Her's is none of these.
She wants to run
& watch them bleed.
Sometimes It's Only Good for an Hour
Not one of them knew the color of her smile.
Their eyes stared level, fastening upon
the inevitability of the day,
the rushing approach of darkness
the glorious mortal weakness
of sleep.
Who could ask children
to know
the fine porcelain of her cheek
or the anticipated thrill
of her lips?
Just as the sand shifts beneath the rolling tracks
of an armored personnel carrier,
the minutes drip through the hourglass
we all wake with revised expectation
heavily edited, lackluster laundry-lists
of realizable daily tasks.
You could check out anytime you wish.
You could throw your trousers
in a sack, grab some greasepaint,
& hit the open road.
This is what killed Kerouac,
inevitability.
It wasn't the road.
All the intrigues,
adventures,
romances,
late nights,
early dawnings,...
ad nausem
weren't the culprit of his demise.
Or Cobain & Elvis for that matter.
Our eyes are opened wide
before they slam shut.
The hardest thing is
to unsee.
It's harder
to unknow.
The joy and the speed
and the whirl of this life.
Tossed from coast to coast
or halfway around the world.
We've woke up in so many beds,
looked through all the windows,
seen the highest resolution,...
How could we go back?
To being simple and naturally occurring
or remotely naive
Their eyes stared level, fastening upon
the inevitability of the day,
the rushing approach of darkness
the glorious mortal weakness
of sleep.
Who could ask children
to know
the fine porcelain of her cheek
or the anticipated thrill
of her lips?
Just as the sand shifts beneath the rolling tracks
of an armored personnel carrier,
the minutes drip through the hourglass
we all wake with revised expectation
heavily edited, lackluster laundry-lists
of realizable daily tasks.
You could check out anytime you wish.
You could throw your trousers
in a sack, grab some greasepaint,
& hit the open road.
This is what killed Kerouac,
inevitability.
It wasn't the road.
All the intrigues,
adventures,
romances,
late nights,
early dawnings,...
ad nausem
weren't the culprit of his demise.
Or Cobain & Elvis for that matter.
Our eyes are opened wide
before they slam shut.
The hardest thing is
to unsee.
It's harder
to unknow.
The joy and the speed
and the whirl of this life.
Tossed from coast to coast
or halfway around the world.
We've woke up in so many beds,
looked through all the windows,
seen the highest resolution,...
How could we go back?
To being simple and naturally occurring
or remotely naive
Trick of the Light
What destruction there is inside of deception,
though, to say 'i do not know.'
Would condemn this speaker
to a fate of so much more misery.
If you would hold back
the words fighting to cascade
from the raging roar of your brain
through the teeth of your face,
you'd find it to be less
about you and more about being
an upright creature basking
in the sun rather than bawling
and bawking at the feasts
prepared for you.
Lord, let me not growl in anger
but say what is real.
These truths we know
in the deepest corners
of our hearts.
You have given
and you have taken away.
For my own good
or others,
i know not which.
Once again,
i say, Amen,
for the flowers
and the storms
of spring.
though, to say 'i do not know.'
Would condemn this speaker
to a fate of so much more misery.
If you would hold back
the words fighting to cascade
from the raging roar of your brain
through the teeth of your face,
you'd find it to be less
about you and more about being
an upright creature basking
in the sun rather than bawling
and bawking at the feasts
prepared for you.
Lord, let me not growl in anger
but say what is real.
These truths we know
in the deepest corners
of our hearts.
You have given
and you have taken away.
For my own good
or others,
i know not which.
Once again,
i say, Amen,
for the flowers
and the storms
of spring.
Pain in the Mouth
Thunder at mid-day //
pain rattles through my teeth //
almost as if...
the thunder and electricity in the sky //
along with the barometric pressure //
are conniving with malignant forces //
to ruin my day before it can even begin //
i know there are multiple wars occurring,
on multiple fronts //
there were two young lovelies,
in my defensive driving course //
they will be deployed into Afghanistan,
before summer is over //
all they really want is to go to college,
get a good job,
maybe find the right guy,... //
so in order to live 'the good life' //
they sign their name on a dotted line //
promise to 'sick 'em' when the president says
'sick 'em' //
when i was a kid //
i lived a pretty solitary life //
brought up in a military house //
my mom was towing the line //
But i had to leave that house //
before a homicide,
transformed me
into a statistic
pain rattles through my teeth //
almost as if...
the thunder and electricity in the sky //
along with the barometric pressure //
are conniving with malignant forces //
to ruin my day before it can even begin //
i know there are multiple wars occurring,
on multiple fronts //
there were two young lovelies,
in my defensive driving course //
they will be deployed into Afghanistan,
before summer is over //
all they really want is to go to college,
get a good job,
maybe find the right guy,... //
so in order to live 'the good life' //
they sign their name on a dotted line //
promise to 'sick 'em' when the president says
'sick 'em' //
when i was a kid //
i lived a pretty solitary life //
brought up in a military house //
my mom was towing the line //
But i had to leave that house //
before a homicide,
transformed me
into a statistic
Not Written by a Victim
neither gender nor scars
Dictate these words to you,
All of you (the humble & gullible; the fiery & guilty)
You saw a young child wander down the rail lines.
Overhead, a flock of sparrows shot across steel gray skies,
pursuing a suspected American crow.
There is no train coming.
You cross the tracks gently, you think, to save your shocks, taking a quick, calculated glance at the child, further down the tracks,
under the cloud of warring feathers.
For the very first time, you notice this child isn't a child at all
but a wise old soul
choosing not to be a victim
of any particular railroaded solutions.
You've seen him before,
walking along the river
or across the seashore
at the foot of the coastal mountain range.
How could this be?
He must be at least as old as you are.
Spring, summer, autumn. Spring, summer, autumn.
How many have passed?
Very Deja Vu, that.
At the intersection,
a crow flies towards the ground
to tear at some dead thing,
molded by the tread of a semi-rig.
Time flies and the crow flies
and the light changes.
You take a right
out of the corner of your eye,
you can't help but noticing
that Jesus Christ is healing the blind
and raising the dead.
Since all literature is literature,
you notice every phonebook
is a bible and every prayer
is a song,
written from the very beginning of time.
The skies open up.
The rain comes down.
Where shall you go?
Will you choose
Or have the choice
Made for you?
Dictate these words to you,
All of you (the humble & gullible; the fiery & guilty)
You saw a young child wander down the rail lines.
Overhead, a flock of sparrows shot across steel gray skies,
pursuing a suspected American crow.
There is no train coming.
You cross the tracks gently, you think, to save your shocks, taking a quick, calculated glance at the child, further down the tracks,
under the cloud of warring feathers.
For the very first time, you notice this child isn't a child at all
but a wise old soul
choosing not to be a victim
of any particular railroaded solutions.
You've seen him before,
walking along the river
or across the seashore
at the foot of the coastal mountain range.
How could this be?
He must be at least as old as you are.
Spring, summer, autumn. Spring, summer, autumn.
How many have passed?
Very Deja Vu, that.
At the intersection,
a crow flies towards the ground
to tear at some dead thing,
molded by the tread of a semi-rig.
Time flies and the crow flies
and the light changes.
You take a right
out of the corner of your eye,
you can't help but noticing
that Jesus Christ is healing the blind
and raising the dead.
Since all literature is literature,
you notice every phonebook
is a bible and every prayer
is a song,
written from the very beginning of time.
The skies open up.
The rain comes down.
Where shall you go?
Will you choose
Or have the choice
Made for you?
Captured by Her Distant Eyes
In your eyes - in the irises - where the lights sparkle -
the colors dazzle & delight -
forgive my stare - should a man stare too deep
& plunge through every wall constructed
on this side of dreaming -
if i were to break from that -
breath taking gift and reason bestowed
for the unmitigated purpose of... -
the bee is attracted to the flower -
instinctively recognizing what part;
what elegant position
each must play
in this slow waltz
of loving
& mortality
the colors dazzle & delight -
forgive my stare - should a man stare too deep
& plunge through every wall constructed
on this side of dreaming -
if i were to break from that -
breath taking gift and reason bestowed
for the unmitigated purpose of... -
the bee is attracted to the flower -
instinctively recognizing what part;
what elegant position
each must play
in this slow waltz
of loving
& mortality
River of Love
This'll be our greatest claim to fame
So many hours and miles and pain
Who could even hope to stand
Fast against the indiscretions
Of their past?
I am re-made
Call it what you will
An old gunslinger
Instinctively reaching
For his ghosted holster
Finding forgiveness in it's place
Born again?
How could I be otherly thus
Except for the exception
Being born of a miraculous light
From high above the skyline
When eye shutter sighs
We all have the ability
To be more than we were born
If we'd only breathe
Deep down as we reach
To the sky
Allowing the river
To renew
Allowing you to be who
You were always meant to be
In love's all consuming
& faultless eye
So many hours and miles and pain
Who could even hope to stand
Fast against the indiscretions
Of their past?
I am re-made
Call it what you will
An old gunslinger
Instinctively reaching
For his ghosted holster
Finding forgiveness in it's place
Born again?
How could I be otherly thus
Except for the exception
Being born of a miraculous light
From high above the skyline
When eye shutter sighs
We all have the ability
To be more than we were born
If we'd only breathe
Deep down as we reach
To the sky
Allowing the river
To renew
Allowing you to be who
You were always meant to be
In love's all consuming
& faultless eye
It's Cold & We Need Love
Through the night,
temptations arise,
a lonely young lady reaching out
to make contact
What should I offer?
Nothing she thinks
she wants.
To be sure.
I can't make small talk with her.
The weather holds no interest
when your heart is lovesick.
No.
Definitely not for this one.
She thinks of people as functions.
There is one I wait for.
She is too good to be mine.
Besides that she is married
to some guy who has decided to sleepwalk
through the rest of their life
together.
I shouldn't even be thinking
of her in any save the purest manner.
I pray through the night
that Jesus will take this cross from me.
There is no way I should be struggling
with a predicament
Such as this
This is definitely
the slow-motion
soap opera
one is likely
to get caught
up in
and miss
the train
or at least
the proper
destination
temptations arise,
a lonely young lady reaching out
to make contact
What should I offer?
Nothing she thinks
she wants.
To be sure.
I can't make small talk with her.
The weather holds no interest
when your heart is lovesick.
No.
Definitely not for this one.
She thinks of people as functions.
There is one I wait for.
She is too good to be mine.
Besides that she is married
to some guy who has decided to sleepwalk
through the rest of their life
together.
I shouldn't even be thinking
of her in any save the purest manner.
I pray through the night
that Jesus will take this cross from me.
There is no way I should be struggling
with a predicament
Such as this
This is definitely
the slow-motion
soap opera
one is likely
to get caught
up in
and miss
the train
or at least
the proper
destination
Autumnal Musics Return
Language is lulling the racketing of machinery
into a perfectly subdued song
You told me you think
you thought you might like
a little more or less
This is the way God works
among the waves of seasons
At the exact moment
of burnt leaf husks
rising comes the pungent
release
We must, at some particularly inspiring moment,
pass through the darkness
embracing complete
and utterly humbling
truth of change
Changing life
and death
This is only a test
I won't grade you
Nor your grade
Effect my motive
Only seeking
Love's continual
renewal
cyclic
return
into a perfectly subdued song
You told me you think
you thought you might like
a little more or less
This is the way God works
among the waves of seasons
At the exact moment
of burnt leaf husks
rising comes the pungent
release
We must, at some particularly inspiring moment,
pass through the darkness
embracing complete
and utterly humbling
truth of change
Changing life
and death
This is only a test
I won't grade you
Nor your grade
Effect my motive
Only seeking
Love's continual
renewal
cyclic
return
Whole Bowl Life
You wake.
You go to sleep.
You consume a few particles of food.
You expel a few particles of food.
You go to sleep.
You wake.
You swim in a circle.
You consume and expel a few more particles of food.
You go to sleep.
You wake.
You hear a voice
Overhead
'Mom! The fish is floating upside down!'
You get flushed down the toilet
TO BE
eventually
eaten by
a limp alligator
You go to sleep.
You consume a few particles of food.
You expel a few particles of food.
You go to sleep.
You wake.
You swim in a circle.
You consume and expel a few more particles of food.
You go to sleep.
You wake.
You hear a voice
Overhead
'Mom! The fish is floating upside down!'
You get flushed down the toilet
TO BE
eventually
eaten by
a limp alligator
Photograph of Chlorophyll Depleted Leaves
Today in this
My consideration calls to you
From across this well populated
Social space
Human lives
As they move on their path towards
Who knows what?
One couple wants to buy a car
It's a guy and girl couple
They look that they'd be better suited
At running marathon and 5k races
Another young girl comes along to enjoy a lunch
She catches the eye of a pink wearing blonde
As she exits the establishment
Some may ask: How could I ever love you?
I ask: How could you not?
Answer a question with a question
May lead you to tag me as 'duplicitous' (at best)
Whose fault is it in the long run?
Blame the sun for illuminating beauty,
Blame the book for opening your mind,
The doctor for opening your heart
What will you discover in the landfill of blame?
Only death and decay
And of what benefit has that ever been
Besides to the autumn landscape
My consideration calls to you
From across this well populated
Social space
Human lives
As they move on their path towards
Who knows what?
One couple wants to buy a car
It's a guy and girl couple
They look that they'd be better suited
At running marathon and 5k races
Another young girl comes along to enjoy a lunch
She catches the eye of a pink wearing blonde
As she exits the establishment
Some may ask: How could I ever love you?
I ask: How could you not?
Answer a question with a question
May lead you to tag me as 'duplicitous' (at best)
Whose fault is it in the long run?
Blame the sun for illuminating beauty,
Blame the book for opening your mind,
The doctor for opening your heart
What will you discover in the landfill of blame?
Only death and decay
And of what benefit has that ever been
Besides to the autumn landscape
Lengthening Time
Days pass as seconds melt
from the spin of the planet
A baby's breath
Turns to a cry
Turns to a song
All the layers & numbers
Began sinking into the icy waters
And Pitman, the Captain,
Gave in
Only boat #14 returns
A little over an hour later
After the cries have sunk
Into the Atlantic
's frozen depths
from the spin of the planet
A baby's breath
Turns to a cry
Turns to a song
All the layers & numbers
Began sinking into the icy waters
And Pitman, the Captain,
Gave in
Only boat #14 returns
A little over an hour later
After the cries have sunk
Into the Atlantic
's frozen depths
Softly We Rise
From a time and a space
Days have been numbered exactly
An hour only has sixty minutes
There won't be another added
Not even one of the 3600 seconds
Can be stolen from
These intricately manufactured
Clockworks
If that'd happen
They may throw off the crowing
Of roosters
And the chirping
Of crickets
Once I thought
Time had passed me by
Like a train leaving the station
Out in the middle of nowhere
And a guy running across the plain
Waving his arms frantically
'Stop! Stop! All my luggage is in there!'
And all the apathetic faces looking out
Watching with a melancholy of inevitability
Time's march and its' fly and its' roll and its' crawl
Are noted in passing and approach
But how you spend this currency
Is your own business
To be added to your bill
Or your paycheck
@ checkout
Like when you're a little girl
And you realize someone you know
Is fifty years old
And you also realize that fifty years
Is a half of a century
And you think to yourself
'Half a century! That's mighty old.'
And you live
And you live
And you live
Until you're looking in the mirror
Fast approaching
The second decade marker
Outside of that mystical half century
With you in the mirror
Are all your past
All your fears
All your hopes
All your time
On the planet
You wonder
'How will I ever make this train?
There's not enough time.
I can't run as fast was I could
When I was younger.'
Suddenly the train stops
Dead in its' tracks
As if one of the passengers
Caught the conductor's attention
And said
'I know you ain't gonna let that child
Drag itself all the way out here
In the middle of nowhere
With nothing but the clothes on its' back!'
Now you can breathe a sigh of relief
You have faced
The rushing wings of time
You have caught your train
And you are bound
For your destination
Days have been numbered exactly
An hour only has sixty minutes
There won't be another added
Not even one of the 3600 seconds
Can be stolen from
These intricately manufactured
Clockworks
If that'd happen
They may throw off the crowing
Of roosters
And the chirping
Of crickets
Once I thought
Time had passed me by
Like a train leaving the station
Out in the middle of nowhere
And a guy running across the plain
Waving his arms frantically
'Stop! Stop! All my luggage is in there!'
And all the apathetic faces looking out
Watching with a melancholy of inevitability
Time's march and its' fly and its' roll and its' crawl
Are noted in passing and approach
But how you spend this currency
Is your own business
To be added to your bill
Or your paycheck
@ checkout
Like when you're a little girl
And you realize someone you know
Is fifty years old
And you also realize that fifty years
Is a half of a century
And you think to yourself
'Half a century! That's mighty old.'
And you live
And you live
And you live
Until you're looking in the mirror
Fast approaching
The second decade marker
Outside of that mystical half century
With you in the mirror
Are all your past
All your fears
All your hopes
All your time
On the planet
You wonder
'How will I ever make this train?
There's not enough time.
I can't run as fast was I could
When I was younger.'
Suddenly the train stops
Dead in its' tracks
As if one of the passengers
Caught the conductor's attention
And said
'I know you ain't gonna let that child
Drag itself all the way out here
In the middle of nowhere
With nothing but the clothes on its' back!'
Now you can breathe a sigh of relief
You have faced
The rushing wings of time
You have caught your train
And you are bound
For your destination
Delivered via Air
Ask what sound it is the jumbo jet makes
Climbing atop the morning bird chirps
Or the rustling of green grass blades
I will say it must be human
To cause such an audio spectacle
With so much silence
Manhandled
And corrupted
For profit
The only saving thought
Is that maybe, upon this flight
Is an object, loved dearly
Being transported to a spot
On our noisy surface
That needs love
Right now
Climbing atop the morning bird chirps
Or the rustling of green grass blades
I will say it must be human
To cause such an audio spectacle
With so much silence
Manhandled
And corrupted
For profit
The only saving thought
Is that maybe, upon this flight
Is an object, loved dearly
Being transported to a spot
On our noisy surface
That needs love
Right now
Breakfast of Winter Shoppers
A waiter brings the drinks
Orders are placed
Nervously a woman crumples
A paper ring binding
Silverware
As the gray sky grows
Brighter
This is our present
Retail landscape
Where shopping centers live
In complete and utter harmony
with newly constructed sections of freeway
A marvel to be sure
when you think of those
forlorn
Third world eyes
Begging a crust of bread
1st worlders shrug it off
Orders are placed
Nervously a woman crumples
A paper ring binding
Silverware
As the gray sky grows
Brighter
This is our present
Retail landscape
Where shopping centers live
In complete and utter harmony
with newly constructed sections of freeway
A marvel to be sure
when you think of those
forlorn
Third world eyes
Begging a crust of bread
1st worlders shrug it off
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