I don't write, I paint myself blind with words...diogenes herded...ignorance...gilded cages...filling up on beauty unleashed...free will's maddening fractures...eyes that need to smell to see...
April 29, 2016
soul so-journey id and intelligence ..............................................................#NaPoWriMo2016
we had set about over a milk
and honey once landscape
in our 1980's era car
the bottles on our walls
were beer cans
and we were spent too
covered in mantras that said :
what if the largest con
in the world has been
the advent of monotheism
can their precepts even
be in our cause formative
limbic system(s), odd
how this life strives
universal struggles
and surrenders
to evolve into desperate
thought, a pure conscious energy
without need of form(s) ...
are we meant to suffer
in order to beg the mercies
life-guarded by conservationists
on austere diets tied to sticks
stones and war machines
liturgy knees, palms and pleas
do the guano lords
with their, as we
have been conditioned
to see, leathery wings
forked tongues and tails
protect themselves
against heaven's radiation
by dwelling deep below
to avail themselves
molecular slip dipped in Sun
is this how we
un-slave ourselves
going blind nose
as moles might
what of service(s)
cock and bull shit schleppers
do we pay them
to clean the streets
of ever growing social lepers
and by this I mean
those not pliable enough
to ascend quite yet
or deemed worthy enough
or having accumulated
the right stamps
of approval and hence
put to working
the death to come
much more quickly
all the while hustling
little pockets of gold, glory
stories with questions
like more coffee or tea?
I want a drink of water ... in your sometimes
I want to mouth your rain ... hoping
the taste of you is another life or two ...
would you be my pilot
my passenger or partner
in crime
did I say time was a bastard too
or that the last herd here
would be led to slaughter
no you said a fool understands
the gold standard parades
what does bastard mean
that you have no purpose here
save the indentured lean
and is that why you go flying
out of open windows when dreaming
taking chances with scrappy bits
of bone, flesh and soul
throwing yourself
to the wind
with hope enough
to cut your skin
to spill life
onto an empty canvas
waiting
I repeat cycle(s)
as most of us do
wittingly and
unwittingly
interior monologue I spied
the whole hog in the butcher case
I grew up poor wide eyes
with gluttony in its place
we ate jowls, sweet cheeks
now a hipster delicacy
and out of my price range
I lean towards vegetarianism
because it makes my aging
body feel better but
I still eat pussy the same way
after beer or champagne,
slowly at first with the intention
of getting her reciting to incite me aside
her private prayer to poem book ...
this part of poem starts by asking the reader questions :
have you known at all,
of the interference mavens
circling round the planet
in their satellites
of trenches
mouthed
in whisper
art
can you hear them
assign us names electrical curtains
mythological names spirit names
summon names free will
and what fills in
the cracks
of innocence
leaving with
sinister laughter(s)
in the background
you'll often hear
things said like :
look at them
walking upright
feel as if they are beasts
while thinking like a god
poor poor mankind
goes to school
a water melon
comes back a rind
and there can be no telling
what capable is to them
though at the very little least
we do spare them the rod
opting instead for saddle
bit, bridle and reins...
what if justice is just desserts
maybe(s) in hazy recollections
what you pore over your life in
piles of good deeds and bad ones
inland salt seas
to hills and mountains
of material we shed
along the way like snakes do
lungs and hearts demand clothes too
but what if I never believed
in any great me
what does saving mean
and though I do
understand
what desire does
to time
it still makes me
feel old when
tourniquet-ing
my nostalgia
how it says why
choosing a demise
is what my core need
often needs completing
another journey
Earth to sky
int
er steal stellar
cellar wine
and gloaming crept
will we have arrived
trailing in goodbyes with words
being written on paper lanterns
will we return
as ashes or friends
burning remnant songs
of days gone by
casting slip noose-d nets
binding sound to language
many hats and homes
my will to be
liked but unseemly
derives me to drive
myself further
inside myself
shield and shells
spiel and hells
wondering at and through
a world of indifference
do I hunger
for every smile
or continue to try
and love from here
where I prefer
Beltane's breezes
with no light
I have been doing
half animal half spirit
medical taped wrists
wearing blood and divinity
taking entrance and exit
in wonder murmurs
and in-audibles
I am a rushed hurried
need to be going some place
I am an ambulance of want(s)
speeding past
holographic versions
of me
I am a long night
of knives and fight
sirens ablaze
Doppler-ing
the flight chasing someday
where the dark
watches me disappear
again miles ahead
of where and who
Dawn and I
had already been
yesterday
EJR ©
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"poor poor mankind
ReplyDeletegoes to school
a water melon
comes back a rind"
Perfect.
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