April 14, 2016

what's in your soul's pantry? .....................................................................#NaPoWriMo2016

photo by Debra and Dave Vanderlaan ©

(fucking with my personalized anarchy 
asking myself are the keys wooden with iron teeth)

yes I will always want to get high every day 
but not to feel but rather to not feel 
numb is my dumb-ing down crusade 
as pervasive as getting laid 
to stave off reality one orgasm at a time 

are we humans always going to be  
an un-welcomed interloping species 
brought aboard a cargo vessel 
coming up rivers from oceans 
of sway discovery and currents 
do I pay you or the after life 
and how much is the deferment 
of my reality going to cost me 
in happy times before I die 
of being not so comfortable 
with the choices I have made so far ...

oh the poem doesn't mean hope is dead 
but rather it is secreted away  
somewhere dust will gather 
and settle upon it ...
a waiting discovery of poems 
and metaphors for bodily fluids 
an old typewriter sits 
and you the goddess of poem-land 
my wide hipped maternal 
to infernal pixie whipped watching 
do you too wonder what I'll do  
will I love them/you/her too 
and rarely be myself enough 
to pass the test 
of blessed imbalances 
of being here 
of today finding 
there might be yet 
another reason 
to stay alive ...

it is Spring in the Hudson Valley 
and that is the best kind of purpose 
to witness ... 

time to fly a kite for awakening underworlds ...

let's go fishing for demons who know that angels 
are sometimes wolves in sheep's clothing ...

why we humans would 
worship anything but ourselves 
is beyond my comprehension ...

did I mention dogma is an am god saying things 
we already know in our hearts, minds and souls 
churches are holes whole crutch therapy 
and no different than the crack I've smoked 
put that in your bibles, below the belts and bras ...

administer to me why ... we are made of animal and spirit 
this seems an in-completion or rather 
a bad day at the office 
for one god syndrome-automatic-a 
can we get a re-boot 
or a chimney sweep 
to clean the hearth 
give me witches and wizards 
ghosts and goblins 
harpies and changelings 
for I know 
they keep beauty 
hidden for a reason 
and with every season 
a shorter and shorter 
cycled amplification 
modernity becomes 
a more disposable 
brand of  humanity ...

are we ridden 
like a Trojan horse 
of course we are 
my dear 
that's why I keep my
honey in the dark 


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