God doesn’t wear shoes and angels fall
Wingless to the ground ready to die
The slayer of children decides to take off her
Boots when the pills run their course
With the moon – the motions of her flight
Faster than the sound that moves her towards
Eternal spring – returning…with all the might
Possible in a measly body struggling pushing up at
The layers of dirt burying her under the world “to
Build a coffin” she supposes one day sketching the
Puzzle pieces that have no corners and never
interlock, the picture having no determinate
shape or size, more endless in every direction
taken, and (always there to be assumed but never
mentioned) spinning concentrically through empty
space between multiple dimensional planes parallel
and perpendicular though amorphous and wavy, plain
incoherent with time applied until the sight of the
horizon is interrupted by a cell phone call
breaking the dead silence and stillness, willingness
becomes revealed as the surface shows where the
strings are attached no one pulling the reins on
change, sitting alone in a ghost carriage
whipping across the fields of the sky tied to a phantom
horse of the underworld, running wild and lost
in the night furiously forced onto the shadows
unknowingly chasing the sun rise chained
to each footstep suffering only to exist
crawling across the wall on the way to a college class
sleeping low lolling and seeping slanderously in soliluquoy waking high out of
misty morning fog, a hop in step, best dressed to stand the test, not impressed
– “when did I think I was a success?” a cloud drifts and the boatman snatches
the raft outrun by the blimy…what is a bookkeeper’s job but to ask questions answering
them without suggesting but through provoking prejudice that prevails to no
avail to predict every word – each move predicated by a previous scene, an
alternate sequence of events: a pretense: am I making sense? Or does time not
wear a dress? Only measuring from what I guess this looks like distress but yet
I digress (and regress...) There’s a wealth of opportunity for progress but
evolution is not success; success is progress of the human gene, so obscene is
the averted scheme. “Newer is better!” I yell because you’d ask what I mean:
it’s not just this scene it’s the bottle of tension filled to the brim. I
cringe in Supreme Being when you crinkle your empty drink, fixed in limbo. I’m
joking, you knowing laugh, we lie burning together, put more on to get the fire
churning, more with my body than my mind. Do I learn from day to day to speak
up and say “darling can you stay?” Sounds again confirmed by sight: your
glowing face and protruding waist, unrest for one in quest of play and not
frugal talk…reactionary jumping from saying to saying. I have no view to
distribute just filling in the gaps.
Metaphysics leaning against facts cross-examined
To the last definition portraying a lesser image
Than the miraculous tactics presented in
Magnificent intactness, exactness…by now
You should expect the best, but still think, and thus
Digress from juxtaposition to superstition with
No transitional phrase, engaging the subject with
Mystical magic talking not computing or teaching
The words furrowing brows burrowing a hole in your
Crown. A scream even would be a change from the
Fictitious frown aspiring to hit the ground
Eating brown dirt for some conspicuous
Hurt, eyes roaming, matching models by
mayhem mimicking matrimony-murderous
mix up mingling completed by muddled thinking
treacherous leeching meant to breech ego
teaching leaking signals screeching feedback
loops fixation on sensational rationale falling
back down lacking positive transduction charges
from the market of meat and vegetables – a
resting place to write fables – standing on legs
like a table
people self-owning their contours with cell
Phones, biding their time as silhouettes for
friend ties and contact rely-ers realizing not
that desires burn like fires, for the heavens,
getting higher, my eyes on hers towards the sky
the shared gaze turned, the blue sky rushing
like water over flames of demand, and leftover ashes
of truth blown away by the wind of ignorance
smothered by fear of the eternal sunrise – hugging the
Earth
excluding simple solutions
to elude to a delusional fear offset by
intuitive eyesight forfeiting to illusion – a
fervent exertion to make servants for Minerva (the Roman
goddess of war) –
inertia works on form i.e. a rolling ball escapes
racing towards the pace of gravity – a
grave enmity for floatation devices proving
that even toads have dictative flows –
chosen motions indicative of internal implosion
and external promotion failed with stained clothes
and slime molds…I told you so
in rows everyone lines up conforming to social
codes behavior woes – in no way I can suppose
that the man blowing his nose knows that foes
sow their ears focusing on tears instead of years
dripping disgusted by mucous precociously
creeping into fear seeping out into lipping
discomfort for the discontent in his sneeze
accuse me of inconsistency, even incoherency,
but know my thoughts as true as yours –
as inconsistent as the crags in a mountain side
time and time again (and again) the views which
are meant to be kept hidden in devilish agony
hinting no return or jealousy all action
well intended and heaven-sented
deliberating on correct facial expression impression
making indenting relations
nouns: useless as words unless transformed by the
interaction of verbs, occasionally
(if you want it enough) love captures meaning
In subjects carelessly placed in sentences,
Tearing apart flowing fleshy objects and adjectives
Preying…killing implication in ravish envy for
terrestrial footsteps (don’t take this so personal!)
carry a thought into flight – the insight that
you got, use it to jump off a cliff! Cause you
can soar – behold the earth below…in our
eyes and thus a gift within our reach but
limited by production and reproduction
the whole soul flow, coast to coast, you know?
Or am I taking this line too far? Well…dive
Headfirst pushing off the point into space
The last frontier in a sense
The “west”…go to college: lesson after lesson to
Learn the final lesson of life: have a wife/kids,
Wipe your ass, and die…joke! And play the days away
Awaiting a type that fits is lying with as
Many as you can, the lists long and short –
Impression made the same, a racing game
Stuck in the rut of self-wrought, chained
to a system, not a machine but a pussy
white cyst bleeding seeping slaving liquid
salvation – cry to the sky, ask for God to
symbolize the world around, I don’t mean the
trees and streams, rather the steel bars, ball
and chain, headache – vomit disruption, rules
of consumption – conjoined by ribbon and rope
take
off your robe, the soap opera is over,
pick up the dignity that fell off your back
though you don’t know shit, don’t show it
Birth is chosen in accord to the Law
The Devil saves a man wallowing in despair
For He need not say a word, the man confesses
his sins without hesitation, seeing Satan’s fire eyes
Toiling himself as if he were the Demon’s warrior-king
Destroying all fairness as to become an Equal
With the Horned Beast, as to heave up the Foundations
That strode the Torturer-in-Death to the Underworld
(Over-void, Understood) a dust cyclone
Billows over the ground that that man sprints over
admonishing the misdeeds that cause havoc
On the already depraved heart, an irrevocable
Set of reactions triggered off by tension, a
Release of which, to mention, involve THC
Altering the perception of what it means to be
Along with the sights that one can look at it with
To decide that a low-life is not worth the effort
For those trying to explain the human condition
Standing in such illusiveness, no one is hurt, but
I may die tomorrow
“What are you waiting for? The future awaits you!”
babbles the television set, though its meaning is mute,
my father sits drunk
staring into Andromeda
behind the screen and wonders out loud,
“Boy, did you have fun tonight?”
“Yes,” I groan. It’s so fake, but that’s real life.
Here I sit now, not sure what’s going to come out of the
future, but I’m in for it.
What I’m about to tell you is really all I know.
People save money like it would save them.
Every time I let a bill out of my wallet, it’s never seen
again.
I do not ask yet I receive.
The love never stops.
It keeps coming, like a man chasing his dream.
A dream, alright! His head is in a gutter so his feet
just peddle in mid-air.
Dangerdoom once said that cartoons are more real than
reality TV.
Life is a cartoon. I’m always slipping on a banana peel,
or something.
