Category Archives: #a hundred poems

SMOKING CIGARETTES AND SPIPPING COFFEE

Many-colored and candle-lights; high beyond the soft trees a fresh country
leans heavily toward the night, far beyond the sea’s shady shore.

Beams, o’er wide fields like a white star, \till from the earth’s crown drops the thunders. With breaths that stay the night, with sounds that never are hushed, with golden night-glories or amber the perfumes that I catch/, and wild nights of laughter: and by the deep sea violets and ladyship’s, with the smelling rose, and perfumes of forest; and rarities that we saw in open Heaven, and the drink of Oia, on the sweet chestnut tree,
with which the feet of Aphrodite might be not shackled, when the lust of Him; as some deem I.

And so we lament over him, with our wreaths Pallid, wan, or but paled by love’s heavy sighs, lovers whose burning lust is over; who shall still desire now thy embraces, or feel the beauty of thy cheek;
who shall fancy even now that the bonds of love are off the tongues of thine; or that all the charms of thy face have lost their force, and are swaying at the wind from thy native garlands?
And what pities the future lover, if even of l’amour’s kiss they have bewailed and of sweet love’s cloying aftertaste they are not ill pleased; if there should still be that sighing longing, that sighing sadness, that sighing passion, that sighing sigh, that sighing waste of life?

And what more pity if I should too that same sorrow too should befall him!

And I see that love weeps, in wailing. till her outstretching fingers take him to her bosom and tie him tight to the heart and mind of the one.
Now then, take thy ease with love’s passion, as a fair angel, whom God makes with an ecstatic gleam and white hair; his love’s upcast bird-chaser,
His love’s lady-mistress, His love’s wife, or maidenhood.
But seek that pleasure not with a partner, of whom one is no more than a plaything. What kind of thing is it, these men with whom we do marry, to whom a common fellow-countryman is no more honorable or good than the butcher or tailor, or shoe-maker. What kind of thing is it,
for whom is it either to worship God, or to lie in death’s burning sands?
If the sweet to taste was here among us, and the earl’s daughter would choose me, and not him, what with the big open eye, with all its blood-shooting sight, the mad gaze of their wild eyes!
And the round forked tongue! and the crazed face!
With the hanging lip! with the snarling teeth!
With the long hair! with the strange uncouth sign of their
Cocks and she-birds!
What would become of my high rank, to be taken, in my home country, as a commoner with one of those low fellows, whose fear stems from the spleen, and whose blood stems from the kidneys.
For I am rather wild and awkward, egotistic and impractical, desirable in their eyes, and hurtful in their lips, but if it were this way, I should be quite happy.
Would he ever require my foot for aught?
For my breast for his belly? My seat for his horse? I think not. Should I have my house, my servants, my arms, and I am well armed, yet I should still groan to see that from some far foreign land was by God taken a young and ambitious kinsman.

To perish so cruelly, so without hope would I ever be glad of any harm coming to him.

:: 10.03.2020 ::


DYING IN BED

08/24/2013

The bed, a crime scene of sorts a passion spilled in sweat
he comes to me in the night. Willingly i go – to my death:
he comes to me in the night. A sword sharpened by lust and
thrusts it into my soul. mother, I’m ready to come home but
the line between pain & pleasure is small compared to the
pleasant death (ORGASAMS); the coroner will say an untimely
passing but my murderous lover knew the timing each plunge
of his knife ever deeper (the hounds of winter).
The best way to slice off entrails — I’m at home like home
on the floor covered with wine and gizzards then I’ll slit
my wrists (the hounds of winters!) it was an accident
I just wanted to see my bruises replaced with this new thing
the slit wasn’t to deep

A season for Joy a Season for Sorrow! So brighten my day
within the winter of Hounds today.

A lonesome sound a lonesome sound this day.

:: maj rev – 10.03. 2020 ::



TERROR SPREADS

EASY was media     until words became
digital (you love . yourself now) Oh,
humanity i swear i learned how to not
Love Myself (the location of all enemies
upon a plane) m y l o v e  died, flower
too and my lip dried — what should
we do?  flaccid penis and dry
vagina?  from head to toe we
think — i won’t complain:  the
famous steel within the condensations
receive gratification always — WITHIN
MY BODY of glass — I grew with love
from you (a lot of bad blood) bad news
OCTOPUS
she before 100
-better than everyone.
   I am on a level plane; no complaint.

:: 08.15.2020 ::


DISPENSATION dis·pen·sa·tion

the HAIR upon my head tells me
i am human – my fingers
scream generations while i feel
my hair. I am ALPHA AND OMEGA.
NOTHING ELSE.
gOD LIVES within my skin. &
humanity. We EAT dirt
and dust and wishes. The
world is our sphere of Love.
and nothing more.
Just love.
and STRENGTH
. Nothing will destroy it.

Nothing.

:: 08.03.2020 ::


THE WHORISH POET

What is GREAT CREATION?
painting or love?
     writing or drawing?
the bleeding organ of
an artist knows.
    it kills before he
is done.  plastioning feelings   
morbid thoughts i found myself
 inside a tangle of trees 
: and worried scholars are hairy
loved brutal:  epitome and swum
across the seas.  I screamed as
a virgin!


DEPARTURE (EPROBLES)

i met my mind inside a hampering down
across the skies of my expansive face
those elder souls we never see came to me
and you: in dreams. i allow the sun to
beat down upon my face and breath its winds
: the elder race
spoke from atop the
clouds singing everything
to be revealed in time.
I was strong and stressed
for not a word i heard or note
oh oh oh — the skies scream
horns and unusual things.
ooooooh. Yea. I am blind.
Everything seen is within my
eyes you sang/bled /visions
gleam in every air.
try to find you
try to recapture everything
had/ far sounds of cities,
in early evening: within
that place of yellow desert
scream//so much so and so
everything known

:: 07.31.2020 ::


ADVICE FROM SHAKESPEARE

TONIGHT i could write the
baddest words: i could not
care where i am going –>
over the thin red line —
she was in a trance/
i put a pound of love
inside a quart of expectation
— will Shakespeare says
” do not go running away ”
but i hit the grown running
TOWARD CHANGE –> nothing stays
the same: change (i hear you
say) say, hey! every era
has words to express change
yea yea yeah — i say change
is a beautiful vagina of flowers
….

:: 07.31.2020 ::


THE WORRIED SCHOLARS

      hairy love is brutal
i kissed the epitome
   and swum across the
seas  —  like i screamed
screamed before:  you’re
so good — more than love
could wish for more —
i do not love you but because
i love you i die every word/
wishing scholars worried about
my thoughts –> i cannot protect
for their degree is a back city
trance; hahaha \ studying
me.

:: 07.31.2020 ::


AGGRESSION

first the sun then the planets
then the Earth and of course
the dead dinosaurs we forget
to remember:

     i remember when i met you
millions of years ago when our
substance reached Earth;  its
within the memory of all DNA
  \shhh….secret!/  i love to
titillate powers of AGGRESSION–
     it is my Nature.

:: 07.31.2020 >: 


BUTTERFLY

i am the blade never made
oh please give me
thunderous eyes
give us love
and surprise
— please
give us
more than
god could ever
from your mouth
are butterflies
spring and energy
of yellow & whites
oh yea oh yes.
butterfly.
i follow you & love
all your shapes &
colors. i do.

:: 07.27.2020 ::