Category Archives: #poet

BIRDCAGED WITHIN THIS RUINOUS ESTATE

if the big smirk in the skull
of my mirrors kiss this dirt-death heart /whom everyone
wonders\where did he or she go? i will not have ever loved
one more than you whilst i take the red from within your body;
a hand’s impression is an empty theater without darkness and a
shard of light. i am a shape without the
once-good kissy-lip’d mouth /silver-moon’d anvil striking
spoon collecting the images of one fatal wound/;so much as the dilapidated
heart birdcaged within this ruinous estate!

:: 07.01.2020 ::


tHE LIttLE THINGS That KILL

A Tender b l each e d   s k y
  ooh see the reds & whites
i was not wrong but so further
 from right  (like whatever i do
whatever i do)  what is large tearing
me are THE little things that kill
   THE LITTLE THINGS that kill
i swear  smothering my brain & killing
 my heart and smile —— best to forget
    so winter is SUMMER with you
it’s these smallest little things that kill
   oh kill   oh — touch my mind & lips

:: 06.30.2020 ::


A POET’S CONFESSION

\ Mister E.E. Cummings and Ms. Dickinson,
   i have made up something new and the
difficulties — why?  People are traditional.
   as they like what already exists \
and when someone comes wanting 2 revolutionize
everything…simply everything…well, these words
i write come from the heart, that poetry is female
therefore she speaks my heart. Sir.  Ma’am.  forgive
me if  my prose disturbs your heart — and that is exactly what i aimed for! /

:: 06.20.2020 ::


NOCTURNE IN B FLAT MINOR, OP. 9 NO. 1

\ Upon one hand is a large finger —
then the other a butterfly
oh hear the fallen rain! the gutters
of my lonely heart — it sings;
a melody before here unheard of!
The Smallest is a Thing of no name
barely, an echo of memories
–and just the same! Such a strain
upon this stain that still remains,
within my soon fragmented brain –,
the smallest thing; as butterflies
having taken flight from dark memories.
AND i remain always the same.

:: 06.20.2020 ::


HOPING IS A GIANT HAMMER

HOPING is a giant hammer, terrifying, and insane
at tender times, while the heart hides away;
crying like laughter releases compressed
emotions — this is no wrong or right but a golden
trumpet, teeth shattering upon each note played___
the paunch of my feelings gilded wainscoting.
Wonder ing if Heaven has graveyards — the hope
of dying twice/once in hell upon Earth the other
one inch inside the pearled gates.

:: 06.20.2020 ::


HIDING HYDEN

\

TH3n the sky so pale  as trussed trees     !
     hips smiled at brightly red leafs
to nonchalance a floating Lightly;
       excesses of wrinkled pools of gentle
    tendered skin’d papers of a foolish
poet:  diligently carving thoughts into
        lonely shades of limed avenues
: rendered mordant blue.

*(BREATH)*

   Deceivers of charming coquettes
bow–>  although the paint wet
 dreaming wishingly devouring/
               
THE INNOCENTS.

:: 06.15.2020 ::


I DON’T HAVE ANYTHING MORE

i don’t        have pleasantries
   while i cry … losing you
i don’t        have anything
   since i don’t have you
i don’t        have romantic eyes
   and no happy heart
   oh  no happy things
       since i lost you
       the day you walked out
on me –>  oh
i don’t        have any more love
       to share
       oh mother she left
 ___since i lost you
       oh you oh you oh you
       no more hope & dreams
since you misunderstood
   a confused mind & heart
i don’t i don’t have anything
       since i lost you.
  When you walked out on me
I walked in misery.
      so i don’t have love
               to share
   since i don’t have you.

:: 06.15.2020 ::


wINGS of GLORY

wings of glory

i have read the /\
and around the madness this

/come comes came the literary
–> literal wisdom of Ages___soon
to be BORN. i shall never dress
my head with butter but with sunLit
grace of the Great Thing. That who
ever made my tongue so sharp__family
or the gift of lit chrome Souls.
I know nothing between the inferior
thoughts of humans & science. I am
no thing you see of me: this skin of
chemistry and biological folly — that may
burn my skin and hunt my mind______do not
drink the ancestors of those of Mighty Race!

I have entered the true kingdom of “the Dead
within my stomach!” As when the moment pitches
hunger and as God is my Strength! I have devotion
for the weak and treaded lives. I am as far gone
as their life who once flowed through work — now
adrift above the common sense of adulation.
That i die in Hell of tormented affection i bleed
upon the noble ambition of my baptism of Life.
what is this judgment of perfection? The stones
within the Lake of Horror of my stupidity___ you
if strong come — otherwise keep your distance!
No faith in history no jealous pity from other
poets. I am no longer of this world. Hell! Within your
ecstasy close your deformed eyes and the cruelty of humanity
you feed my brain — paint your future popular paintings
and write your operas and unpopular poetry! Rudiments
of Madness and your invented words and colors!


LOQUACIOUS

i wish to be a word
for a day
to better understand
character & its prose
i suppose whatever
happened to
the mind outside
my Soul has freely
given up to be a word___
and what word would you be?
for me?

l o q u a c i o Us

:: 05.21.2020 ::


TREE BANTER

a healthy tree
is strong & solid
but not more
than a grove
as together
we are might;
apart — weaker
than our whole

low er our roots go
higher we grow!