IN anguish i am alive. As we are whenever
a tear drop has always meant. Fiery and
at times absolute coldness – of all
recorded time and as our yesterdays have
confounded minds always forward toward
a dusty death of revelation.
Always (sometimes?) told by a poet full of
anguish and unrequited love —
that which signifies Nothingness.
:: 10.13.2021 ::
TEARS
. . . . . . TEARS // fear dreaming tonight
/-/ how my eyes drain these watery rivers
of aching fearing dreams tonight sleeping
i knew. ….oh dear my loving light
i wondered : \ : when as a baby i knew
how you held me. As you whispered within my
little ear, “you are my love always and forever
and as always.”
I believe your voice in my little darkness.
Mother.
:: 10.10.2021 ::
LOVER — Achilles’ soul
weeping the broken branch
atop braver souls.
Shouting words
weeping tears
watching those whom
tear the fruit from our
hearts___ no! that they tried
but did — beyond our reach!
how love died.
:: 10.07.2021 ::
AGAINST the cymbals of echoing blasts
became the embryo born-splat.
The squeals were louder than priests
calling for money upon silver plates
clanging with the clank and claps ensued
STD is the mother of lost souls craving
crunching love.
Yeah. Well.
WHEN i was sleeping but dead-living bangs
ding swish and swooshing rafters of whiffing whizz.
how the heart can ache after it is dead.
fwoosh.
Buzz and barking angry flies. went the mumbling brook;
warble song above a tree branch near the echo moan of yesterday.
where i lay.
Now. All alone.
:: 10.07.2021 ::
WHAT is love that love does?
Oh n’ver dies!
Shall by choice or cupid’s whim?
Our hearts decidedly care thou
art more lovely than itself as Life.
As when and then everywhere as rough winds
change life as furious seasons may,
as processional change touch brilliant stars
and as summer’s lease hath too kindly
memories of love without losing.
To be half a part of what life gave
this by chance or heaven’s course
untrimm’d; what o’ love is love
that love does?
oh n’ver dies!
:: 10.05.2021 ::
MY MOTHER said she loved me
and bar tended drinks to keep
me clothed.
AND ONE NIGHT: she was raped
and I fought two brute men
and they destroyed mother
and me.
I wept. She wept.
The howl of despair ate
our Souls.
Then there we knew humanity
and all its pain within our
heart.
She died recently.
I died then. Many years ago.
:: 10.03.2021 ::
October darkness without a moon
a winterless space within hearts
what dreamy spine against thick
sunset nights.
perceiving fingers upon a piano
crying notes and cascading centrifugally
expecting silly — clumsily thumbs.
oh, e.e. how you enter thisMIND of mine:
“i feels so lonely fer duh good oledays we
spentin’18 kicking duh gutsouta dem
doity foreaters an humpin duh swell janes on…”
My waving floating blue fin tuna eyes —
hook and flotsam death.
It really bust be Nice. never to
have no body or imagination) never to never
wonder about guys you used to( and them
slim hot queens with damn next to nothing.
loving skin and soul and lips a kissin’
the sun and moons beyond our imaginations.
Oh how time and space and in between we
gore the pleasant feelings of flesh-life;
living just a small moment here and now.
Praise!
Fell down inside my foot & wonder’d
will i ever be secured?
Ate the poems and children’s stories
of childhood and hung upon the chord
of my insecured LIFE.
Butterfly poet blurry eyes — what we
think — and wish upon those good ole
days //superluminal light \\
how organs inside our bodies
play music like an ancient orchestra
upon a wooden floor.
I want to be with mommy now. She gave
me love and without mysterious energy
: i sometimes remember her smell when
before she just died all i remember is
her smile and love.
\ i wish i could hug just one more time/
oh turn back time to those old days
when she was my age — so stressed out.
now burning a candle of my words
now my name is clearly insane
to those days when mother sang
and those were the best of days
:: 09.28.2021 ::
I did it!
TO STEAL THE light
that child i am, so!
[lay] i did for me.
and myself? cried.
Did you feel the rivers?
i fed it my happy tears
drowsing water inside a
deep throat! and me/my
child-me ran we did! Upon
as ghosts upon field of
my dreams and life smelled
like daddy and mama clothes
clean: wind-swept dried
souls now dead.
Does the wind weep at missed opportunities?
Never contemplated – less seen –
it knocks an entrance upon nature’s door
a friendly visit upon life’s shores!
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