IN quiet moments
My brain screams
Delightful sun rays
Melting inside me
The grass is green
the fence slowly
rotting.
:: 10-04-2017 ::
Don’t You Dare You Can’t Catch Me
the light is coming beyond a morning’s curve
expectations of a day with hours
and i don’t know oh where does it go?
pennies falling within a funnel
minds too and love for fools
Time a piece of Meringue pie
baked in an oven ; a large glass
or metal bowl
as the world asks, ‘where does
time go?’
While walking down a street
(don’t you dare you can’t catch me)
the weak lie crossing the road
a hole within my sole reaching out
to the lost one’s within the cracks
The cobbler has his awl and knows
space has it’s mistress ‘time’
and we know how that goes
Don’t you dare you cannot feel me
anymore
Don’t you dare you cannot look
for me anymore
Don’t you dare you can’t catch me.
:: 10-04-2017 ::
AND THE CREME OF ALL HELL
so sometimes SOSomEtimes
i am unglued by time
i fail my b right days
and kiss black days
And so you are there
so beautiful within a
mindSET cradle — and
aching I get it: i’ll
get it right. IF now
I know how this is a
fate: the secret is that
I can choose any of those
timelines. It’s alright
it’s the light. And
i never met anything that
has ever broken me: my
council of 12 knows.
SO, i give you every
THING i am.
GAVE you every all of
heaven and the creme
of all hell. WE close
the door of the outside
WORLD — except for myself,
i give you everything i
am and my soul to release
the outside of life and
the rest can go to hell
girl, the rest is outside
of our own world.
:: 10-02-2017 ::
THE REST IS BULLSHIT
i have no memory to trigger
for readers of poetry.
i have no memories worthy
for readers of love AND
elevated language? bullshit.
words are words regardless
of degreed wordsmiths.
It is all about emotion.
the words as bridges
the moment within you
the feet walking there.
And that is really what
poetry is about:
releasing personality
releasing flesh.
the rest: bullshit.
:: 10-02-2017 ::
A Pain Inside a Hole So Far Deeply, No Echo
A pain. Inside a hole so far
deeply, no echo.
A morning sun sinking beneath
yesterday’s promises.
And i’m running toward the
edge of a crazy world.
i’m refusing to believe
we all are so very lost
no one has anymore love.
And save me Moon because
like a bright sight you
guide the shores and waves
of all these people; the
scared, tired, and mentally
drained peoples.
Our Earth.
:: 10-02-2017 ::
Like Presidents Blowing Smoke
Had my love to dig so I dug
and came up slug –>
one working so hard for it
another working to disrupt me.
So saw an eye on the other side
of a world –> robbing bank
called my love // printing
a magazine online called foolery
so she commercialize men \\
and made us all like gorillas
feeding bananas to the bitches
like these presidents blowing
Smoke:: and if we think all of
this is like a coma? Climbing
out of confusion into a solution
we call Monkey Branching.
I’m not Joe but came up slow.
It’s like San Antonio, Texas.
Alamo go –> beating down
all the brown people called
Mexicans. And so Ann said,
‘I can.” I grab my word machine
and say, “Wordsmith back to nexus
— call us all Mixes:: what is
this thing we profess is it all
all Tejas or Texas?” Let the
American Indians say we are already
gone: Let the truth ring white
is alone. The world is One and
so are the peoples of the world
One. Over.
:: 10-01-2017 ::
Dream the Quantum Dream
I dream the quantum dream
in another place
Like world events somewhere
are no concern reflected
I feel connected at times
by tears as like bullets
And Jesus come save me
My tears are steam
My heart a scream.
It’s all a dream
It’s all myself
a photographic
dysmorphic laceration
and so I scream.
Born on a way-Station
light-years from you
and blown way down
into your world —
I scream. I scream.
Gentilia your satisfaction
and I’m a vessel for infection
never disregarding intellect
so I scream disregard affection.
And the year is Rooster
and I should know
so now I go — simplicity
is a reason for necessity.
and I scream this is our world.
:: 10-01-2017 ::
VIII
VIII
MELODIES, These songs of life!
that i have watched the sun
sink below my own heart.
i have touched the tears
of the love of my angel
and have ventured up toward
the greenest pastures of all
to find a butterfly resting
upon a fallen tree; is where
i choose to be my dear.
The moment is quiet and
the hawk screaming
the clouds are roaming
as does this empty soul.
A world upon the perch
of a handheld love
the shadows of sorrow
the mouth encased by
imponderables so.
Dream, dream. And dream.
Answers within the night,
tears upon the pillow,
that we all dear fight!
:: 10-01-2017 ::
I have not a Mouth nor a Brain
I have not a mouth nor a brain
and not a body for conveyance
but a thought is mine.
I know many have wondered;
death, death, death —
to what end is finality?
No ending but always as always
beginnings; mostly bright
colors and rushing sounds by.
Not a dream nor a waking moment;
but the in-between compromise
and serenity we go by that way.
The actor releases one costume
then decides upon another persona
and learns lines for the stage.
AND wishing the curtain falls
upon roses and much-desired
applause.
:: 10-01-2017 ::
IV
AND if we dream.
Quietly as though
the babbling brook
demands so.
AND there by the trees
a hobble-knobble
moon goes telling
sweet thoughts.
WITH pine in air
and stiff nipples
expectations like dreams
touching goals.
There are no impossibilities
just fears and blocked roads
by brain we the insane
mostly never overcome.
:: 09-30-2017 ::
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