Tag Archives: #emotions

TRYING TO SPEAK THE UNSPEAKABLE

Is it a society of wicked liars?

Is it a race of contemptible malefactors?

Or is it, instead, just a group of people coming to terms with their lives in a different way?

A growing number of people are choosing to live—and die—without judgment, without the reward of popularity, without the flattery of public adulation.

Most people—without much fuss—are choosing to die quietly, often in comfort, not coughing up blood, losing organs, gasping for air. Rather, they do the things they like, they have their lovers, fall in love again. They experience as many experiences as possible. They have children, watch them grow up, let them out. They do the things they love. In fact, they do as much as possible.

Maybe they are only one of millions who will die this way, quietly, without much attention at all. But for those who read about the Swedish model, maybe they’ll read about this man who, when he was ten years old, decided to end his life when his family wouldn’t let him live the life he wanted to. Maybe they will read about one of the last people on the planet who were given the opportunity to kill themselves.

Maybe they will read about the first person.

Whether he knew it or not, it was Doran, the poet, who led us here. In 2020, when he was 36, he pulled his wife and a friend onto a commuter train in Paris. They sat at a table, drank wine, and ate wild boar with the train’s conductor.

After that, he had a drink with friends. By 2:

Then they all took colors all within their head. And they tried to say the unspeakable.

:: 10.21.2020 ::


DEATH IS NOT WASTED

DEATH sheltered upon the spit of dying souls;
sun and heat a giant cat with one flat foot
upon a devil’s wing — the homosexual and
amorous spirits that cross a garden in dead
of night make scary sounds.
my throat an elevator from heaven descending
toward hell with every swallow; my non-
existent ring upon a broken finger as throbbing
sexual oysters.

to smell the clean spirit of angels are as hanging
clothes upon a clothesline within a Spring’s breeze.

:: 09.21.2020 ::


NO HOPE NO HARM

“i will not be that way, ” i said.
as she took hostage my heart.
“I will not be that way, ” i begged.
as she kissed my soul.

but for you i shall turn the stars
around and move the oceans i declared.

i do not love your beautiful face.
i do not love your curvaceous body.

i love your feet as they brought you
here toward me. And now i enjoy
your mind and through it all things
you are.

:: 09.17.2020 ::


WARRIOR OF AMARANTH NIGHTS

i would sink if the moon left these shores!  picture of myself,
bright floods!  seeking shadowed roads.  Of yellow and green
cellophane hearts –into the willows of an old courtyard.
   O my dying quiet hearts of arts and words of black dog,
brown shepherd hungry formasters — bitter peaches upon the ground : 
while sulfur and evil drown in shallow swims.
Oh but Lord!  through amaranths and Sahara blues as fire and creepers
seep through the widow’s cage!   i walked Guianan without shoes
and flew through the ducal window on such a moonlight as the blessed bindweed. 
Across ages of time and hordes cross our aged Europe.
Every soul crosses the moors — all warriors!

:: 08.31.2020 ::


SENTIMENTAL AND WIDE

SENTIMENTAL AND WIDE

WHISPERINGT GHOSTS
w a n d e r ing souls
eating muffins crazy cats
yarn at your feet — destruction
inside your heart/makes me lay down
throughout the night\ nEVER a
frown — a deadly smile of conviction
within my Cedar Box
it walks crushed & tulips i breathed
in the entire blue skies / –> so
together where you are : and all of
the things i ever said to you girl
makes me feel sentimental and wide.

:: 08.11.2020 ::


THIS POET WROTE:

THIS POET WROTE:
while leaves march down an empty alleysuddenly she is barely holding upon the blue skies /of punch red-blue\of a galant southern magnolia sweetand fresh of a sudden burning smellfruit for the fallen souls are we forever together.
far so for father trick of mind/here is a Strange Tale\upon his tomb stone. this POET WROTE
:: 07.13.2020 ::


MORTICIAN MAKEUP

she wore
mortician’s
makeup above
the once
breathing
pores || i died
once,twice &
more ||then buried
was she within a
barren field of
nothing more.

:: 07.12.2020 ::


DISHARMONY SHATTERED

WHILE the Cherubim sing their deeply forlangen hymns
  …Oh, how beautiful! Oh, how sensually sweet!
That i am racked brokenly as suffocating despair
fills my Thoughts!  My Mind!  Not for this first
time am i drunk with expectation:  as a child i
drank the Living Light.  A price unseen until a
price paid!  

Let us break disharmony and seal a pact with All!
  To re-create a promise.

:: 05.10.2020 ::


GOGH’S FIELDS OF GOLD

HAVE you never
ever walk
-ed the edge of
fields so yellow
they smell of Gold?
–the wheat fields
of Vincent Van Gogh
he was a bastard
to most but greatly
to ‘self’ –>kill
the personality
but never the Art
nor the Soul

:: 04.29.2020 ::


SEPIA MIA

a creeping chill throws me cold: t he
skies have t urn SEPIA AND i completely

utterly melt into each word

birth’d — this elegie betrays the poet;

a confession unburdens the Spirit — you

are reading about the me of ‘i’ have always

loved you |mia /i shall meet you again to-now
within the theater of my Soul sure, sometimes
i have concern for the world as it continues
to devour my Feelings and sensibilities.

when can i love you again?

:: 03.24.2020 ::