Tag Archives: #feelings

The News Reached the Poet

WHEN i write of sleeping/lives Christ, i see him at midnight
in a crucified way, love wrought-out with grace:
the blood on the walls, the lusty grief,
the artist lying on freezing pavement,
like a drunk in an apartment.

Always?for whom
in whom: for the Lord.

Over it, dreams are made, then screams are made, grief, pain, loss, longing, fierce promises of life; a skull.

i try to create a shield, clinging to the truth of prose, where every word can express with precision an unreachable.

For how can i say?

THiEF!

A sharp wit?that haunts me, rattles the prophet.
i should write poetry. At first, i thought that a rhyme might distract my readers.

Then i thought it might frighten them. This thinning armor
is the price of the art of memory:

i go to my poems now like refugees crossing a flooded
river.

What is the music of the poet?

Nothing, a voice, the absence of a voice, as i write, the sound of a key in an empty door, the charmed silence of an oasis.

Even this room where i try to be alone, tortured, longing to die, might fade away into a memory, and this empty room with my dead dead body.

My childhood was warm, it was a long summer. i stayed indoors for weeks. Until the evening sky weeps, a smell that is sad and sticky, my brain yelling my mother’s name:

Hoelun!
Hoelun!

Father crosses to the bank of the river –i drown, he swims to the other side.

i leave this world with the stench of paraquat.
it kills all my green and the flowers die.

:: 11.01.2022 ::


I Remember When

I REMEMBER when left was right
day was night every night every day
i fell into what ever i do: the heart
is loaded | focus on
those coming up
From Down | we tear out
their minds _ a little thing we do to Kill
boss in denial
we splatch away
to kill a little thing
to save you
is what we do. Whatever
or GhostMostly you we do
— when it comes back down
we send it up /Never come back
down … creature : how the colors and
sounds like what Alice said_

Creature!
Shoot up! Shoot up! Call 911!
Whether love or hate! Let her take any
other’s place: sometimes I feel me or you |
take all t h is time to relize
i’m tired.

Whatdoyou whatdoyou whatdoyou wish
calm dowm : come down fromt his cloud.
painting? Okay.
now.

:: 10.16.2022 ::


Twisted Lies Inside Sincere Love

INside this collapsed
crumbl
i
dilapidatedPoutyZ
ero
Enter
:tain(t)ed
the youth
fulMouth of Minds
UGLYsicks spat
yeLL(ow)ed sICK
names__leaning
Upon magicalMETA
sheshapes of Strength
i destroyed their
sheepVoice: -wh
EEling;at who!?,
(the fairy speaking
about that whic
hbubble ssomethin
gabou tlov
e).

:: 08.17.2022 ::


I HEAR NO WHERE THAT I HAVE BEEN

i Hear no where that i have been
i see everything i have felt
that which encloses me because
they are all too near.

Clear and silenced.

i have traveled further than
all human experience but
your gentle gesture i cannot
touch as your love is too close
that i have closed myself as
a convicted Soul — that i cannot
touch because too near // that
i have closed myself your breath
skilllfully and mysteriously opens
as petals. Mysteriously and suddenly
opens me everywhere — that which
no other humans can preceive in
fragility. Across Earth’s countries
rendering Love.
i speak of only what I understand within
me that is deeper than all Voices (no body)
not even the rain. Your hands touching
my heart.

:: ~ ::


PAIN

i HATE the THOUGHTS

BUT NEVER THE WORDS!

:: 02.16.2022 ::


did_BURSTING THINGS

I kissed did_Bursting things
where the sleepyHeart (in myself)
my Love burned away the fever

faithlessly-EyEs
of Individual\BeautyForm!

Ephemeral_things-Bursting did,
a paranormalCog-noThing piece
a steamPunk Victor-IAN
fashion Brass-Leather beating!

Beating souls in my flowerPot of Things
and only pepperLike

—— dust remains…!

:: 08-05-2014 ::


ARE HOW FIELDS DIE

BUTTERfly caught me
within her net

We chanced to speak
outside of time

Being living we dined
and Walked as Human
screamed, laughed
cried and moaned
BUTTERfly caught me
all bright! see?
dancing amongst hungry
-dying daises and firefly
We chanced to pray
outside of space
being dead we wept
are how fields die.

:: 02.01.2022 ::


Sleepers In Their Graves

That there were no Souls in the World – and no one there to blame – but Me.

That terrible sobs that took the time to lick a Heart that had forgotten how to sob, or even how to whisper, were redoubled into shrieks, and they kept me from laughing.

O heart of Mine, why do you howl?

If Thou wouldst die, then in vengeance thy Redeemer of Whom, Whose Heart was my own, and whose Whistle blew wild through the Rails, and who, at one moment when the Gate was open, as he reached the top of the Jail, and searched the Valley of Doom.

To find my Prisoner there, and to know that his Out-cries had been so wretchedly contrived, and, because they cried out so piteously, were not stopped at once!

How dare thou, thou Death, laugh? If Thou didst laugh at this, and the world now knows the Death that has come to me, in consequence of the Puny Strength with which Thine own weakness left Me.

Let the judgment of all come in, and they make the old curse true and then i should not be sad.

For those mourners, the unquiet were they – how the Sleepers in the Grave would cry:

“Those poor Souls!

Is there one Death, for another?”

But though all sleep sound those that dream are always sad. i had a Brother, i knew, who went for a Passenger, and his Friend had brought him, and held his hand when we left.

The Station – and in the Coach the Friend held up his Heart.

“Poor Brother, my Friend, have you never had Love?”

And his Friend said, “I don’t know that I ever had.”

Then they were gone.

And in my Brain, with a Funeral, i cried, “My Brother has gone!”

When my Brother and his Friend were lost i knew, in my Brain, that i should not die – yet they had gone from me for ever and for ever.

All the Earth is a city of Death – the Sun that has shone bright and cast up its golden rays must fade into Night, and the air shall turn cold, and the day will vanish like the evening:

when the Sun goes down, and it is Dark upon the Mountain.

Even the Stars, when the Sun is hot fade, and there are not as many as there once were.

The very Earth which gave brightness to the Branches of the Tree shall wither and die and fade, and the Blue of the sky will dissolve, and the Earth Will shake and fall into the Sea.

The City of Death in which we live is like a great Prison under the Earth.

The Clouds that surround us and Sooth our Sorrows are but Cloths that cover the Dome of the Pitiless Heaven – the Void where such Rulers as are but Planets, like our own shall reign.

We have no Ruler who rules by Love, no View from Heaven, no Vision from the Stars, no One to give us a Joy that would pass all our cares when we are set upon a Mountain, sighing over the Valley of Sorrow, whether our Heartbeats cease.

Luna can but smile when She sees we have passed the Point.

Where the Blue West gives the Shade of Night, and the Tree is pierced with Cold – and the Night of Light does not come but the Winter wanes.

And all mankind is contained in the Castle of Death.

There is no Labor which an Angel can give, there is no Beauty, there is no Joy,

There is no Heaven.

So for us there is the Earth, and the Flock that bares all whose Flying
is but Death and Murder, and Death’s distant Call, and it is Death, of all things, that gives us all:

That Taste of Beauty.

While we fly on the Wings of Love, and with our Tears water the Earth
with our Love, our Wings go, and with our Corpse Land to fall upon the Earth.

With the Time comes the Age
When Love is heard
And no ear has ever heard it,
with the Age comes the Age
when Men look up, and no eye has ever gazed upon
no Green Earth – when the Tree is cut down the Earth is bare.

From Blame to Blame
From Sorrow to Sorrow
From Darkness to Darkness
And Death lies on Earth –
The Land, the Water, the Earth,
The Birds and Animals,
And Man – The Land, the Water, the Earth,
The Birds and Animals,
And Man – like the Wings of Love
The Kingdom of the Earth Is a Prison
Under the Earth.

When will We see our Land?
When will We fly away?
When will we light the Nights?
When will we light the Nights?
So my Song is very solemn,
But I hope in it one Hour

When we shall find our Land.
When the Day of Retribution
Is ended, and the sky is blue
and the Sun shines, and all that was buried
in the Dark of Night, shall come to Life.

The Earth shall be green,
The Trees shall yield fruit,
The Green of their Leaves shall radiate
all over the Earth.

We shall catch our Breath,
wnd thank God,
whose Love brought us together,
and made us Wings
for his Flock,

To fly away – the Wings of love.

My Story:

‘His Love is the Light that
shone in the World, 0when the Sun of Love
and the Golden Child was born in the Cave of Life.

And then the Angels said,
“Fetch the Child, bring him forth,
that he may be king of his Kingdom
but let it be done, in the Cave of Life –
therein he may reign

as Father and Son, for the King of Men
must not reign alone.”

They called the Child and said to him,
“Arise, Unto the King of all
the Happy Isle of Love
where You reign as
Emperor of Love.

The Angels called again the King of Love
and said to him, “Arise, unto the King of all
the Happy Isle of Love where You reign as
Emperor of Love.

And the King of Love Speak!”

“If you will not come with me
then fly away!
Fly away!
Fly away!
Let me be alone!”
And the King of Love left the cave of Life
And went up to the Heavens, and came down
and placed upon the Earth

all the Things that Matter.

:: 01.25.2021 ::


GELATO DESERT SANDS

AND if you go — love goes away? No, it’s understood.
My love stays as freedom is a breakfast food
as if love can live with right or wrong (undestood)
or rolly-pollies are from frightful mountains made—
long enough just for you and me.

As though pain can pay the rent
regardless of genius please the talentgang comes
to collect the fallen minds and hearts upon
the sidewalks of understanding. Everywhere.

So as it is; my whole life: as my coalwood eyes
burn wint-air oh waiting (my love) for spring ?(y)(w)ou(w)
un-air-stan?me
crazy
me like

evry-ting
we can do it for just Me and You. So bring it (with love)
for a landing — without misunderstanding — as there is no
end what we can do together without end.

see shebert lips of babies and their beating exploding Love-hearts
: with a little luck we can help it out.

:: 10.24.2021 ::


SANGUINOLENCY

“S” hissed toward my heart
as from Eden’s garden!
Sibilance! As seven
suspicious snakes.

A loquacious theater upon
the lagniappe stage of life.

The word. As an ancient
bookstore i shall call,
“Vellichor!”

My Soul! As sanguinolency within
my dying heart. I watched the
group of wild mustangs rush
into the purple red desert night.

Then lost eyesight.

Forever.

:: 09132021 ::