Tag Archives: #surreal

LEVIATHAN DEATH SMELLS SALTY

IF you cannot sleep you have to swim

across that Ocean of dreams

smoke and trip upon wet seaweed

taking your loved one to town

   the seashell sings

but our human throats are too dry

  but we can cry

we cannot sleep but a strange

feeling up from the depths of

the seas see — we can surely die

f

ooli

sh  sh

apes

remind me of the throw down inside

the bone cave of all minds.

  a beautiful ship should come soon;

sadsadsadsadsad so finally i lost

it so completely bleeding upon the

white sheets of my sails.

:: 10.07.2020 ::


BRASS BAND

the carnival-like brass band
performing songbird miracles

of you, worn within my heart
all life; never quitting
until dead

sunrises as torn muscles
amorous and petting a cat
that adores thoughts

through the crack of heaven
i slid toward burning hell
all my thoughts —

and now fate kisses me and
we love each other is called
Life.

:: 08.17.2020


THE WORRIED SCHOLARS

      hairy love is brutal
i kissed the epitome
   and swum across the
seas  —  like i screamed
screamed before:  you’re
so good — more than love
could wish for more —
i do not love you but because
i love you i die every word/
wishing scholars worried about
my thoughts –> i cannot protect
for their degree is a back city
trance; hahaha \ studying
me.

:: 07.31.2020 ::


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 ::


THE FIRST TWO TIERS

THE distinguishing Nature of ‘something’
is a character supported by a glyph.
   within the mental imagery
   of emotions.
We call it ‘words’.

As if we never noticed the rising Sun!
  that we never ever felt the sinking
Moon whilst upon a beautiful date
   is how one destroys things :  place
your tongue upon the palate.
   THE sides are for flavor but the top
and bottom taste Life.

:: 07.12.2020 ::

[ideas i used to slay the Western
Alphabet.  Next book:  to rebuild
from those ashes]


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 ::


GHOST-FLESH

FORGOTTEN! are the fragmented memories as
touching the ghost-flesh of a missing limb ;a
bridge too far spanned beyond measure
and torn-bleeding feet bared for all to
witness/my Sweetest days
were alone with you
my brilliant Sun and her mistress of night
with silver-beamed light from her ageless face
the Moon\my Love is immeasurable, my Love’s
passion unmeasurable — we are too busy with
each other’s joy to notice; her nails are black
her neck is thin, her eyes anthracine-misty;
the very air within her presence a maelstrom
of mystery is where i am is where i go.

:: 03.21.2020 ::


OK, DRIVE SAFELY

[life continues to beat]
Sometimes it seems i have been lost
then mostly finding myself between
tomorrow’s thoughts remembering today’s
yesterday as though it’s right now
then it’s gone. GONE. then (what a
lonely skinny word ‘then’)i find that
the rash was a tire’s track across my
chest and not poison ivy. So now this
is’nt happening and i am it for only
a moment longer ~~~~~there.

\\//
//\\
\\//
//\\
\\//
//\\

and then no longer______.
[life continues to beat]
:: 03-06-2017 ::


CARDBOARD BEES HUMMING ALIVE

i climbed from Negative
billionth of none
to tell myself, “i have
no place to hide”
and the police at the
scene of that suicide
said: “he’s a saint,
of another tale.”

So then i left Earth
(counted to a million,
i felt) had a silver
spoon full of royal
bumble bees who kiss
me and all Humanity
whose sleeping with
most of the guns.

:: 08-03-2016 ::


IF A MONSTER WITH A SOUL COULD SPEAK!

So, what if my childhood was full of drama?
Did it (maybe) twist my soul into a pretzel
or a mobius strip of confusing mental traffic?

Anyway, who the hell am I talking to, maybe you
but more likely myself while I’m trying to loosen
these ties around my body (mental hospitals of
the mind are worst than physical ones).

And how long my skin has contained my brain
but never my mind — a strange roof, thinking of love,
words, and sex.

And my mother — a fish that swam away and her heart
resembles a touch of frost like a frozen lake within a
forgotten mountain range and within my most
sacred dreams everything is beautiful and nothing hurts!
And Bradbury swears, “it was a pleasure to burn”
\and flesh of 1.61 feels it’s a bit dramatic to think
beauty is over-rated by any golden ratio but the most
tender lover would never say to her that nature is by
far the most beautiful creature!

:: 12182015 ::