Tag Archives: #words

WITHIN MY ALL “DREAM”

CRU
SHINATELY

AIN

CRU
SHINATELY

is  Godless 

PUR __ ,
pose
AS WORDS that cry
and break SILENCE ——
(endbegi ndesginb ecend)tang
lesp
ang
le
s
of EnteralL i ght
WE eat blood and flesh
2 B e per Fect
PAIN IN OUR H8ARTS

LO ve
Lit(
-tling-
for souls
of) ! (a. Sprit because we
Adore Birds for they sing
our SONG —–
Y & es
(all from the e
ter.

 nal.  Universe.

KEEPSUMMERGROWINGBEAUTIFULFLOWERS
OFLOVE

:: 11.21.2020 :


POSTS

these guest posts left behind
after feeding the mind
from the best of books and with a
potent sense of humor
man! she’s done an angel’s work
like a hurricane
she’s perfect, fearless,
somehow it had to be just right
and so it was
everything came out like the mill
like a violin through a steel pipe
her chest and voice
who in the hell can sing like that?
now’s she got the way
to ride the winds,
rope in by a moment
and bam! there it is.

she made it, the same way the world makes it
each one standing shouting for change
like a piano wire dangling over a hill
like someone who’s seen and heard
better things yet neither not of this world
just a stroke of brilliance
so life changing that her music permeates
the walls, the kitchen, the hallway,
even the carpet
sometimes she waits, takes a big inhale
and plummets to the floor.

:: 11.16.2020 ::


SUPPLICATION

walking through a daze  suffocating the world
walking across America no face mask
just mind wars wine tours
all along a stretch of highway
spitting on bugs sweating all my love
rivers drowning faith

so now i know how the world dies
not within fire
not within ice
but supplication
i remember lesser wars but not this
where everyone is afraid to challenge political piss
never seen weakness  like now

Supplication confuses the wishes of liberty
fear mongering rampant within all mainstream media
how to climb that Precipice to get to you?

if not then we all die.

:: 11.16.2020 ::


EYEBALL GOD IN MOUTH

Eyeball god in mouth

Ostara?…Dio?…Luna? …

Is light as hunger for colors?

Eros the god of eyes and the hidden feelings
shameful man with erect cock — sighing sex
in his heart — a crack, deep and wide!

Black Hole!

Punk rock for a Black Hole!

Rainbow and jubilee exploded in flood!

Like a porno universe all of our pornographic desires
moments of starving stars and porn stars!

An eyeless god living in a glass tube with hearts
like hot flashes in heat-blasted rooms!
Pulsing pimples — swirling while a midnight sky
brings forth a cacophony of cosmic screams!

More impassioned raw-animal! More barking!
more vibrations — more imminence!

More sinewy limbs on show — penis I’m looking at —
lifeless grey body but voracious pink face!

It licks and whimpers, suckles and sucks!

Shall I become a statue again? — glazed face with eyes
sheers-white in precession of Venus?

Hey! Taint! Milk it!

:: 11.12. 2020 ::


BIG BRAIN SO monster family

ate my petals of yellow flowers

& i looked up toward the skies
(they say i was weak and aborted)
==never mattered to me==
Father killed mother
sisters cried//brother of mine\
held him down and i cried :::
what ever matters now?
i sang ancient cries telling ghosts
i leave you all behind; momma i
hate how you found evil when you
looked for Love/ like me \ we eat
dirt.
Oh Oh Oh i am just a shadow
looking out a window…(no one loves me!)
say, stop! A ate a thunderbolt
lightning down inside my bowls
sparing my life from monstrosity
demons hold on! Oh let me go
“No no no no!” Oh how the angels
sing for me! Every very bit of
frightening feelings! Oh how evil
and pure love me: oh let me go!
(we will not let you go!) Oh oh
let me go go go ! No no no NO!
Oh how the devil and God wants me!
Oh Mother!
The devil has designs for me!
God give me the power!
Shade my eyes from all evil! OOOOH!~
baby! Just got to get it right!
…?_? oh yeah oh yeah
…i am born a child. And flesh decays
and gods and demons feed upon our flesh.
but we win within the end.
Born above Angels and Devils.

😉

:: 11.10.2020 ::


THAT I HAVE FELT

THAT i have felt the winds of misery
of all that i have won through fright,
against steel and metal thoughts,
my arms are now weak, but not my heart
.

Not even a little.

What little tears me are drops of waves
against the mist of vast ocean
lit by thunderbolts of sorrow,
defined by unfathomable solutions,
or anemic eyelids.

i was born too early and fought for life
premature; then suddenly a fire within
my tiny heart grew and separated myself
from the chaff of earth; when wheat
hardens its little flanks and lifts up
its thousand-handed face,
i flew — as no human could.
the One who never shrinks from the
thump of darkness frightened.
My footsteps approach as fire
within the smoke, melting Winter
to live within Sprint, wielding Sun
to grow flowers and their petals,
and pushing earth away
in a wave of love and passion,
within raging rivers of flowerheads
does the light of sun and moon
reach my MOUTH:
as an old friend that meets me again!

:: 11.10.2020 ::


RAINDROPS NEED SUNBEAMS

Like winnable wars like broken hearts
feeling there’s no living gods
Like a poem that is out of reach
that no ink can write — i feel you.
While dreaming hope like a smile of love
without a lover a little foot step
without impossible dreams
there’s no unbeatable odds.

Shall I say it again?

With dreams there’s no
invisible walls and i sing,

“I just want you”

There is no Juliet without
Romeo, there are no thrills
without incurable life.
and I just want you
and I just want you
And how are you?

There are no in-crimeable crimes
no reason or rhymes why we lock
doors between living and life.

If there’s an Alpha I say
oh me again (omega) possible
dreams and I just want you

i just want you i just want you
how i dream fall-smiles
within your soul dear

Are all the beautiful flowers of your soul!

:: 10142015 ::
rev: 11.10.2020


FIGHTING FOR COMPLETE UNDERSTANDING

i held my arms, sleeping, around her breasts, bending, allowing myself to fall, the ghosting, dark wake, the fiery sands burned by a storm of thorn trees, burned by the march of sea and the keys of incense that hang near her bed. Soft and fiery sweetness, a book of songs that didn’t affect me, a white dress with a tattered hem, elegant skin whose breath has already evaporated.

There is no physical reflection on her breasts, my love, the fluidity of a river in the shadow of the heron’s head. There is no destruction of a dead river in the pale water of her beauty. Your eyes, the depths of their ravines, the fire in the dark, your hearts, holding mine, their tornness, the loss of a companion, in the silence of the corridors where the footsteps of strangers run.

From the raves I must admit I will never feel intoxicated, but I need so desperately to feel intoxicated, to finish my life in the warehouse,
under the light of an old beveled mirror with a knife propped against the square of glass, the light of the ghost, of the burning card,
of the ghost of unimportant dreams, of the funny dreams I dream every night. I would like to exist like the strange creature that thrives
in the laboratory of an art dealer in an abandoned warehouse.

Held her ankles, enjoying her existence, trembling, embracing, trembling, our breath circulating the smoky air of a kiss.

She only exists when my back rests on a cold polished floor, in the darkness, in her natural state, my brother, my pride, my hope.
To touch her, to feel her breasts, her lips, her hands, all the parts of her body that run all over mine, that brings me nothing, for this expression
is simple, low, they do not consider her existence, my love, to raise her up or to lower her, to grab her legs, to kiss her lips, to kiss her nose.

Everything but the head, where she is still touched by the forehead of a stranger, from one of the corridors, one of the cracked doors, where her
lovers walk, from the stones and shadows of cold halls, the one that is lifted from the depths of a world of books. You only exist, my love,
with the touch of your palms.

From behind my childhood wall, I have met the daughters of stars, from behind my own walls, the girl that lives in the corridor, has warmed up my life, there with me on the cold polished floor, my passion.

Everything is there, hidden in the dark depths, revealed by the hallway, the fading curtain of candles, the evening light, a kind of passionate romance,
my love, whose bones are growing every day as if they were long-dead, those young girls, the memory of the last night, the abandoned street,
the shadow of an old bed, a memory of the night that passed, but only lives in the room where I am lying.

Leaned against a window of a skyscraper, red-eyed, like a demon, muttering, covered with a black apron, sobbing from an open wound.

What was that, love? What did you see?

Those eyes of the future, seen in the silence of my mind, in the chaos of my thoughts.

It was dark, I have left the house in the street, I have entered the house.

What was that sound?

I can not go further, there is nothing here, it was dark, it was closed, the doors were closed, it was dark, the house empty, but it was empty as
the city when the people pass through fighting for love, compassion, and complete understanding.

:: 10.21.2020 ::


BURNED MY EYES OUT

I try to convince myself this one day
Will bring back the past
With all the other moments gone past

My imagination was a blind passion
forever doomed to take us down
i have become my mother’s child
Without understanding the cause
of my calling

Is it to burn my eyes out
before I get out?

Today is the greatest
day i’ve ever known
can’t wait for tomorrow
i might not have that long

i’ll tear my heart out
before i get out

for when the light turns my world black
i’ll burn my eyes out
before i get out

i burned my eyes out
before i got out

We were a dream
You knew all about it
Rode the bright light
But you were too young
To see what the sky was made out of
I swallowed my pride

So I ran.

The sky is the same as the day we lost
i stayed because i wanted to save the world
i never gave up on anyone
so i’ll burn my eyes out

before I get out
i can’t do it now
i’ll burn my eyes out
before I get out

Today is the greatest
day i’ve ever known
can’t wait for tomorrow
i might not have that long
i’ll tear my heart out
before I get out

i burned my eyes out
before i got out
We were a dream
you knew all about it
rode the bright light
but you were too young
to see what the sky was made out of
i swallowed my pride
and i ran.

:: 10.20.2020 ::


LOVE CANNOT BE FAKED FOR ONE MORE SHOW

But huge and mighty Forms that do not live like living men mov’d slowly through my mind>
By day and were the trouble of my dreams.
But more marvelous and luminous are the imaginations of men, when their thoughts
are dissolved in soft summer rain; and the faint exaltation of seas and glimmering waters
move swiftly through the silent ocean, her vast wings and high sweeping curves, till with a sudden brightness; of crystal noiselessly an ardent swan of prismatic form, with plumes that arc tween two spirals or the reflection of a circle, gives up a magical report to the air.
And, as a wanderer home, sometimes, well passing around a hill, would hope that behind him the unseen if it come from a distant lofty land, and such it be, a home of peace and solitude to come.
At times of discontent and sickness, pillows covered with white birch boughs, the dark moss
Along the trees was moist, and cottages by watersides still left their grassy slope. But neither trees nor miles of grass, unlike the artificial things of Man, nor grass grown for buildings, nor waters drained.
And purified into a shallow and undrinkable concentration, nor fruit or flowers in sight, reminded me that the long and tranquil stream of Individual life must needs return before the stream of inorganic life can begin to dissipate and come to die. Its long memories have come to slumber as the long-continued dreams of Man.
But I was tempted by the stream. The solitude would seem so natural and so necessary, and be so reserved, and the solitude so good for thought, there was no heat of mind to arouse it; and even the
Exhilaration of the remembrance of that solitude : had a melancholy relief. But, as in death, the last affection awoke; and, sullenly sinking in a swathing silence, I fell asleep; And though my weary limbs
Were heavy, I slept with my mind reclined upon my breast. Come night, the vision of O the Wanderer of the Hills varying with the stars, and evoking each as the heavenly Eye pictures to a man an illimitable hall, and I was conscious of a sinister shadow creeping. It was a living, moving thing, a slithering thing. From the Cottage the shadow came along the steps and slanted over the plough, and on the lawn the grass was raised, till in the distance it and the shadowy Other turned its head; and then the lightning was brought down by the shrill clang of the bells, and though I thought the sky was dark and gloomy,
It was beautiful in the light of the lightning: then as I watched the storm came on—dreadfully fearful—and very thick: the waves and low groaning hills and swift-growing woods and noisome clouds with rows of storm-clouds of flame darting through them, while all in bright lightning the shadow crept.
So, when I awoke, a little later in the day, my body was ill with thirst, and I could not bear to stand up, but laid down against the cold stone and shut my eyes. The shutters had been thrown up of late. Strange and silent to me!
Were the night-cloaks that let in no ray, such light was gone
That Heaven, with eyes closed, was a dull light to me, black. This body on the stone without the weather-worn yellow waiting on, and in contempt, a coarse solitude.
And I dreamed of O in the Marsh—not exactly what I
Had dreamed of O the Wanderer of the Hills, but all
The same like it: but, turning aside as I do to run
(or travel, as I preferred), and every line of the
Ahab plot, for fifty miles, was clothed with strange
Fog like something floating in a vague haze, and more
And more, like the fog on the cliffs of Benares or at
The foot of Mount Almora in Persia, and took me
Into the Land of Vultures, where had past a Harrowing
Of the Dead.

Such were the dreams, which I dreamt in that room, and of which
They were dreams no more; and I only wished with all my heart
That I had not dreamed of O.

:: 10.17.2020 ::