Sunday, November 4, 2012

10 Respect Those Elders

Perhaps I was wrong from the beginning
There is no axiom for valid
Or is? Let's talk purpose

I watched him
For so many years
I am still watching

Click n' Click
Game n' Game
Tick n' Tick your life away
I say

Wake up you bastard
Before life falls short of the ninth board
What about the rest of it?
I wanted to say

It was none of my business
Life is for one
So don't you dare
She told me

It's by our design
And who are you to say?
That this is the best design?
Another asked me

Well I guess that's that
Points taken
I'll not scream too loud to get this across

Some will build the bricks
Others will lay the roads
No lots were cast for him
This was all opted for

He and I will never truly talk though
So as I pack my bags
I'll be sure to pay respect at the current exchange rate,
On my way out

09 This is Exactly How it Happened

As I was driving across a bitter highway
I entered a blue haze
Which upon further inspection was seen
To be a cloud of dry snowfall

It was here that I realized
That I must take this paradigm of mine
And transform it, consciously
Into something else that I could more easily manage
Regardless of the fact
That I would be ignoring a particular reality

As I tried to utter this in my mind
To create a new piece of literature
I realized that poetry is the pathetic attempt
Of self-short-handed men and women
To place themselves above the people around them
By expressing their thoughts
In grammatically incoherent mumbling
And claiming this failure to use language properly
As a license of the artistic
Only further proving their incompetency

I then came home
And several hours later
I wrote this

This is exactly how it happened.

08 Roses of Rome

I remember once stumbling upon the pebbles of Rome,
And trying to recall why rose petals tasted so good.
Is it their flavor?
Or do their thorns make them a worthy meal?

I suspect it is the pigment.
As much as it may fade, it never washes out.
And with a little time,
We have ourselves an entirely new sweater to wear.

Friday, September 7, 2012

07 If I Were E.E. Cummings

"That mouse was a panzer tank and I was like, 'Woah,' and stepped back."
-Edward Hoeppner
let's go said me
but why said he
because I want to said me
no matter said he

this isn't a joke said me
I'm not laughing said he
but you're me said me
who's we said he

we?said he
indeed said me
make we said he
you must said me

I dare you said me-he
how?far said me
(too far said we)
I'll do it said me

(I'll bleed said we)
we'll see said me
nevermind said he
leave now said me

(or what said we)
I'll:I'll said me
like I thought said he
!fuck!you said me

--you first said we
deep down said me
(down below(said he
nothing )makes confusion( said We.

06 In Winter

These trees have become so much more during this winter month.
With so little left of them
I begin to understand
or comprehend
or gain glimpse.

Three seasons rotted off;
This is the nature of these trees and so many others.

I press flesh upon flesh to try to become a part of this.
But in this body I see it too.
There is a core in here
or a tree in this vessel
or a life force flowing.

Isn't it curious when it can be seen?  In winter?
How much must be removed
for this to be shown
or be brought forth
or be imagined.

These branches are concrete.  They are castles.
Hidden in a burst of birth and haze.
But today we can see them
or I can
or no one at all.

Are we any more real as ghosts?
Flesh-less?  Like the winter?

A jigsaw rendering entertainment, remove my pieces and I am
what?
Am I less; My shadows and dreams rotted?
What would a winter make of me?
or my winter ponder
or nothing at all.

While these trees,
Simply being,
Are so much more in winter.

05 Modern Thought

This phallus, standing ten feet tall,

devoid of any caress,

is a cannibalistic weapon

rather than an existential understanding.

Where is the man

in this orgy of mutilation?

04 Shrouded

I have missed the light between two snows
Failed to find the roughened diamond within a granular universe
So now I seek a You for reconciliation
The particulars of which are little concern

I attempt harmony with Gandhi
But am rather barraged with
Lowercase T's
Overlapped triangles
Sickle moons and pentagrams
I have met Joseph Goebbels
He is a man of Exacting Genius
All I have left are pages and pages
Which I must continue on with
So I may remind myself
Why I continue to breathe this air