12-21-2011
In the melancholy hours
of the inkwell and the clicks
of the key board
weed smoked in the echo
of a poet's dream
the strange thing
is a resemblance
of a poem lived
in another's heart
of clocks like flakes of soul
ticking their tock
ever determined as
the moment that leaks
like an emergent
as such as night.
-
the wind is
undisturbed
the Sycamores
still holds their
large brown leaves
quickly the wind
pleasure and fade
to the sounds of
tumbling leaves.
-
the infamous sun
is at it again
reaching
into everything.
-
The distasteful
unfamiliar stairway
to the moment
\is full of life
lived as dissolved timing
timing in and out.
---
Will it return
the blood night
in our veins
the darkness
of the flow
will it return
the olive leaf
of all our grace
the multitudes
of life as blessings
we are born into
will it return
the road to riches
we place upon a
pedestrian just beside
our doubts
living off our flesh
in the sapphire womb
of our closes archangel
will it return
the choicest not taken
the road forever exhausted
to go forward
the going on despite
our will to end
the return of weaving
shrouds for the loosened hall where
life is play for a fool
will it return
the ardent winds
the depths of life's demands
that we dance
on the point of death's pin
dance with bitterness in it's turn
and shabby dress of
some of our virtues
to make amends to
the houses of doors
none more dear then
any of our limbs
will it return
the faint odor
of angels as if
some soul is
roasting on the spit
will it return
the last seen horizons
before returning
to deep St. Louis
this lady who pale her way as
opened as window pane
silent in their gaze
brief the slow shadows
slow the flow of glass
like lost vendors
selling boredom for music
will it house the heaven
of sounds or is heaven
shutting the door
on lost souls crowned in
the olden virtues
that once was our calling cards.
-
The red robin
Indians
the fur trade
John Jacob Astor
and St. Louis.
-
The wind intone
the fallen and
hanging leaves
as the tender trimmer
composed by the
greatest artiest
that she be
the Aspens are golden
the divine voice
heaved on by
birthing fall
from the belly
of summer
and from the cum
of winter
comes spring
my dear friend
Kay waits within
her grieving for
mother now dead
it is a secret wait
that she do and only
the light of the truth
gives this message true
Kay wake out of the wait
my friend Kay
let the waiting of the
tenderness of your
inner poet who is
waiting to flower
you will be intoxicant
of living as your mother
did each giving moment in the here
she did grieve for the lost of her
as you do now of your
but she moved on and I am sure
that she wishes no less for you
grieving is to human true
for what is lost is a wound
that must be healed by time
how long do we burden our lives
how long is far to long
is it for the poet to say?
Is it from a friend?
To live our lives in peace and hope
someday the grieving must end
to end is not to forget that you
loved her as much she you
come back to us my dear Kay
your forward life await you.
-
Pronounced
is my blasphemy
some will say
but blind voices
only resign
themselves not
to have their say
insulting the words
of God I stand accused
as if free will is
let then a virtue
wretched is the man
who wishes to keep
your silent so hard
as to never be dissolved
life is no mysterious
mystery
there is sorrow, joys, loves,
hates and there are fools
all even war and schools
there is an enthusiasms
to live and knowing
is a luxuriate
you must love to attain
silent is not golden
it have no rays
that laid hand on the substance
of who or what is the true
nature of God.
-
Daphne burns
the glory of the
word church
is buried in the
dust of all selected
what was like some
Bible first written
on skins
the church of the heart
the one upon the rock
the mountain top
Buddha all fears
not to dare
top the falsr Gods
of finance and
seize the moment
as one annoyed
by the sin of the words
shout up true believers
who believe in nothing
shout poets disturbed
with fading madness
allude you to
the mighty It
that came to earth
as an oracle
who only hummed his words and
we poets understood
that only nature
is the victorious church.
-
catching crawdads
I feel the mud
between my toes
a double blessing.
-
the dandelion
are no more
I remember
the first flower
of spring.
-
starling
moving fallen leaves
with their bills
hands are a luxury
not needed by all.
-
the midday
winter sun
is hazed over
high noon
is only in summer.
-
fall lingers
well into winter
with each rainfall
the muddy puddle
is replenished.
-
the noonday train
less then ½ a mile away
is a time piece
How do you
cross over
with a yes
what ready word
is the fee to
set free
upon the sea?
Comes the day
you go that way
how do you
skin the word
with your last no?
The end of knowing
the great conviction
that converts you and leaves
no profit pass the passing
of the duct of your bones.
-
Being Crazy
The last time
I was lost like
I was dead
beloved voice as
weather my
inner head
unsuspectingly
the virgin Mary
was a sailor
a whorl who
cover up with a lie
of the virgin birth
from history
Horace jammed
his finger into
a stone accent
and road the
carouse of silence
around and up and down
the jasmine man
invited him to his bed
the walls were embroidered
with pure attic
and the wooden floor
have perfect pronunciation
of my foot steps
che fece
people come
this one a himself
that one a honorable path
cross over into repentance
pile high your ready
response to life
the pinning breath
can call with will
the composed poet
can lie
water yourself
like a look alike
of who you be
intone the intoxicant
thought that
infinite tender
fill your stores.
-
Poets divine your voices
spread calm messages
of speaking in tongues
love rancor
as a thing done
by secret love
of nature herself
poets flower your watering
of the dead thirst
intone tender songs
but none to much
compose the take
that is in poems
the veins of sounds
the intoxicant of
binging a gardener
of the growth of words
poets
yet so far
the fragrance
of your poems
overcomes me
and I swami
into a dream
of the poetically
done thing
the poem.
-
the black birds
drowned out
by traffic
the shroud of cold
comfort the air
and colder forms
of winds blows
here and there
let not your patriotism
be rigid but wild
be stretched out
for miles in their stance
the drowned hands
embroiled the
immaculate bitterness
of the wind
and wide open eyes
are planted in the
Christian cemetery
where my last agony grows
here is the incense of
our prayers, here is
all our give-alls and
used uses manners
here after just thus so
the complicated confusion
of the machines
of the Christian God
is but in the span of things
lest then two years old
the hour that the God
abruptly swallowed his
forcibly rules is the hour
that the God
is henceforth
of no good
the garden is
not narcissism
the purest is just
as close as a
blaze of grass
time is alone
one that never grows old
art is a genuine
gift from the soul
yes that contemplations
the gap hold of
natural colors
beautiful as is old
mother of enamel
ideal taste of the
unclean the purest
truth is grace
as aroma as born
in fragrance
and flowers in fashion
encased in the embittered
genuine art of leaves
the fragrance of
the uncleaned is grace
is the smelling
of dirt and mire
as burnt myrrh of
natural colors as
wrought dye
and dwells where
darkness blooms
grief-stricken
and hind hidden
like found pain
and brambles
of hesitations
bent on rhapsody.
-
Circumcision
luminaries
lamps of light
and spite destruction.
Pull back the skin
as not to let
germs in.
-
Godard
you be
mad bogart
mad as mud
downloading the shit!
You smoke
stiff seal
my steel shit
you leech my
mary jane
leak it out of me
shit bro
slow draw
blunt yourself
weed out your needs
on your own weed
hog joint hip
as to relive the word
coma cheese
weasel the chaff
of my mary jane
my dinner whore
she hits hard
I no over
humphrey is on
my back and
you met the man
inside of your
heart attack
was it God or
some holy fool
sent to school
the weed from the blunt?
-
Baudelaire
the symbols
of syllables
is an inspired
interprets
of words as things
sometime seldom
heard this temple
called a poem
harmonious
emotions or in
gloomy union with you
passes the sounds
vibrates the thought
through living breath
it is filled with
wonder as our
intimate inmate
of the lungs.
-
In the sewers
of St. Louis
there lives
a saint
as ancient
as age as
deep in the
gloom of his lair
that his neck
bust out in
a growth of heads
in the many
arms of the pipes
and passage way
the incurious stink
feeds the rats
and the washed in diamond
of lost wedding rings
lay in wait to be
flushed out of human
lives forever.
-
Pelasgian's Treasure
In the leg of a bowel
the foundation of the flame
stream down the
wealth of the land
this prodigious neck
is warm like entire
centuries in the
hands of a child
who count the mines
where men sleep
and pick weeping
mauler as horrifying
as apathy.
-
Thirty mounts
of noise
timidity as
worthless terror
stretching itself
in the veins
the air is
full of the disturbance
that is fleeing
dreams caught
in the light and
on the wind
of a new work day
thirty smiles
full of disturbances
thirty shadows
behind the teeth
noise like thirty
laughs the vain
thirty timelessly
worthless wounder
and wonders of lust
wounder struck
by poetic words
mouth full of
stretches as smiles
shadows of laughter
linger last like light
lit in the mouth.,
-
Your voice
is closer to
creation then
it ever been
each day a dance
not forever but
closed at the end.
-
hereafter
the henceforth
is my future friend.
-
open your eyes
to the flow, time
each day a day
of a new creation
new breath is an easy thing
but not forever
new breath you
breathe ever new
imperfect the
count of human time
and barely over his
100 is his reward
the gospels are
the winds talking
in tongues of phrases
heard in the ripples
of rivers and
activity of moon and sun
time wills the flow
of everything
time immortal
of no mortal man
like indissoluble
things and things
of the great
grand It
It is instinct
instinct is celestial
celestial is imperfect.
So is man as a
made thing
of the cosmos
rest does not exist
nothing is ever still
not even the night
my appetite
for the afterlife
the hereafter
of my ancestors
the otherness
of the otherwise
families in their
phrase of no life
death is no rest
save for thoughts
but a non being
biodegrading into earth
the spirit deludes
the human habit
of instinct, the spirit
have no eyes
so must use our
as all things of
earth the spirit
falls pray to instinct
and can not tell
the foolishness
of man from
the foolishness
of the wide open
celestial
foolishness of creation
life will birth a
deformity just because
life cares for life
at all cost
being born and being
dying to feed the new birth
time phrase and praise
in and out
like an unquenchable
appetite for the new and approved
new materiel there is none
what you see is what you get
all things are
a variation on some other thing
nothing is new for
all materiel are not pure
other then for what they be.
-
Cover your yellow
light your soul
intoxicate your eyes
with the warm
red of darkness
of closed lids
facing the sun
lone to long for the sea
in the center of somewhere
love your longings
and water your fragrances
with body and man made musk
ready for the moment
and cross the years
I wish you good
peace this year.
-
The last of the year
is eying me like
I'm am about to cross over
the sun's sounds comes to life
and greenness falls
far is the marker
that comes to mark
us all
I lift my heart
from the garden
I plant my thoughts
in the beds of the young
it set aflame the fire of
my emotion
the fuel is salty
water from
a black man's love.
-
message of melody
are poems no more
the dewy skin
white as alabaster
I no longer see
I intone of what
I am a black man
-
Tender air stale as
tender songs gone
to smooth jazz
dead poets sky the sun
and melody wafts like
the things that it is
over grown shadows
warm themselves in the sun
and weather spreads
calm in it's cold underpinning
the voices are there
just behind the wind
rancor is held in heat
of it's own need for heat
to keep what it is
life bring life like
the meaning of it
is just the living of it
nature's nose is full
of secret fragrances
and she blows often
the lost joy of the gardener
intoxicates you with water.
-
certain men
come by night
to others sheets
they come with
a great yes
of love me tonight
some convictions
are ready men
when the darkness
hides their sex
beneath the cross over
some men hides
their convection
on the food of honor
where the path
is none-to certain
some men ask again
if you will love them tonight
only in darkness do
they reveal their
hidden sexual self
behind lies of nos
I pack no fudge
I slip not in
I tongue no holes
and drip not from the stiff.
-
This is a secret voice
a yellow longing
over the greenish
ness of the sea
this recalls the
lost messages heard
in the composed ear
this intone tone you
this is a youthful
melody of words
and speak-seeking
the truth of things.
-
Without waves
life comes to an end
without air there
is no composing of men
without food the
shoulders grows thin
without love your tender secrets
hurts to recall when without sun
the sky fall
without moon
there is no infinite
greenness at all.
-
Silly see sea
I see you
said sadly
so on the sue
sends it's salt
say yes just so
certain men
loves the blow.
-
Artificial adorn
in the superb garden
narcissus do time
looking into the flowing water
heaven holds Zeus
and Circe too.
-
Secret enters
intone song
mountain voices
composed
will not do me wrong
messages meant
to shoulder
the poet Padma
and youthful Circe
sleeps her dreams
in the mountain
secret tenderness
never found
sentiment of poems
do me wrong
enters entertained
and entered in vain
divine weather
clouds the sky
and time wears
by and by
melody;s rancor
fills the air
forgotten poets
dead and gone
voices' words
winter thin
wafts it's weather
into my ear.
-
What have you
to give to love
what have you
to just because
what have you
of buried done
your thus and
so so on
what have you
to reckon in years
what have you
to manner give
what have you
of stop to kill
and hereafters
and all your before
what have you
of all your mores
the confusion of
just before
the spoil that
that leaves the floor
what of you
the action hour
what of you
abrupt machines
that rings like Gods
what of you
your retire
just another start.
-
eternal sun
floats down river
by the waves
of the barge.
-
a winter starling
pecking at the
iced over puddle
it does not break
he does not slip.
-
I watch him eat
across the table
I smile he ask
what?
I say we are like
the cardinal lovers
feeding together.
-
from the center
of the oak
night spreads
to inconfer
the sky.
-
we stand between
two old oaks
someday us.
-
the moon and night
holds part of the sky
the sun and light
the other.
-
I watched
the sparrows eating
and thought
he only love
me with a
full mouth.
-
the fall wind
the siren
which is
carrying which?
-
auntum
dies
a slow death
that winter
is born.
-
a man raking leaves
into a pile
a crow calls
and the wind
picks up to
dispense the leaves.
-
night's darkness
comes early
and lingers
into the new day.
-
morning
hazy
hidden things
winter's wind
and still
I can not see
the horizon.
-
fall have fallen
from all trees
the garden
full of leaves.
-
early winter
plastic flowers
in the yard
a bee draws near.
-
crossing the street
I passed him
then looked back
at what is not mine.
-
it is warm
in the sunlight
morning birds
knows this.
-
the plum tree
a block away
is not yet
dressed for spring.
-
as a child
i remembered
much more stars
the street light
gleam off
the parked cars.
-
granddad died
20 years ago
mail came
for him today.
-
a child and a puppy
runs ahead of their father
the puppy takes the lead
looking back
the child waits
the puppy hesitate
then with playful energy
runs back to the child.
-
I am glad
that I
slipped
and fell
its been
a long time
since last
I smelled
close up
the earth.
-
piety
can only
be defined
by taking
a deep breath.
-
the truth of
common knowledge
is only the sparrows
knows what size
their nest should be.
-
the winter sky
is warm still
one rose
left on the bush.
-
Let us go you and I
to where the consumers
lies etherized by the
light of the TV
let us go through the
Christmas shopping streets
to meet the credit card
scammers and the
mugger that we meet
let us go through
crowed malls
and spend our luck
on lottery tickets
and give not a fuck
about the poor
when the middle class
are all the politician’s hopes
let us go you and I
to Walmart's waste land
of consumerism
will I rolled my trousers
to catch the eye
of cruising policemen
pretending to be gay
and hunt the bathrooms
and parks and home depot
do I dare to eat a preach
is it as American
as apple pie
do I go into dept
as American as
being an poor American.
-
My teeth are
a royal flush of bird's blood eaten
my children are silver chicken
of cataract and
thick burst of saliva
dripping to the naked ground
never ashamed to be nude
it is a mouth for sucking up rain
and fallen seeds of fallen souls
old as prodigious tepidity
of grumbling youths
always open always
gigantic in it's will
to live like timeless
piles of water
washing over the falls
woven by syncopated
windows who mimic
the ferociousness of time
and we dine on the thoroughbred
running wild as an
ugliness made by man.
-
Behold the whinnying
Roi nos pierres
of the woman that gathers
in the nothingness of
ourselves whom our
numbers of music
as plenty as drops of rain
behold the blazon
collapses of the fragile winds
broken in the
canyons of the cities
that are not innocence
of paving over earth
behold the voluminousness
of day breaking into pieces
at the first sneezes
of bloody noses
that startled
the uprooting of fire's blank face
alight with dying air
and idleness of lost screams
heard in the hollowness of ruins.
-
if God was a nigger
and precisely that
he would not be black.
-
men of the night
desperate but not deposed
the hurled greeting of their eyes
I see the despairing
words fall from your lips
and shatter on the floor
at my feet and try
to climb up to me
but all my holes
are closed all
my sweet lords are old
and age is no ruin
no sweet cause
bitten on the tongue
you call me fag
you call me nigger
but these words
smells of your breath
not mine
despise as you will
words no longer kills
or carry the idleness
of their limit
words are not server
as a complacent shoulder
or jubilation of
Christopher Smart
or lips bruised
by the kiss that betrays
words whistle at
me as I pass by
like beer bottle
tossed at me as I
hitched hike in GA.
Words are the ladies of the
controversial thought
words lie like words
in the mouth
of Newt Gingrich
the catastrophic
are at the door
of American politic
the trap is sprung
by corporations
with no caloric limits
the strongbox is locked
and the poor have no key
the evisceration are
beating the breast of beasts
and pilfering, dripping
stiffening, sinning their
way like diadem
of diamonds and
parabolas to love.
-
I can never
forget the rainbows
nor the jettison of
love bestowed
like the flesh to seed pit
on the wing a bird is rolling
into the night nameless
and speeding away as
the light advances to be
solidified but not stubborn
in it's sway
I have forgotten all that I forgot
till time pimp my forgetfulness
and I recall that under the rainbow
I fell in love
with me as a thing
worthy of my love
this has not always been so
once of many I throw knives
at my love of self
I once arched my back to
suck myself
and my nuts
that hung as cassocks
of voiced latex and hiccups
of rainbows wrung dry
I the murder of nature
I the baffled buffalo of soldiers
I the defiance criminal of words
fires the unknown smeared in my ears
I the tempestuous creature man
who stamped his science on the forehead of God.
-
The tornado is hissing to
get into my pointless murderous
trident of bad breath
the air is sucked out
of the penny and copper hunks
of men amidst the dead breath
that fills earth
is vast in it's clouds
that have deserted the sky
the quadrophonic moon
the witness, the murderous nature
of whiteness and the reflecting
mud of mountains
are high on water
all in all the tangible surprise
is burning beautiful plates
tossed by the St. Louis
notice of tornado and the
last not let
into heaven will be
most of the priests
and ministers who
guffawed the God
of our fathers
those men elegant
in lying for political gains
and spiritual gain
my huge laying on of hands is
just a brotherhood
of the insane who
believe that God
is a con job used to gain
the upper hand in the upper room
of the long history of man.
-
Grant these wishes
One, uproot my breath
Two, cotton my throat
with the cotton dust
of slaves in America
Three, machine my body
as if it is a road
leading into the
swamp of my unconsciousness
Four, arm me as a fish
who is a surveyor of sand
Five, settle my love
deep within a lover man
Six, green my lungs
with moss and
moist glass
warm and unbreakable
Seven, let me hear my tears
rolling to the fires at
the corners of my lips.
Eight, cover my demons
with the growth of a God
not noticeable as a
thing of myth
Nine, Guinea me with
their blackness
and histories untold
Ten, fork my telegraphic
dacites that are cataracts
of ravaging howls
and fugitive Gods in love
gone to be human
to tap that ass
grant me these
and I will hush
my mouth before
Papa Death comes for me.
-
Everything is nothing
every collapsed season
every ever head is
infected with dreams
and there is no
internal advances
made by man
man's body does
not change as we
can tell all
his knowledge is but a lie
just because
it is sustained
by him along
sure the world is round
sure the sun shines
sure it does not die
into night
sure we have cells
sure they are
creatures in their own right
sure man have a God
all but one was
invented by man
everything is nothing
in the end
sure we die out
and leave only
contours of composed bones
sure if man was
let into heaven
he will mutilate it
to his own aim
as he seeks
to do with earth.
-
Errantly I live
but loved as a man
errantly I give
but take not
without my hands
errantly I fear
but man have only
himself to blame
errantly I weep
but you see
I once was insane
errantly I assault the land
with cigarette butts
but it is my
only violent.
-
Time have seen
all of human's sins
the musician of the sun
is overheated and still
not as of yet undone
the harmonies of the moon
defeats my hands
and bad notice
is made of signal sand
the metal anguish
of who we are
can not resist
the outer limits
of prayers at every turn.
-
the harassing torments
bust its eyes
after the pissing
of its cry
and secret smells
refuse to die by
strange hands of the sky
eat the foliage of crocodiles
nightmare your Gods
with the question why
heavenly of the flank heart
the shoulders of astonishment
is absence of leaving
and the hour glass
is fringe with lust
cuss the Gods and sex the saints
in missionary major
of a sexual prank
shoreless is all my cries
the hyena's smile
is as explosives
as roads of machines
in the commandant's ass
and pollen is as yellow
as moaning pieces
here is your surprise
as flamboyant as
reflecting keys
to the lock of
a heavy heart
full of hills
of misplaced regrets.
-
the hills the vales
of mutilated lust
stripped the cuss
absent of love
the moon the sun's
light is stagnant
as swamps
invulnerable like
likes and mercury
of heavy time
that dine on
the human flesh
close your wings
my imperil one
I am the surveyor
of scenery horses
who extreme the morrow
of vesicles of mirrors
I am the prisoner
of assassination
I am the lacerated
comprehensible told
to the childhood
of the sea ever bold
it is not the hot of me
not my memories
of the juice of palanquin
seen on the island
that killed my dreams
the hill the vales
are villages
of cum sweet
on my tongue
sweet iron
of the shoulder
of lion's tights
sweet slaves
of tepid discus
of suns dead
and done and
blank as black
faces in America
take away my blink
take these eyelids
made of foreskin
head my helmet
with gorgeous
refusal kept
in the frantic
pocket of my heart
beveled as
eyelids beveled
my noxious lust
bite my thunderstruck
my eye's edge as
silent bells in
the church of sobs
and now I die
away from my skull
and Jesus runs the
pawn shop of souls
and night is a
chop stick of halos.
-
this be done
to reckon the sun
the use of it
the best of it
more tries
more undone
the spoils of fall
the confusion
of spring
lost hours
taken by God
always comes
always marches
forcible love
this complicated
confusion of poems.
-
utter confusion
the God be
matter fades
taken by memories
taken by manners
God's grave
the Bible be
Gods always
abuse me
middle path
taken as a seed
best why
to complicate
the sea
machines' hour
fills the day
on them man wait
Gods always
God starts again
best try my friend.
-
winter
loss of rain
a sparrow
bathing in
puddle
reminds me
of spring.
-
In the vase
artificial flowers
in the wise
no other God
in the grace
a taste of it
unclean mire
clean dirt
genuine dye
color the sky
art is a gift
genuinely given
art fashioned
the mother of pearl
best artiest
nature be
tin artiest man
the sprouting of me
dirt and mire
wrought from colors
naturally fashioned
full of hue
lovelier none
man can do.
-
nature drew me
with my father's hand
one was his
strongest sperm.
-
This genuine grace
this fashioned glass
this unclean growth
that sprout out
my lover man
the purest taste
the aroma true
the unclean fragrance
the lovelier hue
genuine flower
embitter the garden
winter weary
I come to you
you another man
superb you can.
-
love me like
graceful hesitations
spike my love
with another
time is mile
in the vault
of the tender colors
radiant hands
benevolent smile
such a man granted
this torrid sex.
-
Forms everywhere
in trees and
blades of grass
machine's made
destruction filled
the land
radiant men
sent to earth
that i man
lamp their darkness
with my poems.
-
Benevolent sun
why comes your warmth
why consented vault
you hold court
why luminaries
growth you give
why delicate flower
can not feel
beauty is a mockery
gravely given
the approach of winter
each year kills
the color from my eyes
merriment denied.
-
There is a calmness
in the short life of man
when he manners
himself not to
manhandle nature
not to manhandle man
there is a means
better still
a moment filled
with just one life
slip beside me
on moments of ice
quickly not to
take a life
this old gift
of used up years
fills my hands
and my heart
beside the things
man have torn apart
but do I dare
to eat a peach
but do I dare
die in my sleep
he who walked
with his trousers rolled
along the Mississippi
at St. Louis
quickly is nothing
pure even the sun
is tainted with gasses
even the air
dislike some people
even life quickly passes
and joy fight it out
with known sorrows.
-
Man can not
open the sea
can not plow the sun
earlier this year
April was, was forever leaving
and the kingdom of Rome
is profitable no more
yes I am forever poor
in this still am I distinctive
of my rich moments and manners
quickly the old ways
dies like indifferent
back in the ay
the moon is slanting away
the smooth stars
are dead by city's light
the current air is tainted
with tiresome trash
of man's makings
O God what payment
do you require to
make you profitable
in my eyes?
What tempest you toss
into the shipwreck
of beach houses
and streets of New Orleans?
What torrid of winds
twisting through
St. Louis in all of
its audacious hands
and mouthful of
red bricks and blood
of the dead who we
can no longer say
take care?
-
The cemetery
have no memories
the tombstones
are overgrown
in the yard behind
the old wooded church
reverence is a mystery
a secret future
held in the hands
like prayers never delivered
never infinite in their
melancholic flower pots
the dead are release from
the grip of religion
the dead can not smell
the plastic flowers
at their heads
the pagans shall
have their hour
when we learn
that religion is
a nonsensical offering.
-
How narrow is my love?
How thin the all?
How did Jesus
give out mercies
now that the church
is ruled by pride
as never to let
their lies die?
Death and graves
are both victims
of the unturned hour
graves and pomp
directs our souls
into the passing memories
never foretold
my future is as dark
as I am and this
is a good thing
for if I was in
the white skin
of some men
I would too abusive men
for if I was in
the infinite sleep
I would know
and not a thing.
-
Lamentations given
to earth near dead
heavy are the echoes
that undertook to dream
ill-disposed are
all my needs
wretched cities
wretched destiny
wretched is the treasury
that buys the souls
our souls ill-disposed
to growing old
here is an offering
a chariot to drive
a glass door
that enter on one side
morning is knocking
at my skull
dread and despair
is all that we wear
lamentation rules
lamentation schools
threnody hangs
from our tooth
we are a cloaks of clocks
we forgot the superfluous knock
ransom me with love
ransom me with
loud weepings of Troy
for Helen was a actor
a Shakespearean boy
ill-deposed, ill-regained
the Cauldrons rings
like church bells
gone insane.
-
Dreary is the road
of my life living
off my flesh
itself like feet on ice
hear the sinister
awakening dumb
that thumb the cause
of dead men who
whispered sweet words
spurned on by horses.
-
the winter rain
knocks the petal
off the last rose.
-
Swift-footed
swift-barks
swift shadows
seen in the dark
murderous and boorish
and make amend
the kinds of life
rush swiftly
to it's end
O Dardanus
O raven of Poe
O morning yellow
as gold what wonder
control your soul?
-
the winter's rain
the petal of the
last rose
in the mud.
-
the squirrel
in the winter rain
stands up
on it's hind legs
I sat down
under the roof
of the porch.
-
You was not told
but the resistance
is a common thing
as old as the black man
in America
no longer desiring
to battle for what
the constitution holds.
-
Alas, alas, at last
whoever submission
for you to give
observe the invigorate
of the spirit to feel
whoever some laws
are broken with spirits
and I'd rather fall
then remember last year
alas, alas all my despair
I wear my emperor is gone
to pain and longing
whoever live must die out
and fill the grave yard
with rivers of tears
shed by submission
and abandon customs
to weep for the dead
down and done over
alas, alas my dear friend
rest in the inadequacy
of the heavy ground
your crown crowns
the headstone
I accept to see
you no more
I fad to fall to my knees
you taught me
how to cry and how
to breathe for what is lost
alas, alas, alas
the mourners leave
and the abandon laws
of life flee.
-
The year is nearly gone
and none shall grieve
none shall bury it
none shall plead
that it last forever.
-
Would I rather
pain your lost
of life, not I
it is not for me
death is a common thing.
-
Delusion I cry
with closed lies
at my dreams
paralyzed in sleep
empty of needs.
-
O what amorous lips
are these
dark as a storms
over the sea?
Swim in me
and ride me well
your body locked
around all my cares
this man in dress
this lip I seek
such taste of
sweet reprise
come close, come dear
I will fulfill your needs
to sex me with sex
with rolled up sleeves.
-
Colors are not cons
but deep within you
they work their worth
red is warm with anger
and hostility can rule
blue is calm to sadden you
red stimulates body and mind
orange heals the lungs
and make you run
yellow will purify your body
stimulating the nerves
indigo is good for the skin
and blue smooths your illness
green is the heal of nature
tranquil and good luck of health
but be aware of the green eyes
of jealousy and envy
of green horns
green will improve your reading
green is fertility calming
and reliever of stress
to heal the best then any doctor
black absorbs all light
and black skin is older still
of who we be as men
no menace or evil will
black bury the dead
yet old Egypt it is life and rebirth
and slimming of women in a black dress
the black death was a white thing
blackout
black cat, blacklist
black market the western world tell
white they say is purity and innocent
but people turn white when they loses their
life affirming breath
white is full of space and light
but is it not cold and bland
and sterile without life
purple is royalty
and wealth and wisdom
and spirituality
exotic and artificial
brown is my lover strength and
reliable
warmth of comfort and security
down to earth as late fall
conventional and sophisticated
is brown
pink is romance and love as drat-tank
pick is used in prisons to clam the captive
initial exposure is what makes it work
use it in the opposing team locker room
orange is energetic
excitement, enthusiasm
and warm it draws
attention in advertising
and traffic signs
gray is my favorite
neutral in it's balance
so formation to me
charcoal gray
is my strength
my mystery of black
like the taupe
color of my man
earthy, warm in shade in gray.
-
a plane
flying south
at night
the phone line
looks like
a contrail.
-
The war took him
in just three days
while he was on patrol
in a land of sand
his mother unknowing yet
the price he paid
lights a candle
in the church
just down the way
that her son
in full physical
and mental heath
will return whole someday
and while she pray
the post-woman
rounds the block.
-
Who owns desires
and what's the age
should a man say
your must be mine
at what time in life
are we human?
We always are
only before the grave
a fetus is no baby
who breathe outside
the parent's rights
to decide.
-
My ideal of lust
is a mouth full
of living words.
-
Beloved
I have none
so to you
I come
my people true
you and me
and I and you.
-
O dead
what of them
there is to say
passing away
a going some place.
-
The dead
never speak
to me in dreams
still I trust myself.
-
At this moment of life
the trusty sun's light
fills the sky
my face warm
with desires.
-
Nature is a
fire extinguisher
in that she
will put out
my last fire.
-
Dearly cause
loved above all
my mother's race
the black grace
of who we are.
-
Yes I speak
the speak of
speaking in tongues
yes I born a
father's son
hear me echo
and you echo too
that what I speak
is all my truth.
-
Lie to me
if you choose
in the end
you are still you.
-
Why my friends
a single quest
why the JC followers
among themselves flight
what is it
bout Jesus Christ that
justifying your taking
of a fellow follower's life?
-
What depends
do you have
of hollow
halls of ears?
What taste
you taste
riding on
the tongue?
What chalant?
What feel
of touch
or stump
of toes on
the leg of
the foot board?
-
Night never falls
no indeed
it spreads
from the
center of things.
-
The land is dark
but the sky is light
coming day
or coming night.
0 comments:
Post a Comment