Poet13's Blog

Disapproving dead daughters of the American evolution

          shake their heads with mild disdain

                            disarmed by my presumption.

                      Close enough to touch faded Hollywood royalty

                              I rudely extend my hand

                            and am ensnared within their ghostly opprobrium

                                     a smothering shroud of fluid ectoplasm

                      a sticky wet net to catch the unwary.

          Unworthy of the glory they’ve appropriated for themselves

                                            how dare I display such confidence!

Soon endless gauzy mornings and days unnumbered

                    settle like dust and detritus to incubate the hungry night

          cloaking the haunted mansions they once commanded

                              and which I was allowed to visit.

Now I return again and again though only in dreams

          come to know – perhaps to worship –

                         the matriarchs of my (un)making.

my only confrontation

a united affront

a collective cold shoulder

echoes of a liar’s tale

whispered in the dark

dancer stumbling

through a hall of mirrors

making love to his reflection

GET REAL. KILL A FANTASY.

crazy from the ions

keeps me jumping

it’s no problem if you just keep moving

like platinum lightning

flashing across the clear night sky

seeking understanding through sharing

                                        i try

                                        i keep trying

                                                  it seems i don’t know what else to do

                              exercising options sometimes isn’t an option

                                        you deserve whatever you can manage

                                                  and if by rote you do not derail yourself

                                        you get what you want

                                                                      now and then

                                        this is how i roll

                              taking what i think i deserve

                                                                      conflicts me

                              torn but unbroken

                                        this undesirable heart beats on

Full moon in Scorpio go with the flow is the only way to go

     Swaying enthralled succumbed to the tidal force within

     The pull pushes me toward the wrong direction

Wrong!? Other direction don’t you mean?

     Wave goodbye to judgment and certitude

     The point is movement the direction is moot

     Just get there wherever there is whatever you know?

It’s all random anyways what’s the use of anything everything sucks right?

Not for everybody sure some got it great fine for them let’s hear it

Things are different here stuff happens it can hurt you can get killed

     Stay on your toes be prepared you’re a Boy Scout in a strange wilderness

     Just remember if you break out of jail you don’t know what’s over the wall

     Your prison may be the only place you’re safe at home

     When they take off the chains you have to take care of yourself

                                OK, OK, I’m part of the problem already

                                Put down that stone and hear me out

inspiration

purification

justification

it’s all word salad

yea i get that                 relax don’t rush it

you can’t explain yourself to anyone

you cannot make them understand you

so add another ingredient to the salad:

frustration…

…begets desire trumps judgment every time

certainly undercuts execution

when you believe in the magic but doubt the magicians

your way is the true way

you get a scrape on your knee

a blister on your dick

a gleam in your eye

you get gaps between the statements        voids in the vicinity

                          nothing

between the end of one thing the beginning of another

in the thick elastic time sloshing between two points

attention wanders you lose interest lose energy

meander away wary and a little fearful…

…what might happen if a connection is made?

walking away ain’t easy either

slog your way through incoherent concepts floating like debris through viscous 

ether

fills the gaps between the synapses like glue between two pages

it’s all gibberish in the jungle anyway

i might as well pound logs against tree trunks to get my point across

an ape would understand

the touch of your eyes

                            your smiling heart

                                               the glow of laughter and lust that warms us

taking each other as we come

                                          accepting what we are

                                                                               accommodating what we aren’t

fitting the pieces together

                                              puzzling out our love

                                                                                      every day is an answer

everyone has their own vision

                                                     every perception its own reality

                                                                                                 every paradise is different

Can’t speak with signs in the dark

only with silent embraces

and the rough murmurs of midnight lovers

under moonlight shadows.

Beneath a leafy canopy

flecked with starry staring eyes

that look the other way

the bright and piercing gaze

of an occasional passerby

promises quiet passion

within indifferent gentle arms.

Naked at the call of nature

wet white teeth flash starlight

revealed by a smile of urgency

then quickly disappear again

within the darker closing of unquestioned need.

Above and below

limbs stir hesitantly

tentative caresses grow strong and hard

slow strength giving quick pain

that does not last but reassures.

What is needed is taken.

What is offered is not lost

but shared only once.

Silver clouds slide along

the black sky’s soft underbelly

drifting where the earth blows them.

Another night

they will return

new shapes with ancient purpose

and willingly lose themselves

to the thirsty fertile land

where midnight lovers wander

and love grows wild.

                                  all the things you do

                                 buzzing in your head

                                   dizzy from the motion

                                 of mindless momentum

                                   and thoughtless action

                              with no intelligence to fuel them

                              they tap directly into muscle

                              to energize this crazed existence

                                 all these doomed quests

                                  to discover happiness

                                      and other lost treasure

                                 these forgotten legends spring up

                                       from a bottomless well

                                  that feeds the fountain of youthful folly

                              fantasy is a poor life plan

                              but living’s no good without it

the higher you go

           the further away you are

                              from your center

every breath you take

                              takes you

closer to the heart

                              of your matter

so much living

                    so little life

the strife

                    leaves you stricken

          and exhausted

     you’re surrounded by the cure

in the cool afterglow of something

the past reasserts itself

present imperfect

that was then

this is how :

one step at a time falling

in the instant between upright and downwrong

fleeting clarity

like a mystic’s vision

flashes

then dissolves

a memory remains

hazy images of pain and release

birth and suffering

from the tribal baptism I emerge

boundless spirit

          it’s a small world wide web after all

                                                   anyone meets everyone meets here

                     sooner or later                 lesser or greater

                                                             we show ourselves for what we are

                     we are what we need

           behind our screens we hide and seek

                                                            satisfaction at the speed of light

                slipping round the world 88 times per second

 wide network      narrow signal

                       the further I can reach the more I can have

          the farther I go the more I miss

    IMPULSE IS DESIRE AT THE SPEED OF HUNGER.

           in the wide wide world of 8 billion minus one

                                                                                is there 1-4-me?

Throughout the realm

from sea to shining we

a buzzing in the ears

sound waves on the brain.

Frequencies and vibrations emanating migrating

dancing in the storm between our eyes

to the rhythm of the pulse beating drums in our chests.

WE MUST ANSWER.

WE MUST MOVE.

WE MUST SHAKE LIKE MONKEYS ON A STICK.

We are citizens clothed in general issue bodies

consciousness encased within flesh and blood mechanisms

designed to sustain support and enshroud us.

We are trapped within ourselves.

We are prisoners of the CBP (The Cosmic Body Politic).

We answer to the authorities

conform to generally accepted requirements

 comport ourselves as good citizens of the UPRG

(The United People’s Republic of the Godhead).

WE SUCCUMB TO GET BY.

SOMETIMES WE CRY.

SOMETIMES WE DIE.

SOMETIMES WE LIE.

If they say they’re telling you the truth they’re deluded

or worse lethally motivated armed with an agenda.

AI (Artificial Intelligence) or NBI (Natural Born Instinct)

it all comes to the same thing in The UPRG.

And the thing of it is it’s never what you thought it would be.

And if it were it would be an illusion.

Because there is no truth and no man may know the truth.

That is simply the way of things in The UPRG.

open up and let me in

i’ll be good

let me hold your heart

i won’t drop it

let me feel it beating against my palms

i’ll be careful

how do i get to your head?

can i go in?

i won’t make a mess

i just want to see

i want to look through your eyes

can i open up your mind?

i want to know how it works

i’d like to watch you think

i won’t interfere with the gears

i just want to observe the wheels spinning around

where do you keep your soul?

is it near here?

i can sense it

it’s part of you

but it’s not any particular piece

i can feel it

it’s warm and cool

it’s light that i cannot quite see

it seems to come and go

yet it doesn’t move

can i touch it?

may i talk to it?

could i have a piece for a keepsake?

yoyo man ticktocking back n forth between optimism and despair cynicism and faith

i believe in the power of redemption but i feel lost and unredeemable

life ain’t so bad considering we live in an abattoir

things could be worse and they always are

i cry equally at the sight of a rainbow or a lynching

and even though i’m white i can traffic in strange fruit as a metaphor

no one owns lynching after all 6 million Jews died in the holocaust

along with 4 million assorted random undesirables

your gays your gypsies your Slavs and your politically contaminated

we’ve all felt the lash we’ve all wielded whips

and still we love one another and hate one another slay and sacrifice ourselves

for one another

everything we do for and to ourselves everything we cherish and disdain is

what we accomplish together

we are a society of schizophrenic saints and lucid sinners all doing the best we can

under circumstance we create in order to lose control

 boo!

guess who?

it’s always you

keeping up the good work and fulfilling other random clichés

pop concepts of lifestyle emulation through cohesive socialization

keeping up with the jonesing

the constant craving for more and greater versions of ourselves

there are a thousand cracks the arachnids can creep through

there’s no plugging the dike

the flood always comes to cleanse a planet made of dirt

let’s discuss my state of mind let’s talk shall we

about everything but the truth and the lie that it will let you be

the truth will be what the truth will be or so the saying goes

truth is    the truth will out you for your own good

like it or not the truth is coming for you

first be brave channel your inner Mars

transform war into peace aggression into good intentions

reject bitter angels and immaculate jewel encrusted saints

they are only reflections of your lonely self

stop kneeling before gods stand up on your own two feet

lift up thine eyes brandish a fist at heaven

then open your hands and receive the gift of knowing

i awake to hazy images and fading impressions

          a swirling canvas of insubstantial dream stuff

running together breaking apart

                    fragments colliding in a blur

bits and pieces of

                              feelings and love

                                        sex and anxiety

                                                  warmth and family

                              friends and changes

          strangers and laughter

                                        at once alien and familiar

                              the past anticipated

                    a remembrance of things to come

                              all swirling and churning dimly past awareness

               drifting just beyond comprehension

                                         a forgotten dream is a lost opportunity

Buzzed amid the lightening and thunder

the pelting plops of fat summer rain unconstrained

after years germinating in the dry reservoir of recent natural history.

I keep no company save myself

a garrulous hermit ascetic bon vivant a man about a town without pity

eager to sing the praises of anyone offering hope.

It’s a giving thing wells up when the fractured heavens let loose an ocean

washes away faint white lines etched in the dry dust of my face

a kabuki mask with painted tears traced upon a crying clown’s pancake makeup.

Like Ebenezer Scrooge on the day after

I have passed through Christmas Eve’s dark night of the soul

perhaps deserving some measure of redemption.

It’s a gift to myself

this morning this joy may fade like the dying storm

for now I am content mindful any gift from another is rare treasure.

Absolve all thoughts of pastense negative.

There is only today and tomorrow, what is and what may be.

What has been has been and can no longer be.

It is known for what it is.

It is devoid of possibility.

Its only reality is it is no longer real.

NOW must be attended as it becomes.

 IF must be respected for what it may be.

 TODAY is the split second of creation unfolding.

TOMORROW is the promise of everything.

I hear the elegant gibberish

I understand it

the language of the well meaning and the inept

I embrace them all give comfort where I can.

In our failing we have embraced each other

we have suffered together

known the joy of shared sorrow

a rare kind of understanding

more – a miraculous mutual redemption.

Flailing messiahs and crippled angels

lame avatars and crying prophets

the sinners and the sin

after the fall we crawl

seeking sanctuary on the vast lonely plane.

And though the roof of our celestial chapel may leak

we bow our heads acquiesce with grace

our unkissed lips form beatific smiles 

long lost we are at last enlightened

our crying chant a heavenly hymn

a very human homily.

Say adios to the Wild Boys

to jungle dreams

to hot pagan rituals and savage innocence

rare and mythical orchid afternoons

lying together in moss carpeted tree huts

drowsing to rainforest rhythms

spinning legendary tales of love and loyalty

fantastic adventures of the Wild Boys!

  Wild Boys of the Troposphere,

exotic creatures hunt and mate with primitive grace

smart monkeys effortlessly coupling

never question what they need

up here in the canopy

urgent breath sure tongues skilled teeth

pinned sweating scratching fighting

yielding.

Rough love in the New World

the fittest surviving amid green ice age cathedrals

jungle paradise where God is strength

and sacrifices are demanded

to appease the Great Majestic

the never-ending cycle of harmony and chaos.

                                                                                  I will never say goodbye until I die!

I’m a presenter not an inventor refute this at your personal peril

A boy shooting arrows into a horse cites they shoot horses don’t they? without knowing what it means a movie a book something just cool sounding words

I don’t make this stuff up you cannot surpass reality I just refer to it

It’s a resource of ideas and inspiration and a clear demonstration of utter futility and despair and – and I mean this truly – it’s all good

So don’t tell me everything is or isn’t terrible when I show you the news

I’m talking to you I get it you don’t have to listen just don’t make me the stimulus for your reflex

The truth is an irritant itching into your flesh cancer is a pearl the body cannot lie

That’s all I’m saying stop spreading the word speak the truth refuse to brood

I’m lighting a candle it’s a small light with no heat but you can read this note by it

          To whom it may concern if you won’t give me what I want I’ll take what I need

          and by degrees of mutual consent we will sink slowly into the morass

          and into the joy of this world

At these depths I decline to collude dilute or contaminate the simple truth you cannot deny a thunderstorm just because it obscures the sun

I am no prophet nor do I think I’m right

I offer only the cold embrace of understanding

sunday afternoon my thoughts turn to you

the arms of a stranger cold comfort on a warm afternoon

i try harder to give what i need so at least someone is happy

living life on the plan b plan keeps you on your toes

jack stays nimble a dodger a weaver of intricate webs

all of my hostility is defensive my anger sorrow

the no shows and the heart breakers i’ve had and been

regret is just another byproduct of an active lifestyle

you know you’re alive if it hurts you can laugh at anything

even the joy you’ve fumbled doing pratfalls along the way

i cut a remarkable figure both elegant and absurd

a hot memory for the one in ten i embraced

the legacy of the lonely is a poignant song we’ve shared in passing

and so i raise my voice in harmony with myself

still hoping someone else knows the words

in the warm winter’s day painted with blue smoke and amber sun

half remembered dreams reduce my waking faculties by fifty percent

i’ve done all the right things yet i am depleted

            my capacity to be disturbed is boundless

i’m sleek my belly is empty i’m running on caffeine alcohol tobacco

i should be all systems go

but the beast rears my ugly head

            it will not be tamed yet it can be controlled

sincerity afraid to show its head afraid it will be lopped off by irony

            again

which is why we keep growing new ones

            everyone’s a hydra

dancing to charm and make them want to understand

i should just be clear with you

            but it’s hard to be honest

playing the fool to please playing the clown so they’ll like you

            some don’t some won’t

            at repose within the heart and soul of myself

            i’m afraid i’m no fun to be around

i’m trying to be deliberate i’m trying to have integrity i’m trying to honor this thing

            this process

it’s a beautiful day i am content I know what happiness can be

            i know the love ungiven will exact its toll in tears

I can give advice

            open your eyes open your heart

            give it up it’s good for you

hard to completely let go

                    surrender yourself to your self

not easy to be casual

need to stop holding on to stuff

that has a hold on you

                                        enjoy the finer things

just remember they aren’t the main thing

old habits and hard deaths

                    the bedrock of your worst impulses

                              the strata of your false foundation

subduction of the soul

as you submerge and envelop yourself

          seeking the white hot core

          your inner iron man

                              standing tall at ten thousand degrees fahrenheit

no air to breathe

                    idols implode inside the fiery furnace of a true heart

                    the last tough muscle to resist incineration

                                     as this life goes up in

                                                                             smoke

                                    the ether you drink to quench a neverending thirst                                    

                                     a permanent part of the earth that sustains you

resisting compulsion expands available time

            expanding time creates voids we fill them with living knowledge

 each moment a miracle this gift of life that keeps on giving

            all you get is everything it has to offer

                                     take it or leave it

 every day could be the last day every time you turn on the tv play the ipod

eat the steak love your partner or fuck a stranger could be the last time

                                     sooner or later everything must go

 the lies we tell only obscure the truth from ourselves

            all will be known

                                     sooner or later

 the cozy corners will be brought to light

            the comforts you crave to ease your pain will be denied

 find yourself in a heaven or a hell of your own making

            you spent a lifetime designing and constructing it

the places you inhabit become the house you must live in

                                     sooner or later

                                    now and then

                                                it all came to this

murmurs of the reptile brain

low-throated rumbles from below

blind stirrings in the belfry

           deep need struggles through

                  wet mesh network of flesh and nerves

          driven to imprint itself upon the means of its expression

                              rhythms of the animal brain

dreams washing over sleep

          waves breaking on the shore

          light coming and going

the face of the True God

glimpsed

                                        then forgotten

                                        awakened to the face of fear

Hell can only be

if at the core of ourselves

we are only ourselves.

idle pursuits

you cannot outsmart biology

try embracing denial without arms

broken hearts broken hands

these words need music

i’m a poet without a band

short of time short of breath

won’t give up the chase

what’s a journey without a mirage

shimmering vague inviting reflecting

a distant sight on a far horizon

in a land of shape shifters

it could be anything

no capital e

purposely provocative

blatant and blasphemous

waiting for lightening to strike

every subsequent breath affirms my rebellion

i am lucifer i am judas i am the joker

i swim against the tide

i flaunt convention

i embrace anarchy

purely for the sake of analytical discovery

call it the science of faith the method of my righteous cause

the scarlet cardinal pounces on its prey

which does not rise again

jesus too was devoured by this world

we the consumed salute him

even as we keep the faith in other ways

every day we sing the ballad of scum rising

the upward oozing mobility     headlong race of the race

to extend its fleshy limits through conjugal equations worked out in blood

oh glorious DNA chorus

the prime will pumped for all its worth

 inevitable flesh

the wish of the will

born and sacrificed

in the name of knowing

I know we don’t reveal much of ourselves to one another.

We contact awkwardly with downcast glances and knowing laughter.

We reach silent agreements

unspoken contracts to honor our independence.

When we come together we share only our bodies

giving completely to satisfy the body appetites

fill in the empty places

for a time.

If we meet in the streets we touch formally

to verify the fact of our existence

in light of day.

Shyly we converse in current events

passing time between us

until we can go our separate ways again.

If I tried to speak to you

to reach through the invisible wall

I would say

I am here.

This is me.

And what we have is something after all

in a world like ours.

basking in the shadow of indifferent boys

who get up get dressed and walk out

making conversation by themselves

no goodbyes is the best goodbye

keep it simple keep it quick just keep it coming

it was hot while it lasted but we go where the fire goes

walking away from the walking wounded

children of the night make their way through darkness

seeking the comfort of something else

we are an army

the city we sack is afire with possibilities

every now and then one takes our breath away

lack of oxygen does a brain good

shrinks the capacity for too many thoughts

sends reason scavenging in the sub-basement

no vision no problem

you can feel your way through the shadows

the blind always find their way home in the dark

She wants reasoned explanations for involuntary mechanisms.

I can’t tell her why I sometimes prefer solitude to company

any more than I can explain my craving for chocolate.

I tell her anxiety is just a fancy form of fear

like panic dressed up for a picnic.

I tell her the higher you go the further away you travel from your center

and every breath you take takes you closer to the heart of your matter

so much living leaves so little life

the strife leaves you stricken and exhausted

you’re surrounded by the cure.

I tell her it’s a long story

and an old one.

She tells me short stories are best.

  to own your indifference

            the hurt felt the hurt inflicted

            it never hurts to be ahead of the game

            unless the game was cancelled

this is how i reach out

this is how i choose to express myself

random thoughts of you and this process of analysis and recognition

taking it as it comes giving back the best i can

it’s the least i can do

            that’s how it goes in a drive by world

            that’s the tyranny of mathematics in motion

            how movement itself must crush something

            damage and debris the direct effect

            these are the principles of human suffering

            proof positive the mind is a terrible thing

            gloved or ungloved the hand is a clumsy instrument

            grasping the obvious requires a finer tool

            only when the machine breaks down is the process finished

in the quiet after the work is done the real day begins