Poet13's Blog

Does the physical universe reveal God’s mind?
What is the atomic weight of one secret?

A black hole in the soul
inspiration is celestial fire in our veins
the heart is a sun the brain a quasar.

I am happy and the sky lights up
I am afraid and night is endless black menace.

Your laughter falls on me like a meteor shower
your disease burns me like radiation
your tears are prisms refracting starlight.

Our crying is cosmic static gray atmosphere
clouding a rare precious sapphire.

Our jewel of rock and water
and air we breathe under pressure
a deity’s notion tainted by our sweat.

I feel a crushing weight of all the things I own
its sheer bulk bears down upon my shoulders
the furniture smothers the clock crushes.

I survey my possessions see them as burden
room by room appraising relics of forgotten history
I walked a lonely road carrying this heavy load.

Those times that I got high were just to get me by
sucking air out of every occasion ritualizing moments
spontaneity an early casualty of collector’s zeal.

She knows so much
human behavior bores her blind

          eventually we are given to test our beliefs
          the truth of our simple slogans
          about peace and love and brotherhood.

That’s fine except we are human beings
and we are deeply flawed

          we walk a straight path only with aid of maps
          invisible crutches help us limp along
          I’m not handing you excuses.

I’m offering up a plea a reason if you like
to make astringent medicine palatable

          a kiss of mercy to soften the blow
          and to keep in mind when you lay down the law
          justice is a blind bitch.

Once I had a near death experience
euphoria … I don’t KNOW…
proof of GOD
invention of BRAIN chemistry?

At the edge of my MIND
I experienced motion outward upward
my consciousness left the building.

I THINK I was on a path
to catch up with my SOUL
at a crossroads patrolled by angels and demons
neutral territory cosmic DMZ
where deals are brokered
fate of notions hanging in the BALANCE.

Seems I had an appointment here. 
Seems I’m an old hand at NEGOTIATION.
I should have been BETTER at it.

Since most insoluble problems are unilateral
we CHOOSE the life we must
in order to WORK things out
with or without prayer priests shamans.

So they sent me back
to bring a MESSAGE not a prayer
in gratitude if not faith
the point BEING it seems to continue.

Took my share of hits
absorbed more punches than I landed
that’s for sure.

Bones cracked muscles torn
organs abused head blows too
maybe I’m not thinking straight.

Maybe my memories meander
shamble into the maudlin and mundane
maybe my brain by way of injury and poison
fails me my vision growing opaque.

See my life refracted in a funhouse mirror
but the distortion looks right somehow
in this bent light scars vanish.

You became my obsession
grit in my gut churning up metallic gravel
a mouthful of mechanical watch gears
I spit them out every time I try to speak
I cannot explain myself
standing mute before you
broken pieces of time dribbling down my chin.

I could not stop thinking about you
how you vexed and charmed with equal finesse
would not listen to reason
only language I could speak
speak from the heart you said
and when I did it made us both crazy
you perfectly at home with crazy.

Crazy unmoored me
having suckled dysfunction from needy nipples
knowing how crazy leaves bruises
and though I have lost all feeling in my limbs
I am not inured to pain
perhaps the only way I can get you out of my head
is to let you into my heart.

Lonely Tuesday, fan spinning slow stirring up small breezes,
a little tickle in the air, dust motes dancing in shafts of sunlight.

White smoke twirling and curling joining in the dance
a minor key rendition, old time music of the spheres.

Time and place feel unattached to unbidden memory
but I recall precisely: June thirteenth, our new home.

I remember you said you like Tuesdays,
called them the week’s best kept secret.

Lounging in your sapphire silk robe biting into a red plum,
grinning as skin snapped, juice trickling down your chin.

I said I like Friday because it’s an end and a beginning,
week done, weekend a promise, an unspoiled surprise.

Such diurnal idylls make good stories of good times,
love and languor, a remembrance of romance without drama.

I recall another Tuesday, uneasy voices revealing other secrets,
front door slammed shut, footsteps fading out to the street.

A gesture recalled in the moment
a kindness I forgot to extend.

Am I the only one who remembers?
How do you not recall each priceless second?

The embrace of an intimate amnesiac
leaves me cold and empty.

This is not melancholy this is recognition
letting time trickle through my dry fingers.

Having tested the limits of physicality
having tasted too many flavors
taken too many bites
drunk too much wine

sang too many songs
climbed too many trees
swum too many rivers
loved too often though never well

I then pursued a life of the mind went mad
fell back upon my heart which promptly broke.
My spirit stood on the sidelines
waving wildly to get my attention.

I cauterized my wounds with truth
which offered no comfort.
But wounds heal and though I inflict new ones
my frantic spirit never stops trying to signal me.

I hear music and take flight
air climbs inside my nose
I fall into a deep well of memory.

Have to remind myself this is the good life
keeping in mind the underlying premise
none of it is real.

          Triggers act as a kill-switch
          a built-in flaw in the matrix
          self-defeat the only exit
          from a self-defeating system.

The clock tocks when it should tick
I zag when I should zig
space between molecules allows breathing room.

          If I concentrate on essence
          and forget form
          I can slide right through.

It’s a fact of human behavior … observable truth of the first kind
how we ignore what is around us … chase after the wrong thing
it’s about timing and chance chance and circumstance
comings and goings on an ant farm populated by apes.

Toss human nature into the mix and it is what it becomes
too often exactly what you thought it would be … more or less
erratic movements describe a pattern beneath chaos
underlying order vast and unempathetic.

In this mathematical Serengeti we embody jungle dynamic
… cherish and protect our young until they join the herd
becoming one more among our number
all in accordance with laws of nature.

Death of an infant birth of a star
… that’s the universe for you
we just live here … go along get along
it’s no wonder we behave this way.

When you surprise me it’s like love
then I’m not sure I know you
when you defy my expectations
you are not my Frankenstein monster
I am not your creator.

The times we danced not by candlelight but in fire
our mutual friction making of our love pyromania
and when the fire died down we remained sentient
animate objects capable of feeling affection
within modified range.

We redesign ourselves
extend our gauge parameters
invent better versions of ourselves
this is how we torment and delight one another
this is how we repurpose hunger as love.

I see shadows of invisible things
hidden rays I can feel but cannot touch
orderly laws of physics
give way to racial sense memory
mine only fester and tears do me no good.

The rising of a sun the movement of stars across heavens
a vast indifference to the ticktock mechanics of my clanking cranium
entwining network of nerves threading worry through my body
stiff muscles sore neck bowed head petrified in submission.

Tension releases only when I raise my gaze
somewhere out there something is signaling
though welcome these godly emanations make me wary
this emergent cosmic eminence may decree on too grand a scale
in the way eternity devours time and strength wipes away weakness.

I hunch within my self-confining space
no door to close against silence
and dark cloaked beings who likely mean me no harm
who may in fact offer deliverance
which demands I move from here.

Life is a slow-motion exodus
sliding like tectonic plates over earth’s molten core
I progress at a rate of six centimeters per eon
every ten thousand years I get a clue.

Pacing the floor looking at lines forming
a faint fractured fresco etching my pale palm
thinking it wasn’t the happiest of lives
but then who is happy truly in life
what shape does it take how long can it last?

Once I thought I knew joy’s features
but forms conform to forces familiar
and I am fond of contentment.

Wishes wane in fading sunlight
the pictures they paint are black-and-white
less pleasing to eyes than to mind
a reflection of function over form
some chiaroscuro bastard offspring.

This coupling of wisdom and experience
seems messy but inevitable – a birthing
a serene infant too smooth and formless.

My beard is shorn I am a cultivated man

          Distaff crazy cat lady mad poet on the corner

Howling hounds of the neighborhood Baskerville Hall

          Son of Sam scenarios before you know it

It’s a good thing old people are frail

          It’s nature’s way of protecting the rest of us

We confine our casualties to drawing rooms

At your lowest point
broken and wounded
lying on the floor
black blood gushing

from your broken joints
I held you
I wept over you.
You were not my lover

you were not my mother
you were not my father
not my brother my sister
you were not my friend.

You were someone
and I was someone else
who cared for you
only in that moment.

I hate how I tainted you with my anxiety
my jittery lack of confidence a contagion
it takes courage to be strong
experience discourages valor.

Not even the gods willingly risked flames
tell myself I believe in tomorrow
hope and mercy fire and brimstone
I teeter in the balance I do not tweet.

I am no canary and this is no coal mine
compression of my carbon-based atoms
produces a heat-blasted heart of diamond
becomes its own source of light.

If I am thrown by what I then see
I may weaken and I may stumble
if I get back up I will stand taller
I will hold you without trembling.

Mine is a sad saga not a horror story perhaps a terrible poem
like all true fiction it deals with ugly reality good and evil
not black and white but the vast gray realm in between,

blood-stained earth from which dark legacies grow
poison vines with pretty flowers.
In the primeval forests from which we sprang

we first tasted the flesh of animals.
We cultivated fruits of the land
planted crops and stacked stones to great heights,

fell to our knees beneath long shadows of high obelisks.
We still inhabit these places huddled tightly together
telling each other stories of our past lives,

how there was wine and song sadness and suffering too.
What I beheld in the king’s crimson court of last resort
it was given me to tell.

I dreamed I saw myself
clearly for the first time
…reflected in your eyes.

I objectified myself in an unconscious realm
…translucent shroud thrown over consciousness
seeing in dreams how we see ourselves clearly.

Reason on recess when I wake
you beside me touching me
…gravity and time have changed my form.

Your touch exposes my embarrassment
aging vanity sulking in the corner
…always nearby never satisfied.

When you see me as I once saw myself
my desire to become a better person
seems questionable…let me sleep on it.

This is not a poem this lyrical essay
for a song you supply the music in your head
it’s the only way I can speak to you the only way I know
though once I tried to act it out for you
pantomime my emotions dramatize my truth.

I became characters assumed different roles
sang and danced juggled on a high wire
dying to entertain you I could see I was losing you
lost you the moment I placed you in the audience
you wanted passion I gave you a performance.

I spoke from the page but not the heart
my script became unreadable
the proscenium crumbled beneath me
on my back on the broken boards
I craned my neck to see if you were watching.

Only glimpsed your silhouetted form
fading through a door marked exit
left with no lines to recite
and no one to hear them
I rose to write again in the lost language of love.

His features were soft and formless
he was permeable
it was easy to pour love into him.
The closer you came to him
the more formless his features appeared.

There was a gravitational pull of the heart
love seeming a natural and irresistible reaction.
My face resting on a frown
could not help but smile
my arms hanging at my side as if weighted

could but rise in embrace.
He was open and easy
and that made him seem stranger.
I felt I had known him my entire life.
He subsumed my cares in laughter

he eased my fears
simply being in the room near me.
I wanted to remain there with him
but day was summoning
like a call to arms

and my eyes slowly opening.
Sleep was ending.
With regret and a sense of loss
I knew it was time to rise
up again into myself.

Reformatted for our protection?
Just show us your content uncensored
we will sit on our fat asses remote in hand
pushing buttons passing judgment.

Lean into next door dot com doing for communities
what social media has done for friends and family
discussion can become fractious
I opt out it’s a knack.

Deftly balancing ignorance and apathy
trick is to appear guileless and untroubled
bliss is the best revenge
if handled correctly consequences are unilateral.

Self-harm for the sake of selflessness
if I am here now I cannot be there then
in the spaces I no longer inhabit
I find freedom when I unplug and exit.

Is it manic
this need for laughter?
It’s how I understand
we are honestly together
in the same place

at the same time.
It’s the closest to oneness
we ever seem to come
barring physical intimacy
which is not always called for

or desirable
often inappropriate.
Sometimes
I look into your eyes
I can see no laughter.

If I cannot see laughter
I feel hopelessness
wariness
weariness.
It is to laugh

or else we cry.
When we laugh
we laugh together.
When we cry
we cry alone.

Are flowers that spring from black earth
fertilized by corpses of murdered gay people
more colorful more elegant brighter and vivid
does soil nourished by blood of martyrs bear sweeter fruit?

We sacrifice to a hungry God hopeful He will not devour us
kill in the name of love because we are righteous
bound to uphold the will of a virtuous idea
with God on our brains and fear in our hearts we can do no wrong.

Hear our song battle hymn of the republic for which we stand
a caliphate of hate a shining jewel-encrusted city upon seven hills
a peoples’ paradise where glorious green gardens are well tended
the soil saturated with rich decay of fresh skeletons.

We are a sublime combination of mathematics and art
only if a counterclockwise motion does not make you queasy.

Intellectually speaking it’s a simple concept
your mind it refuses to grasp resist science at your peril.

Numbers don’t lie we lie together and to each other
our bodies cut an elegant angle.

Our embrace defines an exquisite alignment
anatomy and geometry in motion.

We come together in an intersection
brain and body pleasure and principle pushing and pulling.

If we peer into one another’s eyes we can share the same data
but I can only show you truth with my heart.

I’m just trying to make a point
about biology and gender and behavior
excuse me for having an original thought
don’t mistake this for madness.

You always want to make it about me
i’m just an example a representative
i’m typical like that
like what you see is what you are.

Maybe some unique features
devil maybe in the details
but a contract is a contract
we are what we agreed to be.

I’m just trying to explain
best i can offer analysis
do what you will did my part
made my report left a record of sorts.

One biography
pretty much like any other
if you believe in confession
it’s your own guilt telling you a story.

About how they cast stones lit pyres
more useless acts of self-immolation
what difference did difference make
howling of a frustrated stutterer.

He could not make himself understood
fast enough to extinguish torches
calm village ire friend and lover alike
seems in the end i failed you all.

Life is a busy affair
a three-ring kaleidoscope
of chance circumstance and consciousness
a particle accelerator of possibilities.

We forget to breathe
agape to one degree or another
we can either distract ourselves
or settle in by the hearth
hope dark angels pass over us.

That one rose-patterned china cup
a tiny chip on its rim – it keeps us sane
we clutch and sip and pass the time
chatting familiarly amongst ourselves.

The good sun
turns lace curtains into dark webbing
a clue we are trapped here.

We prey upon one another only because
it has been sanctioned by kinship
it’s a risk too to step outside.

Enclosed spaces compress each hour
rooms we inhabit may be vast machines
that feel cozy only on the inside.

In truth they encompass complex clockworks
spinning gears and swinging pendula.
Without walls the experiment seems doomed to fail

even as the mechanism continues to grind
a mill producing a surplus of excess
bulk without nourishment.

Those of us who feed from this trough
are forced to find true sustenance
and so we go out into the fields with plow shears.

Breathe easy boys
comic relief is here
to hustle away the pain
you’ll laugh till you cry
sweet irony the clown’s truest trick
facsimile tears of laughter
stenciled in place of real ones long shed.

Dusty tracks trailing
from an empty reservoir
forget the silly costume
look at my happy face
the eyes have it too
like sharp needles puncture pomposity
brightly colored balloons bursting in air.

Satire is the sincerest form of evisceration
there’s no other way for me
to face showing you the truth
so I do a little dance in floppy shoes
sing a silly song of nonsense lyrics
forget everything I ever did
just remember you laughed till it hurt.

Yeah yeah we get it we just don’t care
astonished by the lack of comprehension
fundamentally it’s a problem of awareness
I cannot look into your eyes without revealing myself.

The world behind those eyes can be a fearful place
a dark chasm into which I have tossed love
and fear tears and laughter and all manner of regard
mere fuel for the fire that lights your eyes.

I sparked the first flame when I planted myself in your gaze
thinking if there is to be light we must build this blaze together
better to see one another with more clarity and detail
take my hand show me how we can do this in the dark.

I was thinking about patterns
when I took a break from my devices
scientific ways to detect a quantum of truth
demonstrable theorems replicable results
such methods are reassuring.

The fundamental need
to understand ourselves
groping in darkness
dimly lit by glowing solar winds –
stardust!

This is how we apprehend our limitations
this is how we learn to come back for more
how we make ourselves comfortable
inside the hollows we have excavated in our hearts
resting assured the mind is a wonderful thing.

I’m in a funny place
don’t want to go out
don’t want to pick up
the food on my plate holds no appeal
other appetites too recede.

Go through the motions
like currents in the ocean
to and fro with the flow
muster a friendly nod
a baseline signifier of peaceful intent
I do not care to harm
as I do not care to care.

Day by day my body betrays me in small ways
the knives in this house are dull
I see things that aren’t there
overlook what is not funny
not funny ha ha I mean.

Unless you can laugh at grace
pratfalling on its face
dropping subjects
now where did I put my dignity?

All that rage against the machine
collapses back on my head
shoots steam coalescing
like a wet hot embrace
from a familiar stranger
a raving street messiah
his forewarnings unheeded.

I mean who has time for that
it’s kind of funny
if you think about it that way
not funny ha ha I mean.

When I am myself I am a well
I am sun and warmth light and comfort
when I am myself.

When I am not myself I fall through or rise above
I panic or I understand
I stumble or I soar.

When I am myself I bring laughter and strength
I am comfort and courage
when I am not myself I fail or I transcend.

I can then absolve and abandon
delete erase and subtract myself
once and for all once again.

My solitude is the price I pay
for withholding
your absence absolves me.
My caring dissolves like dew
on cold stone of your indifference.

Now gray sand and brown pebbles
grate between my toes.
I walk a lonely shore
a castaway scanning far horizons.

Any approaching vessel
can bring rescue
or invasion.

The pity pig wallows in it then I make myself laugh.
I do this all the time is it a sign of insanity mania
an echo of hilarity ringing in a haunted belfry?
But then all the Gothic goo burns up in a flash
melting wax oozes away from reason’s bright flame.

In this context self-recognition is in itself humorous
when we laugh at ourselves we prove ourselves sane.
Standing before the mirror all Oscar Wilde and witticisms
snark caught in silver glass silken smooth yet brittle
too clever too but funny nonetheless.

Such
costume artifice
has no place
in
a barnyard.

She demanded love
used it like a crutch
to prop herself up.

Much of my anxiety
vanished in smoke
cremated along with her corpse
nothing to fear from the dear departed.

Now she sends phantoms
from beyond the grave
specters I myself must summon
out of my own mind.

Don’t give it a thought
don’t get caught
singing arias amid tombstones
having whistled away the fear.

Though she comes in many guises
I’d know that face anywhere
I see her in the mirror often enough.

No recognition without repetition
the muck stops here.