what do words know of my fear my loathing? my pains? how do they know how to describe what keeps me awake at night?
there are no words there simply aren’t enough well defined marks in vernacular to describe.
will is indeed in deed actions are story enough in act my poetry is writ a script wrought with written wells of ink beneath a breadth of words that still call me to tell. …to story.
but, what do words know?
all that can be known
slyly slightly weights what’s shown and words tip nothing not head, heat, or hat
the concrete truth of it the bare concrete burden is that no one can ever see what keeps me awake at night the shadows, the fear, the blood wrenching terror.
no, words don’t know how to do that.
and how about you? can words aptly paint pretty picture for you? do they swell to paint your conversations swell so well that you might as well never leave home?
how about the porn star? can he describe what he sees? can he describe how the eyes of the not-a-lover in front of him makes him feel? what would you think of him if he were to describe how her eyes remind him of mother then, what would you think when you found out that he tried desperately to remember his boyfriend’s face while spewing lewd onto hers?
words do not paint words do not know how to paint they do not see, or feel, or carve, or breathe they only sing
twisting nuances out of color and shape making perverse verse, vain vein exposing vane exposition spoiling sight on the spot
I can’t paint you a picture I don’t have any words that know how to do that
and she’s liking my nimble fingers while i’m on my knees laughing
i could never know exactly what she means
lost and afraid i found her finding terrified and lonely
but it was there that our hands met in the dark
cigarette smoke filled the air and smiles exchanged
"can i buy you a drink?"
watch listless and sullen as our eyes met on the surface of reflecting portals of escape. seeking the refuge of being cast but never on stage.
our eyes met in reflections hiding in scented fog. never losing sight of one another’s forward glance as we crept closer, staring at the wall.
how neither of us stumbled is still a mystery. navigation is key, always the key.
moving closer until mere inches apart.
laughing at overheard sentiment of desperate dishonest dreams distant distilled in spry spirits.
"can i buy you a drink?"
"have you met my friend?"
"i have one just like that!"
watching desperate reflections of the lonely on bar-walled glass dreams dripping decorating shelves behind those reflections. our eyes would meet and we would smile. an entire conversation had through glass.
dropping in on dripping crippling eaves. our spirits distilled, refined, entwined by dry emotion.
mocking inebriation, never looking direct, but one never losing sight of the other.
who needs drunk when longing is impairing enough as it is, and ensnaring enough to make graves? who needs inebriated navigation?
cowards. all of them.
i prefer to a see an oncoming collision head-on. and so does she. we decided to stop rubbernecking and collide ourselves.
ten times the lover
ten times the lie
we’d start rap rap rapping
and be licking distilled dripping duel digits in due time.
but first those creeping agents of fate, would meet, have to meet, in the dark. and there our hands seek meeting and creep discretely to greet in the dark. as dim bar glass glances never broke and were affixed amidst cigaretted fog.
tap tap tap
she really was ten times greater than the dream, a non-accidental collision. no exchanging insurance… i didn’t even catch her name.
before time was time a melody in voice divine… or some-such about a lullaby to calm the life below from opening ancient eyes and the falling fellow chaos fallowed flowing form from the dark undercurrent caressing careless hunger and need seamless in greed to feed on that which all had but for the other waiting watching patient and still, ever loving and longing to loosen dreams ‘neath the surface of depths lost to emergent superficial panicked, the cycle of hungry ravenous rival, bred breeds from the seeds of ages in war-spent survival hairless apes sprang forth curious and spry embracing the tree, iron, and sky. ironically reverently loving the lie life poses reposing contempt for a time but only just momentary morality and ethic were born to back-handed esthetic of clever clutching opposable thumb forged war creative creature culture and ravenous still politic, religion, ungoverned governing mill convoluted convulsing conflict colliding while ever loving essence lay still watching presiding in shadows residing in darkness a dream awoken a while whispering will is unspoken as tides roll in raging ragging and wagging a book half wrote a secret unspoke and lies leaving loving lost labels longing low tempo the states of the world before life sprang screaming forth in ire transpired to conspire and retire stories untold unspoken truths yet to unfold that flaming paining painted corruption goes unmarked were it intrinsic in being silent child be still stay still watch waiting for what wakes and quakes still to awaken, awaiting the day dreams lost and forsaken open their eyes …and i
How long I wander how long I wonder Feeling guilty for a time lost in the gravest of holes And in fletchling states of down ridden games the world sucks suckling milky dripping tits of rotten molten flesh trip at the hip on the heals of fletchling states fuckers can’t stand the stench of their own vomituios effections towards the armed lovers of distant cultures stitched the shirt before the shit was even sewn together swaying back and forth like kleenex on a dark undampened street fleet to foot and falling longing for another once you liken the tramp to the the preist and see the plumage of rage go and turn away run fucker run run as fast as your silly little fletchling feet will carry you to tomorrow eternal in youth impermanent in age wither the fuck away into tomorrows land of forgotten uncharted scenes the truth is they’ve been charted over and over and over and over and over and over NOT THAT YOU CAN EVER FUCKING SEE NOT THAT YOU”D EVER FUCKING LISTEN to all those people those people those people ALL THOSE PEOPLE who’ve been there over and over and over and over and over and over countless times before you before the likes of you there were only the like of you have you ever stared into your mirror long enough to see what you despise clearly out your window
report center stage inverted celluloid clown around town with a frown not a sound all around happy clown color brown …i’m just kidding. you watch the inverted celluloid clown sharply his colors fade to black the closing scene ends with a fist in the mouth with no makeup on and grinning did you see his teeth without the cherry fire-engine red greased upon his lips the jokes on you, you know and no on is laughing the colors inverted and in your seat watching the silver curtain lifting ever slow to reveal the inverted celluloid truth like a print in double negative scary isn’t it i can tell you think so by the way you tremble isn’t that why you gallivant off to the movies exiting stage right but there’s no greater thrill than this and your little jester makes a gesture that makes you peek through the curtain and it’s at that moment you hear and see that you’re on stage and the laughable clown is inverted sitting double-negative in his seat with no makeup on he cheers in color plain "tell us another joke!" the laughter stops and silence fills the air as you realize that this isn’t funny anymore and until recently you were the only one making a sound up there on your stage and as the spotlight dims you can tell that your little harlequin must have been weeping for you this whole time as you laughed at it all, taking it but for a joke …roll credits
There, It’s out I’ve said it. It’s done, The madness. The mayhem, expelled from the wrists to the finger to the toes to the heals. It feels unreal. But still it’s done. It’s out, it was fun. It’s not over, not even.
Like splitting my skull with my tongue it’s undone, my mind likes feeling my heart with a gun.
Within You know and everyone else is too busy trying to But You, You understand and you’re trying too You speak, no one else hears You listen when no one else is speaking but you- You pull yourself to your feet You admire from a distance and You inspire as you are inspired- You ARE inspired- there is a courage within You that only you will know You warm yourself and dance naked in the rain stepping forward barefoot in the snow You who steps up You who stands down You will never be wrong You writhe You caress You choose to go on alone You sing silently in your mind and get tongue-tied when you talk and You smile at your grimace when that happens you’re confused you understand And I can’t say I care- I don’t want to I’m too busy I’m like them I scoff I laugh I point incredulously at you I will never know You ever I can’t honestly say I want to I see you stand I see you fall I know your strength I admire and am inspired co-dependently I AM inspired I share and laugh and play with you I hold you I’m here all alone right next to you- We try so very hard to be different we speak and never listen to You we listen and never speak to anyone else but You and I desperately want to be as one and I wonder how different any of Us really are because as We stretch out from a distance We are inspired by how they are inspired and They Truly ARE inspired… I often wonder how different any of us really are.
And this lover here right here, I see you there now, seeing back. I don’t know you. I’ll try to… I think I like your flesh. You and I continue to lie holding on to nothing’s nothings similar but differing neat and untrue and this is why I can’t say that I love you. What evil fuck warps truth like that?- Living apart together alone sincere and untrue but together embodied The things that we share cock and cunt as our words in the air form graspless shadows discourteous and soft promises that seem fluid get lost in unrefined memory brought back- to bite- us both in the ass- tomorrow- The truth is our lies lay vibrations in the air all of their intent uncertainly lost when decrypt betwixt my ears. But at least I know what I know is you’re here. I know my flesh it touches something, I think it’s you and genuinely want to believe it too breath gets heavy and ears dance with the shadows I know what they hear and now here words are clear …until tomorrow And I know that the humming vibrations are certain but untrue I know nothing of thoughts or spoken musics or musings Oh, but how I presume to think what I know is that you’re here touching me I feel YOU, not love. But I long to say that I do. I want to believe the lie and want you to lie too still I can touch nothing truer and nothing more pure I can feel than your skin And somehow that’s enough for me …for now Until one of us decided truth is no longer more valuable than lies that opposing loves do speak. But… that all happened tomorrow. Goodbye Tomorrow. I will see you around. This one here is beside me and that’s well enough for now.
…FUCK! I just want to scream it! I FUCKING LOVE YOU!
We are the dancing few merriment incarnate falling carelessly into oblivion with parched tongues if t’were a twilight morning dew hand in hand we abide side by side living breathing kneeling before that timid notion within our frail minds we smile blissfully at empty hands that stretch across out-lain lands unseen covered blankets of sky-kept sea and unriven caverns within mountainous piles of dust we cast our sail upon waves of fermented hope turned malleable by the shadows of the unconcealed irreconcilable storms of fact laughing, loving, praying silently to none that may answer in kind and yet together we few rage forth with dampened eye-lashed hands hand in dripping hand side by side we abide unified imagination a dream of a still and quiet happiness we are merriment incarnate we are the dancing few fools embracing collectively