Monday, May 28, 2018

Hereafter.

You're muttering incoherently
Beneath lamplight near the ether
Kerosene drips on your face
Onto your shoulder, then dries, menacingly
Scarring your life.
Comprehension is steep
Your flammable exhale coats my throat in rot.

I'm ingesting your predictions of aged deceit
Dissent,  ruminating.
My predilection for optimism outruns the dissonance
I'm three decades behind you,  engulfed in steam
Proving to the omniscient voyeur
That my convictions will not be waylaid.

Yet here we are, united in psyche
The potency of your yearning begging still to be huffed from the air.
I heed you, albeit at a thick distance;
This tangent is overbearing.
My diligence is anchored to respect, to lead
innocence to clean water
Bearing in mind your warning, yielding not to its contaminants.

Another Sunday walked through yesterday's door,
You breathe in solitude behind the strictest fence.
I'll not ask again for any elaboration on your synonyms.
The stark reminder of your beatless existence flatlined those hopes ages ago.
Instead, I write the ending to the road we paved.
Embellished only by the beauty of my interpretation,  my translation,  my... transgression,
My version of, You.

The flawed perfection of all your testimony
Your bravery in vomiting up the truest of truths will not go unrecognized.
For it is within this gory recanting that I find the better versions of myself,
Fucking the feeble-minded away from my most precious energies.
Engorged by the premise of a lofty demise;
That negativity is a canker that spoils all if fed
And my nurturing existence strikes a tone with far more purpose, than to succumb to that barge of dread.

I hear you.
I heard you.
Resonating long, into the hereafter.

Blunt.

The foreign land of Man
Jewel-laden and untouched
Miles behind me.
...in looking back I recognize
Nothing.

Tripped into fresh gravel
Washed of patriarchal miseries,
Never once had I surmised it so.
And these fools and bastards alike
Judge as they wish,
Spewing unwanted mucus
Into my river.

I am strong though slow-moving,
Deliberate in every cause
The only Bitch who threw me,
Long lost in this Now.

Mind over matter in every case
No judge of this landscape,
Nothing to preside.
Internal organs brace the battering ram of facts;
These are lower hells we roam in
Splintered chips that expose the marrow
To what may yet come by way of affliction.

Woe to those who wait, laboring in false loyalty
Succumbed to the fear of acknowledgment
And an addictive attraction to hell's gate.
Loathsome depth perceptions traipse a burr-filled homeland
Akin to the cutting-fixations of the weak
... and forlorn feeble minded.

There is double-fisted pounding
Wreaking havoc on all doors
Presumptive,  primitive deductions
Lost to intractable distractions
These willing accomplices seek subtle overtures
To bide the inevitable, inscrutable conclusion
That wreckage of this caliber
Will slit the throat of all sanity.

Understood

Turbulent waters appear calm
Mineral-rich batter, baking in context
Unbeknownst.
Truth-rich roast, bartered for
Relinquishment yields porous results,
Half-filled by generational trauma.
Seeking understanding strengthens metal
Bowing under recourse to nothing,  no one.
These are quiet,  solemn victories
To which no banners fly.
As I widen, I wonder...
To whom does the understanding inherit?

Wednesday, May 2, 2018

New Rooms

Resurrect nothing
Leave the patina as is
Mosey tendons to new rooms
To fill with love and meaning

Tuesday, January 2, 2018

...to be...

A lapse of seconds
Is all it can take
To blink the eye of
Assumption.
Tinker not with
Soliloquies and
Sermons
For they are to be
As they remain;
Untitled, demure
Uncaged.

Monday, January 1, 2018

"Hidden Amongst Winter Holes"

I read of you, and burn; the tinge of detachment
Too lucid to admit. I have no view-able version
Destructing further- the weight of your absence.
Your nylon headdress, smug over your senses;
Tell me as I wonder- How now do you fare?

Nearly an offense on the final of the last
Did I find myself stretching backwards
In angst over your strict departure.
You, whose voice I did but hear once-
To elongate the meaning of all your worthy text.

On an afternoon filled with affectionate chatter
Did the sound of your words land with a meaningful boom
For that room did fill quickly of the urge to postpone 'Us'.
And in that reversal of yesterday's memory
The wish to take back that pause- grows.

We are older now, and you, too far along your dismal road
To ever turn back now and take my hand.
The decay of our philosophical affairs still smoulders
You- the wrench in my most sought after machine.
I detest ever so strongly your unprecedented departure.

Father, Lover, Brother, Man. Shunned in regret
I felt you shudder, broken within.
The whining interior wails hard and silent
Struck deeply and reverberating 'souvent...'
For I love you, you see; I always have.

You shared and I shook, swallowing your goals to be heard.
Lodged in comfort, your confessions remain
For mine was the home of understanding; of care.
Take into your cabinet of horrid disfigurement
The deepening luster of my longing for you...

To know, to listen, to learn once more; to let you know that you were not in vain.
That your offerings on those cold days in the High Desert
Were cherished and understood in ways that you needed.
Remembered, mused over, written and drawn
To love, to honor, to learn from.

Sunday, December 3, 2017

His and Mine and His and Mine.

A new fork in the road; One Great Prong,
Splitting everything, straight down the middle.
Run, and run fast
To build speed so even you don't see yourself coming
And fuck that detractor till it breaks.

Kept distracted, the noise: personified insignificance.
Dividing precious attentions and holding idle hands
Sweaty palms, bilious
Even the elbows know their grease is wasting
Figuring that maybe when fifty hits, I'll wake up

Dutch outlines and half-matured whisker growth
Pushing out of twice-matured, heavy bent disrespect
Loyalty- to truth
Courage to grind against the grain of love- conflicted
Philosophy of gut instincts have torn away familial mulch.

And I listen, I hear, and here, amidst the dust of my own mulch
I kick at my own ankles, articulating a new strain of loyalties
Burning holes to char
And rearrange the birth order of all I prioritize and toy with
As time is pissing its wits, and putrefying valuable potential.

I kept the tube out last night, and slathered sienna's and umber
Onto 'Guts' that need emphasizing and generous attention
Highlighting girth
Around the waist of all my solo twisting and wasted estrangement.
Might as well give myself the gift of visceral containment, painted hard, heavy.

Tender futures await, conscientious loving and warmest reminiscence
Even in the hound-like wail of sexual revenues long emptied
This shit better be enough
For the outline of swollen rouge and pheromone hunting hinges
To oil away softly into an eternity of  hollowed out spoons and neck-gnawing.

My ears are swallowing whole the many movements of delicious potency
Masculine carnivore with his well evaporated self-effacing roots
Steam-fucked and building
Boring scars into memory, of driving marks and hitting home
Better, more effective hammers, to get every last Fucking job done.

These are the tones of us, who ate and understood the wrongs
And welded ourselves to the ideology of 'feet put down'
To the landing of our own choosing
Because by every morning and well-endowed night, ours was the mood to honor
Rather than to punch reflected indifference and self-perpetuating shame.