Tag Archives: desire

Now And Again

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Our heart. Yes, ours. If only ever. What a want to share one with someone/everyone else.

 

All is lost but we’ll find it again. I promise if you promise too.

*

I’ll never wish for sleep. I only ever want to be awake. I don’t want to miss a minute of when things get good. Get great. Become what they could always have been.

I wan to witness equality. All I need to see is consistency then I can rest in peace.

*

I’m trying to keep a little laughter in me but it’s getting hard to do. Somebody told me what to do. Dig into your half of a heart and give me some sound advice. A sound. A lyric to sing to myself when I’m feeling lonely. A verse to hold onto for the uphills when my legs are burning. Give me the song that’ll have me begging to meet the sirens. The sirens here to help us. The sounds of emergencies averted. The sound of a miracle worker’s footfall.

*

Justice isn’t blind. It’s bound and gagged and I don’t know who’s getting off but I know it didn’t come cheap.

*

Don’t trust me with your money I’ll bet the house on us. We have to win. We didn’t come this far to lose even if we’re losing now. Now and again.

At/HERE

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New Year’s resolution –
stop talking to yourself.
*
I have no promises to keep.

So it seems, good sense only goes so far as genius allows. As one grows increasingly informed, the desire becomes to lose commonality and the sensibility which accompanies it. What good is a sense if it is only used for good? Give me a sense which brings a sensation – hand on stove, fall from heights. Excitement in known harm but unknown consequences doled out by nature.
*
What I wanted was not really to be alone but to be head over heels over someone. Someplace for emotions to go. I’m ambitious that way.
*
Who will concur while I wait? Without a fever for the infirmary. Without need for quarantine, who else will be here to hear?
*
I don’t like ‘cool.’ I don’t like ‘beautiful.’ I don’t like. I just don’t like. Let me love something indefinable for once. Let me hate. Leave me the freedom to go beyond dislike to the extremist position against certain notions. Let me have floors and ceilings in this room. Leave my food by the door. I’ll swallow it when it cools off a bit.
*
In solitude, I take even the public rather personally. Get offended or let joy arise from those passing by.
*
Consequences are irrelevant to cruelty.
*
Am I guilty of or for irony? What liberty, what power in producing, being, becoming another ending – only somewhat unexpected. Because, who doesn’t account for the curse of the paradox?
*
I am barbaric. Or I was. Or I want to be. Anyway, Barbary is close to me.
*
What forms of expression are at my disposal?

Have I seemed happy for at least some of the time?

Maybe in the end it will appear (to be) more apparent.
*
Somebody is talking about a fear of airplanes and I’m here thinking about a fear of talking to anyone or in particular – a someone across the room from here.

Neither these nor those books are shields. And besides, a proper glance caught in spectacular timing cuts right through.

Oh, but a look caught in flight can see a lot of turbulence.
*
Patience will always prove random is regular. Chaos dictates how the lines will shorten. No turns are being taken, orderly, while waiting.
*
Does one exist who is deserving as much of admiration as affection?

I feel I’ve been born into a banned life. I think I understand now that there is no room in languages frequented or neglected for duality. For similarity to feel the same.

This soul came passed down from those passed on with certain policies intact. Boycott the insincere. Embargo bad faith. Find distant compassion for those who are fake only because otherwise there would be no need to ever use words. There’d be no comprehension of a range of emotions.

Nonetheless, I’ve given up on smiling.

(originally published in eccolinguistics)

Survives Long

by

Buried in the plans

Soft targets

On pages detached

-marginalia-

Seen only when looked for –

*

For your information and more

As a person

As it were

-was-

Of a curious nature

Decolonized from the burial grounds

Where beds are made to lie in

To remove transparency from view

As a bit of consolation.

Every mistake is added to the resume

-never mind

Never really knew what anyone was talking about anyway.

Nodding just came naturally.

Chorus got lost in unison during the sermon.

Couldn’t find the good word

Searched in the lows, highs of preacher’s swoon and swell

Became deaf just in time for the next hymn.

Found a discovery written into the quiet

Found an absence worth exploration

A loss  filled with inventory.

No fun ever survives long.

So Long

by

And all will pass

into the indivisible love

Andre Breton

Remember that -oh so long

ago when we were

ships whose sails

were not made

that day hour by

hour

And ‘oh these things happen’

But now, the winged

octopus will no longer

guide this —!

For life is not always a cabaret

Sometimes it’s just pitching

coffee cups at the trash

after consuming endless days

of creamy middles

and no wafers

in sight.

* *

Or incognito

as the signs

we’re waiting

to receive

while the unspoken words

are put out to sea

And what a shanty they’ll make

And the scurvy they’ll cure

And the doldrums they’ll surpass

And oh the cargo hulls

they’ll begin to fill

So soon they’ll

throw unnecessary passengers overboard.

(written 2010)

In The End

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Let’s never do that again.

Let’s not pretend that didn’t just happen.

Let’s not let apples and oranges share the same space.

Let’s not shake the Devil’s right hand.

 

Let’s not be actors.  Nor directors.

Let’s not say it’s too early or late for that.

Let’s not be reminded of . . .

 

Let’s not talk about doing more than we’ve done.

 

Let’s not consider that an option.

Let’s not continue the game.

Let’s not have anything else to talk about.

Let’s not assume a relationship between confidence

And jealousy.

Let’s not forget that silence is all we’ll be risen to in the end.

 

Excerpt from Waiting for the Water to Boil as found in Enter the After-Garde

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Excerpt from Waiting for the Water to Boil as found in Enter the After-Garde

Ah, but ma jolie rouse

            those embers can’t

burn it all down

and that bob don’t take you low enough

for a sufficient burst

from the surface tension.

 

But,  you’re an adventurer

and set the twilight reeling

under dead eyes

of gemini.

 

So,

have pity on me.                           as I am

before all,                                     a man of sense.

And you?,

Blessed with a mouth

made in the image of

god[(’)s],

speak only the summer’s secrets

of the limitless future

and the violent season

and the youth and spring dead

and the electromagnet

in this mystic form

pulls at

the inductive logic

and steals

dreams of hope and fantasy.

And This Is Why

by

Don’t worry,

Inevitably an eventuality will

Come, pass

And due to/indebted to

Time

Be recollected

.

Cause does not create

Effect

But purely posits opening

For possibility, potential

.

As in increments

Beyond measure

There are rifts of disruption

Which slip by

/

Slip in

.