I litter the cabinets with poems that should have never seen the light of day. / The cabinets are for everybody. The cabinets are for nobody. / I could donate and refute my exploits. The slow build impedes. / The slow builds are multitudinous away from the molehill. / But nobody here is the boss to the beacon, so a toast to the missions lost! / (We have lost many things. I will be grieving nothing.)
This version of Nicotine Forever is the short version.
The full version will be released on a later date.
(Probably during the release of All Life Is Comedy.).
td.jumper_01, td.jumper_02 ...Read more
Chiedo alla Donna in rosso, che lavora la filo Rosso
Di nuovo, il Dio-Signora stessa, i pericoli, i pinnacolo, e culmine,
i punti più alti e zona di massima luce del benefici dell'anima sicura…
benefici dell'anima sicura et convinto… Piccolo Io–
Io ho– la il risposte poco chiare dal Dominion dei sue Capelli.
Shall I risk what is already the-sure-happy for the road that is not conquered?
Shall I envy before, with the roof over the head and the limbs of my body,
The excitement of the rolling? Shall I give in, into greed, razor-backed,
Evolved into and up from the land, gently, f ...Read more
Gospel of Tempers 2:1 – The Satelliting Thoughts of January 6, 2019
The bad edits of me are the ones that are sticking.
My students, my bees, please think and never blindly romanticize.
I need my students and my bees to be happy. I need you all
To be not like me. Eventually, eventually
We're all to discover that even the undiscovered flower doesn't need the validations.
Even the wildest of us doesn't need the copouts and pascals and parabolas;
And flicks and films and drugs; and occassionalities and alkanes and prelights;
And the suffering. O', the suffering is an endless thing, it s ...Read more
"I believe, though many before me disagree, that the soul is not the only part of the being that ascends. The mind, too, ascends. The heart, too, ascends. And still, they mourn the body left while they are leaving. And still, the soul, and the mind, and the heart never forget. Hollow is the being without a soul. Hollow, the lonely traveler in time that sleeps through time only, and important on a period that is a blink only. But do not be deluded, those of you with hands that hold and eyes that read. The body is where the ascending four is developed. The body is the shrine. The body is the gen ...Read more
I. Re-desecration of Beauty
I have not know all heart breaks known to mankind, but the one that I know is powerful and active–
That I, with the early sprouts and sprites so beautiful, have already peaked, and that only moss groweth downhill.
I remember the Word of the Lord as it were rewritten, and I have ridden it ill since the gardens of the soul,
In the day by day, unflatten. In the day by day, sink. In the day of the gay, rite-eous tubular sans cure,
And I take with me the remainder of the power I can take. I will rake it all, for sure.
The hair of Samson is cut once more. There is ...Read more
Part I. Memento mori in the morning
There are no new feelings. King of all trades, Joker
Of every suites, Hail Maries and anecdotes, and
Flesh jacks, and entry-level fruits. The no good
Emissaries– them and their memories and drizzle
Of slackly hours, frostily and dwarfing, rendering
Battling fatigue and scours… But there are no new
Feelings. Just fresh druthers speaking in less, and
Less delivers. Some pamper the fire too much– A
Beauty bowl loose to consume the beauty of others,
Painting hell over hell, barter over garter, and a
Meter of pacifism wished in coils, like crows ...Read more
1. Prelude To The Prelude:
He thrives in chaos. He thrives. He thrives.
“Same old demons, hello. I’ve slain this balrug before,
I’ll slay it again.” He chimes.
The dead gardener, having said good bye to the company of the gimlet consumed,
Lets out an exasperated smile– a weary that doesn’t reach
The eyes of the unproductive dream-killers as it does their feet–
The feel of their ankles that are stone-cold like more forks in the righteous road–
Only that the roads are cunning– Only that the roads are different.
The roads are ever such revisionists. So be everything tha ...Read more
No temptation has overtaken you that is not common to man.
Even youths shall faint and be weary, and young men shall fall exhausted.
It is good for the foolish that he bear the yoke in his early days;
Grief-giver ho, bitter-agent ho, now agitated-naked-in-decay tho.
(Nine-One-Four-Five ho, versa power top and tap!)
I try to contribute my many a bones to lesser known museums
Of seaweeds, of poisona skin, of reprimands and recommendations, of ballots of shallots,
And many more gore legendariums tussled, and gigantic screens awfully repainting civics
And never disparaging like my castle ...Read more
you spent an entire four months in an apartment ten stories high, /
living on the eight / floor, / surviving on cheap / noodle sticks and beer /
and cigarettes and / knock-off biscuits /
the elevator / was broken, so most of the time / you had to climb up and bring up /
your own furniture / 'til you started giving up /
on comforts like a good sofa / and new flat-screens, /
and your neighbors, they were no friends /
of yours, / you didn't offer any introduction /
they had lives built before you became /
a sorry tenant, a busy tenant / just another, just another /
so many had lived and ...Read more
"And on the eight day, God sang, 'Let there be gays!'"
good-spirited fast-track and fool of fracking,
leak and let leak, freak–
again, leak and let leak, the savagely beautiful–
Her name is the effigy I throw around to get
a little less attention and a little more fake sympathy–
O', you fakers, clear as the days of my caretakers,
are you good? fluid as the soul can be?
high as the revelation of some fortune stripped across your bow,
hammered like the Almighty oiled up and ready for a show?
good, good, let me tell you something, then–
every year, I find myself digging deeper ...Read more
"Unus homo nobis cunctando restituit rem.
Noenum rumores ponebat ante salutem;
Ergo plusque magisque viri nunc gloria claret."
First-time listener, long-time caller. A lover. A lover.
Two aces of New Year's Eves like pinpricks refuting.
…Finding yourself entangled in the magic of it all–
Where the warcry needle is a fiery big hit, a beguilingly big minute,
Dotting my fiercely i's and splintering my e's,
Eavesdropping at any moment, in the red-eyed glazer like a synapse, like a sigh and a sign.
The gods of dogs never do tell you the reformative years are the dull ones.
They will h ...Read more
"Chief Tyrol… This is the Blackbird?"
"Yes, Ma'am… Madam President, this is an honor."
"No, the honor's mine. It's remarkable."
"Just a ship, Ma'am."
"Oh, you're much too modest. After what we've been through, it would be very easy to give up, to lose hope. But not here. Not today. This is more than a ship, Chief. This is an act of faith. It is proof that despite all we've lost, we keep trying. And we will get through this. All of us, together. I promise."
(– BSG S02E09)
Happiness becomes a sin we sought to overcome,
And though our lords and their lords' lords, too, tend to overco ...Read more
You are walking in the museum of now-humanity's ancestors.
You, the descendant, smiles in your crooked way. They are in jars.
They are displayed from a far and being made money for.
And the fire casts to all a long shadow, and the shadow veils on you
Perfectly and still functioning. "You failed," you whispered to it
Like a melancholy chub no longer a longer, apricot-eyed.
"You failed back," theirs seem to reply, the nefarious pointing and taunting,
From the cylindrical glass where chunks were preserved, the bullet-topped
Chunks of history, chunks of your avarice in a pollinated sweat-b ...Read more
I annihilate men with my godsent tongue, this godsent mouth.
My lip gloss are diamonds like I'm the diabolical that rose a rose.
My hips, my arms– they are godless but they climbed down from heavens light as rain,
As the snow McKinley has never known, never had a problem for, never worn…
"I wish he had a blog, so I can read his mind, so I can judge his thoughts accordingly,
The things he won't dare speak direct to me, but shouts at me, directly…"
It only takes one re-reading of Shakespeare to learn of love again.
I learn of tragedy again.
My dear tragedienne, would you come back ...Read more
Anarchy of the mind.
I wrote some welcome-to-my-blog remarks, which you can read here.