Friday, August 11, 2017

36/100


Waking from dreams of you

In missed calls, and read messages

spaces of the future

where the possibilities collapse

without memory

swept away in the desert

in plumes of dust and sand

what kind of gift is this?

To endure,

unrelenting days in unforgiving heat

as hallucinations

of what will not come to pass.

And I am caught

In the mixture of feelings

Divided by the hurt

and the beauty

and the power

reigning over desiccated landscapes

in futures of what could have been.    

Tuesday, July 25, 2017

hooker eyes

This image of tiny, thin childish limbs through the crowd
grabbing it with deference, beating me to my half-hearted attempt
her eyes looked like an animal in clouded amber
this hippie child. Shoeless and filthy
reverent and resolved, throwing herself to her knees before me
snatching up that huge dusty cricket
casting a dirty hand down upon the creature
between meaning and curiosity
vanishing into a desert of memory

this idea of mechanized  technology
rising through azure banners
chains writhing and stretching
wings treacherously spread as dark fingers across the sky
as a ruthlessness that never tires
in triumphs of self
become the corrupted and the corruption
like hookers eyes vacantly looking  
into nothing of significance

this feeling of failure
pours into me like a hull breach
Erodes the enamel of my will where loyalties evaporate
through various lenses
a symphony of savagery takes hold
playing out the story of my past transgressions
where so little seeks recognition
save for the grace of time
refracting us apart into possibility.

this dream of the future
I once held
foreign and distant
Like a long awaited goal that I once believed  
as a trail into dry and hostile mountains
what sort of man have I become?
bearing teeth and talons at all opposition
shedding feathers and words dismissively
as mind frames of collapsing catacombs

this hatred boiling up inside of me
galvanized in rage and hunger
primal in that way that I cannot relent
burning as a wildfire that obliterates everything I once felt for others
in amphetamines and squalor
how broken I feel when I look upon those eyes
how disappointed I have become to the illusion of myself  
& they look upon me as if I am the rising sun
to grant some kind of salvation

this memory of another era
Essentially simple and yet sedated
laced in breathy words and sweat
Panting out all the echoes of what I have been
exacerbated in the marks of flesh and endurance
disposed of as wretched machinery
in the wake of some greater monument
As the objects of becoming
render my soul in shards

this subtle power pulsating outward
into the earth and trees and minds
sensitive and hardening
gripping and addictive
overwhelming in its implications
leaving me so bastardized and alone
flavored in sensations of power
viscerally unforgiving
to the blindness that represents man   

this unrelenting state
fetishizing my unedited self
delving man and mind without hesitation
defending belief and innocence
in deft strokes and actions
are they but simulacrum?
Seeking to emulate this, ability
I would watch a pit a of men
beat each other to death and feel nothing

This future that spreads before me
met with resistance
How they must sense my desire to control them
Yet, they resist in their way
unable to grasp what that reality holds
in terms of precognition
deeply yearning
for the simplicity
of a child chasing bugs










Saturday, July 15, 2017

Nothing of forgiveness


It feels like the slight drag before a blade cuts flesh

In diligence I rend the fat from meat

Articulation separating sinew from product.

Where there is nothing more savage than grace



Held together in the tensions

Dreaming of the cannibalization of self

how worn these monuments have become

as tattered flags



pollution fraying the fabric of my banner

forgetfully injecting value in disdain

a sweeping landscape where I outlast

in silent relentless triumph



more perfectly synergized it cannot be unlearned

remaining inherent in its discipline

like an arid desert landscape

that knows nothing of forgiveness.

Saturday, June 24, 2017

grasp


I’m seeking to coalesce

varieties of thoughts

how might this work

how do I bring up

the words I’m too shy to say

I dreamt of you every night this week

consumed in this

idea.



How many words, years, thoughts

How many empires of self rise and fall

Flowing like choppy waves 

In an expansive ocean

I feel so many things

As the pull of moon and tide

put this to æffect  

How deeply I desire the dreams I have

Of us coming true

As if trying to harness a thing I cannot name.



As we are akin

In dexterous propensity

I feel you so clearly

In all the ways

I have not yet resolved

We are the herons of Esper

we are the dreams I wish to have.

On great wings,

lifted from some other spirited place

how deeply I wish for this to take flight

Wednesday, June 21, 2017

Dissolution


I would say its powerful.

I’ve become

In the liquid an texture

In the tense and tension

Thunder breaks

As our minds penetrating the æther

Electric and sudden

As lightning twitching across the sky

Feinting in feathers and rhetoric

It is the absence that has made compleat

As Triumphs of ruthlessness

Reverberate in time



Awoken in such a way that

Possibilities collapsed

Until we were left with the ever present now

How ridiculous and familiar this seems

the weapon has not grown weaker

Only more acute

As if articulating a liquid

As if efficiently weaving ideas

Like moss in the jungle

Carefully laminating everything in a verdant, gentle embrace

Such instances of connectedness

Can overrule even the strongest lines


lacerated in scars passed

We lift ourselves from the wreckage of this life

Absolving our wounds to the sands of time

How I wish in this moment

I could heal my mind

As quickly as flesh

In a kind of pattern recognition

to seek out faults

exploiting cracks in the carapace

unraveling something ethereal

into the waking eye of a hurricane

making landfall  

Tuesday, June 13, 2017

such behaviors


In poor decisions

again and again  

until it matters

with mind rending moments

having lived through

stupid rhetorical questions

written

without purpose

what then does this mean

from one moment to the next

plane after plane crumble

in the behaviors

exhibited and advertised  

ire and sorrow

mingle into these

bitter moments

that you have brought me.

How disappointed I feel

For having loved you.

Wednesday, June 7, 2017

Condor


relentlessly traversing the desert

In confusion and memory

How lasting has the ache become?

Where I fear there is nothing left

But the rotten parts of my spirit

I have given it all away

the vacancy of space like stars in the sky

In the rhythm of experience

beyond the electrical impulses that make up this reality

when there is nothing left to see and everything left to be felt.

As revolting and magnificent animals

Feeding on the carrion of lives

Tearing into the leftovers of self

Where I still wish to soar

In light and dark

Facing extinction and bounty

As if the last dance of ourselves

Carries out a life that we deserve

Feeding on trash and dodging cars

And yet, what else would I be

If not a rare and ominous figure

Alone in the sky

Lifted by great wings

above the backdrop 

trying to escape

the ruins of myself