Poetrywar | Theres a war on, man.
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Posted in Poetry Comments Off Freakity Freakish Freakout June 9, 2015critters die
human critters die
i’m going to die
planets die stars die
but when the shooting starts
at the diamond exchange
panicky panic ensues
and I just start blasting
it’s not this way for everybody
some people mow their lawn
and die
a lot are watching a film
when grimmy swoops ‘em up
what film? why something medium
already seen in bits and pieces
between commercials
i’m watching this film
wish it was a tornado instead
tornados can take you places
with funny little people and witches
and colors you’ve never seen
but no
made for tv supernova w/ peter fonda
world’s gonna end says the overly
extremely good-looking physicist
and cut to die
and then the door opened.
velta didnt wait; she just slid through
i couldnt get my legs up over the edge so easy
she was already far down when i did
nothing i could do
arms up and in front how stupid at this speed
cant help it the primates screaming
feet kicking trying to find the sides but theres no sides
whooo over into space fluff down into soft black
crawling like a water bear on a microleaf
working it until i get somewhere
a light a light velta! i shout and dimly hear her respond
look at this! she shouts back so i wriggle over that way
slowwww shes watching a picture in the black
1952 or something i dont know in the woods somewhere
and theres a camper made like a shiny mirror
down here instructs my velta and i struggle down to the next picture
some sort of pleasant day on pre-earth all steamy and smoky
beautiful lizards hoppy-hoppin in the big leaves
velta snatches at me to see more and we slide along the soft black
seeing people and things that cannot exist
medieval dreams or something some pleasant some bloody or boring
where is this? i say out loud as she taps me to point out an impossible creature
i do not know she says but i could watch these forever
i could see what she meant like a voyeur in the life factory
nobody cgied these scenes its too much work
aliens! one picture shows an unbelievable face looking back
like were looking with the same look on their unbelievable face
how can we get out i wanted to know now because the picture scared me
we just got here! she laughed vellie-style which is to say: cowardy-boy
but i knew then what i know now
our secrets of the chamber will wear thin
and then it will be too late.
here in the early days you could get chopped
shut down and stuffed away
rockwalled into eons
in the early days sticks could swing
and bounce your brain right out of your body
for food or sex or just plain itchy
we lived through it like any other mammal
adapt and survive and die, roll and hop and twitch
we misused everything, didn’t even know we were alive
in the earlies
back here there were none-suches that made up freaky sky-faces
told the littlest gimplets terror tales to make them cry
and shiver when the thunder passed over their stones
in the early days a man with flat eyes could take your thoughts
take ‘em right away with his voice, and his pictures –
you could run but the whole earth had got filled, and they were
everywhere
some say the earlies were the bestest but i don’t think they remember
the daily danger, and the unfair around every corner
the not-feeling and the terror-tales that squeezed so many hearts
too many bursts of fear
too much pressing down
too many falls into the heavy earth
the early days were bright and sunny, sometimes
but i liked the later years
when i was free.
it’s possible that a star could touch the surface of the earth
with a mother’s loving hand without a mark or blossom wilted
because I say so
Somewhere a blue tricorn gallops over long hills
a creature on his back attempting to escape
from the god king of the undermountain
i saw this
waves of paper and jellied carmelic hills
static land
little glowy dark comedians fwipping about neutrinofied
build further detail into my design
it is well to speak these things aloud
lay them down examine the weave
and the weight
sixteen teenage kettles groove into the late evening
devolved stone slides with mild depressions for splash creation
they talk about the Porous as if they were less than
and seep themselves into nordowells for the night
’tis a consumation devoutly to be wished
and i have wished it
we’re all turning too fast to get steady
little bing bang beings i swear like molecules in hot whiskey
and if we slow down
we go back in the ground
and i have been there.
meanwhile an infinite number of things just happened
i caught a screengrab
go here: utp://singlemomentimage.rrmv
pretty big file tho
ha foolio i can’t do that
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breitling replica Posted in Poetry Comments Off sign. on my back. September 16, 2011
she said ‘you’ve a sign
on your back — did you know
says “kick — me”‘
i didn’t know
but i know now
the dances are all fine
the dancers finer
but in the end i stay up late
past everyone
and write about things other
than real or true
every last bit buried in code
an endless stream of non
what comes out — look
over there — fascinating
certain films to tears
certain songs to heart thrums
my beautiful lucky when
when i was
not really
not chosen
stopped the gap
useful
can not complain
certain films to turn away
wishes and fishes and over they go
can not be sad
certain songs to grip and squeeze
look at all the lonelies
here in the lonely box
things are as and not over yet
tattooine turns on its two suns — did you hear?
mars in spring — i’ll go
it’s time
i don’t mind
damn the sign
silence and time
white dust to blue water
deep down we know nothing
hot that sun the one the only one
cool the cave
sweet the water
to float
early running mid roaring late release
spring away from the shelter
take trees and bring all us that are this
and that true lovers true servants
to equi and pach leaf and moss
because nothing is so perfect
nothing was so perfect
the sky needs nectarines
the outstretched arms need cool water poems
the hot giants need stone shapes
singers of their souls
benches beneath summer night breezes
passionate hands.
stelar goeth to the spinning
and dance like a freak
tail out and mowin em down
shared reality
take the hot road to the veral
green grass white water
silk tents under stars and wine
oh the wine! the grape has made
us now and then write this
tempered and sweet purple joy
the lone violin
the oboe
that four one five style, bass bouncy
big huge low hood shaker holy man
the freaks ride to paradise and star
throw it up high get em up
wild high whirling women
candlelight red night and i am of the body
hold to the all and one net landru
shooping forth with a sweeping cloak
thin steel close by
hiddn from the eye
tomorrow will see itself in the message
and wake up
universe smiles and waves
i leap up in the sunshine over the beds
clean blue sky and fresh air
over the trench i go the dugouts are deep
and cool with fragrant mother
happy horses trot along snort at me
i have to hug them excuse me
beautiful wooden wheels on the steel
look at that shine!
twirl up and take a sky spin with Wilfred
he takes a line: so many of me still live
but im off! for tea and scones with Hinden the Burglar
woah the Keezer! actual and not sad
having done his best to read the words
hey im carting with kemal and an armeniac
too fast! too fast! so they slow and old Allenby
drunk asleep across T of E
weird but sweet, the edges neat and tucked in hospital corners
flip to ypres and here is where
shicklgruber got hit with the light
spent the rest of his life
working with jewish cats
oh could they swing! oh could they wail!
they say rock and roll cures everything
but i know its the hard bop
so we take it to the top and spy
dougs small beady penguin-eyes
and i stop
flutter down
and whisper words of wisdom to his pressure vessel:
not you not you
this was never you
now dance!
and he does.
wrecking ball
with wings
way too much
open sky
bound to
hit the ground
in a hard way
he had a gift
for soaring high
maybe with enough
adrenaline he
could forget
that he was
mortal like the
rest of us
i always wanted
to follow him
thru the clouds
but even as i
tilted upward
my feet got
tangled in the
web of words
he was a dark angel
a desperate raven
cruising thru
the night of
the human condition
he was a character
in his own book
and leapt off the page
until his pen
ran out of ink and
he came crashing down
with the rest of us
nothing left to say
lets have a moment
of silence for he
who would have us
shake the rust
from our own wings
and leave the
wrecking ball
behind
there is a fire within
that burns always
but is mostly
kept in shadows
i feel that fire now as i write
it provides the energy for my writing
without it i would have nothing to say
nor would i even try
i will write now
of a wish
of a will
of a way
or maybe wait till saturday
look beyond the green hills
to where memory
intercepts the moment
there are children at play
i suddenly understand
brilliant and beaming
is it really what i wanted to say?
did i tell you about
how i swept the floor today
and hung up bird feeders
and washed some dog blankets?
tomorrow i stretch
like a long bow
from the earth
to the sky
the arrow of my awareness
goes whizzing by
it lodges in
the old oak tree
which has watched me live
and will watch me die
in the deep black freeze little hot dots
hot burning souls
human is a radiator soul
nothing out here but burnies
wicking up and spinning photons into fire
coming together right now
hot toes dance the nuclear floor
too bright to look just like the star
sweet simmer star makes the summer
super deep freeze burning women
twine on flame men
make fiery littles to sizzle up the nothing
everything seen now in the hot lights
ninety nine and detailed from a light year out
all remembered every small blue white moment
when the fuel goes dark and the jets sputter
the cold cold reach bows down and takes
the last embers to dust
grateful for the rare last light
the three times move back forward and beneath
roaring furnace faces
hot souls
return
tears on the cheek tickle
as they run down the face
rivulets running
leaving their trace
on the hand
on the land
all the way
to the sea
what of tears
come free fall
for no reason at all?
brought on the breath
of a heavenly choir
conjuring feelings of
something higher
an inspiration
a feeling of love
a conversation
between you and the universe
just like the timeless verse
“a wind can blow
those clouds away”
all things must pass
away
he’s there again.
those piercing eyes
the crooked smile
what does he want from me?
i get in my car
he’s still with me
furious evasion
i can’t shake him
relentless pursuit
in my office
familiar presence
he’s been here
abundant evidence
he’s here still
returning home
find activity
find a release
walking, running
he’s still with me
intoxication
hide in deeper layers
he breaks in
lurching
in the arms of my lover
perhaps a veil
he’ll lose me
she holds me close
and him with me
kinky
to my solitude
the door is closed
the light is darkened
into the stillness
where is he?
i cannot find him
he is erased
as am i
Posted in Poetry Comments Off the morning news February 2, 2011read the mornings violet skies
in it there are no lies
The cool cats have turned cold and hard
But they find the missing bricks
and into the chimney creep
where shelter
allows wild untamed sleep
the squirrels steal kindling sticks
while hawks trade passion calls of winged bard
Elsewhere in a fiction world
these words are unfurled
Icy hearts and slippery streets
huddle together for some heat
bipartisanship
just turn the thermostat a little higher
global warming folly fools utter liar liar
Aussies hammered in the red queens south
bags of sand the deserts menu
to spit in the wind
Yasi
its the not the end
normal will need a change of venue
nature speaks from the horses mouth
bylines for your headlines
tally up the crimes
war
whats the latest count
of corpses in the fount
just the morning news
reflecting narrowed views
Beautiful life,
weve found our home,
never again will we worry or want or need
A respite is now,
but disquiet lingers,
questions arising disturbing the tremulous peace
First we were favored,
now it grows colder,
we do what we must to exist in a changing world
There are no limits,
no reason for doubting,
our world is our destiny brought to us now we are free
Havent you noticed,
a change in the weather?
The warm days come rarely the nights make us shiver and moan
Deeper is warmer,
always an answer,
I see a rock with some speckles, nice colors and shapes
Cycles come often,
await the fine summers,
the chill makes us stronger we build and with joy will we live
Not this time my friend,
it worsens by season,
our world is in crisis our days in fair glory behind
Time slows and crawls,
each second a journey,
the moments extended and rich with the essence of time
(think Travelers 2)
Posted in Poetry Leave a comment November 4, 2010overactive bees for sale
a quisling of sense for the monkeys in the tree
who howl and they howl and they throw their scat
and they bare all their teeth to the birds in the back
and jumping! and leaping! be they ever so high
they cry and they cry and they cry and they cry
and they pee on their heads and expect sympathy
’cause everyone knows they are better than thee
now the tree lost its leaves to the quaffing sims
and they’re bare in the breeze with their knees on their shins
a peek from the meek brings the culture police
you’ve thought naughty thoughts and we know what you think
and they try and they try but the words are too high
‘happiness’, they say, is all just a lie
happy for them is a misery all
a fruish shit ball
may they gag and then fall
shortly
we ded not die
just flew high
on a guitar made right
pentastar
modern hearts
summer cotton candy
every breeze an island
each touch tells
when the car sways in the tunnel
other lives
waiting quiet
until we see them
very soon
they’ll tell us where
the wheel turns to
cello sings
carbon rings
the print pressed in the sand
olivane
twelve of them
settle down
rocks fly
we can hold one
let it spin us out
to past
went looking for lost keys,
tried to soak in a little magic from the four sets of the sluggie kind
to pay tribute to the craft, a proper
had a chat with the music man
and learned it can be a matter of perspective
which
depends on where you place the bars
whether one is the lion
or the tamer
Aand show s me th punisher
and i cry
max shows me the Friend
its so fgood
sky the sky
and i know why
cat the cat
it’ true i lovbe uou
slug give s me live
and all is wle;;\
aw fuc king senrab
oReilly the once
and futrue
oh greg
sad sweet and all fu ked up
the river horese
the barlon]
in the end
i see you all
i joy i sing so igh for you
my beasts they protect me
athena sprnllkel izx ab an d liu;lly
ah the lifge
qah the ligre
pfg byoen
TAGS:Theres Poetrywar war man on
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