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lullabies for the paralyzedparasites' plaything ---
this is stormy weather space
where lost vectors find bone
much more easily than land
where we hide from high tides
on our pulpits absolving the sea from incursion
and chastise mollusks for trying
to take themselves with us
in our bonds of kinetic aggression
in the ugly corners of our human hearts
there's a cabal still debating
last week's peeled potatoes
and the toy dolls in the attic
adding two and two to get one
ripe for re-enlightenment
we were given keys to the fuming abyss and we launched
our messiah straight into
parasitoidsit wasn't all that long ago when
dust jacket dragons still died of consumption
when electric myths still spiked
the swirling mysto
and we hadn't yet promised ourselves
to the most watched mannequins in the arcade
but hollow cities have stolen ours fangs
built from pre-plotted points and cut out
all that "stuff" in the middle
and those things that "infect" us
>>> parasitoids and host vectors
wherever the gonzo is goingwe've rediscovered ourselves
hugging the lamppost and screaming polemic indignities
"who threw the rock?"
"we caught the teeth!"
this bravado an asinine secret to keep
from the gerund ...
(we once lived in a building we've been living to re-build)
but now we hover wherever the gonzo is going
dodging indolent beasts with their
and drowning in it -
the transient nature of things
mother ships of the mooncatastrophized ...
there's somebody else on the moon
and tasting skin in batches
and saving all they've learned until
the mother ship returns
but it's been heard
she's involved with superstitions
that she's wandered off to find religion
a devil daughter turned
so loose your lips
and let it slip -
there's somebody else on the moon
cache of hornetsit's the interstice that always kills ...
(no emphasis on keeping clean)
and it's a bad, bad night
who stalk jurassic scenes
while below our glowing
nuc a grist
of wasps have balled to death the queen
... roiling in their honey-coated
omnivores' wet dream
pilomotor reflexeswe'll soon be drugged
and shoved into the habit-
able zone of constellations
ushered slow along
by senescence' soothing siren song
and we can not escape [it]
they came in through the window, baked
and caked in week-old blood
hyperbolic remnants of the flood
we offered all we had on hand
but it was not enough
to sate their endless appetites
it wasn't even close
now muscle memory must move
through this impotent farrago
where we pilot all our awkward limbs
with the backside of a shovel
pororocathere's phenomenon in the river
tendrils ... in our pinking panacea
spawned from the midnight paregoric
they've come to put edge to the wind
corrupted by cardinal numbers
so we're following the hierophant
through duck soup shadows of the moon
and no sanctuary sanctioned
(there are still some
phenomenon in the river)
backwards for an instance
the transmigration of soulsnucleic sharks smell fresh blood
in the western gene pools
and on the other side of the world --
an elephant runs a man through
metempsychosisensconced in the exigent
wind grown at midnight
vituperative pulling/cosmic strings for a thrill
we were raised by a boulder
to be sedulous soldiers
and only attack when well hidden uphill
a polarized low has stirred the cattle
so just get on with the evolve so we
can arrange a proper battle
else orphic gaols may halt our sails
slack water vicious circles
where most still have their tails and drag
almighty swollen knuckles
the truth about growing up
1. It's easier when you don't think.
1. It starts early,
on a cloudy day when you recall
the 'childhood memories' of
two summers ago,
that's when you start your backslide into
2. On the bright side
you won't notice this until you're
good and ripe in age,
so maybe it doesn't matter
3. That tightness in your chest?
The feeling that you're not ready
to take on the rest of your life; it
4. It stews in the pit of your stomach
makes you doubt,
but there will be days when you look back
on the mountains you climbed -
the raging rivers you crossed -
and you'll have a sneaking suspicion you were
more prepared than you thought.
5. There's nothing like your own bed.
6. Laundry will never smell right
without mom's sweat and tears.
But you still have to separate lights from darks,
keep the zippers pulled tight
and the buttons unhooked.
7. There is comfort in your parents' presence.
8. Things change
the future gnaws and rips
Stranger's funeralUnder the clouds
Under the rain
Staring at the coffin
At a stranger's funeral
We're all alone
Feeling the storm
But not the pain
For he's but a stranger
And the graves around us
Are just there
Keeping us company
During this empty moment
LullabyHush, my baby,
Be still, don't cry.
Lay with me
A little while.
Close your eyes,
Slow your breath.
Hear your heart
Inside your chest?
Your heart is strong,
It guides you well.
Be sure to listen
To what it tells.
I hear him now,
Outside the room.
It won't be long,
He'll find us soon.
Now close your eyes,
Slow your breath,
And rest your head
Upon my chest.
Southern modernizationBlack comedy market economy, banana peel political humour, cards with the cartels, the solution free room service and credit the union. Bolivar twist, ding dong dollar under control, valley of the coin desert with no value. Gangsta paradise, the victims are the people. Big mac and cold conflict interference a part of it all. In little Mexico you’d need a high horse to jump the great border wall that boasts its peak.
Viracocha melts waters unlike those it rose from, making waves of out of metal oceans to overtake the current south, re-steel, re-take, tech-mechs the entire south into neo-Machu Picchu, cyberpunk music moulding, reshaping old society into an new age, iron dynasty, fresh coat for an old, ancient look. The coattails of Quetzalcoatl if he were a modern man pull together the merge of future and long passed past..techno temples and the like.
CarolineYou loved the fire
of rogues -
imperfect men who shot up
the endings of the day
and drank down
too much beauty.
And like one of them,
you bellied with rebellion,
felt his tense seed
toil where women
and craved his notoriety.
Poor girl -
his verses won the day
and the call of words
was too fickle a lover
for any constant star.
Don't blame yourself -
are more attractive
and all poets are
Darkest MoonI celebrate my right to live;
To the dismay of some, perhaps
It should be noted
These words I write, however true
Are only portions of the moon
I’ve decide to shine light upon.
But who am I to preach respect?
Who Am I to preach equality?
An advocate for re-personification
Of the female gender
But exhibits cannibalistic characteristics
Within dark spaces.
I am a shadow
Hidden within an Eggshell, painted pink,
Waiting to hatch.
Is the darkness
The night brought upon us.
things to tell you before i leave for collegeto mrs hatcher:
i promise that one day i will write that poem you asked me for
(the only thing you ever asked me for)
and i will finally tell you that you deserve
so much more.
to mr. walker:
i promise that i will not pity you.
i promise that i will not envy you.
i promise that you will always be part of my forget-me-nots and marigolds.
i promise to always be grateful.
i promise to be careful.
i promise to be crazy.
i promise that i will remember what it feels like to be needed
and what it feels like to let someone who needs you down.
i promise that i will never resent you for asking for help
and that i will always be there when you do.
i promise that even sixty years from now,
i will not be surprised to find a letter from you in my mailbox.
i promise to always remember what it felt like to be young and crazy with you,
how scared and lonely we were.
i will remember that we both survived it,
and that we'll survive this, too.
You Were Born Missing SomethingYour skin is glazed with crystals of frost
and your heart's valves are close to
freezing shut tight
from being devoid of something
Though I am torrents of hail, whirling storms,
warm tears streaking,and tornadoes of rage
that flow uncontrollably through my veins
and out of my mouth,
every breath near you is warm
because your words are so cold
I am a natural disaster at its finest
with bones twisted in painful angles
and a crooked spine
you were born spineless
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