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Mumblings and/or Poetry, Summer 2016 Like mentioned on the other poetry pages, it's James Dickey-inspired poetry. Not sure why all these ended up on yet another separate page. It seemed necessary to break up the uploads of dazzling, brilliant prose. (heh, heh) NOTE: None of these are repeated in the not-exactly-new-anymore digital poetry book, Brief Tales of Compromised Solutions Dry Bones and Body Paint
Dry bones and body paint Lost promises and all talk Just another fucking virgin In an endless line for the better future
Turning down your atrocity expectations Opening your nose to the possibility of red The lawyers knew what you were talking about Which is why they taped your hands and feet and fed you to an open grave
Awkward shifting into the dark He moves through the stairs like the steps were distant stars Well it's never over with then it is Be falling through them forever and ever plus ever
Expanding her brevity-inspired messages You're inviting colours in spite of my mind And the bad decisions are bleeding through the haze Along these ancient and laughable telephone lines
Holding hands around the neighbour's refrigerator Just to get them out of bed at four in the morning To meet in a cookie cutter kitchen And give thanks for the first run leftovers
Somebody ate with a telegraph in their hand And it's those kinds of descriptions that have to be true With a painstaking look in the eyes that dried out hours ago Talking along with the writing of the semi-annual book
This time we went to the seaside out of boredom Flinging flat rocks at the tugboats and barges As they came to inspect our seizing bootleg flashlights Made at home when the elaborate mannequin parents were away
The astronaut believed in hoping for overachievement And prayed atop the hoovers and steeplechases With all the strength that fit to radiate and decompose Letting a slippery language dribble through their teeth
The car came roaring up at me and screaming -you left me in the underground And I was too busy tucking the kids into the bathtub to really put six and eight together to realize that fourteen is just old enough for the wife
Great routes into the nether-regions of the soul With billboard a-blazing and every exit on its hands and knees Attention being demanded by the rough and tumble rubber-neckers Assuming everything can be scrubbed off the bill
Love as optimal conditioning The God code lining up with just so atmospheric and temporal environments Setting aside moments for planning to plan more plans Massless kisses and unconscious swap of hands and fluttering hearts
Dropped into the hysterical tropical heat Covered to death in fancy new mosquitos A chance misspelling of your dear eyes Still playing with the official reports of shamanic dreams
Belittling the lord above Faced with poisonous choices and empty safes Taking a war to the empty valleys and parched hills I had my finger on the button since day one
And the hour never mattered The energy wasn't keen on common clocks You waited without hope so it was always a surprise Sometimes your face forgetting all the planned terror
A likely correspondent Watching with greedy eyes and sultry lips It's because of all the untraceable phone calls Mystery is always the best friend of power
Hot rich and dead and always in that order A passage of time covered in photographic seconds The light adds a couple flashes of eternity And all the words feel twice as worthless
Perched Sky
Well Well And you're looking up at the perched sky Save Save And you're set to answer the winter's why Touch Touch Until the motions you clutch are all reset Push Push Until the backwater needs are finally met
Stuck in the middle Fucked on the side Dragged down in the end The front's nearly died
My heart is just an organ And it always makes a sound You can even hear it When I'm six feet underground
I'm my own man and that's the problem Ground coming up to take my symbols I played by the rules everyone else forgot I took care of my mind and gambled my souls
Butterfly on a wheel Getting dizzy in the spokes Never one for cliches And tired of the jokes
A thrill a minute or a minute a thrill
A thrill a minute Or A minute a thrill
Outlasting your enemies I thought little of it The letters dried up The phones stopped ringing The shadows got cold feet The doctor stopped spiking my drinks But then the sun got old And I missed the attention Dropped the new cup Forgot words while singing Saw my armies get beat The bartender told me what he thinks
Leave me with something Consider ex-mercies
Fine yes fuck it happened Fine sure thing it was me Fine the cuffs the chains Fine hand me the blue pen Fine okay the confession Fine you fill in the blanks Fine I don't remember it Fine I'll point broken fingers Fine the time and place Fine the midnight hallway
Three Sixes
I was happy in the fields knowing That all the work was still going To a chance to fill the holes dripping With consensus and closure flipping Into conflict and chaos while waiting For a five star cross the board rating
A hand on my soul is just the warmth I was afraid to admit I needed It's just the sort of thing that I can't give up was what I pleaded There was a rotten borough shiver I felt On a Cold War iron curtain wall I knelt A change in my health and their weather was how I knew That this is the future course no matter what I do
The gulf is just a pair of cliffs I want to meet between the buts and ifs The rhythm of the soul is slightly off The world stops spinning with an asthmatic cough Pushing to let the whole thing get high A child releasing a balloon to the sky
And I Was I And I was I and I was And with the sounds comes the hands on the howls the breath on the hands the howl of sound For the terror along the banks the waste and the knowledge with the banks of waste and the terror With the fists and the reason on the rocks and the blood on the rocks for the reason on the fists For a truth atop mountains that crumble and cry for the crumble of mountains made atop truth Along a narrow and through the streets all covered in shaking heads with narrow streets and covered For a past that forgot to come near a field for a further coming in a forgotten past and for the field Through a constant lament inside a way through a decision and outside is constant through lament For a faded grey background and a chance encounter in the front before the fade with a chance touch of grey With the names on the hot tongues and cold lips and it cracks cold and hot for the stolen names For a sense of justice with peace among the forced among the free a sense of the sense of peace To touch and grate and hold in the rain among the rain for all the touch and hold and still let grate For the until is the held with the until and then the sun because the until is the until is the all until And I was I and I was
Honesthetics
Practice with the words against the wall Turned away and the bulbous flutes radiating a panicked white I don't choose the colours I just light fire to the rainbow
Head full of oxygen A world in a corner With all the facts laughing and growing older by the second
For a means to understand And a stool to sit down With longstanding and respectful excuses that made all the difference yesterday
Hands on them all Can't tell the difference between a heartfelt embrace and a push down the stairs It's all a question and answer of gravity
Listening to your enemies Unbeknownst to them Getting involved in politics Behind a couple black suitcases
-I touched that circle -I refused the parallelogram -I shadowed her triangle -I upturned his square
You know this room With its that's correct walls and of course floors and keepsake on the bedside table and the bed with this colour and sort of headboard Still there gathering dust and the echoes of the three out of five thousand discussions still floating around like a slightly rubber cloud Telling the accused and aforementioned about life and love and the god hiding in the garden It can never be too wrong if you’re applying honesthetics
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If you don't give people something to live for, they'll find something to die for | |||