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Mumblings and/or Poetry, Late Summer 2014 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
Epitaph Failure Tastes like outer space gone deeply wasted dirt and out a wet black sound beating the hide of a tanned conscience hung out to pasture after a busy summer now spending your time fearing for heaven
the unexplained lords over us all stuck under the table with all the plastic neon coloured fantasies a plague on all your knick-knacks
Whatever you think I see in the cracks and shadows that descend upon this room in the early morning hours is horribly misguided and ultimately incorrect
Things are looking up For there is snow in Berlin
There's no hatred like spurned love hatred
Too tough to eat, too young to die
The right amount of insane
Numbers don't lie but people lie about numbers
-the ritual abuse of common sense the uncouth relegating technique
You're only as strong as your next breath Only the living blame the dead We are very particular about the vacuums we abhor.
turn off the zeroes huddling around the stone campfire fooled by desperation shadows of animals picking awkward bones out of their teeth right in front of me no reason to point out the sun's been going backwards all this time I survived the arrows in the coarse yellow forest why can't you?
making lists with newspaper scraps for the insufferable back room dogs taking into account their broken bottles and promises sending bills to cold deep bank account waters it's all action and no quiet reflection of the secret canvases spat onto bleak white walls I explained the differences between here and now why can't you?
eighteen dizzy lapdogs drooling soft words over your freshly dislocated shoulder the smell of rotting garbage seems to start in your lungs a stubborn mess from the very inside out back again so perfectly we were wrong about the journey we actually never left our jailers sewed fake souvenirs I accept that two weeks off can't change our fate why can't you?
handing out endless beaches like swaying palm leaves and hollowed out coconuts were the only way to stop the bombs tear gas and baby blood in sewer drains spun like fancy cocktails it's only happening on the other side of the streets turning a half blind eye and raising up stigmatized hands we bring down the best planes with mirrors I paid the judges off in feral children why can't you?
It Was A Dark And Stormy Night It was a dark and stormy night until I turned it off. I reached behind the rain and unhooked the precipitory drapes. I unplugged the grand old stereo wearing thick rubber gloves. I rolled up the night and stuffed it under the already crowded bed.
An accomplice to someone fucking up lamely is nothing worth shouting about So slink away away and unseen young and ugly what you knew has been sold for scrap and it didn't get much it's not like siren sounds sound any better underage you've got the same simple grin that bored the statutes to tear
dumping on your chickenshit bereavement I don't know exactly what I'm screwing up but I know it's something I couldn't think if you paid me Too bored for nihilism these are the middle times squinting hard trying to see the end will just get you a headache so get yourself into a half-assed slouch bunch up the soiled panties that have been gathering dust in three of the four corners of the room
three steps behind like it's the only way to dance making money by pulling up your pants a spectacular farce in the halls of power and no one can tell the difference everyday is just another one i'm trying to remember the way you feel using memory as fuel to get me over the hill that blocks the wrong side of the tracks It wouldn't kill me to be a bit friendlier, but it would really be annoying. Working every day to get you wetter to fuck you better
Right About Disorder You are right about disorder This is a mockery of a fraud An outright meritocracy Led on my stringent fingers Playing bent hopscotch with pleasant information
I dont even have a gaggle of dum dum boys Who could be used as paragons of made to suffer vice fucking virtue With all the healthy excuses and scratching noise With the missing contraptions against the hands that support you
Toil toil Play the foil Ride out til the new path arrives Run run Before night comes So that your scattered hope survives
If youre wondering about the time youve come to the right place Where have you been around? It was the sound that caught you Weve all burnt out on the visuals So it had to be something else You gave off the scent of overboard excuses Under the dark light of the interrogator All I want from you is to stop suffering There is a serious crack in the morning
Fender Bangin'
fender bangin Elfin denim shorts on a hot late spring day Theres water on them there smooth as daisy thighs I am across every aisle just a batted eye away
fender bangin A sun so bright its against the hardest laws Theres someone letting skin talk with careful whys On a dawdling Sunday you shed your stone flaws
fender bangin' It all gets clean and eventually thaws It smells like a finer solution Fitting right between the tenacious claws
fender banging' getting an early tan on almost leather laying back on cheap outdoor couches if you don't care you can ignore the weather
fender bangin' passing around dark rum in a silver flask making decisions through a sighing liver who cares if the grog removes or adds a mask
fender bangin' in burnt endless parking lots smoking cheap cigarettes down to the filter and deciding the war between the haves and have nots
Excuses Plus Excuses Smart but with no real skills I need to get out here Forget excitement and heart-stopping thrills Ill settle for a quiet clear
your blood is simply relative the meanings you grip need terrific care it's not a matter of what will live but the sacrifices made to get there
Were all going to die of fucking whatever Failing our children in all kinds of weather Reaching blindly for the cellular phone Anything for us to feel less alone
A tolerance for special parasite penalties Theres a flood of edits rapping boldly on your door One less word gives you one more day But fewer words means a stronger grey
Starving the fat of the land It may take a thousand days And go wrong in a million ways Cast ones gaze to the blue skies And promises beyond the hows and whys To turn the grasses into sand
Excuses plus excuses The laziness seduces Replace them Repay them Reduce them Replay them
Escape them Enjoy them Erase them Employ them Excuses plus excuses Will make us all recluses
The Controller He made kings and unmade kings He saved the land and brought it pestilence He betrays no one and everyone His price is nothing and everything He knows that too much truth is the greatest lie He leads armies into battle and burns them from behind He owns nothing and so owns everything The only goal is life life and more life
A late form of circumnavigation Obligatory to the ghosts and one foot in the gravers There has to be a well scrubbed plan to pass the horn without giving up too much of the book A siren like a cold poison dirt guitar
Where do you store your regrets or do you pay someone to take them off your hands When you finally collect your bets Are they drowning half stuck in the twilight sands
haggling out the core issue calling off bathroom breaks tipping big on the spinal tissue cross referencing their mistakes
I make the new rules when the rest of you are sleeping Dreaming of ways to break the old ones Passed out roles on the cold hardwood floor Butcher baker and the communications service analyst All hung over on picket fence memories and black angus skies
Eons this is the force that should have gorged on the oldest rocks missing its chance with orbital navel gazing keeping its lazy eye on the smaller prizes that evaporate with the mid-summer sun burning through glaciers to gasp inside zen big tops as all the answers do somersaults over broken glass nets close to the chest as it gives blood milk and technical ecstasy as dangerous as a cactus shadow puddles that don't even know their points ignorance sluices into the cracks and life simply shrugs itself into the light putting too much stock on a purpose left in the fog with the keys still in the ignition but the engine replaced by an empty pinata it's a laugh a minute riot if you have a broken watch twice a day is never enough for the virility of youth and the futility of the ages random as much as the grassy fields or windswept tundra will permit mutations out of context aren't mutations at all and love gets caught in the wrong set of teeth and is placed in a mislabelled jar fighting the future with pointed sticks and a terrible tongue calling for a quick re-group when the wind picks up and the going gets tough forgetting how bad it was way back when since we've romanticized it all to keep our tomorrows in check slipping off the tilting plain as we final get the backdoor numbers right making a case for the game until we're all out of time only liars and fools said we never had enough roll up and smoke the credits
electric rush bunnies failsafe is there less tough breakdowns headlines for those as time eats there were pillars with fresh damnations inhale again with knowledge pressing and acting sickly in cleaned assortments roughing all the incendiary bits of it The machine for everything Runs on quarters of the soul A filleting of the crippling stare Right across the warm underbelly A herculean blot on the record Staining even the distant past A careful assuming of stunned statistics Holding up the fallow concentration
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What if the assholes you knew in high school grew up to be cops, CEOs, and politicians? | |||