For------

For -------

Great sage,
the soil will nourish you
& your Christ-birth
into eternity,

Knowing how life begat life,
mind-vessels will be inferior and
submissive.
Holding grass, the coarse pieces will
set themselves ablaze,
sucking ash from every crevice,
the distant dust drifting clinging
to solid and slush,
dispensing every ripple from ripple
thru atomic yelp!

Never-mind
going past affluent embodiments
of cynical longing,
naiveté wet-dreams of green death,
the iron industry phallic of progress,
raping the arched bough of eternity.
Underpass psalms of salvation,
Edisons electric crucifixion:
glory be to the great grid!
Clenching the ink bubble of clouds,
reclaiming shattered earth, to offer piece
by piece to the sky.

Mind heavy with the frost of abstraction.

II.
The magic jazz, Coltrane couldn’t palm
heaven quick enough to catch faint scents.
Illusions of smoky high C#,
Christ incognito raising kings and queens,
diamond torn against jacks heart,
stranger to the broken pillars of
Philadelphia,
underground change passing thru…
snap to ancient beats,
self propelled forward,
burning traces,
angelic prophets between the barbed wire,
scrawled words, and the crown of thorns
itself.

Alliteration Nation Will Lose Control

Alliteration Nation Will Lose Control

Cataclysmic conclusions condescendingly compel creation,
contradiction and conditioning continuing cycles of carelessness,
until complex controls cease to captivate and concur.
Consequently, I struggle with these strange idioms
and thus fall into:

omniscient outlining observations
ovulating outrageous onslaughts of outside
organisms overruling ongoing outputs.

Still,
I am…
neglecting no one,
never-the less nothing nor no one nourishes
my narcissistic neurotic neurosis, napping
noisily non-conformable at my self.

Though, this tight translucent
turbulent tide tricks
this thought, turning truth
to trepidation, tripping
this transcendentalist to
trust truth.

Really,
Really?
Really realizing rational revolution revolves round
ricocheting righteously,
requesting, rethinking, reshaping and replacing
this “Rison de arte”

Only with onslaughts of outlandish ongoing oft-misplaced orgasmic origins,

will we ever:
Lovingly lose this lacerated lost lion of
longitude and latitude,
letting loving kindness leap!

Laughter and Communion

Laughter

When she laughs, it’s an odd cackle,
loud and vulgar.
Even the air feels violated
for being exposed to it.
When she walks, you will hear the
industrial age cough and choke.
When she spits onto the ground
time flies by,
and nobody notices.
O’ beautiful:
you sleep on walls, holding the thread of life/
haphazardly, with your heart towards heaven,
and your skin towards dust,
and you expect my gratitude?
Numbly she dances, nimble and sincere,
…I know this is her,
and not that violent laughter.

Communion

Intro: Somehow I am always caught
between Zen and my narcissistic self.

Stepping outside I grabbed
the wind and shook it furiously
in my hand; and when it yelped,
I exposed my palm and set it free.

Sat down and saw God anxiously pacing
these streets, chain smoking,
rubbing his bare feet deep into the gravel,
leaving a trail of blood where he walked.
So, I ran to the street, bowed down
and licked the pavement.
Swiftly, a bird flew down and whispered into my ear:
“That’s God you’re eating.”
I looked up and saw a brilliant flash of light….


The lesson:
Just sitting will show you more than
moving in circles.

Big Bang (Go Boom)

Big Bang (Go Boom)

I.
I am scratching beneath the soil,
to search for what can not be named.
My television seared strange halos
into my skin, and it’s distracting me.
Deep in I see:
life is circling,
spreading its’ carbon waste
in a thick pool,
we wait to drink from.
So I walk for miles,
empty cup in my hand,
waiting for you to fill it.
I craw with open
hands and mouth,
waiting to taste it.

II.
I will lick the filth from the ground,
and attain God, because unlike you:
I am searching.

I Lay naked in the embrace of the gentle earth.

III.

The posts are screaming ashes from their bases!
Rising seductively from itself, and the silence
is shrieking!
Shaking itself madly over the soil,
we collapse, confused & confined,
(waiting to hold)
and our hands like rubber, just form (and we sigh).

I want to rub this into me,
breath and eat because:
I am the big bang,
and this infinite sense is both ugly & beautiful,
and we are still trying to hold/ this is still strange.

…I am writing simply because I am afraid of running out of ink.

Alarm Clock and Brooklyn

Alarm Clock

Let us begin,
realization of revelations,
static, stoic, and impatient,
Understand the individuals
perception is just that,
shade and tone,
the bleak machine rattle of progress,
unfolding perilously,
disguised by loquacious euphemisms.
Surely heaven must cry ink tears &
write in blotches to be discovered by
the patient,
surely this incessant buzz will be
the source of awakening,
like an alarm clock for us all.

Brooklyn

With ageless eyes,
& long beard sweating proverbial
flat top wailing!
W/ no mind in the Bowery,
egg spiked children between the thickness.
And days! Oh, days of underground
meditation, listening to wild announcements
begging for change,
slight whims,
cereal spit between yawns and long divides,
Newark’s detox skyline,
angelic loves,
pushing the excrement through sobbing birth eyes,
grain fields rough from the industrial plague.

Drunk Sunrise

Drunk Sunrise

Oh what a glorious innocuous sense we breath!
Hanging from signs til’ they bend to the streets,
and out of sight!
In this concrete jungle
only water is free,
so I go back to the point of forms and become:
formless.

Last night I gave into
my strange friend, leading me
from this warm worn mattress, and colored tubes
feeding my relentless hypochondriac self,
and I spun the age old yarn,
blissfully, til’ direction imploded,
and I grew sick and spat myself into
the warm arms if summer repeatedly,
til’ drifting I saw strange illuminations in this self.
Now, I sit recalling all,
to spin like the spiders cryptic web,
each strand holding the sum of my parts,
waiting and dangling from tenement rooms,
lit by cathartic cigarettes, and this sense of…
awe!
And flowing wine,
the constant hum of electric fans cutting
thru the thick heat, while I cut through the
thickness of the self I am struggling to
eradicate.

Yet the soft silhouette of
reflected street lights
fighting to claim the skies
from eternal sun, are beginning to crack!
And the staccato hack of global lust is settling
with a sigh, and feet are
again digging into the
awkward wet soil, as
spines straighten to its lackluster touch.
And this spinning slows to a translucent calm,
my body/self drifting to the edge of nothing,
settling like dust after the storm,
here to watch and wait again.