WHEN THERE IS NOTHING LEFT TO DO

There is nothing left to do:

games of fever,
we pondered A meaing…

life was never enough
and
time was always expressed
subjectively,
as if EVE
created the snake and apple.

a culmination of Greek love—
dying,
for lack of knowledge.

Even the locals
seem to have forgotten
their own language.

All three.

Eros, Philia, Agape:
transliterations…

…saddened memory,

sent off burning
in-to the sea
with foreign relics

and a forgotten past.

There is nothing left to do. 

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ST. STREET

…underneath an overgrown consciousness, shaded for and by the self…

affluent difference,
amongst astrologers,

is never 100% logical.

objects change
by and for A
            rotational, switch—

flying south for winter,
remembering a feeling of excitement
regarding the leap:

above ground

before

descending

upon

a neat pile of
recently raked
leaves.

SWAMP POLITICS – A poetic rejection of our political reality

i want a seat[1] among the politicians—
            most often mistaken for voice.

i have credentials, but no hall[2] pass.

you’ve[3] stripped me of everything except a “debt” card;

trust me—I know I owe you[4]

half a step away from finishing exoneration
             or articulating the smell of shit…

 I find myself pleased by not paying you.

 Who would?…conversations leaked to the extent – –        sh! sh! sh!

 (PAUSE)

…a bullet to the head may feel better than the truth.

 Here is A truth,[5] literally:

find me, hunt me and torture me[6] while allowing for the moment to re-create the best fiction you have forsaken for ________________.[7]….

 …no one but yourselves…

 …only – ON – principal….

 

 


[1] voice

[2] credentials

[3] the current “ephemera” our political structure evokes

[4] nothing

[5] amongst many…(i.e. if they were all [meaning individual articulated truths] allowed to play together naturally one may find the cheerfulness requires no law as we know it today in The United States of America).

[6] I prefer a forlorn death

[7] infinite adjectives of abjection 

in.SIDE.out

you whispered to me,
shivering in my naked arms.

down again—underwater,
engulfed in another’s insecurity.

turn me inside out.

tear half the inside out
and leave it out,
eternally.

underwater sound is different:
dynamism actualized.

PORTMANTEAU

Image

white clouds of water,
stirring me ginger.

“Tell me the size of those motors.
            Please,
            sir.”

steering away from coastal disparities,
one happens upon
a clock.

time is china,
smelling of jasmine

and the cicadas have the stage. 

Un Do Me

IMG_2255

For tomorrow and the rest of your life….

tormented by a Marxist intuition
while simultaneously
hating the Platonic effect
            of Marxism.

(if children can’t become acquainted with archeology everyone will remain undone)

Socialism is dead;
capital has won.

However, Bartleby decided to eat
and is parading around town
while on parole.

BEYOND3

Image

chase me while asleep,
prevailing all disclosure—
       keeping it simply complicated
       in order to remember the effect of memory.

toss me in the stream,
arousing the child within—
       rendering me prior to speech
       in order to remember the affect of language.

switch me on and switch me off
while never forgetting to hold me in-between.