Dig deep poet;
You too reader;

Commandment One:

Both must obsess to possess,
Air the curvature of each line
shape with two hands, creasing and
no ceasing not till the air waves have filled
your flushed face with compressed comprehensions

You weep as you compose!
Good!
The well of tears where hid
the pool of emotions
in cavernous reservoirs
in the center of your
gravity,
needs a daily tapping,
a draining, a purification,
a quenching sweet and
raucous

where you dig, salted water will come

in the soiled, imperial but imperfect body/mind cappuccino,
there are swirls of treasures, sins and histrionics
that need discovery, expiation, expulsion,
when~then, object is surgically removed,
accept surging water will desoil,
and you can revel
in the revelation
of honest effort

Debate Commencement:

reveal, which, what and how
much, how much? how much?
(this reverbs)
what must be shared,
what must be reburied,
what must be refuted,
what must be reconstructed,
refurbished,
and what must be
demolished & deconstructed

ah, but as soul judge,
you hold yourself to a higher standard,
but in all of this but two constraints rule:

the quality of the recalled data,
the quantity of storage space delimitation

do not tease us with rivulets, nor bury
us under thunderous rushes of memories
spilling and cresting with a reek of abandon,
unless, you’re abandoning the memory en tout,
giving us your newly orphaned all innermost,
then, we must accept the product of your labor,
whether it be spoiled fruit or glorious
                            truth

Tuesday Apr 16
8:32AM
(the year of pollard, a/k/a 2024)

All of your music is in my head
So today I’m listening to streets you don’t walk
And people you don’t talk to
I’m hearing nothing but your voice
So today I’m talking over it
With no hopes I won’t bore it
I’m turning your fumes into flowers
Your screams that are fueling my noisy head
I’m walking faster and farther
And you are filling in a grave you dug yourself

So many thoughts
Not shared

So many words
Not read

So much music
Not heard

So much beauty
Not seen

So much time
WASTED!

A corpse maybe
You being here
Sometimes not
When I call out,
your name echoes.
When you reach out,
my voices take heed.
You are dead sometimes
You are there sometimes
But a corpse most times.