Beyond passion we embrace the dark
A bodiless bliss as we make our mark
Temptations tease, even want becomes need
Fulfillments fulfilled, even pleasures are pleased
We draw to the surface the quickening quench
Bathe in the purposeful fingertip stench

We lurk in the shadows cast by the meek
Who have inherited a world ruled by deceit...
With the wisdom of ages to guide our flight
We exist unnoticed under cover of night
We live for love yet hate sets us free
We search for truth in a world deceived

A simple twitch of an eye reveals a white lie
The calming of a heart as a nagging fear subsides
All is still as the dawn peaks the tranquil hour
Blinding rays of solar death seek evil to devour

Yet we are safe and sound from such a demon trap
When the forces of nature consummate our final path
Yet beware of such freewill that leads to new sin
For we are all mere mortals that fear an end...

i pray in time, friend,
that this you understand,

that it has to be my sweetest displeasure
and yet my most unjust liberty

to tell you that every quiet passing
along a young and hopeful causeway

was almost gladly spent finding,
some how or another . . .

    every day new to discover you over and again,
    so to drink in with haste the strange august nectar
    and draw into my lungs the sovereign aura

    that drift from your autumn eyes.
  
    how to hold and to press gently your hands
    just a moment more between mine in a way
    that kisses with, in consummate balance,

    a firm allowance and a free imperative.

    how to mold, to sculpt, to shape
    my habitual pining over your subtle forms
    into an simple, ever green, professant blessing

    a splendid, deep down, ours religion.

    how to capture your innocent stargaze
    in the longing embrace of my own
    so that for one moment so perfectly brief

    we were one great blossoming cosmos.

    how to be one who aligns our beating royal suns
    who calms our winters and ignites our summers
    who dances and dies in the storms and the fires

    that splash from your glimmering eyes.

    how to be whom you adore until the requiem day
    when our confessional breasts swell and crash in the cascading sand
    to the sonorous beat of a final splendid rapturous breathtaking harmonious

                    Yes.

    as fury and ecstasy ripple and bound
    in our lush fantastical burial ground.
    as our progenies daydream of kingdoms to come
    and sing with an amorous hymn on their tongues.

yes, and so it has been now for days and for tides
that my latent creations in whatever measures
those passions, when sparked and then quenched in an instant
are no more or less than my sweetest displeasures.

-- 1 --


He has a need to expend his seed: it is a never-ending endeavour, the smack of wood against leather. In the hot rush to consummate his love he must burn a more energy-rich depravity -- must look for a certain seriousness, a gravity. Right now he is past the ‘whores’ and the ‘hos’, “just girls,” he says, “just girls pretending to be women pretending to be sluts,” and he wants to see real girls naked and ashamed and cutting themselves for money. He gets off on the very idea of people deforming themselves for his pleasure.



-- 2 --


Here he is, being driven by his car. At each corner he sees girls huddled together, sharing warmth. Their lips are locked in thin lines of glamour and they swap his salty substances without even the slightest tremor of desire. At their waists they hold daggers, levelled at each other’s bellies. All the better to cut out the cancer of pregnancy.




-- 3 --


His vices have turned to hate. So equanimous before, so confidential with his needs: now he does not just implore his occasional dates with the soft sad pressure of his bulging eyes; now he asks direct. “Dance for me,” he says, in the privacy of his own filth. “No, sexier,” he exhorts, imagining the first virgin excitations caused by an unspeakably illegal piece of jailbait. He blames them for having bodies that do this to him. He blames them.



-- 4 --


He blames them.

distance brought by greed
and a fatal misdirection
an alterior motive drops in time, likewise
we connect by lines
easily drowned out by the tone of her voice
decisions that she made
changes my lungs
changes the air
volatile air
what did you say?

my mistake, your waste
try and stop harrassing fate
while connecting these two names
your mistake, my waste
were the breaths that i had lost
singing of your crooked lines
in chorus you could not ignore

a lip gloss defeat
but i'll never admit
that the way you move is so suspicious
the words you say are so delicious
i can't defeat all my vices
i'll always at least have one

my mistake, your waste
try to quit harrassing fate
while connecting these two names
your mistake, my waste
were the breaths that i had lost
singing of your crooked love
in chorus you could not ignore

lost in my disguise
i start to draw from discard piles
just to guage reactions

since wishes prove me nothing
action is the only way
to keep my head above her deep, disturbing wake
follow for days
cold and like a fevered skin
i'll keep the others in
mattered fact, spoken words
and the patter of tiny feet will make together last
just say...

my mistake, your waste
try to quit harrassing fate
while connecting these two names
your mistake, my waste
were the breaths that i had lost
singing of your crooked love
in chorus you could not ignore

Ah, summer!
Summertime is ever my favourite, indeed;
with charms t'at are inadequate,
with promises not rich enough,
for my love is even wealthier t'an which!
Oh! But still, a summer garden
is a warming delight to my sights;
it is a living soul to me,
it pats my shoulder and smiles at me,
it sings to me and write me-
a delicate night-time lullaby!
Ah, so sweet and enigmatic
is our beloved summertime,
as it for ever always is;
With leaves t'at canst talk,
flowers t'at canst think,
and clever blossoms
that canst charm
and sway about so prettily
Back and forth,
Beneath and behind me;
O, and perhaps lips
t'at canst promise
Some surge of happiness;
Yes, happiness-vacant happiness,
Happiness t'at is our abode,
and for us only-to dwell in;
Though whose self is still beyond thought
and canst be delicately seen
only from a thousand miles away
from 'ere; o, dear happiness!
Wherefore be thou-come 'ere!
Come 'ere-o, light of my dim light,
fire of my shy fire!
Come 'ere, o dearest!
Flirt with and tease me;
touch and taunt me;
'Till I am but immersed
in thy evil charm, thy evil charm;
Whilst soaked in thy greedy eyes,
Consummate and make me whole,
delude and corrupt me,
but make me forget not
my very own intimate voice;
With a love that I want to kiss,
within a glory I should rejoice.
Stab and murder me!
Make things blissful a tragedy;
but a glossy tragedy-as thy soul may be;
And be I, the happiest ghost in th' world;
roses are my tongue, lilies are my mouth;
cherries my breath, berries my death;
But on top of all, my dear,
Their blooms my satiation,
Frivolous, ye' stupendous as it is,
Ah, my salvation, health, and incarnation!
And comest to me once more;
Love me and care for me
Like never before;
just like I hath cared and be cared for,
make my feelings sure,
find a cure to my foul longing,
And be my sole angel of bliss
Like when I am lost again today;
Tend to me with thy singing so sweet-
As when I love; as I hath ever dreamed.

You Know.
You love to feel. Really feel.
Not all that pony phony excrement.
NO
I want to feel. I want to flow.
And now I can.
No longer does my mind win/
Now I am free to lose my body to my surroundings.
To listen to the rhythm of my cells, the rhythm of my blood.
My heart beats
and I listen.

Harmonize the sentiments.
Float on the the synchronicity.
Extricate the energy
vibrating     pulsating    reverberating            Charge.

Tinge with respite. Ignite the tinder
of my uninhibited beauty. EXPLODE in oneirostatic luminance
Leave your brain, but find your body.
And with them find your self, finding them. E
vaporate, into infinite    Tactation.
         Consummate the Sensations of your wordless soul.
What we cannot express with our words we express with our skin.

See me. Feel me. Touch me. Feel me.

Lick the tentacles in my pores.
Suck the mandibles from my constant bite wounds.
The seed of intertwining life sought through the seed of the lymnescate.
Transference

Note to my plural self: Listen to my thoughts more often,
especially when they don't come from my head.

Rhythms carry time. Flow rhythms water the timewave. Grow rivers find the groove. DANCE the current and find the      soothing     bedrock    rootscape.
Find it with your ultimate states of dissolution.
Find it and it will carry you.
Find it and explode.

EXTRICATE EUPHORIA

California highway buzzes and the searing sun shines on the beach towel as I stroke Walt Whitman's beard
Transcendent and alive, but dead, still dead as my brother and his brothers, the 19th Century posse
We know the world better than them but are less learned, as the schools are a failure
and the business is us, but not the same as the industrial business of yesteryear
We are here to consume, consume and as we're dying of consumption , we consume more.

Alcohol, cars, phones and laptops, tablets, tablets, pills and more pills, condoms, liquor, booze and brews, women, men, more women, more men, razors, lasers, heaters, coolers, snacks, rucksacks, ex lax and nick-knacks. They sell us dreams and nightmares, movies and bomb scares, they sell us news by the hour and power as they exert their own power. They give us gifts and incentives, draw us in so they they can stick us with a pin or a bracelet, and we too can sell to our friends on group hangs or as we stand still listening to our favourite bands. Billboards scream for our attention, or the buses stop at the intersection, and we're supposed to open our little phone and buy whatever is advertised. Why? Y?

They call us the Y generation too, why? Perhaps we ask the question  too much, perhaps we haven't asked enough. Perhaps the X generation simply ponder why we are so consumed with the technology they feed us. Why? Why must they question us, when we are the next great generation, we do laugh at that too. The internet is the new religion, bow down before Google and drink from the pixelated chalice, my child. Any question one could need answering is answered by the internet. The Bible is irrelevant in our society, burn it and download a bible app on the latest smartphone, the Qur'an too, hell, try the Tanakh, the Smriti and the Pāli Canon, for we are enlightened God Damn It. And we want more.

somenonamesarcasticasshole@yahoo.com
RE:PARTY TONIGHT!!!!!

Hey yo mane some warehouse downtown has this dubstep DJ from like fucking Iraq or some shit. cum down, gonna be hella bitches there
xo

What music do you like?
All of it
Films?
All of them
TV
I don't own one but I watched every episode of The Wire on Netflix
...
I am a pansexual being riding the ever changing dunes of the Sahara, like so many great poets before me.

Digital immigrants and immigrants of empathy too
How serious do you believe us to be?
I am not using sarcasm as a form of wit for I have no wit.
Stoicism and rejection of education, employment and training.
We surly are the neatest generation, how can we make a mess if we are not awake most days?
Save for the endless party that is life, as we throw used glow sticks at women we desire
and vomit over car windows before getting blown on the lawn

lol dat wuz cray last nite
xo

Die young poets we have no desire for your kind, pacify us with Kerouac and Ginsberg so that we may emulate intelligence and impair the senses, for we care not about the real world either
Our world is the only one that exists, yours will soon crumble
We have trained for the end with extensive views of zombie flicks in coffee houses

@SomeFacelessJerk Follow for follow

Hey OP, you are a faggot.
Why yes, yes I am. Does that bother you.
No, OP. You see I too am a faggot.

Do away with your hurtful words they have no meaning today
White man died and lost control of his precious dictionary
We are here to save language by replacing all vowels with X's and O's
We are here to consume and in turn consummate this marriage,
the marriage of ignorance and bliss.