Nation part 1
He was hound dawged
Sweated
Mud in his eye
But red, similar the color of cherries
His load
Delusions of grandeur -carried in a burlap sack
eclipsed the threshold a Moon before his person
Lumbering
And foul
Grunt and whiskeyed breath
Enough to make a small one dizzy ...
Enough to clear the front of house with only a hint of his mood
The Sioux boiled beneath his grip
Mud like lava caked his expression
The man had seen War
But not enough
Not enough
Only a little..
A promise incomplete
His War had been a nursery rhyme
Full of..
Barnyard animals
****** with anthropomorphism
Machete held by pigs paw
Rebel yells that quacked
And so he entered the threshold
(Sanctuary actually)
Hulk and mass inescapable
And indescribable in regards to appetite
(Though I will try)
As said ..
The Sioux boiled beneath his grip
Exposing the ancestry beneath his skin Monks hood
I think ..
Something lovely
And deadly
And I certainly feel..
worthwhile
Dec 27, 2021
Dec 27, 2021 at 1:06 AM UTC
A tree
I was once God smacked by a Sunset
Who’s fingertips dripped orange and pinks into the inky tips of evergreens
A master work of feeling
And blue ball empathy
The longing displayed in nature
A supernatural as I gazed onward
And understood
Phenomenon
Phenomenally
I waltz and dance and tip toe underneath a shine gone spastic
Stars that would scatter all for me
And would shed their light upon a face
Curving lips over a strong chin that held ...
The ever promise of a kiss
The furlong promise of a No
I doubled down on this.
Hot and miss as I danced into the spray ..
on my face and **** and tummy
More I cried for his sunset
Into the ink of my evergreen
Pinks and oranges puddled onto
The tap root of my Forrest
Dec 3, 2021
Dec 3, 2021 at 7:42 PM UTC
Slow
Dance to graves ..
to Rogers and Waters
And Dens of Uniquity
To moments a capsule
Instantaneous
The spread
Poison or living
It does not matter...
but into the marrow
It’s seeping
Into the marrow
Through concubine flesh
Through
Flesh and bones ..
To marrow
A harrowing beat..
by Rogers and Waters
The lamp light still comes pleading
To garnish the cheeks of thin women wearing musk
Men in hats and dark ..
Dance to graves..
rivers among men
Dance to graves at once.
Nov 11, 2021
Nov 11, 2021 at 3:45 PM UTC
Self run (Riot)
I walk
6 feet tall
All of me
(I have been told I lead with my ****** it is unintentionally ****** forward if I do. My head is usually in the clouds. I’m assuming my ***** is too. Once I think about it . .. I’m away to something else. Figuratively and literally. I guess If my ****** leads, I soon follow.)
All of me
5 foot 9
And 6 feet tall
My perfume
Hubris
But at most I’m self aware
At least
I’m oblivious
It wafts around
At 6 feet
High
(I have been told I look like Debbie Harry, I prefer Chrissy Hynde, but Debbie Harry will do. Especially on those one shoe Sunday morning afters. Even then I douse myself O! DAY! Perfumed. Pride and all of its bilingual manifestations)
At
6 feet tall
I’ll take you to Church
O! Faced
(A man once once winked at me and said; Jennifer I’m going to take you to church. He meant a good **** Or intended a phenomenal one.. regardless, I took him. I usually do. Jennifer the pew.)
Straight up
No inclination
6 feet tall
Baller
Oct 20, 2021
Oct 20, 2021 at 8:45 AM UTC
Behind Bandana and Cloak
Where it holds value
Like ampoules of placebo
But sugar and water and hope
Driven in
An intoxicating swoosh
****** in, currents
That run down the American dream
A big brawny man with spike and hammer
Pounds determination into steel
With breathe heaving spit
Electrolytes draining from brow
Below the furrow a face the shape
Of white molten mud
Labor belts harmony with his spike
Ping
Ping
The placebo takes the rhythm of faith
Ping
Until the morning grace ....
An affluent nature would give him no title
Only stock in trade
The worth of his back
And it is broad
But where it holds value ..
might and vigorously hoping
And these you know,
Are the important things
What we reach for
Beyond capability
Behind the red fade
Of cotton hand me down things
Before time drops forgotten
From the hems of pockets riddled with holes
Ping and
Ping
The mend
In his bounty
Amen
Amen
Sep 18, 2021
Sep 18, 2021 at 1:29 AM UTC
The Stone
I hold it
Hot hot
In my hand
My eyes shoot
In Axis Mundi
Ever opposite
It’s grounding source
However similar
It’s everlong
Time imprinted
Held snug
My eyes
To the stars
Like this diamond
Chrysalis
Of Chrystaline
Hot hot
In my hand
My eyes shoot
Im Axis Mundi
Beyond the heat
Axis of Petdition
.............,,,,,.
Sep 6, 2021
Sep 6, 2021 at 12:01 AM UTC
****** Hornets
I have been feeling,
Of late ...
that the ****** Hornets have missed us by miles
And they are sure shot
Tangle with the most like daggers
Leaving an Unkindness of Ravens
Furrowed brow
(If they’d had any)
Over eyes
Narrowed in on outlines in chalk
But figments and scatter
Shadow people
Who stand and walk away
Under the cover of bold sun
It might just be okay.. ..
The newspaper green at its memory
When pages had fluttered from
Martyr
To
Martyr
Worst to worst
Might the best reman?
I feel of late it might have been
A narrow miss
An allegorical
Cause and escape
Whether the cage door pried?
Weather
It matters
The Sunshine be bold on backs
That once crawled and drew a curious flock
Un shadowing arms
That once held the hands of clocks
Aug 22, 2021
Aug 22, 2021 at 10:38 PM UTC
To see this highway,
And a vision beyond it
Beside it .. running along like threads that hold the keep
Dirt roads that come to the middle and end
A front door open ,
And shut a thousand times and holding its secrets still..
In my rear view ,
And front.
A haze of dust collected there
My eyes are wide against rest.
A yellow line will spin out hours ahead of me before they find comfort and closure against a pillow
.And the moon and stars make work of my imagination.
Residuals and lasting impressions dust my dreams.
Scorched coffee (pause)
Sugared bites,
And the road I travelled ,
Well economies.
Not glimpses into the usual, or typical
Exactly,...
but glances towards an American Gothic.
Perhaps even the Abraham of the streets
(Long thoughtful pause and deep pull of a Redbull)
Would I stoop to consider these,
Remove myself from self titled Shaman of the Netherlands ...
and dive deeeep into the Delta.
Musky scent of both decay and renewal,
Let it be heady.
Let it fly fast into downed windows through fingertips extended and waving through the wind.
Learn by feeling and leaving ...
experience.
But no intent on living there.
Aug 8, 2021
Aug 8, 2021 at 11:35 PM UTC
It has served some purpose
My human being
My strength in episodic reach
The collaborative effect
Come pheromones to nostrils
That rounds pupils
Breaking out in embrace
Skin to skin for a moment
Though it might chance souls touching
My human being alive
Being proud of her show
Being far beyond anything she once hoped to have appeared
In the other minds eye
Let alone ..
daily plans
Breakfast
The normalcy of toast and butter, jelly
And knowing exactly how we like each other's eggs prepared
Discrepancies the thickness of yolk
Minor and shades of yellow like discourage
It was un brave of us to fear the trembling
....
But so very human being of us to begin the act
....
So very
And on and on
This comfortable horizon
....
So very human being
Jun 6, 2021
Jun 6, 2021 at 2:21 PM UTC
Iced In
I am almost certain this house is shrinking
I have begun to watch heavy mouth breathers as if they were mine canaries
And have duct taped down the stove tops
so that no Cabbage or Salmon or other viscous pungency invades what’s left of my senses
Last night I slept on the couch for a change of scenery in which to dream
My dreams have become complacent
I wish they contained urges like mine
I feel they hold to investment in my desires
My longings are being held hostage by a man in a boring brown suit who would never dare try and pull off a black fedora
He can only move me
By a rope and pulley system
It feels unnatural
Without the odd pleasures of the surreal
This environment suffocates my ability to self stimulate
My imagination bounces off of four grey walls who’s ugliness is approaching like a step sister
She creeps towards me and scuffs her shoes
She breathes heavily and I eyeball her impending fall
Surely this storm will be the bounce house death of me
By body splayed out in an un natural position to chalk around on rainbow colored parachute fabric
I hope I allow the look on my face to say it all
Feb 18, 2021
Feb 18, 2021 at 2:22 PM UTC