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partly cloudy,
partly sunny,
clearly an indecisively
partly day,
bored, the heavens organized
a garden party, sky above,
eclectic crowd,
minted mixed,
party of partly
clouds, wind, sun rays,
summer showers and somehow,
I got partly invited...

but not partly windy,
no, entirely gusty

a workingman's breeze,
all grown up, full strength
has driven the good folk inside,
tho sailboats are entouraging fully,
just me and them in
Red Sea parting, a full blow,
unmistakably encouraging partying,
while under the influence
of white line snorting poetry

what is this partly poem doing?

receiving or bringing,
like the swirly gusts,
empowered but direction unknown,
I am partly confused,
I am partly clarified

lacking the metaphor skill,
he says to himself,
and to the over-hearers,
part with me not!

for I am partly this and that,
looking for reconciliation
of my accounts in full,
and will rely on your guidance
to seal the beams, patch the cracks,
write the parts of me that
you shall connect and declare
in one voice, unified

Will you?
4am
4am
Knows everything
4am has seen me naked
Crying alone
Maybe once  on someone’s shoulder
4am
Has seen me dancing, happy mind wrapped in intoxication

In the cold light of morning
We are the most honest beasts
Before the day is calling
Faces are grey, soul is clear.

4am
You sleep through it
Bed toasty warm
Whose body is it with you
Dreaming with you through storm?

4am
Got me an A in history
4am
Showed me the most beautiful sunrises
Pushed me into Morpheus arms
At 4am
There are no disguises.
Can’t help the way I feel right now.

Can’t pull out a chair for these emotions
or offer a jacket,
can’t catch it if it falls
can’t build walls to protect,
or stop bricks from shattering glass.

I’ve broken all forms of decorum.

Find myself tumbling at the thought,
find myself growing hot, and flustered,
words heavy, avalanches, boulders,
falling, smoldering, ashes,
if I were a cigarette I’d be the ****,
but I can’t seem to do anything about it.

I lack the decorum and the mindset to play this game.

Find myself anticipating the pain
and throwing the match,
lock in, and close the hatch,
over everything.

I think I like you.

Like, like you, like you.

And I find the thought troubles you,
and though I’m glad to stir the second thought
I’d rather not be the one that’s got you
caught, in a confused state,
knots in your stomach, gut pulling
down and flowing into some
intangible sea, oh wait, that was me,
feeling, peeling back layers of truth
that we, of course, didn’t want to do,
seems like reason’s going to lose,

do I have to choose sides?

How about I leave these feelings here,
inside, where they can just hide from view,
and I can just go back to that cruise,
just hold on and don’t lose control,
I’ve dropped pieces of me on the floor,
from the moment you walked through that door
I can’t seem to remember what I came here for
anyway…I hope they’ll lead a trail back.

Just pick up the pieces I let fall slack
and put them back in one place
and wipe this silly smile off my face
lace them with ‘you-shoulda-knowns”
and thoughts more akin to the older woes,
I’m balancing on the tips of my toes
and I can’t let go now.

I’m just gonna bow out and leave,
and roll heart back in off sleeve.
 Jul 2014 Jack Gladstone
Emily
Does it count as hot chocolate
if its only lukewarm?
If it tastes like bitter raw garlic,
or acid rain?

It burned the skin off your tongue
and dulled your taste buds…

…And still on fire are your fantastical day dreams
inspired by watching those wandering clouds that,
as it turns out, were actually marshmellows
floating, not in a never ending sky,
but in a bounded, off-white mug
with a cracked handle
whose pieces were sloppily super-glued
back together.
 Jul 2014 Jack Gladstone
T
I'd said I'd never seen it
you dropped your chin
"We're watching it"
We did
until our close proximity
was more than you could handle
and your breath found my hair
and your lips met my neck
and now I still can say,
I don't know how it ends.
Sartre could have taken Ghandi

In a burger eating contest,
or a bar fight;
they are dead.

No matter who you are,
you will die.

Torch your temples,
set fire to the preachers,
and **** on ash.

Embrace it.
Welcome this conflagrative absolve.
Perhaps you were quite noble and perhaps you did implore
That men like you should take after the Sipo Matador
So step on the weak oaks, get higher while you can
But while the lizard’s tail grows back, it is “not so in a man”

You climbed into the sunlight full of confidence and pride
At thirty seven thought you’d met the one to call your bride
And proudly then you loved, but alas, did she love you?
Broken but not beaten, you said goodbye to dearest Lou

And now you say that loves high value far precedes its worth
You talk of women as mere pawns of pleasure or of birth
Your taste in fools is lacking and your outlook is quite dim
And while you claim to know all men - you project what is within…
NIETZCHE  YOU ****
YOU'VE RUINED MY LIFE

I was once so innocent Without You.

Now I can hardly contemplate the light of day
from staring into the abyss for so long.
How can I ever forgive you?
Cynic-master, who taught me how to think for myself
who taught me how to speak with such lucid contempt
Now I can never trust the government
Now I can never have faith in anyone's heavanly aspirations,
The sun having long set on any protests of idealism.

And yet I still find you remarkable Nietzsche
You never fail to make me laugh
at the times when I need it the most.
You're the rebel friend who I can
never introduce to my parents.
Yours is the poster which should adorn every angry teenagers' wall
With quotes highlighting The Will to Power and violent determination.
A hopeful voice in a godless world.
I'm reminded of you in the girl that speaks
or stealing every crucifix in her former convent school
after her friend was expelled.
I'm reminded of you with every protester
who throws a Molotov cocktail at armed police
I'm reminded of you
in eery artist who does'nt follow formality
in every caged bird who continues to sing.

For all your anger
I must thank you Nietzsche
Even if I can never be as happily ignorant as I once was
For wasn't the very crux of modern life challenged by you?
All of Humanity
All the cruelty
All the spit Fullness
All the Hatred
when you threw yourself in front of that horse
being beaten in Turin
and for losing your mind
Just to prove a point.
The German post-enlightenment philosopher Frederick Nietzche (1844-1900) often cited by scholars as "the father of modern thinking" was the author of such groundbreaking texts as Human,All Too Human (1878) Thus Spoke Zarathustra (1885) and Beyond Good and Evil (1886).
Hope is gone

All that is left
Is

I
Myself

And the
WILL TO POWER
---
Power !
( ones god)
----
What is your god!

-----

In the pretension of
Your romancing

You HIDE !

-----

SICK!

------

Escape from your own *******
If you will

--

God
(Love)

&

I

are over there
 Jul 2014 Jack Gladstone
Ugo
Skyscrapers and mango trees wearing boxer briefs.

The tantalizing wind blows caressing paperclips and mortuary signs—
turning them indigo red for we all know that dead bodies are nothing but dead.

Hymns of love and soliloquies of the unconscious ego—
Id of our time but men of the past be our hero.
Leaving to wonder, if king Nebuchadnezzar was a crack-feign
would Coca Cola still educate penguins on the importance of Lesbian Existence?

For in this war of life, cockroaches are the real winners,
and the taste of excellence is only reserved for fire extinguishers —

so if nuclear clouds persist,
let the fire burn with love and you lay on the bed of oblivion
cuddling the moral that capitalism leads to schizophrenia.

So insure your sanity for free 99, this, with warm regards from yours truly,

                                                               ­              Rhizome of Golgotha.
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