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488 · May 2017
rodriguez
Chikelu Eshe May 2017
satisfaction when falling
into the bottomless
two minutes slip by

all my lifetime of trying to recognize
spiritual masters, instead -
potential parents
flood the tunnels with the bad manners and
dressed in dark grey and green

such repugnance -
decadent as **** malevich
i crawl into his smoky rib cage
forget that the language
is dead.
he pauses, rushes and pants
paints his face skeleton
eyelids blank like i pictured - but
no seattle sound. math rock and machines going off they rocker
no rolling stone
**** her string along that neck
come back reborn. shut the door
collapse in the bathroom, throwing up
into the telephone -
sa ding **** made up words
or looped cuban songs -
back in the day is gone
not anymore not anymore

what do ripped jeans mean to you?
or 16th century persian poets?
when your mind is set afire
swarthed
you like women in klimt’s canvas
light beams through your slits
so you won’t drown in
ruthless thoughts stream
when your deafened ear catches
the ovations
pervading, dying blue note
still not the ending

madame blavatsky unfolding the envelope:
i’m the circle on palm leaf manuscripts
with a dot in the middle -
you’re the reason. the clarity and the void
the eye in between
the missing capstone, i am the folklore
strange beings with fishtail and
i might be the lizard
king, violet violent dressed in crimson
you squeezing them lemons
tequila so creamy
when spiky black leather rips through
the wires, sound effects are your favorite
print shops, in them zines. your dialect
you savor - licking your lips,
saturated and smeared, paranoid
black sabbatical
moon-kissed.

i know you all umbilical visceral
bite your teeth into and cut
catalonia - two halves, dry mouth
and scorching sun
you know i’m subtler than the red
a lotus flower growing in the west
silk sheets in ultraviolet, as soon as
you come to rest
i can smell the war in your curl
jet black and charcoal -
no matte.

no hole in your chest - yet
microchips, they flicker
under your skin as the muscles twitch
in the rem sleep;
black madonna’s humble soft gaze
through the painted veil. marble or onyx
did you feel defeated? when you’ve fallen?
into the bottomless - unknowing
fungus-like growing
upsidedown along with the
torus

cycles and waves, when it’s not subatomic
i wish we’d perceived past the
electromagnetic; distant planets and stars
tease my potential. if only
i wasn’t eclectic, if only
i was in zazen

i accept; sit back sense the vibrations
mind-vacuumed perception not split into parts;
a black whole: if you, color, still there
up high; this deceiving metronome
sound time-travelling in circles
splashes across; carmen in carmine
a girl walks home alone
feline; l'via, cygnus,
jimi,
come on
why don’t you set me free
284 · May 2017
quasinympholo
Chikelu Eshe May 2017
adorning your odour with
robust bordeau wood
dip your fingers in black paint
only the tips.

your footsteps can never be heard
by the old huter's spaniel
your quasi-divinity
blinds the lost piligrims
who dare to call you
a nymph.
268 · May 2017
selfuntittled
Chikelu Eshe May 2017
if there was  
a point
a dot and a drop of ink on paper
for time was not linear
wasn’t the continuum we knew
it was somewhere
where
eye’ve lost it.

any associative tendency
from my self
towards anything
detached
maybe party
didn’t intend to stop, so
all that remains (fo) now  
is the name of my higher
‘self’
divine name
the mystikai.

no kabbala
not ready
far from being
this subtle
not into the ways of attaining it
left-handedly
although that’s what eye’m becoming
depicting
something so pointless
so clearly.

and shading it
painstacking-ly.
236 · May 2017
to jim morrison
Chikelu Eshe May 2017
light flashes as white as shark’s teeth
break your strings and voice and some bones
if you dream of pleasing the faded children of ereshkigal
they’ll love you as you burn
re’s children will watch you and smile
noticing only the bright sparkles  
and not your pain.

the king of ***** dawn
all your odes are ******
dry or wet
you love to get into the anatomy and pull out liver and lungs
cause they are most crucial to your life
bowing down, falling on your knees
only to the depersonaficated.

— The End —