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 Oct 2013 Devin Piel
st64
hoap
 Oct 2013 Devin Piel
st64
bildings in roowins
I rite with brokin-hand


it is the year of the unlord-tyms 2085
and skool hadbin abolishd since fyv decades
evrything in disrepair -
                    no hospitills no parks
                    no creche no greens
all grey and dark

now here I lie amid the rubble
I see they took my legs for under-market
what else did they take?
**** *******!
belly rumbles
the last I'd eaten was 2 days on
a chunk of hard-bread whose colour would turn envy in its boots
with artifishal-milk whose curdled smile greeted the back of my arid existence

**** bastarrrrrrds! they put me under, sawed off my legs
left me hobbling with jagged wounds and smirk-pain like hot-rods searing my brand-new stubs
elementary-bandage of an old sheet torn into strips...

wait, I must use this anger as fuel to get me going
she told me so
many, many times..




(I can remember my mother reading to me
reciting from her memory
they had burnt evry-single-book Man had ever known
                My eyes have never been graced with a book
but
she tort me words with stick in sand
and counting with stones
and there were many stones
               she fed me poetry when there was little else to eat
with fainting-body and starving-belly
my mind took pleasure in her ultimate-care
               she told me of a time when childrin took poor-interest
in the blessings of a book.. wen their minds were swallowed wholemeal by what they called media, I think
when they were not saddled with the worry of their next meal's magical-appearance
                (I can spell 'their' at least, yes.. she made sure I knew the difference)
the only pictures I saw were the ones she drew for me
in the volcanic beach-sand when we ran away from the parasitic-city
                I knew nothing of the world but what I saw around me
                        - decay, decay, decay
until she brought me colour - rite into the hart of me -
                           blooms that hurt at first, so bright and giving
                           that it saturated every molecule in my parched-centre
                           and I became a rainbow-suffused capsule in a otherwise drab-society
such wonder she spoke with open-eyes and loving-tones

and I also remember.. the day they took her..
I remember.. too much)




I crawl forward like a snake in the .. wait, what was that expreshin again?
I'll think later when I find a place to harbour my broken-body
                     thought is a luxury here
thers a horrible smoke in the air
          stings me so
and I miss her so
I have nobody left
but I cannot feel forsaken, as so many do
and succumb to self-pity
she made sure my armour grew
                 from the inside.. first
yet.all.the.while.she.watered.my.hungry.mind
and I took it with disbelief painted on my face
the things she told me about..




                I cannot believe there once were -
green fields and trees with chirping birds
a blue sky
blue? not possible
I've never seen a blue sky
I think she was being kind to paint me portraits of psychedelia
   to entertain and distract me
   from the horror of our lives
I heard tales of things called flowers - daisies and things
like vegetables and fruit
it seemed funny to me - little beings in the ground,
                                       growing
                                       standing rooted, awaiting harvest-hands
               just for people??
uncredibill
waaaat???
no..  such depth of kindness I can hardly imagine
for we have had only *
hard
-earth.. most concreted
and drank only brack-water from collapsing pipes
no, an unforgiving-scene is all I know
yet
     she is so kind to feed me such fantasy-tales of deep-imaginashin
     pity she could not tell any others
     for any tenth-of-a-whisper of this to any wrong-ear
and her head would roll
in the gutter.. where we lived in contest with rats
she could only rally my mind and relay things which would die with her
things that she bequeaths
to me

what will I do with it? this legacy of forgotten-paradise..
what can I do?   this wonder-clad heresy..
                I now know thers a way out these city walls
                ther is a life beyond
with valleys and rivers and salty-seas
I must try to find a river
she told of oceans which live - which heave and swell and move!
she said these things too .. they exist
what quaint-things, indeed
oh, for dreems..

but now, I must off the streets
for a double-darkness has begun to fall
when red-eyes will scour the streets for scraps of flesh
        anything is worth a barter
        even a dead-man in a lane whose eyeballs are gone
        harshly-hacked out living - by a previous-visitor
becomes a piece of currency for seekers of the dark

I don't know what they've done to her.. or where she is now..
yet, she always said - keep moving
                                   keep searching
for blue-sky and flowing-rivers and yellow-flowers..
(I wonder if it's real
I do believ her - I must)*




now I scrape on in haste into a darkening-alley
towards a derelict-bilding
whose sinister-interior is the only welcome it can afford me
             I have little choice
             no time for sentiment
plus, I feel a fever coming (perhaps this is all the dreem.. and she is the only-flower I know)
the night-Rats will come out soon
and I hate their stink
it doesn't help I leave a trail of blood..




now
only hoap lives
on
in hobbled-soul

as I rite on with brokin-hand
onto the back-pages.. of my mind





S T -  5 octoblah
awoke with a feeling of piece of broken-building teetering and wanting to fall on me..
with legs gone,
junk, junk feeling :(

(anyway, it's just a nightmare.. I thought I'd plug that energy into this poem)

hoap.. hold on, alright? please :)



sub: thanks be

to the grey of skies I never see
to the squalor of the seas no-one can smell
to decay in every nook you can't tell

thanks be to the beauty of our times
and where none of such deep-calamity
touches our lives

(yet)




(where love-tryst equals getting tangled..
in the stars)
dear lover,

i miss you. even though i’ve never met you, i can still feel your energy from a thousand miles away.

a face that can make men go to war for you. your smile makes time move slow, everything in the world makes sense. i find comfort in your love and warmth in your presence.

lover. i fell in love with your words, everything you uttered was. beauty personified in words. that deep energetic vibe from your soul makes me want to dance in your. elegance.

i fell in love with your mind, and i fell deep within your subconscious. a trance i was in. you’re my intellectual crush. you had me on my knees, you had me intellectually lovin’ you.

i had a dream we were both dancing to Eros’ beautiful rhythm. nothing makes me stronger than your fragile heart, baby don’t think im out to hurt you. not my intention.

i fell in love with you and i never knew. falling in love with you was never my plan. but i guess it was God’s plan. we’ll never know.

even though we’ve never met. i can still remember the sound of your heartbeat, your voice so sweet like the heavens. and your movement so graceful. graceful. you’re like a Raven – innocent, beautiful, sweet.

my heart just skipped a beat.

beautiful soul. speak to me. i saw the beauty of life through you, beautiful soul. and even though we’ve never met, lover. i miss you.

you got a lotta soul, lady. that’s beautiful.

all i wanna do is admire your beauty from a distance because im afraid if i touch you. my flesh will be tempted to do all that is regarded. earthly.

i’ll prolly luh you fo’eva. let me escape through you in thought. beautiful lover. beautiful soul.

“touch me with your mind. hands are overrated & ‘soul’ is overused.”

the closest stranger i’ve never met. i became more with you. your lips i will kiss, your hips i will hold, and your love i will embrace. you have my heart. you have the key to my heart.

and the more i think of you, i miss you. even though we’ve never met, beautiful lover.

our hearts are interlocked in deep conversation. thoughts & feelings in graceful motion, love never known.

i saw us dancing under the moonlight. you wore a silk white dress with Queen Elizabeth’s crown upon your head. and me, just a man wearing a white suit with a purple rose in his chest pocket.
imagine.

and we danced in the cosmos, the stars were watching us — the sun and the moon were playing music only heard in the heavens.

dear lover. beautiful lover. beautiful soul. i love you. i miss you. even though we’ve never met.
 Oct 2013 Devin Piel
Jim Morrison
The walls screamed poetry disease & ***
an inner whine like a mad machine -
dropped in a
cave of roaches
or rodents

The Computer
faces of the men

The wall collage
reading matter

The Traders (dealers)
~~~

I am a guide to the labyrinth
Come & see me
in the green hotel
Rm. 32
I will be there after 9:30 p.m.

I will show you the girl of the ghetto
I will show you the burning well
I will show you strange people
haunted, beast-like, on the
verge of evolution

-Fear The Lords who are
secret among us
~~~

Leaving the phone-booth, I was
Struck by a whiff of
the weird.
Insane old country woman
come to nag the haunts
of town
Hairy legs w/open sores.

From what swamp or under-rock
did you crawl to remind
us what we choose
to leave
 Oct 2013 Devin Piel
Zy Marquiez
Sweet dreams of passion sweep through the night
Cascades of white petals swathe all of our sheets
All those pearl white roses make her smile bright
Slowly kissing soon after I can feel her heartbeats

Both of us overcome in this tempestual love storm
We are lost in the daze of what we call our dream
All the ways we make love rarely follows the norm
Which is why this is perfect; it is so **** extreme

Summer rain then pours on very intensely outside
Matching this loving encounter that we both share
To the true mercy of love we then quickly subside
While all our sparks nullify the exhaustion we bare

Each second that passes is the sweetest perfection
Within this wild dream in which we have embarked
The love that we share must be divine intervention
Since around all our bodies Heaven itself is marked

The wildest of sparks that brought us this paragon
Sent us basking in the skies of the Heaven we hail
Although all of our rapture soon will be withdrawn
Our assemblage of fantasies will timelessly prevail
I see you, standing by the water.  
All of the dried up shell I was, now falls around me.  
You were the last hope, that I had.

I know now, what I failed to see beforehand.
Yet, I know not what to do.  
I want this right, to set the world in motion.

And if I go, please plant the seed of ash,
Beneath the willow tree.
For it was planted, the day, I was born.
 Oct 2013 Devin Piel
Jim Morrison
The 1st electric wildness came
over the people
on sweet Friday.
Sweat was in the air.
The channel beamed,
token of power.
Incense brewed darkly.
Who could tell then that here
it would end?

One school bus crashed w/a train.
This was the Crossroads.
Mercury strained.
I couldn’t get out of my seat.
The road was littered
w/dead jitterbugs.
Help,
we’ll be late for class.

The secret flurry of rumor
marched over the yard &
pinned us unwittingly
Mt. fever.
A girl stripped naked on the
base of the flagpole.

In the restrooms all was cool
& silent
w/the salt-green of latrines.
Blankets were needed.

Ropes fluttered.
Smiles flattered
& haunted.

Lockers were pried open
& secrets discovered.

Ah sweet music.

Wild sounds in the night
Angel siren voices.
The baying of great hounds.
Cars screaming thru gears
& shrieks
on the wild road
Where the tires skid & slide
into dangerous curves.

Favorite corners.
Cheerleaders ***** in summer
buildings.
Holding hands
& bopping toward Sunday.

Those lean sweet desperate hours.

Time searched the hallways
for a mind.
Hands kept time.
The climate altered like a
visible dance.

Night-time women.
Wondrous sacraments of doubt
Sprang sullen in bursts
of fear & guilt
in the womb’s pit hole
below
The belt of the beast
~~~

Worship w/words, w/
sounds, hands, all
joyful playful &
obscene-in the insane
infant.

Old men worship w/long
noses, old soulful eyes.
Young girls worship,
exotic, indian, w/robes
who make us feel foolish
for acting w/our eyes.
Lost in the vanity of the senses
which got us where we are.
Children worship but seldom
act at it. Who needs
temples & couches & T.V.
~~~

We can do it on a sunny
floor w/friends & make
any sound or movement
that comes. Roll on our
backs screaming w/mirth
glad in the guilt of our
madness. Better to be
cool in our worship &
gain the respect of the
ancient & wise wearing
those robes. They know
the secret of mind-change
reality.
~~~

“Have you ever seen God?”
-a mandala. A symmetrical angel.

Felt? yes. *******. The Sun.
Heard? Music. Voices
Touched? an animal. your hand.
Tasted? Rare meat, corn, water
& wine.
~~~

An angel runs
Thru the sudden light
Thru the room
A ghost precedes us
A shadow follows us
And each time we stop
We fall
~~~

No one thought up being;
he who thinks he has
Step forward
~~~

Shrill demented sparrows bark
The sun into being. They rule
dawn’s Kingdom. The cars-
a rising chorus- Then
workmen’s songs & hammers
The children of the schoolyard,
a hundred high voices,
complete the orchestration
~~~

“In that year there was
an intense visitation
of energy.
I left school & went down
to the beach to live.
I slept on a roof.
At night the moon became
a woman’s face.
I met the
spirit of Music.”
~~~

An appearance of the devil
on a Venice canal.
Running, I saw a Satan
or Satyr, moving beside
me, a fleshy shadow
of my secret mind. Running,
Knowing.
~~~

The day I left the beach

A hairy Satyr running
behind & a little to the
right.

In the holy solipsism
of the young

Now I can’t walk thru a city
street w/out eying each
single pedestrian. I feel
their vibes thru my
skin, the hair on my neck
-it rises.
Never fall in love with a poet
for their words are sometimes lies
on occasions they're a shield
on occasions a disguise

They will take you on a journey
upon which they bare their soul
in a bid to ease your burdens
in a bid to make you whole

But in every word they choose
for the stories that they tell
lies a little piece of heaven
and a little piece of hell

Tormented souls we poets are
sometimes quite broken and despaired
in search of lost expressions
missed by others who once cared

Never fall in love with a poet
unless you're prepared to share their pain
to hold them close on the darkest nights
over and again
Follow me on Twitter @athomashawkins
http://twitter.com/athomashawkins

— The End —