two ash-trays
in love
pull out of the 7/11 parking lot
happy;
  and with the
     world at
        their
        heels .

do the jack-pines
know that they are going to die
when   the golf-course gets redone in the
spring?

do the amber utility lights know
the
fossil-records they foretell?


do the puddles count  the diamonds of glass
shimmer-trapped
in the
asphalt   there?

do the coyotes  call
eachother
by
name ?

humbaba-house
torn down
for ill-gotten cedar

and other spoils of
war

rot-gut mornings and the exiled king of []
digging through grave-heaps
like
searching through
drawers
seeking:
seeking:


trading
  manacles
           for
madman's
  manacles

The
New
Entitlement

Is to suffer no less than
Omniscience on
Demand


As wisdom
Wilts
At the
Root

cooking in the august irradiation

growing .

as music the fills hall-less, drifting assembly
of
[]ears

seeking, ever skyward, a pedestal to
****
from


demigods and demagogues.hum.with  the
white-hot vibration of  
          erasure  

needing to sting
like needing to
***;


needing to *** like
needing
   bread;


dis mantling   the
lapis-dark
shawl of the
           night

in search of
   the
hubris
    of
  other .

the world has spat itself inside-out
in the ******-flash of the
claim.

piercing thin tunnels of
flesh
through less-than-best-laid plans,
as if
laying itself were
virtue enough to ****
by






as the dishes
drip

in failed echo
of
the
windowsill


and
i,

glittering fangface
upon the instant spell
of


opportunistic .
encompassure .

my poor apple tree
precipitates into my red right-eye
as my saw carves tough love
out of the torn branches of
sabbath’s
storm burst

shirtless shepherd, stormsail-hopeful
scumlove galaxies above to
sail
by

the radio tower tuned in
to my
legs
pounding downward into the
grey sand:transfixed
like a static
node in  
the
flail-winged embrace

as waves
   comprise

the multitude
swarm
of
unheeded prayers shot like
fugues
out
from the center
of
observation,

this
decomposing gemstone
coast


beacon.4the.undertow

the undertow takes time to notice
as each washing pulse
whisks away
more [glamorous, radiating shoreline]



. h/e.


if we
shall remember
what has been robbed,
it may yet be        
     reclaimed

hangs rigid on its chain from the unstrained hand of the cam girl.
her
pose places iron
before
reality;

her teeth are white veneers over a sugar-ruined core.


she is the tortured priestess, hiding
in plain sight as
           a
           demon :


she, the healer shaman -
but her bones have been
    scattered                too                       far


for psychic-cartography
to reach




i, the last king of the
dead :


my lungs, full of
spit and
deadlocked breaths between these quiet actions in a
still quieter
  war


/fallen
  into the hive heart-center,
caught and drowning
in the



cistern of discontent  .

clad in wonder
beside those iron lidded eyes :
blinking open like shifting tectonics
or
rusted gears
rumbling
below us

as we ready for the
p
l
u
n
g
e
.

.  []
in closed catacomb,

shunga-folds leaf into a starving candle
like offeringsas
officiates treacher towards the door


    ( )
    pooled-up thing at the lanky doorstep of
wildflowers;

   fern-moist breath through the hole in the
world.

   strangled gasp in the name of
historicity_











.

Expose yourself to things you disagree with
Disagree with things you are exposed to

Make decisions that are better than those who came before

Although that does not disrespect those decisions
Which served to get us
Here


To this place
In which we may name such
Navigation

i haul
stones from the castle to the wall
and back again

reshaping, sisyphusly
and
waiting for the

tangle like reasons.upon the hoary
forest floor.as pad-turned feet
s w e e p
across the
carpeted multitude of soft
spines discarded beneath us
/
/and until better shelters are found
/
these low hanging boughs swing like the
uncrossing of legs:and we are left shimmeringintheslimymoonlight

we
race.against the wheeling constellation-
fragment as it penetrates
the wind-caught canopy, engulfing us_and
we dare it to
tumble
down
like
a
prophesy upon our dream-concussed heads.



webs of sinew.trailing between our
teethy=mouths

like a trap for the
world.


like a hope-nest hunt.

and the rolling drums in yet deeper places
   gun down the
Night

Is dedicated
To
Those who have chosen healing over
Mourning.

The world needs you.

Your love is yours to
Give,
Tough - or otherwise.

the gate, we find,
is left unguarded-as
you
trace out your
glances towards me like glancing blows from fangly dog-mouth
scraping :
up and down
these
tired thighs of
skin


and greedy hands, we find,
are easy to
guide

there
  and
Elsewhere.

And as with all virtues,
The fanboys **** it up.


And as we come almost to the close of the
Show,
We see the moral of the story a bit clearer
Now :

It was just that they wanted
Love and protection
Love and protection, and that is all.

And if it were offered sooner,
It needn’t have been demanded, as the
Curtains fall.


Until next stage it set.
Until the next audience, met.

Until the work is made,
Anew.

it’s a tepid nectar
that now drips from these leather-winged amphora jars :

they circle, like harpies
down to us upon tumble-hot currents spinning off the face of the
earth




but there are subterranean cisterns
of something else

out there :


cool water
against us.


and my syrup-stuck lips are
dry
for
it.

curl


and you're
mine.

the saltpeter sea may yet swallow these
black-sailed ships

bleak obelisk .
reduce the risk.

and
swim.











[the power of i don’t know :  to the wielder, feels a burden - but serves as everything that keeps us from falling into Hate.]

but for the span of this
     /rolling/
        fall : we
may yet

shuffle.away
at the end
     of

      i
      t



p e t a l - s c u f f e d ,
yet
s t e m - s u r v i v e d .

What is satan,
If not the very concept of accountability, itself?
It would seem that those who are opposed to satan are opposed to accountability - seeking to claim the mind of god as their own.
In essence, they systematically claim godmind in all of their dealings, while supporting the veracity (and therefore, the justice) of these claims on the presupposition of a necessarily true external force.

It is the same circular definition which serves as the root to all of mankind’s greatest failures.

It is to say :

“I must be good because I invoke the name of god, which, by definition, is the very concept of a necessary, predefined good”

“Therefore my will and subsequently willed agency must also be good”

“As such, I should (and should be allowed to) do what I want, because I am good and my will is the will of ultimate, predefined good”


On satan, they say :

“My sins and failures are not my own, but rather the result of an external rogue agent who has influence over me and others via an unjust extension”

Going one step further, we may say that those who then rally against works of satan in this world will fundamentally make the following statements by doing so :

“I will seek to punish the punisher, as I myself am an extension of the agency of god”

“As I enforce the will of god, so too, must I become punisher of all sin-source”

Thus, in a uniquely poetic way,
These minds take on the supposed role of
Satan, himself -
In the name of god and in direct opposition to their own self appointed roles :
  


A true work of
Art.

And remember kids,
Only dead people can have acceptable ideas about the nature of our human lives.

:


And all the fads function as the cyclic wheelings, more real than the lowest common denominators.
And that plain way serves only as an anchor to continuity, never as a true path for exclusive modeling.

There is only one truth
And it’s hard to
Remember

And the young
May dance
And sing

While [we] can.
  


This mean world makes
Meanies of us all

and it was only people
trying .




and it didn’t matter what was
real,
only
what they believed with all their
hearts .

.(
(
swing like flower vines in the
sea-breeze face of the
cliffside

your hair
sells dancing glimpses of ancient
memory
there .

the shimmer-sailed ships
leave
the shore / /

:
is just fear of the unknown -

but it remains that only through
questions
that we can take any
actions
at all

i saw the bronze-age breathe
if,but for a moment-
as you

clove the earth
in search of

truth .


i saw the wet-winged
fall,
as the sun
dared us
down from
it
now .

inverted prism drops
shake loose
  from
   your
lens-curved glare//like
waylaid promises in an urban legendary
night

as
painted toes curl around their harpy-perch home.

as too, rests :
the
spit on your cheek and the
gun-metal.grey in my
hair


like cisterns without a
                           roof .

like the unnamed clouds
       behind constellations .


like a fool’s alchemic
                      love .

Alphabet rooms : each room one - two letters

All walls and ceilings covered in collage of illustrations and paraphernalia of terms starting with the letter

All themed around human sexuality

The hallways, small
And covered in monitors
Showing live feeds of camgirls
Housed in the units above

A deviant dictionary
A liminal space

She takes me there
There is another girl she knows in the hallway
She says hi
By

jokingly simulating an act on her in pantomime of what had played on the screen we just passed in the hall


Room stop
T

For thanks

was right .

pewter
clouds roll like the dark boiling
milk of
dead goddess *******//:
shimmering like
minnows.
like    Minoa .

across  the simmer-*** sky
tipping its lid
    to the
celestial
kitchen ;
stove-top, no longer watched.


as
the pulsing ergot castle looms
atop
its cliff face perch [it slumbers]

.to the captive dreamers
within its own
rotting
gate,

it
  stands
guard

against the blackened sea

     b e l o w .


AndSo

human devotion
is
the act of being nice to the one big mean guy
in hopes that
he
will keep the lots of little mean
guys
away from you


and we are as ever we have been,
each our own gods
  each our own
devils


as we simple works in
progress seek always to
shed responsibilities and
point the
finger
elsewhere

and there are no
jokes :

only the strangled words of
what
we really mean to
say .

slow
but worth it

pavement .
it’s spine is
black

like
mine.


stunted trees line the boundaries by the station
they will be cut down the next time someone decides to rearrange the
parking lot
out of
boredom

everything  is
a trade
outside of love .

but we devils make
these deals only
to
inch that much closer
each
time .

tie them to the
post of
* good god, it's america* .

shift.thrift.cut.grift.
eat them in the sight of

all.
\

it's plastic granite .
it's a brand new way:to
hate
     the
         night
                 away .


it's swaying in the
moonlight

in sight of
blight - and a regurgitated.Love


push.comes.to.shove
p-p-push.comes.to.shove

­push.comes.to.shove
p-p-push.comes.to.shove

push.comes.to.shove
­p-p-push.comes.to.shove

push.comes.to.shove
p-p-push.comes.to.sh­ove


push.comes.to.shove
p-p-push.comes.to.shove




push.comes.­to.shove
comes.to.push.comes.to.shove
comes.to.push.comes.to.shov­e
comes.to.push.comes.to.shove
comes.to.push.comes.to.shove
comes­.to.push.comes.to.shove

comes.to.push.comes.to.push.comes.to.pus­hcomes.to.shove

atop tall buildings
and
watch.the
sleepy city.
fail to
wake

they shake
the
houses.they break

the
power-lines,
bloodlines,lines of fortune settled deep within the recessed creases of
the populace's
damp
        palms .


         ---

and in
failing to offer alms to the
dark
wanderers ,
mankind's blackened heart
prepares for each final
act of
self-betrayal .

and
clouds       open
                   to the
       closed .

twist, root-******
beneath the
warm soil of
the summertime

their teeth
scatter
like hopeless seedbeds for
a
fruitless, early harvest -
it's not summertime .

it's the heat-death of the
universe .

it's my\
ears

red and screaming
to be
hit with something

real.

Like intertwined serpentine vertebrae : in quiet respite after swallowing the largest part of the world,
The limbs hang
From
The
White calcified
Remains

Of the
City.

A phantom of
All.



A cocked
Gun.

A careless
Bed.


The

Discarded
Cathedral ephemera
Within
Us
Now.




The end.of a
Long
Song.

Is that when followed to its logical conclusion,

The shadows on the cave
Become corporate trademarks

And all of human thought and emotion
Becomes the very
Commodity, itself

To be bought, sold, and
Broken when failing to meet certain quality control
Standards

All aggressors think themselves, the
Victim.


We battle now for the center of the human
Heart

We find ourselves lost
At first,
Beside the newly widened
Outer
Walls

Theseus ,
Theseus .

But the Monster always arrives
Here
First.

Taunts me
Into
Unraveling waves

.


I seek
D i s c l o s u re
    inside your

Folding
    Pattern.of
[ wwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwww]

Man has his tools
Lion has his teeth
In the savanna
In the savanna

In the savanna of mankind

No one is stupid
And everyone knows just what
The other one
Has.

We are buried in their
Gardens .

We are wAnderers on the
Road.

It’s a new kind of spear://with a
Handle so long, you can’t see who’s
Holding it.

It is a tool for a crueler form of
Cowardice -

The ultimate goal of
Man.