This is all there is to me
Boredom, disappointment and debris
This is all I am about
Rudeness, deafness and bad snout
This is all I can provide
A few thousand grave warnings to mind
This I can assure you of
In a week you'll have enough

Wonder this today, what if
we
are.
We are
existent in ever only in the life we leave
graffiti to prove we examined and proved it worthy.

We swore
to tell the whole truth and nothing but the truth
vicariously a thousand times,
because Pop watched Perry Mason,

we were on the bench being waited for,
endurance is encouraged for the same reason faith

is evident.

"Mortgage the farm, Pop, I got G.I. life insurance."
Uncle's last letter, afore he was made sacred

for our own American Dream, it seems, now.

Mortal tyranny
finds little worth in the 20th percentile signed
away in
death pledges held in banks of money
multipliers, who take our thousand and lend me ten

to deposit at interest less than I pay,

this we learned, is the way of thrift
in 1928, then in 1985, then in 2008
after that enough is enough

old men should not
spend no time to find
the purpose of each breath…

we're here to find the reason war is tolerated here.

The days of fewer humans, past now in haps,
left lies formed from living words
in old Sybline rants simple subtle
sublime, impulse urge
twisted in slang to become science
when only insiders are conscious of using
writing to lock meaning in unutterable names
…
Ha. That lie. The unspeakable name game,
perverted priests have played
with passion,
proud, puffed up butchers,
heirs of
Moses guessing, fingers crossed, a word
to the wise is enough.

Say I am,
Popeye.
How long will that be funny?

Timing is perceivable as everything, but so long as

eternity and infinity and twisted paths along the surface
of myelinated axioms,
exist
slick as snot,
it's not.
Now,
here we be. Redeemed. Useless mutterings picked up
in passant

considering the ant, scouting, marking, remaining in the dark
grout
of the tiled counter-top, aware of being brown on sterile
white ceramic surfaces
intensified florescent reflecting high gloss,
-- good god--

ah, Tender-eyed Leah meet Rhea impulsive creative dia
metrically opposed - as
to randomness on any level.
We square?
--
This, I think, is why war is thought tolerated here.

Right angle messages tweaked, to fit
fractures from the days when only evil was imagined
shapeless, having form in
no shape, save some old wives tales all fused with spite
esprit
expressed in rhymey verse
or, worse, glossolalia
its inverse, aha, wordplay, verse-ification

springs hope eternal, spits in the dust, fine-ground red
ochre clay from far away

brought to our place in time on muddy iron feet

A voice arose,
shake the clay from your feet,
-- the feet of them who buried thy lying sack o'
-- those clay clad feet, did I read, at the door, stood they…
-- some translation of Ananias and Saphira,

Uri, Uri! Libsi libsi
Uz zek Sigh-own

libsi big de tipart-tech, ye ru say limnal
sub
dis-error
agent of
Isaiah 57: 2 for the Jesus freaque
frequency of
calm in confusion's unpacking, fission
sometimes
haps
as the firstborn under the cloud of unknowing
emerge afraid to lie.

Nurses whisper, listener listen
emulate Socrates
in knowing
Plato could carry quite a load. But listen,

who admits to knowing nothing? be real, this takes time…

The spit in the clay, rub that in yer eye?
watchasee…
men, like trees… yeh, some say they see that here.

How did I become inaudible?

It's really loud in my head.

I want to stop feeling the images.

I want to stop hearing what you said.

I want to stop being a shadow.

I want to wake up from the dead.



How did I become invisible?

Is that why I can't see straight ahead?

How did I become inaudible?

When it's really loud in my head.

but the truth is, I am mute.

Can I be deaf instead?



https://scribblesindarkness.blogspot.com/

The irony:
The speaking deaf
Are not heard

Beautiful music floats through the air
Finding its way to every lending ear.
When, in a fleeting glance, I notice a man
Who does not bend to the will
Of such voices that move me.

He speaks without words
In a secret language I wish to know.
To be alone in a sea of voices unheard,
Is strangely, tragically beautiful.

I scream
But a world of deaf can not hear
A wail so loud piercing the night
Excruciating pain tearing at my heart
But a world of deaf can not hear
I bleed
But a world of blinds can not see
Crimson red, staining the bedsheets
Blood spattered across the streets
But a world of blinds can not see
I suffer
I’m battered and withered
But they choose not to see
They choose not to hear
My bleeding agony and silent screams
My bruised body and burning tears
I’m hurting
But a heartless world can not feel.

Imagine a world where the volume button was muted,
Where sound had been wiped out,
Where people spoke quieter than a whisper,
Where all you heard was nout.

Imagine a world where birds flew without a sound,
Where dogs didn't growl or bark,
Where the **** didn't ****-a-doodle in the morning,
Where foxes didn't scream in the dark.

Imagine a world where babies cried in silence,
Their tiny giggles went unheard,
Where the first words uttered from a baby,
Was nothing but a written word.

Imagine a world where music didn't exist,
Where dancing and singing's not there,
Nor the tune played on a piano,
Or a merry-go-round at a fair.

A lesson's to be learned within these lines,
It's not a nice one but it's true,
You must always remember, don't ever forget,
This world, one day, may happen to you.

you are and can only be the ear in this relationship.
i can open and close but you cannot deflect.
you absorb all the sound,
letting it resonate throughout your body
but your soul cannot reciprocate.

the mirror seems to reflect itself.
enjoying its company
as the ear absorbs the vibrations, it feels every hurt and every sadness that has been projected by the mouth.
listen.
but you cannot speak.

always one way.
always one direction.
self indulgence.

not this time.

-D.L.