pleasant is this adverbial, complimentary-angled accusation,
but a ball masque covering
the huge desert ****** stretches where
water and words are one hundred
days and miles apart, with
no filling station on the navigation app

the relentless sounding silences
reverberate angrily between the cochleae,
spiral staircases to no impulse power space,
the impulse to create needy for a clean sparking,
**** if life doesn’t get in the way,
the responsibility tonnage, the never altered
‘to do’ list that knows only additions and sedition

have come to believe that poetry energy,
cannot be created and destroyed,
so pray the unwritten poem souls
are conserved further, awaiting a rainbow
Noah signal, that the *** of poems
are poet-that a-way, in attendance for me,
in attendance for a parental permission slip
from me, my father, my sons, and the ghost
that has never left but promises,
one day he will, absconding with all the drafts concealed

4/3/19

Go & be the light

Recharge and face the darkness

The ordinary

for all that’s good on Earth,
for all the holy virtues,
for the greatness and the purity of my authentic spirituality,
the presence of epiphany which helps the poor become the bold,
the necklace of the souls once bereaved and insecure,
I, for the grace of humankind,
give rebirth upon a world of lost ancestors,
to come from so afar what I perceive,
to bring me the pure and the kind,
ferment a shape, a pyramid of light and matter,
water the land, germinate the void with seeds of creation,
a hope melting all my dreams,
give birth to a diluted wonder,
the fertile soil of innocence and power,
earnestly conjure from thought to heights of infinite,
abound my being with your lust and wishes,
may all the grace of the genesis be the sojourn of fantasy,
my precious thought, my enlightened heart.

/There is no fellow in the firmament.
              but only fire can cast down raging blood,
running through the city, flagrant
         smoke on a collonade of scepters, raised
— line by line: note the conspirator in the masses
                 Doth not Brutus brotherless kneel?/
traitorous hands, leaking red
                 /Speak hands, for me!
— from a dagger plunged deep through the heart of eruption it
                                          spills chaotical, arterial, sinful
                                      down and down ribbons of life
        crown in rotation: halted
on tumbling tyrrant, passes guiltless largesse from hand sought to
hands yet seeking, searching
[whisperings]
         "but on what grounds is usurpation justified?"/
         "what cavity yet persists in the dawn of these reds rising?"
kneeling king, sodden with loss
          bend for me —
                       Et tu, Bruté?/
screamitbloodymurdersingitholydivination
                      ­                 Then fall, Caesar.

//yoo-ni-verss//
Noun:

I. You are a wonder wrapped in a miracle. Every ebony gasp breeds holiness. Every tincture of time that you hold bursts into purple midnights. Every bright escape another release of your cosmic breath.

II. You rule with satin clouds and shining rain. Your every movement shakes time.

III. You know your greatest magic and will forever prove it to those who rest beneath your raven sky. You are power and grace entwined, you hold on your hands an eternity, and you fully know it's wretched destiny.

Tightly twisted inside out
Other offers are outside the house
Holding head in hands
heart beats fast
folding faintly forwards
forgive me
I can’t grasp
going groaning
to the tables telling them
all about angry antics
stuck saying and swaying
talking temptations tightly twisting
inside my head
heart hearing Holy Spirit
Soul searching and I can bare it
heaven opens here
finally
feeling free at last .