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sara Oct 2019
a volatile, drunken live wire
exhaling smoke, and spitting out fire
they tell her softer, sweetly be;
reminders only ignite grief
a mind of its own
a mind of her own
a room with a view
but it's nothing like home

reactive, electric
she burns as she breaks,
she hits without thinking
but makes no mistake;
she begs for forgiveness
it's all just the same.
for, she holds on too tightly
to the bars on her cage
make sure you're not standing in your own way
Homunculus Mar 4

Eyes taking survey
of immediate surroundings.
Habitable? Yes.
Presentable? No.
At least not to anyone
lacking the neuroses which
with such resplendent ecology
were given perennial bloom
in the mental landscape
of this peculiar creature. . .  

Dwelling, as he does
within plaster walls
upon concrete floors
beneath fluorescent lights, as they
quietly hum a low B flat and illuminate
filth and fur amassed in quantities
sufficient to reconstruct entire animals,
and perhaps even ecosystems...

Drugs in their various guises and dis-guises
paraphernalia indiscreetly proliferated
Musical implements, instructions, and instruments
supinely littered, almost as profusely
as the mountains of literature courting
avalanche from the rigid repose of
each supportive surface where they rest

Brooms weeping in neglect of their sweeping as
spiders nest betwixt the bristles, but
at least they keep the bugs out...

Records in crates and stacks with
no particular organization. Hmm.
That last line sums it succinctly.
"No particular organization."
Yet he still unaccountably knows
within this squalor where
the minutest of objects reside

His thoughts and actions
are sporadic, leaving linearity
in want of apt expression
For him, it seems the shortest
path between two points
is a frenetic scribble

Getting things done
in a timely manner? Possibly.

Getting sidetracked and forgetting
the original plan? Probab-  HEY

                                                  ­       THAT?!?!?!?!



                                And    ­                  
"Whoever lives this way, cannot be well!"
Someone might say, or, perhaps even yell.
Erelong might this assertion be dispelled
                 With them and their opinion. . . . .
                STRAIGHT TO HELL!

For now the music of Debussy fills the air,
  and now this vagabond has found a locus
  a flag and bond of jouissance and care
  arresting him  in implacable focus

Inhaling the aroma of the night
  he raises up his quill with great delight
  and sets the implement in fervent motion
  and bathing in the passions it ignites

He yields to it in rapturous devotion
  and as if under spell or magic potion
  his brain and nerves and muscles all engage
  in spilling forth the fury of an ocean

Society has trapped him in a cage
  ensnared him in frivolity, it seems
  but his ink abounds in freedom on its page
  and guides him to tranquility from rage  

As Luna pours her iridescent beams
  into this weary poet's dreary head
  his mind illuminates with fate's esteem
  and ruminates through labyrinths of dream

As everything he's seen, done, heard, or said
  becomes a tapestry of order, woven
  with chaos as the impetus that's led
  this blessed magnanimity has shed

A light to guide the way; a path to show him
  to Athens' martyred sage whom he's beholden
  who espoused the noble maxim he's now chosen:
"Look deeply in thyself and truly know him."  

Look deeply in thyself, and truly know him!


"If a cluttered desk",
a man once asked,
"Is a sign of a cluttered mind?"
"Of what, then,"
he continued,
"is an empty desk a sign?"
I have ADD or ADHD or whatever they're calling it these days. I was diagnosed as a child, and the condition has persisted with me into adulthood, presenting undeniable challenges and difficulties. This piece is an attempt to illustrate the manifestations, both outward and inward, of what it is like to live with this condition.
riley minteer Feb 23
in the midst of an easy, northern-bound rain
from one shore,
a gust,
another’s clear day

in the midst of the courtyard,
a brick-laid patio
igniting an hearth,
who’s embers dampened long ago

igniting the fire which therein warms my heart;
a simple red peony that rose from the yard
it rose and was nurtured by delicate words,
then brushed during night,
by the sensual rough of a scourge
oh the power of words...

but alas, the easy rain soon starts to harden
as nothing is safe from the truth’s vacant burden
and my courtyard, once blooming, peonies, red
is wilted, long-shot, and over-spent.
-riley minteer
“courtyard hearth”
(from “mind soul heart”)
Sunday, February 23, 2020
i drew a line in crush'd corals
to separate the right from wrong
disregarding past-life morals,
none are right and nothing's wrong

forget-me-not, daisy, chain
laced around your throat
a kind of leaf'd, vile, locket
that doubles as a noose

please do not forget me,
i've cut up both my knees
i'll take upon your burdens,
you burden me with ease.
-riley minteer
(from “mind soul heart”)
Wednesday, January 8, 2020
we picnic during solstice,
neon-chartreuse vertigo
vision morphs and bends,
we're weightless, astral high
in constant ego death,
eyes so lunar dilated
bits of stars surround us
on the f*cking moon

seven violent truffles
i’ve been high for so long
i rise, thirteen a.m.
in a drab and dreary coma
when i take another sip,
like a wilting lilac-
then spring begins so soon

everything inanimate
speaking in slow tongues
living and observing
from their place of immobility

slow kisses to your skin,
it melts on my lips quickly
like cathedral waxes
in the carmine breeze

everything is alive,
sobriety is so silent
we get high on the roof,
an ashen rocked collision
seven violet tablets
violent constellation
vibrant vein pulsation,
euphoric crystal lines
a new cosmic collusion,
peripheral discernment
we ascend to highest heavens,
just to plummet to the sea.
-riley minteer
“everything is alive”
(from “mind soul heart”)
Wednesday, January 8, 2020
riley minteer Dec 2019
when i've reached a proper altitude,
all will be as it should
and when i've reached that final peak
i will then be understood

silence hangs upon the valley
like a cloak of grey despair
nothing comes, nothing goes
never is there fruit to bear

so i leave my place of living,
i run across the county line
somehow i'll make it to the mountain,
no guarantee i'll come back alive

if i do then nothing changes
if i don't no one will cry
and when i've reached that final peak
i’ll finally be seen as I.
-riley minteer
“the final peak”
(from “seeds of change”)
Thursday, November 28, 2019
riley minteer Dec 2019
return in pieces,
return to He
violet grasses envelop me
forest floor
seeded ancient,
resisting blight
shadows cast infinite light...
...a medium dampened by the night
hold my hand as i
violent, devoid lack sense, selfless i,
you dig relentless
grasses sense the scent of
glasses within parcels, platters
broken glass, shattered and scattered
you are glimmering, ghastly, strange,
all you are is selfish, vain
glass grows underneath my skin
underneath my skin is pain

often did i call for help,
never did it make a change
never did the music stutter
never did i share my pain
mader, madre, magdalene
you scour and scorn a thorn’d gaze
you hurt and make joyous exclaim,
then grimly cast infinite rain.
-riley minteer
“ grasses sense the scent of blood”
(from “seeds of change”)
Thursday, December 5, 2019
riley minteer Nov 2019
the sun's warmth passes overhead
i long to lie on glass plateaus
dry crack'd soil when sinking teeth
crumbles easily
like rotting flesh

all that was is overshadowed
a looming sick juxtaposition
i hear the chimes and flutes afar
when wind rattles through a field of bones

sooty grey, crème fraîche,
are veins of thistle without color
skulls and talons burning hot,
gleaming bright in desert-day

stripped by sand and beetle bites
fall’n remains and dusty cans
eons pass in tens and thousands,
all plunges into trench-ed depths...

a sacred golden tomb emerges
in the midst of a red monsoon
magma from below the surface
billows in a thousand plumes

this land is hell from what i see
the valleys are deadly and unforgiving
i'm swallowed up by rising tides,
all washes away before the dawn.
-riley minteer
“a field of bones”
(from “candlelight rust & shells”)
Thursday, November 28, 2019
riley minteer Nov 2019
here i am!
oh, i raise a fuss
they're looking,

but seeing me they're not.
-riley minteer
(from “where did today go”)
Tuesday, November 18, 2019
riley minteer Nov 2019
warm is the fire that burns under stovetops
warmer is your knitted alpaca coat
you made us a dinner
whiskey and cornbread...
let me assist you,
enjoying your labor

honey, you are deserving of ev-er-y welcome
ev-er-y welcome deserving and true
if we could keep this warm autumn night
i'd choose to have it,
always with you.
-riley minteer
(from “mind soul heart”)
Tuesday, November 19, 2019
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