#1

I’m no good at merrymaking
I do it alone
I do it dark
And I go at it with rabid excess
I am fellow to it
Until morning
And I make the morning hurt
A mark is embed


#2

Amoungst great company
I am dog unwanted
In the comapany of one
I am villain bird
I am influence
I hit a drinking partner in the weak knees of weak truths
And things go madly south
But tonite I am alone
As I ought
And not sought out


#3

Astray from the fireside
Into the woods
In the territory
Where I fear to thread the pathways
I shall recover my work
In the graven woodland
I shall face myself down
And bed darkness
Where I am truely wed


#4

Thriving and well hausted
I strain and clamp upon the energy
I face my enemy
My power
I bide from his readings
I make ****** pleasings
Form verbal greeting
And extend a hand
For this
The first of many a meeting


#5

Upon this connection
This Faustian reflection
I make the primal
The woe in me
And the red wash of ravenous pages
My activity
My moulded tool
My rage
My howl against creativity

Laid down, the only answer that can be given.
Clearer light, separate and distinct, from the same fountain.
Ambition, to counteract ambition.
Human nature, to reflect on human nature.
Angels were to control itself.

Divide and fortify. Natural defense, safety. Absolute negative connection between this weaker and the weaker.
All the power surrendered.
Evil will render This, turned against, broken into.
Justice is the end, pursued until it be obtained, or lost in the pursuit.
Unite and oppress, anarchy to rein as a state of nature,
not secured against the violence.

like-a-night-terror
slip pin g  out of vie w
                                  the words elude.
  so keep there
the                 eyes
     unfocused
at paper or/// screen till the sentence---- rushes into sight.    
              break it.
                        ^^                  butcher it.
     keep it.<<      >>  analyse it.
  toss it .                                         kiss it.

where w a  s it?                  was it ee ee e even here?

a tremor in the night
awoken without the memory
(all poets say is a million different "I can't love you any other way.")
of a line i wanted to write.

They say that the human being is a primal creature
That deep down likes to bite, to scratch, to hunt
Mark their own territory
And like so many other primal animals, feels this intrinsic pleasure in subduing others

People say many things
But in my world, pleasure and pain mix together
Primal creatures show their claws
For others willing to be subjected

I once heard that *** becomes human from the moment it becomes ******
For me however, eroticism doesn't depend on ***
And the primal is the most human and the most civilized of them all
Just like the ones that look at me right now
They see my movement and judge me feline
Sharp claws, curious look, precise movements
And I don't even need to show my fangs into a smile
For them to understand who the predator is
After all, as I already mentioned
Pleasure and pain mix

You use to sneer at me,
As if you were better than me,
You use to look down at me through soft lashes,
You smoked so you could slowly choke me with ashes,
You would say "Without ME you are NOTHING",

Well I might not be much, but I AM something,
I will not stand in your shadow, I'll cast my own,
I won't let your self loathing deliver me into an early grave stone,

Although I must admit I crave the feeling of your flesh upon mine,
I want to slide your taste over my lips like fine wine,
Im slightly disgusted by this need to satisfy this primal hunger inside  me,
My body betrays me while an unnatural lust brings me to my knees,
The only good thing about you was your ability to ******,
Only through carnal cravings could we call a truce,

You thought that if you could make my body feel good I would need you,
You would tell me that the only thing I was good at was laying beneath you,
You tried to dig me up so that I couldn't bloom where I was planted,
You thought those fevered desperate kisses would keep me enchanted,

I left because I got tired of your lust games,
we don't share anymore perverted love claims,
When I think of you now I snicker, too no one in particular,
I liked how you were twisted and ******,

But thats all I liked about you,
Its funny how I was so drawn but also so repulsed by you,
I guess that means that I'm a little sick too,
I don't regret it though, cause then I'd have to admit that a part of me cared,
Try not to mourn the wicked temptations that we shared,

I'm fine on my own, are you;

"It Comes At Night"
(Desire) First renewed
Under the silver light (of the moon)

"A Quiet Place"
(A) Fatal Attraction
There will be blood (he hopes)

Venom (drips from his tongue)
(as he forces open her) Jaws
******

(the) Heat
"Let Him Have It"
Primal Fear (is all she knows)

"The Usual Suspects"
Goodfellas (they claim)
(making her play) The Game

The Sounding Foam of Primal Things

*(The title and the poem, taken from and inspired by
Carl Sandburg's "Who Am I?")


wind and rain pound the surf.
snow falls on the beach, on the shore.
man-observer cannot tell:
has the earth gone mad, all wet?
do the seas rise, whipped up, filling the heavens,
or does the white rain replenishes the very body,
from whence it came, and now returns?

this matters greatly, yet nothing answers this, his question.

the furious soundings, the green foam churn,
the silence of no response inebriates,
drunk on the tempest's hard wet liquor,
weighed down, sodden with the despair,
solitude, silence, absent answers,
his natural walking companions!

No Stopping signs on almost every corner,
Do Not Pass, Do Not Enter,
One Way, Two Way, No Thru Passage,
but the one sign he seeks,
"Stay On The Path" absent.

Eluded,
dispassionate endings,
the essential quietude among
furious surround-sounds of creative destruction
he ceases to ask, for unanswered, undirected.

Concluded,
either
their is no one listening, or,
there is no one caring, or,

Deluded,
illusion is truth,
he is an illusion.

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