#momentary - Hello Poetry

the propulsion of compulsion is indefatigable, it cannot no more, be ignored, as if it is forming a holy commandment, number 11, you must write when so ordered, denial is temporary i n s a n i t y, and the backlog of nuances be comes longer and longer by the instant the provocateurs, them eyes, those eyes, even the ears and tongue join in to instigate, the cabal of influencers who peddle no product, demand no payment but total obeisance and sometimes low-class instant fufillment, for here I am in servitude,@ 4:33am, by dawn’s early light (no **** for real), propelled and compelled by the creative, the spilling urgency of the need to expel notions of potions that flit between the frontal lobe, parietal lobe, cingulate gyrus, and prefrontal cortex: (I told you, it’s a cabal!) all firing up neurons like electron spark plugs, and only I can see the sparks colliding inside as letters, words, phrases, none lazy, all demand long life, or the Perpetuity of the Momentary” it grows lighter by the minute and the sporadic lights across the bay wink morse code secrets to the observant, and Noyac’s tree line has become a distinguishable and distinctive land mass to which I crossed last nite via & upon the South Ferry, when all these conflicting concepts began a painful birthing delivery, the coagulation of the flighty, merging and transforming into my child, in my bed, through the picture window that has so oft been complicit in the ganging up on my very, very old and restless brain but, uh, this ecrivez, this motion that the momentum of the momentary desiring & deserving of monuments to the perpetual won’t be stilled and hours later, with it’s invisible hands around my throat, it yanks from within what did not exist ten minutes prior, but always existed inside me as a jumbled puzzle, gestating quietly till a swift kick of birthing pains insufferable accompanied by her raucous dreams, awoke me from ******* and rhyming Rem Sleep, to now, this moment, named forever as 4:57am and this noisy newborn, covered in embryonic fluid (wonderful but disgusting really) is all ready pealing and peeling off suggestions for brothers and sisters, this arrogance is untenable, but the babe laughs at me, for it knows that there are hidden, voluminous files of titles awaiting their turning time of final conception no longer nighttime, an early forming day, it too, covered in its own fluidity, awaits discovery, for the lights from across the bay have gone to bed, turned off but the greatest, more powerful brighter discharges of the Sun Gods The Bay’s waters are still, though my woman is not, muttering, still dreaming out loud, as if she wishes to foment turbulence, and desires a boat for safe conveyance across the dark seas of the night to the searing bright June summer day that the Greek seers have forecast, and then that moment, like it’s older sibling, will demand, it’s very moment of personalized perpetuity, its own unique naming, a full recording, a welcoming by the Preservation Band, amidst the glory of its mother mornings colorings of palest blues, puffery of cumulus whitiwhispers all tinged in my favorite, flavored color, creamsicle orange, and the calming power is self evident for the rustling back and forth of raucous dreams have ceased, and I too am no longer possessed by the moment, until soon when the hands creep slow round my throat by a new moment, and all is lost, all is gained and a newest poem is brought from the womb of my ancient past, my currency of the next minutes and the wealth of words that are available to us all! demands one of us, perhaps you? to commit its actualized existence into reality I bid you a soft adieu, for the chores of existence those demanding pests of drudged biblical pestilence can no longer be kept waiting nml 5:21am Sun Jul 16 2024 writ at you know where…

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Jun 16, 2024

Jun 16, 2024 at 5:34 AM UTC

nat-lipstadt

The Perpetuity of the Momentary

the propulsion of compulsion is indefatigable, it cannot no more, be ignored, as if it is forming a holy commandment, number 11, you must write when so ordered, denial is temporary i n s a n i t y, and the backlog of nuances be comes longer and longer by the instant the provocateurs, them eyes, those eyes, even the ears and tongue join in to instigate, the cabal of influencers who peddle no product, demand no payment but total obeisance and sometimes low-class instant fufillment, for here I am in servitude,@ 4:33am, by dawn’s early light (no **** for real), propelled and compelled by the creative, the spilling urgency of the need to expel notions of potions that flit between the frontal lobe, parietal lobe, cingulate gyrus, and prefrontal cortex: (I told you, it’s a cabal!) all firing up neurons like electron spark plugs, and only I can see the sparks colliding inside as letters, words, phrases, none lazy, all demand long life, or the Perpetuity of the Momentary” it grows lighter by the minute and the sporadic lights across the bay wink morse code secrets to the observant, and Noyac’s tree line has become a distinguishable and distinctive land mass to which I crossed last nite via & upon the South Ferry, when all these conflicting concepts began a painful birthing delivery, the coagulation of the flighty, merging and transforming into my child, in my bed, through the picture window that has so oft been complicit in the ganging up on my very, very old and restless brain but, uh, this ecrivez, this motion that the momentum of the momentary desiring & deserving of monuments to the perpetual won’t be stilled and hours later, with it’s invisible hands around my throat, it yanks from within what did not exist ten minutes prior, but always existed inside me as a jumbled puzzle, gestating quietly till a swift kick of birthing pains insufferable accompanied by her raucous dreams, awoke me from ******* and rhyming Rem Sleep, to now, this moment, named forever as 4:57am and this noisy newborn, covered in embryonic fluid (wonderful but disgusting really) is all ready pealing and peeling off suggestions for brothers and sisters, this arrogance is untenable, but the babe laughs at me, for it knows that there are hidden, voluminous files of titles awaiting their turning time of final conception no longer nighttime, an early forming day, it too, covered in its own fluidity, awaits discovery, for the lights from across the bay have gone to bed, turned off but the greatest, more powerful brighter discharges of the Sun Gods The Bay’s waters are still, though my woman is not, muttering, still dreaming out loud, as if she wishes to foment turbulence, and desires a boat for safe conveyance across the dark seas of the night to the searing bright June summer day that the Greek seers have forecast, and then that moment, like it’s older sibling, will demand, it’s very moment of personalized perpetuity, its own unique naming, a full recording, a welcoming by the Preservation Band, amidst the glory of its mother mornings colorings of palest blues, puffery of cumulus whitiwhispers all tinged in my favorite, flavored color, creamsicle orange, and the calming power is self evident for the rustling back and forth of raucous dreams have ceased, and I too am no longer possessed by the moment, until soon when the hands creep slow round my throat by a new moment, and all is lost, all is gained and a newest poem is brought from the womb of my ancient past, my currency of the next minutes and the wealth of words that are available to us all! demands one of us, perhaps you? to commit its actualized existence into reality I bid you a soft adieu, for the chores of existence those demanding pests of drudged biblical pestilence can no longer be kept waiting nml 5:21am Sun Jul 16 2024 writ at you know where…