"    biding time to scrounge the rent--"
Shane Hunt 

I sold smack on a playground today

    biding time to scrounge the rent--

Two months ago I had never even seen the stuff.
    I'd never procured it for personal use,
    let alone sold it.

Now I'm a full-time pusher of prescriptions
for problems that can't be cured,
a modern-day snake-oil salesmen
schlepping panaceas for every conceivable ill.

Trying to cope with depression?
    This'll give you a shot in the arm!
Your boyfriend just broke your heart
mere weeks after breaking your hymen?
    Here's a prick that you can depend on

I thought I was better than this,

but who can afford scruples
                      with bills to pay?

I struggle to compete
with people who would never deign to take note of me.
My revenge is in undermining their immaculate lives,
a pill-peddling Socrates
keeping creditors at bay.

I'd always envisioned being someone's hero--
at least being remembered for an act of creation.

Instead I'm an enzyme for eradication.
A cancer cell at best--
    A bloody wrecking ball.

                 One day I woke up a sidekick
to a heroine that's never saved anyone...

"Do their biding"
Katlyn Orthman 

Soul snatcher
Death breather
Eyes evil , blue
Soulless monsters
Dark forces
Do their biding
Blood on their hands
Skin, never seen the sun
Face splattered with blood
Hide behind your sheets
They walk your streets
They hear your heart beat
They'll be discreet
Close your eyes

Brilliant soul
Shone above them all
No prayers are heard
When they roam
Evil  feasts
Your alone
With the beast

"I've never been good at biding time"

They say love is blindness
No, I don't want to see
I'll dive head first into the unbeknownst depths
The cataracts impairing me

They say love is patient
I've never been good at biding time
I am ever restless
I'd wait eons for a love of this kind

They say love last forever
It's hard to think of anything
That can somehow compare
To that treasure.

White, silver, platinum, gold
These all fade away
They get chipped, lost,
They become worn and old

I fall in love with you differently
Everyday, for the same old things
It's so much more to me you see
Than any mortal, metal ring

Still, it's nice to think...

That miracales can happen

So I can hear my angel sing

Stupid me oh my this guy makes everything so much easier
"and biding sweep of time, aeon after aeon, eternal"
vircapio gale 

^       ^      ^     ^     ^    ^   ^  ^ ^ ^^^ ^ ^  ^   ^    ^     ^     ^      ^       ^

{[a parachute of words to soften death

(the impact governed by an ancient rule)]

for falling slower, to allow the gaze to linger

on a beingscape of prophets, sages, and of fools,

to entertain a fantasy, a whim

or a kernal sign of epistemic limn}:

\| /

feline-dolphin friendliness to bring,

to sing of paws and fins, to fashion songs..

cut playful, caring, interspecies lens.

sprouting karmic stems at every step

with toe-gems on a koan-grounded path

on which the memories of art abound--

to measure wrath, to nard with wisdom salves

the holon vast of intra-earthling givenness

and arm the doom'ed nous with lethe-wards:

a Helm of melodies to dim the sound

of nether-chords in taunting reaper's lure;

pantheonic Plate to temper tangent blows

of glowing smoulders, darkest passion throws;

Wings of flame in kind caressing pleasure

licking high incurvate spinal moan... alone...

the tone is sure, for underworldly psalm

and biding sweep of time, aeon after aeon, eternal bone on bone,

in gales of fated nescience, the moment dawns

careening, skirrs my aether-self of lighted

purpose drawn, and telic web of wanings on...


nard: spikenard, a fragrant herb or its ointment (used as a verb here as the act of anointing it)
holon: a 'whole/part'
nous: from Ancient Greek νοῦς (nous) or νόος (noös, “mind”)
lethe: the mythological river of Hades, or lit. Gk for "oblivion", "forgetfulness" and "concealment" --"lethe-wards" is Keats' phrase from "Ode to a Nightingale"
telic: directionality, goal-oriented... fr. the Gk 'telos' meaning "end", "purpose", or "goal"

dolphin-safe kitty (cuteness factor high): http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=itW2EPXxHDU
"biding in the impulse-meaning-gathering of ear"
vircapio gale 

what did it take for me to miss those days?
crawling breathless,
stomach nails for breakfast, ventricles of rust,
pounding on my ribs with any upright task
from soaking bed delirium,
corroded mind and eyeballs
tortured falun dafa tears
stinging on the walls a glowing red,
my branching veins encasing me in flaming
paths of mystery: to live or die, to try or fail
at simple efforts
--never gone without, since infanthood--
to stand itself a tissue horror
bathing in the needles of another lifeform's hold on me,
that spiral nesting multitasker
legions in the joints,
invading forces claiming spinal tower-riches
as if my thoughts will be my last,
originary flickerings of self, sacked and razed,
the burning out of novelty for bottom emptiness
and only sympathies malinger there--
yet vaster frame invisible to healthy eye emerged:
a sea, empathic with my prior paths from health diverged:
adrenal waves and dolphin plays of other air ensouled i purge
with cascade urges tension mixing universal breath
of statements, fears and wry coercings not to think of death
or tempting near the abolition of a system whore
for all the benison it's bound to store for years
of hiding blind and uttering the shield-word
of our sly, superficial, group-stock lies,
to have us screaming at each other out of only kneejerk love
a mask of fodder from our young dogmatic wanderings
they burn and burn and choke like spirochetes themselves
while shoving under family rugs the truth

cicada shells clung eerily against the burls and branches
of a monumental tree itself a deathly symbol bare of green
like ornaments of rhythm upsurge birthing into death digest
the exoskeletal remains, under finger crunched as
up the bark i climbed
to view what death had taken value on for me, and balanced
up atop the hill of faded names i yearned the meanings of,
and in the clouds
a part revealed
a sunny mist,
to paint me colorful again--
and in that mood a hail began to tick on forest floor:
the brittle dead a singing whisper flaking brown
on brown, on earthy brown to gather white within the paper nooks of leafy drums

how whimsically to service death
anon anon for now they're always lying there
across the road atop the grave hill,
from other species hunted here
but this, that time it was a carved skull
hacked or sawed but yards from peaceful temple yard
another, cleaner omen skull had led me there,
ochre red with emerald mold
the cranial pale divided stop and go
and led me wondering within the stream
to notice other signs i half-expected mystically:
surreal blood abundantly with vulture feathers carpeting the scene:
a stag with missing brain, missing hind and organs
chosen how, i'd never know
--i saw the arrow though, a barb of certainty--
and old fur, gray and white, a timely passing then,
to make of gore a sacred right,
and in hale ignorance i prayed like only atheists can pray
with self-disclaiming smirk but
humble authenticity of unknown forces
biding in the impulse-meaning-gathering of earth,
now memory to glean and hold to live in me

"biding time, meaning can come later"
vircapio gale 

i will succeed.
biding time, meaning can come later

the forest is burning
with memories of other less important species

imposing dogma, please stop looking at my throat;
i need you though
deep inside
i will fail.
allow this meaning to escape for now

the forest is dark
the memory of how i came, dim

yield up truth for later ages, words;
i have no need for you
otherwise than out

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