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"candleflame" poems
we did what we could that night and a supernal being is ashamed. this is the drift of thought in the vast ocean of gilded gold frothing at the edge of rotund: giving back a silenced enigma, spewing the answer in an exhaust of white rancid smoke dharma burns plastered to cigarette. burning and burning, afloat are the high-pouncing embers looking for fleeting shades and dagger-ambulations of a shadow's swagger in tectonic soiree. we did what we could that night. like a flash of lightning at the back of hoarded hills, or say, something brutal and brash with modern sensibilities we never jell — we come not with softness or life peering out of our eyes like little girls serenaded by mad men in the eve of forlorn nights. we did what we could and some god cringes, winces away like the erratic dance of candleflame. the leviathan black spreads its parasol and we are no strangers. when our veraciousness starts to pierce the veil, the populace should start to worry of their trapped conditions. we came here for something: be it flesh, be it wisdom, be it plain inebriations — we will never flinch at the squalor of tomorrow's sobering. keep in mind, kaibigan.     it's all levitation and transcendence. the darkness wept as the car groans near the end of its immaterial life. i flick the last cigarette into the grey-faced pavement. all oceans drowned, all shadows burgeoned, all fires emerged plump, this silent radio rivers through the wave of this ephemerality, the onomatopoeia of strangeness, the   thud       of the senseless head of metal      on the body the   clackety-clack        of hours thereafter! ayeayeaye! the streets sing no mild   appendage. the solstice is lost     in the length and precision of all things. bringing ourselves to the brink of absence,     our pallid selves set ablaze, emblazoning the quick life of matchflame or rumble of         thunder — the steady phoenix of        that night! this is learning   to breathe again, o, what currents purloined in vicious swarth as we keep      this river flowing into our throats,   jamming our souls to compelling music.    remember kaibigan, it's all levitation and transcendence.
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Oct 28, 2015
Oct 28, 2015 at 8:03 AM UTC
Levitations
we did what we could that night and a supernal being is ashamed. this is the drift of thought in the vast ocean of gilded gold frothing at the edge of rotund: giving back a silenced enigma, spewing the answer in an exhaust of white rancid smoke dharma burns plastered to cigarette. burning and burning, afloat are the high-pouncing embers looking for fleeting shades and dagger-ambulations of a shadow's swagger in tectonic soiree. we did what we could that night. like a flash of lightning at the back of hoarded hills, or say, something brutal and brash with modern sensibilities we never jell — we come not with softness or life peering out of our eyes like little girls serenaded by mad men in the eve of forlorn nights. we did what we could and some god cringes, winces away like the erratic dance of candleflame. the leviathan black spreads its parasol and we are no strangers. when our veraciousness starts to pierce the veil, the populace should start to worry of their trapped conditions. we came here for something: be it flesh, be it wisdom, be it plain inebriations — we will never flinch at the squalor of tomorrow's sobering. keep in mind, kaibigan.     it's all levitation and transcendence. the darkness wept as the car groans near the end of its immaterial life. i flick the last cigarette into the grey-faced pavement. all oceans drowned, all shadows burgeoned, all fires emerged plump, this silent radio rivers through the wave of this ephemerality, the onomatopoeia of strangeness, the   thud       of the senseless head of metal      on the body the   clackety-clack        of hours thereafter! ayeayeaye! the streets sing no mild   appendage. the solstice is lost     in the length and precision of all things. bringing ourselves to the brink of absence,     our pallid selves set ablaze, emblazoning the quick life of matchflame or rumble of         thunder — the steady phoenix of        that night! this is learning   to breathe again, o, what currents purloined in vicious swarth as we keep      this river flowing into our throats,   jamming our souls to compelling music.    remember kaibigan, it's all levitation and transcendence.
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59
Shooting stars fell in a line and danced across my eyes in quick succession though the sun outshone them all and who ever worshiped the stars anyway? Then like fireflies flew north before broke, and from the south I saw the great Diamond City reach out above a jungle of metal concrete plastic plastic with lights Oh! lights Pinprick window TV stream style smiles selling streets projecting the moon for advertising space; the population rises Factory stormclouds only irritate umbrella stand footsteps who pretend to hate the rain and outshines dim sunlight baptizing all in electric glory Candleflame prisons of light that honk through haze through rainy Monday 6:30AM’s choke on each others breath until we have nothing left but CO2; dandelions inherit the earth.
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Jul 22, 2014
Jul 22, 2014 at 11:51 PM UTC
Shattering the Diamond City
i am going into the limp dark where silence recites a brief candleflame it is as if these cavernous impulses rush back like children whose heads are diadems and you, their mother of spring’s masterful hands neither went nor came to a dream of roses which trudging kisses smite the loam, giving them reckless meanings yet all the same in death and in beginning, in these large minutes your eyes contain such light which all things darkled are born anew with timid names
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Jan 19, 2016
Jan 19, 2016 at 8:47 AM UTC
Nudes: II
I, your oak tree ask, will you rest your painted wings on my branch? I know I can't make your fleeting candleflame of a life last more than your few bright days, but for now rest upon my ancient bark and hear the lullaby of my leaves. If rain should cause you to falter I'll bend my branches to shield you from the icy volley of raindrops. As stars fade out in ink of night, I'll let a leaf fall from my bough and I hope it brings some comfort, in your last glimpses of this cruelly beautiful world.
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Mar 8, 2017
Mar 8, 2017 at 5:59 PM UTC
Fragility
swift inset of love's Sanskrit, a thorn of contestations. make cadence this sensorial music. centrifugally waiting bodies to cross Earths. a plethora of annulments. lion-telling Sun singes through intersections of infinities: we cannot wait to quash the morning, the scent of guava leaves and the cerement of flour on chicken. earth-hewn mounds of meat pressed against beholden kitchen clangor. declension of memory past wood and pillars of home. lattices of light forerunning fingers, let down the curtain. wind swings with maddened turbine, afternoons high with deadlock. of all that is not here, the force reawakens a long-stumped ****** beating us back to edges ruthless with angels entirely curved, singled-out, wings clipped, dancing at the tip of the candleflame.
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Dec 5, 2015
Dec 5, 2015 at 10:16 PM UTC
Declension Of Angels
Flickering gently, sending an enigma across every face, Breeze of jasmine scent bathing o'er us, Candleflame, scarlet wonder, source of life, source of warmth, my relief, my first class solitude. Dark shadow creatures of the night, dancing glorious dances of the ol' days, them young, joyous girls. Drums beating in time, with my heart, dancers jumping, spinning in time, all in the shadows of a single candleflame. On a mournful dark night, in the ghastly moonlight... *** ---What I was thinking when writing it: I was thinking of African dancers and shadow plays and the eiry moonlight that reminds me of a candle. A completely different world of beauty and magic.
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Mar 11, 2014
Mar 11, 2014 at 5:05 PM UTC
African Nights
in some paradoxes, space happens when two people are close but not close enough. after hours of demand, the presence occurs in many ways. ubiquitous objects rend the veil of vicariousness. there will be a repetition of days in here, an assertive swing of dialogues to make ends appear as though real and accurate. in a brief candleflame of silence on a Vietnamese restaurant’s rooftop, there will be noxious space conscious of: we are waning. the way words leap from fences of teeth and venetian hairs. air becomes a fat mound of fools in arcades and then in an instant, it feels as if there is no more space left to move in, so they wear each other’s skin and shed right after the ballast’s fall. when done explaining a dream, sleep goes to belabor a bell. soundless beside them, stiff as a body dreaming for itself. in some paradoxes, what is imagined is most real. there is suspicion that this lacks sentimentality. it is as carnal and as commonplace as a hint of touch from a closed-in expanse. that time at the market when you had your hands fretting for shapes of perfect fruits, taking them in your careful hands wary enough to not beat them senselessly to the pulp of their glazed figures – the prices start to inflate and you wonder why people still remained when at the first sign of difficulty you start your furlough. and also sauntering with maimed pace, that of autumn’s slow reprieve, making your way past decrepit buildings, you stop to take sunsets not because they’re marvelous, but because you easily forget – and accept that there are also things wet under the rain and not with tears. when in another paradox, things point to their source when doused with oblivion – starting to breathe on its own, occupying space leafing through days when something instantly said rushes back searching for its holder, to be given, stolen, or say, left to die on its own –
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Mar 25, 2016
Mar 25, 2016 at 8:18 AM UTC
Say, When Things Start To Look For Their Owners
in some paradoxes, space happens when two people are close but not close enough. after hours of demand, the presence occurs in many ways. ubiquitous objects rend the veil of vicariousness. there will be a repetition of days in here, an assertive swing of dialogues to make ends appear as though real and accurate. in a brief candleflame of silence on a Vietnamese restaurant’s rooftop, there will be noxious space conscious of: we are waning. the way words leap from fences of teeth and venetian hairs. air becomes a fat mound of fools in arcades and then in an instant, it feels as if there is no more space left to move in, so they wear each other’s skin and shed right after the ballast’s fall. when done explaining a dream, sleep goes to belabor a bell. soundless beside them, stiff as a body dreaming for itself. in some paradoxes, what is imagined is most real. there is suspicion that this lacks sentimentality. it is as carnal and as commonplace as a hint of touch from a closed-in expanse. that time at the market when you had your hands fretting for shapes of perfect fruits, taking them in your careful hands wary enough to not beat them senselessly to the pulp of their glazed figures – the prices start to inflate and you wonder why people still remained when at the first sign of difficulty you start your furlough. and also sauntering with maimed pace, that of autumn’s slow reprieve, making your way past decrepit buildings, you stop to take sunsets not because they’re marvelous, but because you easily forget – and accept that there are also things wet under the rain and not with tears. when in another paradox, things point to their source when doused with oblivion – starting to breathe on its own, occupying space leafing through days when something instantly said rushes back searching for its holder, to be given, stolen, or say, left to die on its own –
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36
You have a kind face. People with kind faces always draw me in, like a candleflame draws a moth. I have seen enough of beauty to know That people with kind faces can immolate you With the terrible force of their loveliness. But... they are so very warm. You do have Such a kind face.
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Mar 24, 2014
Mar 24, 2014 at 10:47 PM UTC
Untitled
I never have to check my phone and so I watch the candleflame dance Fingertips grow numb to the soulless rocks glass My cigarette whispers secrets to a callous night And I think my cat died I’d check but I can’t take another hit tonight Unless it’s off a pipe She’ll still be dead in the morning Silence hangs about like an ugly hotel painting that’s been inexplicably bolted to the wall If I were to put a **** out on my chest to punish every thought I had of you I’d spell out your name A thousand times
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Mar 4, 2019
Mar 4, 2019 at 6:38 PM UTC
a dingo took my baby