"conflated" poems
The Jewish brothers in Defiance were definitely tough.
One wanted to **** many Germans, the other to save many Jews.
The German soldiers were expendable, unmarried, unremarkable.
Each little death was very little, a little spittle in a big wind.
Fast forward to my friend's son's bar mitzvah or daughter's
coming of age ceremony. Food is abundant, the music frenetic,
the rabbi paid. Gifts generous but not obvious.
Wealth does not obviate death and we know it.
Here too we have natural leaders. Youth basketball coaches,
school principals and, again, interpreters of prayers. When
violence comes to the neighborhood they are who we'll first look to
for governance and guns. Unless have you read The Admirable
Crichton?
Boredom, boredom conflated with loneliness, may be a sign
of good luck. To live a good length or light year away from man's
bad breath, allergenic perfumes, sickening flatulence and shed hair.
But you are drawn back into the debate about perfection by your own
********
While teaching at the old city jail I have learned this: only meditation
upon the periodic table can save your soul. From itself.
Imagining the world without the self will make you whole.
What else is there to say. Do less until one thing's done well.
After the war the brothers started a small trucking company
in the Bronx. Grateful for such peace, the accounting
was relaxing. They thought back to how they met their wives, naked
before the bombs and bullets. How they lost and found themselves in
what happened.
Aug 11, 2015
Aug 11, 2015 at 4:19 PM UTC
herein lies common fault - loosely hanging on a speculative conjecture
than exact detail.
mind's prison- asylum.
you go in to see furtive showcases
of the many names walking without
faces. you went in without invitation. only or abstract solicitation.
there is something that sinks
deeper than marrow, blows colder than December winnow, something that burgeons beyond naked sense.
inside this lair,
conflated you are with bent question marks to their distinct, curved smallnesses. you peek into the window of my eyes and inside this airless vault, we are both
heavy with staring at each other
dripping and bare-all, yet
this rigmarole of eyes contain
their visceral silences still.
i stripped them all of their voices
and they only look at each other
with onerous eyes, pondering
about their places, answerless
and just whirling in capacitous space --
Sep 20, 2015
Sep 20, 2015 at 3:50 AM UTC
Acquiesce here my love
Ameliorate my heart
The assemblage of circumstance provides dulcet ebullience
An efflorescent dalliance conflated into cathartic becoming
My bucolic bungalow made upon your callipygous
A young Life’s denouement
Your evocative elixir fetching
An erstwhile emollient embrocation
Your eloquent fingers find their way to frisson
My felicitous chatoyant gambols in glamor like a halcyon incipient made ineffable by the look of the ingénue
The labyrinthine inglenook lagoon leisurely lithe
The murmurous daffodils wink at the insouciance of your beauty
A panoply panacea, the half shadow complete as an epiphany
Quintessential to feminine riparian resplendence
Your mellifluous voice, an opulent offing, the sumptuous summery soliloquy of an angel
Cools my soul like the smell of earth after rain
Your propinquity ripples the scintilla of my spirit
Your surreptitious smile like a zephyr quietly whispers
Its redolent seraglio sempiternal in my thoughts
As skyward gazes like saccharine gossamer lilt with the knowledge of our raveling juxtaposition
a masterful pastiche, the cynosure of divine revelation
Nov 5, 2013
Nov 5, 2013 at 9:25 PM UTC
the names of all the things here
were given post creation
a redaction full of contents unrelated
a conflated epithet
brightly shining atop screaming
gleaming
see me
understand what I'm trying to mean
in my leaning italics
referential and meaningful with research
as I lurch into your interest
ringing
Apr 25, 2014
Apr 25, 2014 at 7:11 PM UTC
we all remember
where we were
watching the towers
burn and fall
knowing that things would
never be the same at all
disbelief at first, or
had an action movie
slipped into the news
no, it was real
and then twenty years
of vengeful repercussion
of military posturing
of suffering for many
we watched
the baddies being painted
good and evil
being redefined
virtue confused
impotence and power
conflated
lies and spin
consecrated
truth
alternated
idiot rich guys
promoted
tax for the poor
promulgated
democracy
desecrated
climate destruction
accelerated
by denialist
complacency
inequality
more concentrated
goodness and morality
infiltrated
by posturing political
pus weasels
venal vultures
of self interest
grasping for
short term dominance
and then ..
complacency pervaded
as absurdity
was accepted
as our new state of normal
and the height
of compassion
was owning a dog
and tut tutting
as refugees marched
across our news screens
and now we
bemoan being isolated
from being contaminated
we are mostly relegated
to stay in our mansions
while dinner is contemplated
have you been vaccinated?
Sep 11, 2021
Sep 11, 2021 at 4:32 AM UTC
Conflated the scriven entangled
Stygian Ink burns moonlight scribes
Death casket nymphotic neurotoxin
Flesh bites tender spots bruised
Inhale emerald fire shotgun lungs
Blacklight succubus consume
Jul 27, 2013
Jul 27, 2013 at 5:03 PM UTC
All unattainable
love is unconscionably
empty, while it's full
of "complimentary"
compliments and praise lacking
features resembling
features; they are signs,
which haven't been named or seen,
and make us human
only by grotesque
standards of knowledge and sin
(which grow conflated).
If morality is skewed then the root
is knowledge: the unavoidable fruit.
Sep 27, 2012
Sep 27, 2012 at 7:50 PM UTC
This crazy conundrum has been conspicuously contrived quite cordially. Of course, one could concede this cordially contrived conundrum could carelessly conflate the countless quandaries causing quintessential quantities to question the conspicuously questionable conspiracy. Conversely, carelessly questioning conspicuously contrived conspiracies as cordially quantitative quandaries could create considerably confusing claims countering the critically acclaimed crazy conundrum so callously clarified as to continue to count as cordial. Consequently, with careless acquiescence, I must confess that the conceptually contrived conspiracy, so inconspicuously inconsistent, conflated considerably contrary quandaries quite questionably and continues to confuse the crazy quite cordially. To conclude, the crazed conspicuous conundrum confuses the cordially questionable quantities of conceptually countless claims clearly clarified as conflated quandaries continuously contradicting a considerable count of conspiracies.
11/2/16 11:59 p
Nov 3, 2016
Nov 3, 2016 at 11:21 PM UTC
The best men and women
in this life are not the
holy
or the righteous. They
are not
found in the
church or temple.
We live in a world
where religious
virtue
is conflated with
bigotry, racism,
and hatred.
Only the godless are truly
good.
May 27, 2018
May 27, 2018 at 11:03 AM UTC
Life, be not arrogant, though some have called thee
Terrifying and delighting, thou art so; sowing random confusion,
Overthrowing mortals with unequal puzzles of both extremes,
Humans, condemned, to collect travails, improvident provisions,
Live, Life! But only through us, for thy are slave to imprecisions, conflated constant reversible, the free choice of souls' decisions,
Random and inopportune, thy bedeviling choice of hurdles,
Our swelled heads so vulnerable to robbers and roadblocks,
But cannot thou onfess, rare is thy victory, oft thy defeat.
Until we meet thy comrade in arms, our paths irregular coursing,
Of our own choice, so acknowledge thou makest our path to veer,
Impotent prince, 'tis always our hands, arms upon the tiller to steer.
Jun 10, 2017
Jun 10, 2017 at 7:06 PM UTC
*Conflated afore
Twofold elation
Betimes for melancholia
Insentient erewhile
Heretofore
We love semovedly
Together nowise
Enow*
Jul 2, 2015
Jul 2, 2015 at 11:52 AM UTC
flung in the back of the '55
Chevy like another suitcase
the child knew not where they were going
only that they had been there before
more than once, when Daddy's
drink turned to anger, and anger
turned to fists pounding a boss
and another job was lost
and the child would again see
the lights of the town vanish: he, the car,
his preternaturally silent momma, his hung over
father would become part of the night
another flight, this time from Gallup
New Mexico, where Daddy had tried
to out drink every Navajo in every bar
and almost did
on these nocturnal hegiras, the child
would lie and stare at the headliner--the round
dome light a faint moon against
a mysterious sky
beams from passing cars
would roll across his otherwise
empty constellation, transforming dark
matter into fleeting nebulae
this, his wide world, while a slow
clock spun, and tires hummed, eternally,
until his father announced where they
were going this time
Iowa, a place the child
conflated with Ohio, vowel sounds
similar, soft and more meaningful than
marks on maps--Cedar something...
Cedar Rapids, and the child knew rapid
and rapid meant fast and fast meant soon, only
a few more saturnine stars around his dome
light moon, soon
Jan 21, 2017
Jan 21, 2017 at 11:56 PM UTC
You were nothing but a furtive dalliance.
Our days were conflated with a demure attitude.
I’m an ingenue.
And you are an imbroglio.
Nov 30, 2012
Nov 30, 2012 at 11:56 PM UTC
electric — conflated with
the doldrum of once ignited feeling
on the russet table work
and the stringing aroma of flyblown
coffee painting the morning something
earthenware;
i imagine
women lounging
and displaying their flamboyant dresses
confessing a dull promenade
parading their attenuated ***** reveling
a queendom on recall and this bane,
merely resolute, gives itself a new
meaning as a hand of forgive
men resigning their bags on the corner,
grunts, heaves deathly serious disallowing tomorrow's arrival into
a throb of being in place, folding newspapers to a club and smiting fervently along with the endless waiting,
verses lying cold on the froth of the tile
and the wind ripening the brew of
contestations — punctuations in their
cupboards still and reserved in hermetic
space curating silence, giving dins
their polished ends,
open for all: churlish boys,
naked girls, faith-used women, strife-torn men, usual suspects,
rebels and the overwrought –
never closes like a hand in cold
or a rose, its face occulted by
identification sideways torn, inside and out struggling,
scrunched to squint on some pale light through chinks on the battered
wall, sipping coffee,
mmmm, that
morning ripple transcending the
heaviness of the city before me.
Nov 6, 2015
Nov 6, 2015 at 10:13 PM UTC
to merge, equate, blend to send
a misguided equality in which
there is no equity truly, but a
notion that what I see is my truth,
& what you see, well, you imagine it,
to be truly…too
neither black or white deemed colors, (1),
yet we con~flate them to be so, naming
them all colors, or the color of light,
which changes unceasingly, ergo, again,
all colors
upon a moments thought, conflating is:
***no matter what you perceive, always believe
it is all colors***
of conflated equanimity
<>
off to bed
until the nighttime sheds mev its whispered words and cries
soto voce, write it wright it right it!
11:10pm Tues Aug 5
Aug 5, 2025
Aug 5, 2025 at 11:12 PM UTC
Sister of truth,
and complicit in her reclusiveness,
pushing her beside
to hide behind your smile.
Her pressure builds,
begging for release.
A let valve, an eruption of emotion,
the bursting of anything too inflated,
and I’m afraid I’ve conflated-
reality
with what happened that night,
chest deep in warm water.
Ephemeral evening of one last kiss, after one last kiss,
languid dance,
water helping to resist descent,
holding my heart afloat, to keep it from drowning
on your opulence.
Your mouth holds my secrets,
***** like the martini you made me,
the two together, a palpable force,
keeping me lost
in the gossamer
that are
my thoughts
of you.
Oct 27, 2013
Oct 27, 2013 at 9:33 PM UTC
to be or not to be
that's not the question
because i have no choice
to love or not to love
suits life much better
to love
to trust, to open, to feel another
life besides my own
and all the insecurities
doubt
fear
elation
that come along with it
or not to love
to give in to complacency
and this overwhelming desire to give
up in smoke with nothing to show
no legacy
no survivors
nothing left
besides the end, the abyss, the void
whether it's love
is the more difficult question
how do i know if it's love i feel
fear or love
phobos, philos
amazing how two polar opposites
are so easily conflated in my
silly head (which i think is overrated anyway)
it's the subjectivity of it
all that i cannot bear
alone, or together, no way
of knowing
to love or not to love
and whether or not it's love
let's hear Hamlet's whingy romanticized opinion on that, the *****
Aug 6, 2014
Aug 6, 2014 at 6:14 PM UTC
The stars may have names
Past their prime
Living in a different time
Living in a world
Different to my own
Yet intrinsically the same
A human experience
Fabricated in existence
Of melodies and zodiacs
The constellations, the coincidences
Entropy in the skies
Awed by the distance
Between myself and theme
I feel so small and insignificant
I could cross the lands
I could cross the seas
And yet
I would not be able to cross the heavens
I follow the starlight
Until it turns lime
Until the stars turn to stone
And I can follow them on a boardwalk
All the way to the big top
And the young old gods
Who live under the big top
Of sloth and ***
Prayed to by their fans
For their conflated talents
We call them
Stars
And they are called stars for a reason
Sparkling, dazzling
Intangible, infallible
Humanity is its own sort of chaos
Its own sort of entropy
Constellations and mythologies
But not for millions
But not for millennia
But for decades
But for days
Until mortality meets immortality
Death doesn't discriminate
But immortality
Is very selective
It will elect
Only the best
Only the classics
Just like the stars
Which sprawl and scatter
Through the sublime heavens
With a meek tongue
I sing
A song
Not sung
My own
Written
Feb 11, 2018
Feb 11, 2018 at 6:16 PM UTC
They beleaguered me
until my dreams
and my lies
conflated
in the way gravity
used to be the same thing
as radiation,
but the dalliance
of the fundamental forces
was nothing
compared to the eternal love affair
between what I wanted
and what I pretended to have
Feb 21, 2016
Feb 21, 2016 at 1:33 PM UTC
Bleeding heart, blinding sun,
Fleeting art, mind undone.
Internal prattle, cumbersome,
Eternal battles to overcome.
Shaky hands presumed a tale,
Of forsaken plans foredoomed to fail.
Reverberating, uncertain shouts,
Illuminating those hurtful doubts.
A soul misplaced, fragile, fraught,
A goal once chased with agile thought.
Pursued the picture to yield the prize,
Who knew the scripture was filled with lies?
Kept the scars to quell his worth,
Leapt to stars and fell to earth.
Conflated pride and forespoken schemes
Became fate denied with broken dreams.
Apr 21, 2018
Apr 21, 2018 at 7:56 AM UTC
In my chest I bring a pain
Which in time accept
As a stubborn implant
Right in my right chest
This pain knows not where it beats
Nor does it come from near here
But it pulses deeply through
And it almost sounds like you
In the timbre of its screams
That vibrate the thorax
And puncture when you weep
I live memories of sites
Yet it is here she belongs now
Whatever was once made of her
And even if she’s not aware
And even if you’re not yet aware
I am:
It lives in my right chest
What a patron stepmother
Crude lioness heart
Synchronic pounding in negative resounds
The **** acute pain
Of this machine I carry
Implanted, conflated, pointy
I imported it from our nights
And stares traded in summertime
Iris tinged with shavings from the sun
Cut up from the negatives of the blinds
And in negative pounding
Conducting in this right chest of mine
This implant of torment
Torment and own delicate shine
So delicate it may take the torment and make
At times: simple discomfort
Others: a happy life in a moment
And who may be source of this pain
Of this heart in negative
Creating only torment
And what gorgeous torment
Which at worse discomforts
At best resuscitates my life in a moment
And turns me back to us
This pain and anguish
In adolescent torpor
Unrealising you made of
Me the glad recipient
Where to grow and lodge
Like the lost bullet in time
That naked ****** universe
Formed into material emotion
Animal biological material
That from this story I have with you
Gives anxiety during bed time
Your anxiety
But that pounds in negative
As the now accepted implant
When it comes dark longing
Of us not seeing what is to come
It’s just that here in pain and everything
Beats content from imperfection
So beautiful and sinistral
In mine deep dextral chest
Your youthful beating heart
Jun 9, 2018
Jun 9, 2018 at 10:34 PM UTC
Defeated, deflated: conflated
I fell, I feel, I found
You found me
Or did I find you?
Did I seek you out?
Are you me?
I lost my step; we lost our step
I fell, I feel, I found
Jun 18, 2019
Jun 18, 2019 at 5:30 PM UTC