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"illegible" poems
820 All Circumstances are the Frame In which His Face is set— All Latitudes exist for His Sufficient Continent— The Light His Action, and the Dark The Leisure of His Will— In Him Existence serve or set A Force illegible.
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All Circumstances are the Frame
Sleep is timed to the minute, my breaths let out lazy smoke icicles make goose bumps into paragraphs books written on my arms through yellow mist bare feet in the morning on my rooftops counting international planes in the sky. My migrant bones take to the sky, each moderate minute that passes by on my rooftops, increases the rawness of smoke like lung-fulls of lemon mist spewing a nebula of paragraphs. In the murk of paragraphs red papery ashes explode into the sky leaving a cloud of syllable mist. The last fragile minute reduces my shivers to smoke, a winter shell of shoulders on rooftops. Double exposed film across rooftops turn silhouettes into paragraphs, a congregation of vapours and smoke speaking soliloquies into the sky. I am minute, dissipating into canary mist. Billows of ocean mist make my fingers melancholy on rooftops where a tidal minute freezes salty foam paragraphs a vacation from the sky, my mossy perch and violet smoke. Heliotropic smoke spirals against dense mist; fine rain blinding the sky soaking lemonade rooftops. My bed of paragraphs curls into an illegible minute. The lilac smoke in my eyes is almost minute. A mustard mist wrinkles the paragraphs, like the purple sky dropping over the rooftops.
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Feb 16, 2014
Feb 16, 2014 at 11:46 PM UTC
Sestina 2 - Mouths
Down by two the bruised-blue flesh of the bronze butterfly's escape through sacrifice, flays the emotions.. Unwholesome the silence that goes before her, a sound like the heart bound to beat like butterfly wings... Gently her absence quick upon me, inhales the night and swiftly, the dark sees only ease to relinquish her candles sheathed in glass epitaphs that collapse like veins to fill the fluent air with the spare embrace of the blue elements... Down by two in the bottom of the ninth, two out, two on, two strikes, the soul's too tragic abhorrence of details fails to deliver the impossible syntax of apocalypse, on the lips of a courteous Christ, crucified by light, the night fades far into the furthest exile... Under a tropic of cancer, her un-obscured brilliance pierces the vault of heaven's vast gathering of angels, and their illegible scripture... Shatters the soul in one primal instant grand slam dream, quicksilver through her midnight moment's landscape, every cherished feature in flight, the light of the bronze butterfly's escape through sacrifice, to the silver flame of moonlight's crucial adieu....
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Feb 5, 2013
Feb 5, 2013 at 1:08 PM UTC
The Silence Of Winged Moments
# This depressive choreography                                      of flames                                      f     i      k     r     n                                          l    c      e     i     g consumed in the geography                                  of bodies                                  b   i   c   k   e   r   i   n   g                                Tongue's embers  licking                     the innocent cheek words like poniards                      P   R   I   C   K   I   N   G leaving this dance at its                                                           pique Now left  a  s m o u l d e r i n g              soloist on the stage                             a dance so sobering                                      watch this fire's rampage burn his own pyre               I gave into the rage burn his own desire              another illegible page tossed to fuel the bellowing fire               the end of our golden age #
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Aug 15, 2018
Aug 15, 2018 at 10:52 AM UTC
The Choreography of Flames
i wish i told her how much i loved her poetry; her poetry was music to my ears and calligraphy to my eyes, no matter how messy her handwriting. each was a masterpiece, each was a song, each told a story, regardless of how illegible; and i can't stand knowing that i'll never get to fall in love with her art ever again.
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Feb 18, 2015
Feb 18, 2015 at 3:12 PM UTC
untold
i never really know what to say how to say it, and how to get the heavy vowels and consonants off my tired tongue in an equal demeanor and no matter how much i plan it, no matter how much i skim my hands through seemingly silky waters, words become rigid as they roll helplessly out of my cardboard mouth i want to be clean and straightforward clear and understandable but i always seem to come out as a jagged line or illegible handwriting my mumbled words and thoughts that lay behind my paper thin skull stand still like secrets in whispering houses under the moon and they beg to be let out i only wish i could speak as easily as i write because words have much more meaning when they are finally let out of cages made of paper and pen
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Apr 2, 2018
Apr 2, 2018 at 10:45 AM UTC
untitled #4
For the girl who used the umbrella as a walking stick, this is for you. No limp and leg slide followed your wake just the upright roar of footsteps on pale shale- Cambridge cotton stones that reflect and reverberate the sound from around into the ears of the passerby. I cannot wait, nor hold it in, the urge to scribble 11 numbers onto parchment paper, old receipts or or that wilted vapour notepad paper, that nestles in the jeans. If I had, then we’d be at a meal now- a dining experience just for two. 22 numbers and one letter was written, illegible and wrong. I forgot which phone number worked and forgot which one you could reach me on. **A poem from the upcoming poetry pamphlet, published by http://www.coffeeshoppoems.com, entitled "Leather Clad Warriors", available soon for £3. That's only 300 pence.
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Oct 31, 2012
Oct 31, 2012 at 11:19 AM UTC
NO LIMP AND LEG
some say im cynical satanical that my minds mechanical diabolical spoken essence erotical detestable jaded imagery hypnotical unstoppable liable to solve the unsolvable while prodigal poets drown in their nautical modules im a criminal a cannibal storming the street like an animal shooting cannonballs through prison walls splattering the generals in bathroom stalls hostil leave you poppin pain pills in the hospital uncontrollable my temper is flammable mumbles illegible choking you with your pentacle leaving onlookers speckled the abominable mental protocols unstoppable the unfeasible constable shooting up the card table willing and able to call your fables and smash apart a label i raise babies in unstable cradles let you bleed out like cracked ladles engorged in unholy wars exploring the corruption of the core deplored uniformed for the clash of the double edge swords taking control of vocal chords a meet of the hordes of the horned misinformed adorned in sunlight trying to shine just 1 line at a time until my life signs decline almost time light and shadow combined Horus and set by hindsight blessed yet to contest to the rest of this mess by melancholy caressed as i arise unrest from the cess of the un confessed blessed
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Jul 9, 2012
Jul 9, 2012 at 6:14 AM UTC
1 line at a time
Onetime I let a boy inside my ribcage I warned him upon entry that the path to the     space     between my lungs was a oneway ticket that I had never smoked a cigarette, but the walls inside me were tar-filled   and sick that sometimes my heart failed to beat with my brain and instead fell into perfect uneven synchrony with the faucet where I threw-up cherry red the other night. Onetime I let a boy with a knife inside my ribcage and I had seen the knife and I didn't care he climbed inside me so gently like he belonged there and was just taking his place like a missing ***** he made me his home reassembled my insides vital pieces of me now resting on his body, depending on his body one hand on my heart the other on my throat. Onetime I let a boy with a knife and a bottle of bourbon live inside my ribcage he cleaned the tar off the walls but didn't cure the sickness I think he liked the smell of it. One night he carved his name everywhere spine clavicle esophagus and I pretended to sleep cut nick slash he tried to claim me he tried to clean me but lost souls can't be claimed and I'll never be clean enough my heart follows faucets not boys and that scared the boy so one night he poured the bourbon down the throat he held and I didn't stop him and I almost drowned gulp, gulp, gulp slash, slash, slash cursive illegible sorry's over every spot he had once cut his name into and he kissed the wounds and I woke up heavy. Organs are worthless without their host but Onetime I watched a boy tear his way out of my ribcage. Knife and empty bottle in his place, nothing's been working right in there since. I haven't let anyone in there since.
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Mar 24, 2015
Mar 24, 2015 at 3:57 AM UTC
***** Transplant
Onetime I let a boy inside my ribcage I warned him upon entry that the path to the     space     between my lungs was a oneway ticket that I had never smoked a cigarette, but the walls inside me were tar-filled   and sick that sometimes my heart failed to beat with my brain and instead fell into perfect uneven synchrony with the faucet where I threw-up cherry red the other night. Onetime I let a boy with a knife inside my ribcage and I had seen the knife and I didn't care he climbed inside me so gently like he belonged there and was just taking his place like a missing ***** he made me his home reassembled my insides vital pieces of me now resting on his body, depending on his body one hand on my heart the other on my throat. Onetime I let a boy with a knife and a bottle of bourbon live inside my ribcage he cleaned the tar off the walls but didn't cure the sickness I think he liked the smell of it. One night he carved his name everywhere spine clavicle esophagus and I pretended to sleep cut nick slash he tried to claim me he tried to clean me but lost souls can't be claimed and I'll never be clean enough my heart follows faucets not boys and that scared the boy so one night he poured the bourbon down the throat he held and I didn't stop him and I almost drowned gulp, gulp, gulp slash, slash, slash cursive illegible sorry's over every spot he had once cut his name into and he kissed the wounds and I woke up heavy. Organs are worthless without their host but Onetime I watched a boy tear his way out of my ribcage. Knife and empty bottle in his place, nothing's been working right in there since. I haven't let anyone in there since.
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*Language is a skin: I rub my language against the other. It is as if I had words instead of fingers, or fingers at the tip of my words. My language trembles with desire. -Roland Barthes* My language is a skin I have outgrown. It sloughs off in flakes, leaving letters or the occasional ill-suited, illegible word trailing behind me. I pick at adverbs and articles hanging from my fingertips; This morning I pulled a whole phrase off my arm like a sunburn. My language, once alight, now settles like cinders on the ground, around the shower drain, upon my sheets; My language no longer serves me. Peel my vocabulary off my back, tear my diction from my shoulders, and my syntax from my chest; Scratch the punctuation off my face— my lips are chapped with parentheses. Tomorrow I will have shed my language— Unbound from an ill-fitting lexicon— coughed the alphabet from my lungs and exhaled the last serif like cigarette smoke to find the world new, uncontained and undefined.
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Apr 7, 2011
Apr 7, 2011 at 4:15 AM UTC
Language Is a Skin
Lost my air from a parting glance, a split second that haunts my memories The crunch of gravel beneath our bare feet, tired arms around my neck Dancing drunk in the morning, waiting for the dandelions to unfold dying arms Feta cheese and Greek olives, hummus on flat bread, a sip of merlot A kiss with dim eyes under live oak branches, a parting breath, exhaled into open skies I turn under the disc of the sun, chased by moon and clouds, the clear quiet of night I surrender my thoughts to the dead leaves, broken branches, my holy totems I lay my voice on wild grasses; let it float down, drip into running water I write my words on ***** walls, tomorrow scratched to illegible nothings Outlines of small hands on colored paper, hard to believe we were all children, once
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Mar 22, 2012
Mar 22, 2012 at 9:17 AM UTC
Air
The ****** is in hospital with full blown [illegible] one year later One year ago today I killed the rose Because something was wrong
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Jan 26, 2019
Jan 26, 2019 at 6:00 PM UTC
A Liars Rose (pt. 2)
Tread the bourgeois carpet of 5000 feet caked in airmiles Enter the ornately crafted nondescript facade passed the chap in the tall hat Rank and file - standard issue pleasantries Sign the guestbook of illegible memories Acclimatise to the room of temporary devotion devoid of belonging or emotion; the ruthless economics of designed practicality The impending ideology: that what you pay for you dont get to keep That nameless hotel dressed in uniformed vulgarity is the fourth to be welcomed as Home this week
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Mar 7, 2013
Mar 7, 2013 at 4:14 AM UTC
Living out a Suitcase
If you've ever broke out into hives, you would understand what it would feel like to be one. If anxiety has ever stripped your veins, If inspiration has ever lacked the blood leaking from the depths of you that explode like title waves against rocks, you would know what it would feel like to be stung. I've realized I haven’t been aware of transfixed rage and clenched hands trying too hard to hold on to something that loosened its grip a match and a half ago. The fluid in my liter told me it was never really meant for cigarettes; all they ever do is deteriorate. There is blood covering my sheets and evidence to cover up my gruesomely blank eyes. Everything is coming back to me and it makes me wonder why I've ever given up. They say that words sting and if bumblebees killed themselves after hurting someone else they’d be a lot more like me. This is ripped and crumbled paper in the form of a mental breakdown. You have composed me of jolting pupils and false accusations. I’d rather be writing in my journal. I’d rather be scratching down illegible ink marks than doing what I’m doing right now. If you can hear that, it’s the sound of windows breaking. It’s the sound of your heart forcing itself to shatter It’s the sound you make when all you want to do is become a drone to vivid darkness and a loss of senses. I would be a lot more like bees if their venom could actually put the living in their suitable graves. I am substituting pain for pleasure even when I feel nothing at all. I don’t want to be a bumblebee anymore.
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Mar 17, 2014
Mar 17, 2014 at 9:42 PM UTC
Bumblebees
If you've ever broke out into hives, you would understand what it would feel like to be one. If anxiety has ever stripped your veins, If inspiration has ever lacked the blood leaking from the depths of you that explode like title waves against rocks, you would know what it would feel like to be stung. I've realized I haven’t been aware of transfixed rage and clenched hands trying too hard to hold on to something that loosened its grip a match and a half ago. The fluid in my liter told me it was never really meant for cigarettes; all they ever do is deteriorate. There is blood covering my sheets and evidence to cover up my gruesomely blank eyes. Everything is coming back to me and it makes me wonder why I've ever given up. They say that words sting and if bumblebees killed themselves after hurting someone else they’d be a lot more like me. This is ripped and crumbled paper in the form of a mental breakdown. You have composed me of jolting pupils and false accusations. I’d rather be writing in my journal. I’d rather be scratching down illegible ink marks than doing what I’m doing right now. If you can hear that, it’s the sound of windows breaking. It’s the sound of your heart forcing itself to shatter It’s the sound you make when all you want to do is become a drone to vivid darkness and a loss of senses. I would be a lot more like bees if their venom could actually put the living in their suitable graves. I am substituting pain for pleasure even when I feel nothing at all. I don’t want to be a bumblebee anymore.
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I had the most scary, awful, horrifying, sickening dream last night. It was a dream that my grandmother had passed away. Died. She was gone. And I wasn't even there for her. I was told, no, informed, through the most insensitive, impersonal means possible. A simple, three worded, text message. I don't remember how much I cried in the dream. Or if I really even shed a single tear. All I know now, as I scribble down these scattered thoughts in a handwriting almost illegible, an attempt to rid them from my mind, is how I feel with my mind racing through the possibility of such an event. My stomach hurts, every muscle in my being clenched in a sudden stress, a tactic to hold back that urge to purge myself of all contents and feeling whatsoever. Both hands are cramped as one braces me against this abnormally warm and now uncomfortable bed, the other struggling to write while my forearm throbs with discomfort. My breathing is off. There is no normal steady rhythm to it; rather a scattered pattern of inhales and exhales both long and short, often separated by uncharacteristic pauses. I've dealt with death before. More than once, many years ago. (I'm still dealing with it.) I understand that it is very much a part of life, and the rest of us must continue on, void of voice or choice. It is the cruel awakening. And my relief at waking to the most normal of texts from dear old Dad and the realization that my fear had only occurred in the depth of that unconscious realm ruled by sleep... I just cannot ever explain. I can only remain horrified that I would dare endure such a pain, even in imagination. And yet, as the day's busy agenda begins to take over all else and I am only too eager to push the dream away and let it disappear into nothingness as I mentally prepare for today and this week, I've already decided... I think I'll call Grandma today.
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Sep 8, 2013
Sep 8, 2013 at 10:30 AM UTC
A Nontraditional Nightmare
I had the most scary, awful, horrifying, sickening dream last night. It was a dream that my grandmother had passed away. Died. She was gone. And I wasn't even there for her. I was told, no, informed, through the most insensitive, impersonal means possible. A simple, three worded, text message. I don't remember how much I cried in the dream. Or if I really even shed a single tear. All I know now, as I scribble down these scattered thoughts in a handwriting almost illegible, an attempt to rid them from my mind, is how I feel with my mind racing through the possibility of such an event. My stomach hurts, every muscle in my being clenched in a sudden stress, a tactic to hold back that urge to purge myself of all contents and feeling whatsoever. Both hands are cramped as one braces me against this abnormally warm and now uncomfortable bed, the other struggling to write while my forearm throbs with discomfort. My breathing is off. There is no normal steady rhythm to it; rather a scattered pattern of inhales and exhales both long and short, often separated by uncharacteristic pauses. I've dealt with death before. More than once, many years ago. (I'm still dealing with it.) I understand that it is very much a part of life, and the rest of us must continue on, void of voice or choice. It is the cruel awakening. And my relief at waking to the most normal of texts from dear old Dad and the realization that my fear had only occurred in the depth of that unconscious realm ruled by sleep... I just cannot ever explain. I can only remain horrified that I would dare endure such a pain, even in imagination. And yet, as the day's busy agenda begins to take over all else and I am only too eager to push the dream away and let it disappear into nothingness as I mentally prepare for today and this week, I've already decided... I think I'll call Grandma today.
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63
Thank you, Thomas Edison, for your invention. That we may use it as an analogy In perpetuity. In concept. In cartoons. No risiduals earned on this I'm afraid. Epiphanies are so rare there would be little earned anyway. They come on like rushing wind Some we are lucky enough to grasp. Pet Rock. Chia Pet. The Snuggie. Others are squandered. At the bottom of a bottle or glass. Lost in the illegible syntax of a bar napkin. Thomas Edison once bemused that he never failed. He simply found a new way it wouldn't work. What I wouldn't have given, to have been among, his bar napkins and empty bottles.
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May 24, 2015
May 24, 2015 at 1:07 PM UTC
Epiphany Squandered
LITTLE MOMENTS OF MY LIFE ILLEGIBLE LIKE SCRIBBLES ON PAPER. THE CHILD WILL NOT STAY BETWEEN THE LINES ANYWAY. DANGLING ORNAMENTS JUST REMEMBRANCE OF THOUGHTS PUSHED BACK.PUSHED BACK, YET STILL HELD ON TO, WITH OR WITHOUT KNOWING THE PAUSE, REWIND, AND FAST FORWARD HAVE BECOME THE NIRVANA FOR THE NEW MILLENNIUM. CHEW THE FRUITS OF LABOR AND PUSH IT INTO THE HOLE IN THE WALL. CHEW THE FRUITS OF LABOR AND PUSH IT IN THE HOLE IN OUR SOULS. WHAT IS LEFT NOW SLOWLY WITHERS AWAY AS DUST IN THE WIND,FLYING IN OUR FACE TRYING TO BLIND US. WE MUST BRUSH OF THE DIRT EVERYDAY
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Apr 19, 2015
Apr 19, 2015 at 2:38 AM UTC
iLLEGIBLE
I once held a pen in a calloused hand, a pen which I compared to you. With that pen a story was wrought, a page of my life through and through. Much like the dying sun, there is brilliance before it sets. With my heart I'd say it was the same for me, the page was as beautiful as it gets. I wrote and I wrote, I wrote till my hand bled. The pen; never-ending as it was, brought the page to life when the book was dead. The pen gave birth to feelings, so ethereal, yet so tangible. Feelings never written in the book again, every other page jumbled and illegible. Unlike the previous pages, this one wasn't scribbled upon. This was a piece of endless art, crafted by that pen each and every waking dawn. The pen moved, it glided across, writing, shaping  those words. And as the page filled with her, It was then I realized what really hurts. It was the fear, it was the scratch, writing the closure of the beginning. I would fear the ink was running out, it would seem like the page was already ending. And for all the joy it brought, and in all my persistent revelry, I had soon forgotten of the ink's transience, and of my malicious ecstasy. It spread, oh lord it did, like a poison in these veins. The page soaked too much of the ink, it ruined itself to the pen's disdain. The page became fuller, with the wan and wax of the moon. Even when I would not write, sprawled across were pretty words of doom. And as it so ended, with the page having no more space, The pen, untimely, was forced to stop, with the book shut on my grave, derived of any trace...
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Oct 10, 2013
Oct 10, 2013 at 8:45 AM UTC
The Page
I once held a pen in a calloused hand, a pen which I compared to you. With that pen a story was wrought, a page of my life through and through. Much like the dying sun, there is brilliance before it sets. With my heart I'd say it was the same for me, the page was as beautiful as it gets. I wrote and I wrote, I wrote till my hand bled. The pen; never-ending as it was, brought the page to life when the book was dead. The pen gave birth to feelings, so ethereal, yet so tangible. Feelings never written in the book again, every other page jumbled and illegible. Unlike the previous pages, this one wasn't scribbled upon. This was a piece of endless art, crafted by that pen each and every waking dawn. The pen moved, it glided across, writing, shaping  those words. And as the page filled with her, It was then I realized what really hurts. It was the fear, it was the scratch, writing the closure of the beginning. I would fear the ink was running out, it would seem like the page was already ending. And for all the joy it brought, and in all my persistent revelry, I had soon forgotten of the ink's transience, and of my malicious ecstasy. It spread, oh lord it did, like a poison in these veins. The page soaked too much of the ink, it ruined itself to the pen's disdain. The page became fuller, with the wan and wax of the moon. Even when I would not write, sprawled across were pretty words of doom. And as it so ended, with the page having no more space, The pen, untimely, was forced to stop, with the book shut on my grave, derived of any trace...
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The terrifying teeth chatter into the crimson lips of a wound up smile, chattering along the very risen table top that draws all small toys to their finite dooms. While breaths sour hour upon hour, each idling ear suffocates the last gasping breaths of its epicurean syllabic tongue, drizzling down the stomach like melt water from a cubic glacier in an ornamental silver tub, and sternly quibbles the stem-like dactyls drawing rose champagne into a fissure of the brain's tumescent humming. Each finger tips' nail rouge and red, each dry crevice sewn into the knuckles, and a leaflet on sadism near the scratchy illegible lines whittled on the topside of the wrists and the slalom runs of the ankle. The ankle sinister. The ghost-like hallow sockets of where eyes could have once be seen. Plaster and albicant-like dying death white skins forbade from the Flushing streets where the jazz dance once began. And with each nellypotted hop, three useless nuisances could not carry the bridle towards each nearly favorite sound that curiosity enslaved man to lean towards. The women weirded out by corners, plastic-wrapped furniture in outdoor corridors, where sinners veil their retreats into state run triage centers. Fake plastic countertops built from fake plastic trees. With an M14's muzzle stiffening and shuttering, she who vents off her cured romances will always find herself flaccid on rubber knees. The disease of the plea, is once more an affectation of not falling for royalty but instead the royal we. There is this weapon of fraud that perplexes geneticists, that enslaves heterosexuals, where albeit nor the time or place, she venerates the libations that her mind creates, she lubricates her cells, dressing, her skin ripening, heaven trickling across her humble nape, where gentleness is only a fool's disease and need. She. We. Heathens of eternity bowing our breaths in grand hyperbole see. I see she, and she sees me.
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Mar 2, 2015
Mar 2, 2015 at 3:28 AM UTC
The Parabols of Pericles
The terrifying teeth chatter into the crimson lips of a wound up smile, chattering along the very risen table top that draws all small toys to their finite dooms. While breaths sour hour upon hour, each idling ear suffocates the last gasping breaths of its epicurean syllabic tongue, drizzling down the stomach like melt water from a cubic glacier in an ornamental silver tub, and sternly quibbles the stem-like dactyls drawing rose champagne into a fissure of the brain's tumescent humming. Each finger tips' nail rouge and red, each dry crevice sewn into the knuckles, and a leaflet on sadism near the scratchy illegible lines whittled on the topside of the wrists and the slalom runs of the ankle. The ankle sinister. The ghost-like hallow sockets of where eyes could have once be seen. Plaster and albicant-like dying death white skins forbade from the Flushing streets where the jazz dance once began. And with each nellypotted hop, three useless nuisances could not carry the bridle towards each nearly favorite sound that curiosity enslaved man to lean towards. The women weirded out by corners, plastic-wrapped furniture in outdoor corridors, where sinners veil their retreats into state run triage centers. Fake plastic countertops built from fake plastic trees. With an M14's muzzle stiffening and shuttering, she who vents off her cured romances will always find herself flaccid on rubber knees. The disease of the plea, is once more an affectation of not falling for royalty but instead the royal we. There is this weapon of fraud that perplexes geneticists, that enslaves heterosexuals, where albeit nor the time or place, she venerates the libations that her mind creates, she lubricates her cells, dressing, her skin ripening, heaven trickling across her humble nape, where gentleness is only a fool's disease and need. She. We. Heathens of eternity bowing our breaths in grand hyperbole see. I see she, and she sees me.
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4
Through cold New England January's air I saw him (Frost) squint,                                           iconic from across the East Portico,                                                  culturally symbolic on a platform above me (I was twenty-eight). Years later I knew the paper he held hard to read, his hotel's old typewriter running low on ink                                  the night before. The illegible poem a preface to the one Kennedy requested - the one he'd read years before (ca. 1942) in the Virginia Quarterly Review,                                                         eyes watering. Frost stood there, faltering in the new-fallen snow's reflective light, half-blinded, and I was twenty-eight as I thought, "Kennedy:                   cultured man,                                            sycophant, or...?"
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Jul 21, 2013
Jul 21, 2013 at 3:49 AM UTC
The Old Man Remembers Kennedy's Inauguration
I'll miss the day we were crawling down main-street at 4 a.m after we slept in the guest house and danced to CCR. Tossing our beer cans in the neighbor's trash, and singing with every molecule of our bodies at the passing train that deafened us from 20 feet away. We ran wild beneath the overpass, climbing the engines lying dormant on the tracks, pretending we could fuel them up ride across the nation in a rusted box car write our names between the colors of illegible graffiti and shout against the wind as we rolled through the hills. And what a shame we didn't chase that passing train the way we could have. What a shame we didn't let it carry us away with nothing but our flannel jackets and cut off shorts, the lighter in my pocket, and the thirst for a nice adventure. We sauntered back to the diner, exhausted by the scenery and faces, our buzzes vanishing to the neon signs of bars, seven bars on one street, and the smell of coffee as the elderly hobbled in with the morning paper clutched between arthritic fingers. Tomorrow, and everyday after, a train will pass through town at 4:45 a.m. and I can hop on the caboose any day I desire. Each birthday slithers by, flicking it's tongue in my direction, tasting my youth. And I glance again at the disintegrating old man sitting alone in the window booth wearing the face of a jailed old bird with clipped wings and the grievous expression of an ***** gent. He would pass one day, leaving a dusty, crumbling shanty to his children, a box of crinkled newspaper clippings full of obituaries, and an empty seat in the booth by the window, where someday I will collapse in the a.m. take my coffee black and cut my husband's name from the paper, wishing I was on that train shedding this loose blotchy skin for the rough hands I had the day I chased the engine to the edge of town and regretted the moment that I turned around and came home.
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Dec 19, 2013
Dec 19, 2013 at 5:44 AM UTC
I'll unchain myself one day. (A personal little rant about this sinkhole we call home)
I'll miss the day we were crawling down main-street at 4 a.m after we slept in the guest house and danced to CCR. Tossing our beer cans in the neighbor's trash, and singing with every molecule of our bodies at the passing train that deafened us from 20 feet away. We ran wild beneath the overpass, climbing the engines lying dormant on the tracks, pretending we could fuel them up ride across the nation in a rusted box car write our names between the colors of illegible graffiti and shout against the wind as we rolled through the hills. And what a shame we didn't chase that passing train the way we could have. What a shame we didn't let it carry us away with nothing but our flannel jackets and cut off shorts, the lighter in my pocket, and the thirst for a nice adventure. We sauntered back to the diner, exhausted by the scenery and faces, our buzzes vanishing to the neon signs of bars, seven bars on one street, and the smell of coffee as the elderly hobbled in with the morning paper clutched between arthritic fingers. Tomorrow, and everyday after, a train will pass through town at 4:45 a.m. and I can hop on the caboose any day I desire. Each birthday slithers by, flicking it's tongue in my direction, tasting my youth. And I glance again at the disintegrating old man sitting alone in the window booth wearing the face of a jailed old bird with clipped wings and the grievous expression of an ***** gent. He would pass one day, leaving a dusty, crumbling shanty to his children, a box of crinkled newspaper clippings full of obituaries, and an empty seat in the booth by the window, where someday I will collapse in the a.m. take my coffee black and cut my husband's name from the paper, wishing I was on that train shedding this loose blotchy skin for the rough hands I had the day I chased the engine to the edge of town and regretted the moment that I turned around and came home.
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there is a door obscura in my mind a black ocean that smears alizarin mist between love and the dissolute i hear a storm of thick whispers a breath calling in free fall my malleable lover plays voodoo poppet carousel of lady buddhas diagramed unholy ***** ***** with scumbag eyeballs contort for eager ruin an ornamental cadaver bejeweled in a lake of tears give me flesh smell my rich **** bouquet of **** the ***** transfixed eyes of flames spread legs wide thigh spillway buttered loving the snag and strangle of a silk tourniquet watch me shunt and glassy stare a glittering doll shimmies blood bauble and flapping tongue torrent of curving jaws clever teeth to tear and lips to be torn a cockeyed brain drowning in illegible consciousness for foot slaves in a sweat and **** magick show body of irresistible horror in descending spirals to love in the grotto of furies imbued with prayers that fill the spaces in her throat martyr of transfiguration she falls as dust falls i depend on her tapestry of shuddering lust in moist air locked behind a blood stained door marked no exit this savage pageant
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Aug 24, 2020
Aug 24, 2020 at 12:27 PM UTC
****** Imagist.... Flesh for the Beast
my mind is in knots. there are so many twists and turns that I can’t seem to follow and I’m getting frustrated. where is the start and where is the end? and why is it so confusing? i can’t sit still—my legs want to get up and go but my brain is too tired for that right now. i stay seated and try to untangle what is the big grey lump in my skull, trying to figure out what it’s trying to say. but it’s illegible and i can’t, like a foreign language I don’t recognize. hopefully as i spill out on to what was a blank sheet of paper i can break through those knots and maybe comprehend the load of thoughts running through and around each other in the space of my body that has been assigned to them. i only wish i knew for certain that there would finally be a break through and that i will know what I should be knowing. gathering myself might help as I feel as if i’m spread across a massive surface that i can’t seem to find all the pieces of myself on. but how can I find myself when I barely know myself? when i find out, i’ll let you know.
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Aug 10, 2018
Aug 10, 2018 at 1:25 AM UTC
writer’s block
I am dumb and stupid, I'm opposite of you, The illegible mistake I did was to compare myself with you, I know I m a fool I can't be compared, Still this stupid heart is dumb n unawared. I have been in your home at your folk's place, With me the earlier nurse was replace, I become friendly with ur folk's there, They helping me out was totally fair. cooked at your home in the light less candle light, I walked with you on the road in this romantic night, I stayed at your home with your families and neighbour's cat, I slept at your home's wooden bed. I liked your parents as my own mom and dad, But one sided love always has ending so sad, Even though they give me love and affection.. I am never worth for your love n your folk's attention...
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Oct 3, 2014
Oct 3, 2014 at 11:18 AM UTC
I am not worth you...
I forced my razor knife down into an anniversary coffee cup crammed with pens, pencils, two pairs of scissors, and one roll of color film I'm afraid to develop. I jammed it in blade- up so I'd have to deal with the hard part first like a blank page before an accidental tongue slip drips ink and makes the page pretty. Some tree I've never met and some pink dye died for me to cover this pressed pulp in illegible squiggles; and I'll be damned if I let it down. 'cause I'm drawn to things without opinions. Sketchbooks, inkwells, rubber band bracelets, a mixed-nut dragonfly rested on my trampoline net. // Cut it free // cut it loose. Find a brick behind the shed and smash it dead,—preteen me— young Wordsworth me. I pulled the sepia tape from Queen cassettes and finished the glossy plastic off with a vise grip in Dad's truck. Old Brucey had mustard pinstripes down the driver's side, all the way down to the Germania General Store. He was a blur to me before I could buy my own Dreamsicles. Passing the chicken feed and the resident, caged dachshund couple, I saw his face for the first time. Seventeen-years- old, staring at my grandpa through picture and plate glass panes. The angels he swore were real—the ones he payed, praised, and prayed for every Sunday and everyday the sun shined and everyday it didn't— were now less deserving of heaven.
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Jan 14, 2015
Jan 14, 2015 at 1:00 AM UTC
Young Wordsworth Me