i like informality

beer straight outta the bottle
pizza for breakfast
wearing a shirt 3 times
before washing it

doing dishes by hand
reading old birthday cards  
stayin up til 2
even though i have to be up at 8

bonfires
backroads
gettin lost on the way to a bonfire
because i took a backroad

going to a bar
on a tuesday night
and kissin a stranger
because i'm drunk
and lonely
and through the years i've aquired a taste
for whiskey on lips.

and.. wasn't that always the point?

A proud man,
Upright and unshakable
In belief and morals,
Once only I did I see him
Without a tie.

A child of Edwardian England,
The links Of his watch chain
Glinted
As they hung
With formality and elegance
From his waistcoat pocket,
Yes, even as he worked.

And work he did.
Patiently,
Brilliantly and tirelessly
With ingenuity and imagination.
A craftsman from a bygone age.
A master of his tools.

Grandfathers are soft,
Playful, bear-like in their
Gruff-whiskered familiarity.

Not Poppy.
Unwittingly aloof from his grandchildren,
We avoided the need for directly addressing him,
Unsure of where we stood.
He’d probably have secretly
Loved the informality
Of our secret nickname.
I hope he knew.

The chapel piano did for him.
Too much weight for his work-weary ticker.

Grandma gave me his pocket watch to keep,
And for a time I treasured it,
Measuring its weight
Like a smooth round pebble
In my palm.
A workman’s watch;
Practical.
A yellowing face
Behind a scratched
And hazy glass.
But accurate,
And precise.
Reliable as the man.

Detached in life,
I liked to hope that
Gazing down,
Watching,
He just might have
Laughed
In loving acknowledgement of his
Grandson’s curiosity
And foolishness
Sitting cross-legged on the carpet,
With heart-thumping nausea

Adrift in a sea of springs.

Is this a power hierarchy?
Does our dueling footwork
Convince us to
Lock into some sort of
Competitive symmetry,
Twisting into your
Mashed potato minefield with
Doo *** , doo dad laden
Dancing shoes?

Gimme your
Electronic sympathy, baby,
Infiltrate the airwaves with
Piercing eye contact and
Tremourous finger tip brushes.

Is my informality coming through?
Have I communicated with
Unlocked elbows and
Megaphone ears that not only
My body but universe
Lives here and in you?

Orient yourself to me,
I task while asking you to
Take off your straight jacket and
Stay a while. Unlock your
Pandora 's box so your
Monsters can meet mine,
Mirrored in different shades of
Shock and shame, operating under
Varied hues of the same name.

Lean into me, let your
Shoulders slender and shimmy to a
Tenderizing touch, the
Objects under your skin collapsing
To the 4/4 timed battle
Between form and perception.

The ingestion of the
Metaphor is the message, and
The tongue regards a tune
Differently than a taste.

Face symmetrical, nostrils work,
The blooming waste of consumption
Centered on the top right corner of
Your cheekbones.
I can't help but grab the
Slight upswing in the tone
Of your voice and spin it around;
Let's swing, darling.
I'd like to take your descriptors
On a date to the dance floor.

How long can we keep this up until meaning has waltzed out the door?

When these guns salute
they’ll need roses
when the metal pops,
stemmed from the truth until the last petal falls off,
but theres no romance in the commotion of the outspoken,
left broken torso twisted into specific yoga poses,
body’s go missing of the scene like a mystery, it’s hocus pocus,
This is a cold one (cauldron) it’ll get mixed until the remix surfaces,
on track here to defeat your purpose,
crush the trachea so you can’t breathe,
they got no Eyedea (idea)
Everyday, this is one of the seven deadliest, akin to a swarm of locusts,
they lose focus in the colloquial informality of the death chosen,
expose fossils fools (fuels) make them leave earth like a Diplodocus,
awoken from a deep sleep with deep heat to the exposed wounds,
so many bodies left in old tombs we gonna be needing some more room soon.

It seems as Mr. Sun kneels down to pray
each night the earth below responds—a ray
of light, across a pool of shade, tired earth
at rest in night’s still arc. Thus the earth’s worth,
all its gracious growing, is a topic
for admiration, a philanthropic
metaphor, a formal language, found fierce,
found daunting—like armor no light can pierce.
Still, Mr. Sun looks down. Is gravity
his slave? All night his informality
will keep less certain syllogisms fun.
Cogito, ergo sum. It thinks. The sun,
so startling to man—its violets,
its rose—will be enough. Thus, it forgets.

I. nope.



II.
long-windedness verbosity
diffuseness prolixity
wordiness rambli­ng
circuity discursiveness
redundancy tautology
tediousness verbi­age
verboseness length
longevity permanence
garrulity windiness
v­olubility circumlocution
expansiveness babbling
periphrasis gushi­ng
blathering protractedness
waffling lengthiness
iteration repet­ition
prating prattling
jabbering digressiveness
dreariness tediu­m
deadliness wandering
repetitiousness repetitiveness
pleonasm co­nvolution
logorrhoea boringness
maundering superfluity
duplicatio­n tiresomeness
monotony reiteration
gabbiness informality
mouthin­ess diffusion
logorrhea wordage
blah-blah dryness
dullness boredo­m
sameness loquaciousness
talkativeness loquacity
freeness orotun­dity
roundaboutness breadth
gobbledegook gassiness
wittering mult­iloquence
perissology big mouth
gift of the gab garrulousness
staleness tallness

Iridescent wind sailors , bursting Silver Maples  
Wild Daises caressing red clay trails
Yellow Locust are submariners diving then reappearing  in freebooter informality
Dragonflies are strafing the Crimson valley
I find precious fuchsia bearers in sunlit strained vision
Wren song to nurture my condition
Rainwater clinging to Sycamore Trees
Musicality ... Connection .. Solidarity

Good way off, past blindness
trickling fingertips felt plunks.
Sedimentary stirrings next to
running brooks dipped into
for pleasure of touching
algaecide inside the head.

And memory impresses gunky
regions explored, faculty of
retaining wet sandy banks,
the murk of his adolescence.

How what was told of who to,
or who not to, or what not to,
that, was only left with more
unanswered question. Just
mire. So the feeling out had
little guidance and quicksand
became lesson planner.

Wonted informality, such sinking,
became hook, shot, and sweet tooth.
These habits took his teeth
and no longer could he chew.
Drivel and flattery became much the
same, his purging, alluvium.

Men can only spill out, what fed.
Eventually mountains' rivers carry peaks to valleys.

I've learned
how to be a child of divorce

not through the quarrels
of mother and father
because mine still haunt each other.

But through my own
struggles of living
two separate lives.

One of a student
bound to study
being a socialite of aristocrats  
through my informality of university.

The other a family man
or a family boy
one that wants to soliloquy
and urge the importance
of unity with my brothers and sisters.

Spread between
two homes that don't quite
fill my needs or
meet my enthusiasms.

They are lost to me
equally lost to each other--
these two homes
used to be equal
but now they demand to be separate.

I have gotten accustomed
To reading some
Of these things on
Here

Sometimes I read them
And I wander off

I see some things that

Brush off like wind on a coat
Like the unnoticeable bark
The whistle of a passing train

I see others
Trying to make the word

I see how the doing is done
But not entirely
Never entirely

Each minute comes up
Passes
Something happens

A mass of tiny words inside a tiny page
Inside a tiny machine within tiny houses
On tiny streets that weave like veins
Through the entire country

All of it
Is beautifully
Profane

A nodding to ones
Striking my groin more
Than it does my mind

Half the point I thought

Half the point

And with each word comes an
Idea about themselves and
With each poem comes more
About themselves and there
Is so much about the other in
These words that a face and a body
And a skinny body or a fat body
Or a short one

Doesn't really matter

That stuff will

Just

Melt away

Like a mist rolls off of the mountains

Like the hangover dulls
Like love dulls
Like everything dulls

Praising informality and
Calling all New Form

Praising mediacore hands
For just

Giving it their best

How the mirror turns
On me

When I
Shout

With

Fingers

Amen, oh men, oh man, oh woo man, oh women,
Its our bag of skin and bones, the way we make love to cosmic tones.
The life disguise, with masks and veils, trials and trails that do impale and repair,
The masquerade in all its sequence and glory embedded in delusions of despair .
A stride on a crystal clear river,
informality unformed, the enigma you radiate surely delivers the best of heart shook quivers,
in the poles coldest of nights and days my faith and hope warms the shivers,
mystery me mary carry they, the hopeless and broken to a violet flames new day
we think we must, and trust in the bust, the fear of the event is worse than the event itself
we do our **** near best to keep our thoughts in stealth
I dug and dig the sweat that poors in the ******* of the sun
The needle in the haystack will surely send the homeless man for a hundred mile run
I see the hawks that fly high in the sky with imperial focus
Above the elegant witches in their dance circles conducting a festive hocus pocus
My eyes are peeled to the back of my head to witness you my beloved omen
I live to witness your glory oh men in the omens
Merlin spill your omens
Ladies and gentlemen can I get a witness to these omens

the compliments were gone
away with my faint personality
sentimentally wrong
sensing brutality against me
informality
showing off
glass in my head
different people
dressed differently
voice difference
unfelt in my age class
I decide to rip
my lies open to view
clinching
seeing the the bright hue
cut and fall through
the paper walls
out of the blue i come
compliments are gone
not even self-confident
my problems are a sport
i would do something
but that's the last resort

Feed my soul with words that have meaning
Even if they’re not pretty
I don’t want shallow attempts
to paint the truth with limited false belief
I want substance
Even when the truth is covered in blemishes that gush black informality
Even when the truth exhales acidic breath
Even when the truth looks like untamed locks
Even when the truth looks like the translucent veil between pain and sanity
Even when the truth has bonded with chemical receptivity  
Even when the truth is vulnerable and shaking
Even when the truth feels like drinking fire

I want to roll around in reality and determine for myself what is “good” and what is “bad”

This is the place where shadows never fall
the place that wilt and decay mean nothing
a tight informality of plants blooming
so old. so pale

See the trees in aspects of their leaves
yet no shadows cast, on the trimmed lawned grass
and where the crows once cried evening song
no more in this land, where shadows never fall

The chime of midnight bells of winter
in these days chime summer forever
and the burn that did hide holy call
is where the shadows never fall

BY Christos Andreas Kourtis aka NeonSolaris

Their relationship
A poetic diction
Giving room for freedom
Taking down all languages
Like revolutionaries of old

Not a sound sense
Making language her foot stool
Creating vague words
Bringing back medieval times
Telling ancient African tales

Shooting language in the face
Beautifying colloquialism
Expressing one’s self
Giving recognition to informality
Doing away with language distinction
Forming a path of it’s own

Written by Tosan Oluwakemi Thompson