"konstantinos" poems
...Frankenstein...dear Frank--green with disparity, confusedly amongst parts that
were sum...O Frank--never a creature under no sun could sow dark's reaping so.
Yours is a terrible Art...meat thrown to a black and white world.
Towering clumsily...wobbling that meat before a black and white world...you're
already spoken for by the precedent of your freakdom.
Your wear is worse than the ******* child moon wearing the sun's clothing...
O Frank!
Your awkward beauty...is as winter's very struggle towards spring--only to die upon
your feet while thawing.
You were never cerebral enough to have a clandestine affair with nothingness in motion...
your body's your confession.
You were struck alive...not dead...ALIVE...ALIVE--thunderously so, called an: IT!
Runaway automata...the collective unconscious of humanity's hypnotized waddle--
O Frank...where is your Heaven...where is your Hell?
You can neither be showered by, nor Fall from grace.
The longest-drawn pity to never be taken...O...the duration of your life...YOUR LIFE!
..."ALIVE"..."ALIVE"...cried your euphoric namesake...God taken step of, to play God to thee--
as such...yours is a terrible Art.
One of living-death...O Frank!
Konstantinos Mark
Oct 24, 2013
Oct 24, 2013 at 7:32 PM UTC
...Frankenstein...dear Frank--green with disparity, confusedly
amongst the parts that were sum...O Frank--never a creature
under no sun could see so deeply into dark.
Yours is a terrible Art...meat thrown to the black and white world.
Towering clumsily...wobbling that meat before a black and white
world...you're already spoken for by the precedent of your freakdom.
Your wears are worse than the ******* child moon wearing the sun's
clothing...O Frank!
Your awkward beauty is as winter's very struggle towards spring--
only to die upon your feet while thawing.
You were never cerebral enough to have a clandestine affair with
nothingness in motion.
You were struck alive...not dead...ALIVE...ALIVE--called an: IT!
Spawn of science...the collective unconscious of humanity born to walk
its nightmare...O Frank...where is your heaven...where is your hell?
You can neither be showered by, nor Fall from grace.
The longest drawn pity to never be taken...O...the duration of your life...
YOUR LIFE!
...ALIVE...ALIVE...cried at you by the maddest of scientists...yours is a
terrible Art...one of living-death...O FRANK!
Konstantinos Mark
Oct 7, 2013
Oct 7, 2013 at 12:11 AM UTC
...Woolen sleep mask
atop a wolf's muzzle...
the amplitude of retention
and snap.
Storifying vibrations/impressions...
collated for pickled dreams...
lives?
Konstantinos Mark
Nov 27, 2013
Nov 27, 2013 at 11:49 PM UTC
Far, far afield--the averages of distances
are sought after.
Seer, hearer, feeler likened to what feet
fail now...as a body parodies its mind
unknowingly.
This chased relationship... headless chicken's
nocturne.
Konstantinos Mark
Jan 1, 2014
Jan 1, 2014 at 11:43 PM UTC
Horizons take their turn
as excited children...bearing
the message that the slate
is wiped clean.
Wide grows the space for
color and song...how wide
its grows...a meeting of
horizons.
Mar 10, 2014
Mar 10, 2014 at 2:06 PM UTC
Ubermensch gone doggy between your legs,
a minute heathen, incensed prophet, whose
last rites scatter.
Moth-ornate tome in a terrible scream, whose
barbed print appeals to what lucid interval
gains thee.
Heights to take as lovers, brain's genitalia in
a bunch.
Meridians frolic in arms risen, hence, hence--
crushed tumult in touch.
An infectious groveling that other may see,
take hold.
Odd aphrodisiac, you--human half, halved,
halved and halved.
Penumbra, split-screen vision of Zion, come--
I came, I implore with birthright.
A studious damnation leaves us a leprous
expose, eye-candy as sweet as sacrament.
Skies sent and returned gone swamp-green,
can't you feel the interplanetary squelch that's
bound us?
Strange...fool of chills, hunched with electrified
hair come I, full of longing, barren.
Let us decipher one another, break judgement
over our knees, and caress one another's
downturned eyes.
Let us have a look at one another till we become
worldwide, let us perfect our immoderation.
Konstantinos Mark
Feb 22, 2014
Feb 22, 2014 at 11:58 AM UTC
Take this seeing with thee--
paw it over...the beau-tifying Void.
Capable magick--drop...
of daub-n-be...beau-tifyingly so.
Note to All: what's outlasting
coasts... to still the aesthetical shock
o' yore.
Biding a time driven out of itself...
for the valiance of life-swap...so
pronounced with open arms...
Oneness, and all that jazz.
Bid you as I do...form's due...adieu...
beau-tifying The Void.
Konstantinos Mark
Dec 2, 2013
Dec 2, 2013 at 12:50 PM UTC
Know that it's
stop-n-go...
all the way Up.
God's epistemologically dead...
ontologically alive--
or is it the other way around?
Philosophy in Greek means
to be a friend of wisdom...well...
friends backstab.
Konstantinos Mark
Dec 8, 2013
Dec 8, 2013 at 3:18 AM UTC
It is of no use to ask why birds commend
the spirit of a day, nor how near their song
gets to sunlight.
We waken to such things, we come to avail
as an open sky...there is no question of
forbearance.
Unmoved as diamonds without valuation,
the light of day...the unseen inner light that
is not day.
The eyes open, and the feeling that sinks as
yet rises--the first and last Frontier can be
seen at once.
Light is before flesh and bone, light is after flesh
and bone...the sun is merely our concentration.
Konstantinos Mark
Feb 10, 2014
Feb 10, 2014 at 12:37 PM UTC
Not by the cerebral unease
of paradox, shadows agreeing
to disagree (knowing they
are more substantial than things).
Not by the world being taken
away from those who must
observe days.
Not by the incapacity for a
fitting end to those observing
days...do I state, the time is short...
yet no unit shall have its fill of you.
Konstantinos Mark
Mar 2, 2014
Mar 2, 2014 at 1:30 PM UTC
...The literalists bide their shine...
against things they've longfully
brushed.
Thoughtfully lighting these so called
years... in passing...adhering to the time
that lovingly takes them...flourish.
Konstantinos Mark
Dec 9, 2013
Dec 9, 2013 at 1:14 AM UTC
Bluing takes on blue--bluer
elimination rounds of sloshing sublimity.
A heart mouthing its breaker...as
Hokusai's immortal upheaval, the shape
of cataclysmic implication at the peak of
its powers...lent to shapeless actuation.
You may be counted among those
drown by a neutrally charged force
of nature.
Peace be on the heart that could not
help but take it personal...peace be on it.
Konstantinos Mark
*The first of a series of poems.
Jan 17, 2014
Jan 17, 2014 at 1:01 AM UTC
Kiss the earth slowly...lay a hand upon it...
nudge it, set it assail as if it were water.
Feel the body become a wisp of smoke--
disinheriting, yet curling about its fire.
Titillating the vastest contention of air,
and or ether...I do believe this sketch is
elementally complete...that's it folks.
Konstantinos Mark
Jan 2, 2014
Jan 2, 2014 at 12:24 AM UTC
Wander the open air in half and half, halved...
so each direction may toast to a kept center.
Cloud to ground lightning knows no middle ground--
save for naked necessity...ever kept.
Konstantinos Mark
Dec 30, 2013
Dec 30, 2013 at 12:59 AM UTC
Hoarse as the silence Virgil
wore...to allow for a clearing,
be it a soul.
A spring breeze caught in the
throat of winter saith: "Here
is your point (remain)...when
I cease to blow, so shall you
return."
At the farthest end of loss...
at the closest reach of gain--
their one and the sameness
shall impress a telling.
Hoarse as the silence Virgil
wore...to allow for a clearing,
a soul saith unto itself thus.
Konstantinos Mark
Feb 18, 2014
Feb 18, 2014 at 12:43 AM UTC
Shouldered heaven's tales...
hell's tallest ones...spellbound...
presentation, moves This.
Burnt cold...confessatory Booth
breathing...just breathing.
I don't know...I justly don't Know.
Konstantinos Mark
Dec 9, 2013
Dec 9, 2013 at 12:54 AM UTC
There you were...
in care of faintest heart--
seen off beside yourself,
by yourself.
Your holding cell moved
with you in perfect
measure...keeping time
with the best of saints.
The beauty in ugly
steadily fed disproportion
to that hungry Light.
As if there was nothing
amiss, nothing to be cast
off...only, looked at--with
unspeakable depth.
Konstantinos Mark
Mar 2, 2014
Mar 2, 2014 at 11:05 AM UTC