"prodigality" poems
Yes I go, yes go to seek a Great Apocalypse
One that will unravel the complex elaboration of difference
To articulate a perpetual aesthetic with violated codes
Of the experience of illusions of temporal stimulus
That are beyond all compass and soothe a fragmentation
Oh Great Apocalypse of beauty whose deception finds strategies
For youthful prodigality and binds me to your inarticulation
An embodiment of beleaguered and charmed fictions
Whose artifice is the governance of generous impulses
As such sway about me with a harmony of moral disquiet
Inadequate in description of the qualities of their oppression
Yet oh great apocalypse there is a plausible generosity
In these pale assumptions of impatience which carry
The obligations of a universally shared human existence
Compelling a projection of charged issues on competing claims
For the enigmatic logic of life
Yes Great Apocalypse now I understand all thought
From Everywhere and for Always
Sep 15, 2012
Sep 15, 2012 at 12:18 PM UTC
Oh' if I could speak the language of his atraction
With a generosity of exchange in bounteous metaphors
Yes and let him be the quality of my oppression
For there is a torture about my words when put to voice
They search for plausible reasons as is such cannot be found
And yet I have a trouble governing my generous impulses
Oh' the inaudible corruption that is my mind, hoping, wishing
Begging for a prosperity of possibilities that will vanquish tears
That I with moral perspectives should bind a mutuality between us
Invalidating my inadequacies thus find a resolution not in artiface
But in a charmed and beautiful way that shall be the essence of love
Without a prodigality of thought, but each for each, in solemnity of kiss
Sep 2, 2012
Sep 2, 2012 at 2:24 PM UTC
I have died a juniper bar
I will take this as a moon rise
Seldom in youthful prodigality
Of ingots minus three
...it ran out of petrol...then the camel died and we had to eat marshmallow biscuits surrounded by green monkeys.......:) Edgar
Sep 4, 2012
Sep 4, 2012 at 7:53 PM UTC
One plough amongst many runs ‘cross
An infertile campus
The threat of first frost
Following in her tow
To reap one something
From the settled bed of salt.
Combing seeds in the sod,
The anchor in her womb
Drags—soon, so soon,
The distance won’t widen, the burden will stop
Her knees will buckle in debt and chance
Will lock her where she falls
Her failure will sprout and flower.
The falling sweat flashed years before
To the juice beading in single drops
A vain nectar of her other’s field,
Biding her, come, eat of appearance;
Her crop was brown, but budding,
She left her crop to die.
Unprepared for the neglected miles
She toiled in the changing leaves
And, of course, the gilded fellow
Him, the established man
Could draw her in: with gleaming ivies
Red, tight, yellow, sweet
A wine of the eyes that sits on the vine
Families of prodigality smiles with brimming bags
Baskets pregnant in promise,
Those happy mouths full of praise and food.
For there, she followed
That procession, honest, in the borrowed garden.
Aug 14, 2014
Aug 14, 2014 at 8:26 AM UTC
the numbers were in and it didn't look pretty
you people surrender your minds so easily
they dumb you down and you know it
they dumb you down and you let them
but it wasn’t exactly coercion either
basically the truth is we have many souls
most of them severe critics to be evaded
where they came from nobody knows
at the dawn of time a single drop of blood
fell on Mother Nature's pouting lips
then and there she was hooked forever
on the prodigality of infinite misuse
a million wasted ***** is no way to live
each one a potential productive manikin
random selection had done its worse
evil had survived the millennia just fine
well what any breathing human knows
is they can always do better next time
the point here is to insure a next time
it appeared that the world had been flushed
down the great stinking ***** pipe again
the old school mutates into the new school
goodbye old school
you have tried to become a national holiday
that no one feels the necessity to celebrate
needless to say the faculty weren't listening
and caroused down the lane into the woods
but it was too late for regret anyhow
the old school had initiated him
into the Clan of the Goat Poet
he sees where his next thought comes from
everything filled with clues is a clue itself
blindness is the human condition
idiocy is the subhuman condition
infantilism is the transhuman condition
anthropomorphism is the...somebody stop him
needless to say he dabbled in the grotesque
on a need to know basis so it was OK
I agree a cheap eruption of demagoguery
but you can't be free by hiding in a mirror
also I've been getting complaints
about vestigial blandness lately
my lawyers ****** & Bludgeon
had counseled caution in all things
so I lapsed into a 5 year walking coma
nothing to do but leave on the right note
with a casual wave and a simple **** it
in case you were wondering
everything is the way it is
so it would be believable
From "Engine of Didactic Beauty" available on Amazon
Jul 14, 2023
Jul 14, 2023 at 6:18 PM UTC
I'll be quiet and I'll ponder as to how you're doing
I'll be quiet and watch you endure
take my word for it you deserve it.
I love to watch and adore.
I hate you so bad
I want the earth to swallow you whole.
I want you're body to ache in places you never knew you could feel.
I am sorry for talking about you in this sort of context but there is no sympathy.
May 6, 2014
May 6, 2014 at 8:37 PM UTC