"tained" poems
Going back
is a Fool's
Paradise
Its un-
truth is
its
Per
Fec
Tion
the delicate
bead
of your kiss
A tongue
enunciating
what the
present
Can Be
makes
it all
So Clear
Worth
while
Good
night
but not
Good
bye
to us
maybe
but
You and I
still stand
strong
think
clear-
ly
have twisting
desires
guns
in our backs
for some tattered
and tear-stained
piece of Truth
We cannot
be
Con
Tained
within the realm
of
Re
Collec
Tion
Let us bleed
out
into the
frightening
cold
of our stark
Day
Light
Dreams
Jesus, I own
thoughts that
align me
with you!
You are
a confusing cup
of cigarette tea
And we
are working
to let
our meat
be malleable
our minds
supple and
our tongues
agile
in the warm
embrace of
the other's
Mouth
Heart
Eyes
Another
universe
of dangerous
Pos
Si
Bi
Lity
To hell
with Duality!
The past
is Simplicity!
**** what is
wrong
Know what is
Right
and live to see
the probability
of Tonight
Feb 20, 2016
Feb 20, 2016 at 5:59 PM UTC
Was out past Southend,
about eleven thirty five,
Saw a whole troop of girls,
dancing very much alive;
I struggled to my feet,
slapped a smile across my face,
Turned my sallow gaze
toward their alcoholic grace.
I said "evening ladies," and
I just tipped my hat, but
Hell, no sorry luck for this
shabby-legged cat. They ascer-
Tained a certain thought and
laughed into the night,
Quite the effervescent attitude
for the solemn moonlight. So with no
Pennies in my cap despite my
earnest little ditty, I just got
Right back on the train and rode it
straight into the city.
The conductor with his cyanide in
silver coated capsules, takes a
Tricolor mandolin and
plays it to relax you. A
Beggar on the chairs emitting
insight by the glass, and a
Banker saying prayers for our
little midnight mass. Be-
Spoke attire from far away to
dress your tired frame, and a
Medal and a badge with which to
decorate your name.
Tracks of steel and sterling pounds to
take you where you please, with
Speed unwavered, flying through with
masochistic ease. I got my
Map and made it through, to
Angel up on high,
Got off the train in pouring rain,
with nurses passing by.
Jul 7, 2011
Jul 7, 2011 at 5:13 PM UTC
laughtered in rage
tainted love tained blood
their undead eyes stair upon us
dead by suicide
there pain is intense
we feel it all around us
we see it in there eyes
our doom is here
we are all fearing are fate
we decay everything
we are devoured by evil
were hanging be a thread
now the cutting starts
somehow we live
our minds still funct...
Mar 20, 2012
Mar 20, 2012 at 11:15 PM UTC
it’s beendonebefore
b e f o r e
that’
s also after that
’s still before in concentric cir
C
les of re-(de-)
pressive ****** releases in-
to bliss in
spite in spir
it autos tandems con-
tained by ads of women tit-ed
vastly amid ******* stilted Dei-
ties as of grandkingdomcomes
to reap unwarranted respect
***** Welsh adulation in selfservingcycles
of crimson-ish
Santas
living with in plu-
m fairiesinlalaland(that are all stiff
bar in thy top)
(do you really think you ought to
? or can? why
not to try must a
nd with-
outcauses)
sing-along sing-along follow follow on track on track;
‘til you crash to reboot perhaps
and may
be
bye by
any luck
(you-oughto you-oughto you-can you-can)
and happiness fol
lows bye by
all
means
for sure
May 5, 2012
May 5, 2012 at 4:30 PM UTC
Old paths never cobbled
float stones, over the years.
Through the winter each day I walk
or drive this trail,
I moosh down the mud and deep
down ought or else pushes back and
water takes the waymaker function,
path of least resistance,
coming up.
Hydraulic pluerosis pops a stone into my path.
An old stumbling stone, new position.
Kick'em out the way, see watcha find
Certain con
tained
coils of oughts thought steps as
rungs from
Bethel to where Jesus says the Kingdom
of right use right-e-o-us
righteo.
come hell or high water
A.
Lor' willin', if the creeks don't rise
B.
you trust your kenotic self to flow, least re
sist dance
A. or B. Either opens the gate,
t'm'yaad, eden bydemnation namin' imps.
Clouds of could'ves push-crash
---
dis ap
proven re
proven re
al itynessification.
judge you, I judge me and we judge each
the other,
I am first reader, I and my muse and the manual dexter/sinister
skill with the maigi
tech
(I key far faster than hemingway two finger typed,
if he did, like on tv)
I correct me, I was trying and, by trying doing.
Earlier in life I magined one sneaky lie true
because it came from
Yoda,
wise entity telling Luke,
there is no try only do,
maybe for Alienated Jedi minds, not mine,
mine works if I try to do and do, so trying and doing
is done at once.
Okeh. An earlier exploration was tainted by my wish
to be seen wise in relation to an imaginary
depicted fiction seen as the source
of base level words chock full o'
wisdom... nuts... Yoda was never real.
C'mon, gimme the old American
Try again. Emulate Socrates and Jesus,
sorta comboish,
Old Ben says it worked for him,
Kenosis-like. The thirteenth step in
In Ben's
experiment in thinking as an
American might, in the future,
relative to then.
People still read the
Auto-biography of Ben, right?
A proverbial treasure buried long ago
for you.
---------
Mar 31, 2019
Mar 31, 2019 at 1:20 PM UTC
blab fuckity **** **** gab
buncha tryin to be some-
thing real or whole
x-press(ion) squeezing pleads
into hypnotic hymnal
humming breathe
up my thighs
now, not numb
but tingling throes
I feel all the
nothings winking
at everything con-
tained therein
and I squirm
toward the right
where it
overflowed
Jul 27, 2017
Jul 27, 2017 at 10:59 PM UTC
*reckless wanderings
hereby ignored for
choicest ribaldry or
shock capacity in a
city contained within
itself-- world's largest
chat room; as self-con-
tained contaminants
stain toughest psyches*
●○
°
Jan 7, 2016
Jan 7, 2016 at 1:28 AM UTC