Standing, waiting, my face blank, uncaring and staring
at the garish colors of their cheap and ill-fitting clothes.
Cramming in, fingers all greasy, raucously laughing,
jabbering *******, braying useless information, loudly.
Swarming, idly in hot  little dark holes of rooms, making
a suffocating stench from ragged mouth-breathing.  

Obnoxious.
******* disgusting, everyone.
Don't ******* touch me.
This is overwhelming.

"There's too many people in here."
You sidle up to me, saying what we're both thinking, and then we leave.
Both of us glaring at the ******* shuffling slowly,  in the way,
unable to meet our height or eyes, they remain glued
to the tiny screens in their sweaty and hot little hands,
as their annoying children are screaming and running.

You.
You, with your ****-brown eyes.
Silent and stoic, with a hard-edged jaw. Are you ******* me?
Like not making eye contact with me is going to shame me,
stripping me of something that you never even bestowed?
You think I'm obscene?
Mister, look at you.

I am tired, but, I am okay. I am fine.
I don't care what you otherwise say.

Alive and sober, awake and dying.

I am improving, actively evolving.
I am not devalued or retrograding.

*******.
Don't not look at me, as though I were a freak.
Don't sneer and scoff, and judge me, as meat.
*******.

You think you know me better than me?
You think you could even convince me differently?
                am I right, or am I right?

Go ahead, lock your jaw, frown and furrow your brow, you magnanimous hypocrite.
We're both autonomous, and rich, in Ameri-*******-ca, with freedom out the *******.  

You're free to judge me.
I'm free to say *******.

We both bleed red blood.
We both will do as we will,
loving, *******, fighting,
drinking, *******, coping,
hiding, hurting, smelling,
crying, begging, hating,
breathing, needing, eating,
sleeping, living, and dying
under the great majesty of

                                                               ­        A *******
                                                         ­            INDIFFERENT
                                                 ­                       UNIVERSE

where we both need to
stop thinking differently.

i find myself assuming the role
of quiet observer, looking around
discreetly, and with more interest
than i let on, i am transfixed
by the simplicity with which complications arise
between crooked pathways
and straight lines
of people, walking around
interacting on levels that confound me
and it makes me feel like an island
yet uncharted
sand untouched, bare of footprints
and most of the time, i like it
the feeling of being clean
unsullied by those complications
and i sit on my shore, watching the ragged ships
sail by
and the gulls circle, crying out
why?
why do we do these things to ourselves?
why do we hide the truth
and perform the lies?

sometimes, i assume the role
of confidant, of living journal
and i describe the weight of the words dropped on my pages
to nobody, because
it really isn't my place
to trivialize darknesses other than my own
and i understand, i do
but i feel lost, some days
among the black holes of people
who cannot escape their own space
their own star-flecked universes
and their planets crash into mine
Milky Way swerving out of the path of destruction
and getting lost in their dissolving sighs
and i feel heavy
with the ink of their confessions
heavy with the advice that they ignore
heavy with the simple ideas
that crowd my head, circling like those gulls
crying out
why?
why do we do these things to ourselves?
why do we confide in strangers
and never trust our own star systems
to find their way back into orbit?

i find myself assuming the role
of me, of my own name
displayed proudly on my sleeve
familiar letters that seem to betray
my transparent, flickering image
warm and true to friends' eyes, perhaps
but the spaces between the characters
are what appear to me in the mirror
not the black lines
but the grey areas
and i feel that transparency often
when i am surrounded by that sea once again
as i so often am
and the waves just seem to crash right over me
feeling invisible, and yet somehow
too visible
to ever be a part of the current, it seems
as each whisper, each ripple
each glance, each possible missed chance
each glimmering sail upon the horizon
appears to laugh at me
whether it's my sad, slow swimming
or my ragged inward appearance
that shines through the cracks in my face
it all becomes part of an image
that i see burned upon the surface of my soul
and some days it truly feels
like even the gulls are circling around me, crying out
why?
why do you do these things to yourself?
why do you even bother?

I hate people who trivialize any sadness.
If they're suffering, why should they be mocked?
You answer for me.
Don't tell me they're implying
They're suffering is greater than others
Or that they're intensifying
The flighting emotion that need not be exaggerated
Because you don't known their pain,
Get an insight to their thought,
Accept their pain into yourself--
Yes you have suffered, none can deny that
But if you don't respect the man
Comparatively weaker, or sound
How can anyone respect your position?
You are a parasite,
Lost in the host
You feed off sadness
You know it's a drought
Yet you remain cynical
So simple in your name.
Your life is filled with hollow anguish
You'll never learn in time

And in my dread
I know you are me...

How many times can one hope to be saved,
After all the descents to the depraved?
How many times succumbed to sinful thought?
How often losing the battles he fought?

How often can he expect salvation,
When choice after choice is to damnation?
How many times can he ignore his guilt,
Atop the foundation of lies he built?

How many chances to apologize?
How much wrong can one man trivialize?
How many times can he find excuses,
For turning others to his own uses?

If he ignores needing introspection,
How can this man still expect redemption?
If one just loved him he knows that he would—
Being loved is all he needs to be good.

When you look at me
you don't see me
you never have.
You have always used me
as a blank slate
on which to paint
whichever picture
makes you feel better.

I have been
a friend
a love
a source of unconditional support
a fool who couldn't stop thinking about you
a jealous girl
a person uglier than you
someone who will always be there to smile
someone to deny
someone to better
someone to trivialize when you feel trivial.

But never
have I ever been
just me.

And now it's too late
for you to see the real me,
for I am now covered in your paint.

how strange
the gift of contemplation
to allow the mind to wander
creating imaginary worlds
in our skulls
the ability to ponder
what meaning, if any
there is(n't)
in our fleeting days
we trivialize time
as a linear tool
by which we measure
our triumphs, losses
all the same
in the grand scheme
how strange
my arms and legs
moving, making
running in circles
to survive
but there's momentary bliss
in the recollection
of a beautiful day
with someone I loved
long ago
the clock stops
as does the pain
of existing within
such looming madness

I’m watching lives,
lives that might’ve
been mine
flit in and
out of impressionistic
existence in the days of
bursting moments
breeding sculpted trees into living
instruments breaching screeches
throughout our ears.

gods! How long it’s been
since eternities
spent lying
white lies across pale
secrets spilt on carpets
of ash inhaled to
just get past another still life of
tangled cigarettes atop
those books I
can’t remember breathing

in picnics painted with
green black stares of
stripped down cathedrals and
I’m leaving to repent my
thoughts twitching along
steel cords killing visions of storm
tossed seas smiling at
friendly dragons green,
just him and me laughing at
St. George’s dying look.

Cat’s cast bronze curls
inside sleeping shirts hanging
off the back of
suicide notes, shoulders bent
while we stare and
dare to listen to lives not
ours to live. Chocolate covered
whiskers fixing colors for our
pictures; but it’s all
false imaging anyway.

Pirates and witches taking
shots at our thoughts
downing liquored treats
divining dances towards the driven
roads leaking floors feeling
beats crackling down
our spine; cigarette
kisses in cafe corners
watching stars explode blank life in
gold spattered sheets.

A lone man hanging life ten
thousand miles high falling
into swirling cotton candy flames
and how I want to
believe it ever really meant
anything at all! Footprints
never changing in the
Moon lit laughs down streets
I hardly care to remember.
Black Crow!

Black Crow! How you
seem to fall out his eyes
crying chlorine tears into a
mouth never coughing up
life and breath lost on the
backs of laughter smiling mirrored
spirits of fleeting peace reflecting
tomorrows lives back to our
eyes searching fabled bravery
in Arsenic's cup.

We’re all trying to see past
our eyes and
understand how we
can trivialize the rings of
swirling flames blinking in
Sol’s iris; photographed
silhouettes tying
tongues to labeled nebula
in one junkies eye
reflecting the need

gnawing upon my
mind watching your
thousand smiles spend
my time and I’m trying
to remember what it meant
to see another breaking
mountainsides, ninety mph
vibes falling naked in the
grass underneath
your back.

I’d rather watch ghosts
doubled, holding islands
of dust solidified on those
stone cold basement
floors fighting clothing to chase
an innocent drunk down stairs
falling into nights 900 miles
away, memories I don’t have
cast aside, tiny capsules
encapsulating dying fires.

How G and R and
E reflect the sun in
skies dancing floating
clouds just gone by,
making friends with a
blaze of smoke pouring
out our words in the hue of
blue; lit cigarettes
catching the cold rim of
nights growing old

with fungus, chemicals
washed up on the edge of
photographs stained with
pieces of a memory in
a lamps single light; I’m
borrowing camera’s to
impress a girl entwined
in spiders silken webs
hanging voids of
every colored space.

And god, how young
these faces look, too
young in the company of
these stars scratching
at the door to break out
of these times; lost
bicycle rides down aisles
playing with Atlas
shrugging off his burdens
to ride 25 cent smiles

in the lights of tonight’s
fires dragging branches
dried of sunlight spilling
golden liquid out of
plastic red cups. Freshly
tattooed haircuts watching
in all earnestness
growing old and pretty
soon all our hair will run out
of our skulls to cover

the bathroom floors in
**** and *****
covered stardust;
we’re peaking our heads
out the shower
while we dance tip toed
steps across the
branches growing out of 
decks into frozen
chemical nights.

Septuagint prince scribing on scrivello detail
Emerges from the frogmarch grave of revenants sheepish about ghoulish masquerade
The tribes whittle puckered shibboleths and charismatic vengeance evades
The henpeck of roosters harmonizing sand into grassy knolls of carapace cathedral light
Walks beyond the whimsical despair the conniving conservatories of manufactured fright
Spurned by smokestack confusion above a plastered reconnaissance of abundant life flocking between small awakenings curtailed by fulgurant swelters of blistering white
The spectral dance assumes primordial shades to dampen the windowed elegance of betrayal complicit in the haze
Mojo’s rise and fall with moonshot decades flashing intimacy lived twice barking like a squelched gyrovague relishing the kantikoys of burlesque night
And yet among the bemused stars unbuttoned by the prolixity of the Russia ruse the smear indelible flaunts with decadence in the pleonasm of sluggish articles of flight
How long must the messianic age shelter the nebbich halls of crambazzled piety in science to an upbringing of oligochrome
How many dastardly wernaggles of the rusticated elitism flomp with desultory banquets reminiscent of boiling Rome
Incinerated in an ageless day revived only after a historic lapse of barbarity in the ferule exacted such immeasurable despair
That the prejudice of pride is forever shelved as redundant because the filigrees of geometry only permit curvature in flatness
Convex movements captured in still-framed pillories refract nothing but Blazing Saddles of a caricature full-bloom sun
Yet we marvel at storybook ghosts and the isangelous carapace of marauding instincts forever brave and encaged
Erratic by delivery but sciamachy knows no identifiable age
Scrawny fossarians dig entrenched charnels voraginous with skeletons of brackish regelation enthused by immemorial decay
Must we abridge a hearty ocean in a month’s sublime regaled design of trespasses of unsung heyday spaying its weakest defrocked knight
Armed to the Teeth we seek the terminus of apocalyptic capsules destined for gluttons braving annihilation in the vacuum of orbital planes plain only to the ken of the keenest sight
No we make no petitions in prayer for this Soft Parade of vigor verging on flair
We ransack littoral virtues in nexility bronzed with Stayin’ Alive shoes in remission of staircase blight
Beamish in beatitudes of milquetoast pregnancies of salted Matzah brimming in the yeasts of cesspool emergent from scarecrow metaphors flagrant hauteur gliding on air
Witness the spearhead of revolution in the metagnomy of oracular aubades to future brimstone caverns
Lurking like counterstrokes in revision blackguarded by the feisty prowl of outpaced labtebricole whipsaws of timber readied into foisted brown-brick comestion of elegant emerald errors
Dancing with galactic improvidence concealed by the rigor of lurched liars enthroned with prerogatives of stain-glass adumbration
We parcel up parsecs because clairvoyance among titans is a swank in need of 20/08 visions spectral in the clouds of all prominent registries of memory
Lost to faint delicacies of swift serpents outlasting gnats in the tabernacles of ribald ecbolic promontories on the verge of futile tomorrow pastimes spinsters flummox with slimmerback rigmarole flanged by whinks and escorted by the maskirovka of positive bears in absolute value alone
Yet Enola Gay found its destruction profitable to hominist lore enough to attenuate its evaporation of suffrage in the glint of pervasive remedies to stranded gore
Embanked on the sidelines of conquistador flaunts that a Titanic missive of classy regard found the damsel at the steerage slipping on zalkengur irony the anticlimax of lore
Traipsing fellowship of many a ring is a phony artifice for an ostentation that bellows so loudly when isolated perjury must not whimper but sing
The loudest plaudits afforded to a parallax incumbent white horse in the shadow of Dark Horse occultism a barbed flying wing of the West becoming the king of behest
Scurrilous are many jeers because their similes are baseline just as much as the storged conglomerate behind ensnared rapture looming with less ecstasy and blunt fear remains the kilmarge of simple foresight wrinkled behind the sum of many tears
We await our Creator’s Throne insuperable even with the blandishment of piecemeal craters that are superlative bolides of the weirdest attenuated into the spectrum of eldritch weird
Yet the riches of hobohemia found in “invisible lockets” worn by the travesty of jerseys measuring up to Roadhouse beer
The cartels of citadel cascades built on mountebank fortunes reaped from venal psephology collectively embody the unconscious gamut of javelin cloaks of sardonic sneer
Threnodies written long ago in the Hidden Tracks of sophistry welcome the intermissions of antiquity abridging the donnybrooks of charlatans bossed around by facetious gibes of manicured belletrist humid enough that evaporation itself of rarefied tabacosis has few if any peers
Yet the peerless sketch thrombosis in the oxygeusia of deceptive schadenfreude only to topple jengadangles that glabrous gravity muscles to barely if it all steer
In a vacant reality eager for surrealist bounty the sidereal question of moribund placards supplanted by vibrant living semaphores fixates upon figments of acatalepsy rather than ruddy enumerations of partition despite beloved chalky rudiments filibustering with courtesy rather than jeer
Amicable are ravenous betrayals for chieftains cloffined by warm sapwood integral to equated tantamount mountains festooning firmaments in quaffed delights rigid and keen
The most welcomed blasphemy fragrant with jejune originality celluloid enamors splenetic with sprees of perishable profanity lurking ever more obscene
Regaled in the modest jostle is the forsifamiliation of heterodyne dins of honest applause from the blackguarded periphery among which there are no visible beacons no visible stars
Scarred by diacope enumerated in prescient revelry the trollops of tune and attunement magnetize a riveting weld of seamless geometry that is permeable to ineffable lychgates both porous with prowess and ajar against a golfer’s remediable par
Wizened ghosts flirt with tucked bushes in the forlorn deserts jolted by oasis and flagrant with confection torn asunder by wide-eyed gallantry skipping stones on ataraxia from a distraught afar
That lake of goldmines is scattershot with limey limelight squandered on profligate wrikponds of propinquity but not prolixity in scores and bounties of exoticism in glaikery’s fugitive charm
In proximity there is usucaption but the usufruct of sustainable obelisks to liberty must have the forbearance to bear many witnessed eyes to the Right to Bear Arms
Skirmishes of benighted fracking obsolescence ragged with vitriol and poison-ivy nostalgia flaunt the bromides of algedonic flash over consequences that many disregard
Spiraling with vertiginous pain the scowl of obligation is both seamstress of emblazoned effronteries and the proper reflection of seasoned but not seasonable garb
This barbed quandary riddled with rapacious tendency mixed with myopic bonhomie devours a rickety cacophony of diminutive scopes of ******’s glare to prove each atomic indivisible atrocity a carbonated fulmination heavily barbed
This is all why the killjoys monopolize their gangster vices behind tinted windows and chockablock morality are uxorious bridewells for the bridgewater of garbology sketched by vanity in the outrecuidance of gallionic chasms of an absolute value of firebrand regard
No difference does it make if the recoil is whimpered by hordes of sheep in pretenses of authenticity or whether decapitated delopes emerge from visagist dacoitage snuffed like flavors orbiting self-injury by clockwork towers apace to outlast tertiary bribes for secondary bards
The atocia of freckles in recognition of frail pinnacles summited by daily alpine dilettantist dualisms of polarity are a gullywasher to cleanse and launder indelible regrets carved by aboriginal pottery to memorialize primordial penury
As the slick oleaginous tilts of wicked smart Northeasters swarm the hindsight of Southern Weather afflicted by tempests beleaguered first on recapitulations of Calvary and then deposited evidence upon bourgeoisie
Fumes of the modest flambeaus torching sunken apostasies of hungry spasms of the wind meeting the brusque celerity of the ribald waves rarely etch sublime hint in etch-a-sketch lapses of untimely mobility
Instead that perspicacity of conservatory silence bludgeons Lisbon in the fright before the fall of so many a Phoenix in a foreign land can bear the assaults of the heaved seas
Lambent upon a craggy regularity extinguished by sentinels of the tattered womb for a grimace of prestige by primipara seduction we find no justice of known and knowable terminal disease
Figurative in spoken wisps that predate evaporated concepts of precipitous time the triumph of exalted adoration belongs to hubris but vacant of the prideful decline of crime
To each outspoken verve witnessed on sublunary turf the absolution is nearer to fertility than the craggy soil is to dirt as blemished prowess is a furlough to the sensitive pink tucked manifold beneath each authentic skirt
Liberated by ophelimity but flexed by vicarious pomp in serenade only of hauteur for the hottest we slice and dice a cavern of temptations regardless of enumerated patterns of clearly lopsided dice
We think we live and die but You Only Live Twice in ******* to the oriental bolides of meteoric meteorology preeminent in governing plantations of rice
In jubilant proclamation, I graft from venereal skin a renewed girth of purpose that all enchanted fantasia is a birthright of pleasure more than a vapid drawl of purpose
Glitter bores the scintillation of a denuded naked glory of gore because intimacy is antecedent and consequent to immovable revolutionary procreation of service
To conclude this homily the apothecary in persiflage renounces the role of kilns in both poverty and pottery because his shaken dreams are yelps of a disgusted ornery camaraderie
Listless by oracular dreams of titanic parvenus immune to the sway of tentative croons of Suburban Muse because the grisly subversion of vetust honor that honors not verdict but version of ghastly spools of flimsy epitaphs and not the paragon surgeon is the downfall of a diatribe of petty men
Littering their taradiddles on owleries in overclocked jaundice drowning for purpose among hatcheries of the privvy roosters that own the consequence of audacious pens
Dodgy in interrogation, flummoxed with deracination, isolated by time for time’s recapitulation of surrender in katzenjammer vibes it is time for gossamer servant surfers to borrow nine and hang ten
But the noose of the wednongue nun specializes in puritanical Model Ts for DeLoreans trendsetting years ago because listless lethargy benights the glory that cineastes already won
Teeming on the brink of tomorrow is the progeny of hopeless yesteryear engraved on the iconoclasm of the weak after the next debacle because the Earth after Christ has already borne a Ton
Liturgies revised to reflect corsair trigonometry aimed forever at zephyrs of plight bathe in July 3rd infamy doctored by Generators and Generations before and beyond Walter White menacing the saber with imperious might
Flowered in the nuisance of death is the womb of the arena participant to infinite relapses of contention gladiatorial only when the shunamitism of shanachies sheds serpentine grit for the blench of ligonies of redoubled sight
Towering from the knave inferno of a tramontane elusive cordial imitation of captive citizens of attentive sites the illusion is the vanguard of centuries guarded gingerly by Canada Dry sprites
Rollicking in vehement magpiety attuned to machismo if marginally the sultry philander of naked ruse medicates the charmed Apache Indian on his brief encounters with limousine cruise
Stark in sunken destination glimpsing coal-fire recursive ironies the cloned subversion is a golden calf so effete because it never moos about instinctual muse relegated by twin terrors riddled with sparkplug truce
Limited by scopes enlarged by scales mired in funereal pyres to rigmarole sensationalism worthy of nativist coercion and pivoted lyres the riddle of terminus remains an acquiescent scoff, cough and quaff that never expires
It reaches planetary dread of vast distances regaled against gambits of the spread so the richest sourdough appeases the riper vipers of the nested bed
Recalcitrant with frugal uxorious creed the leader of esquivalience is the headless horseman of innumerable tractions but no mouth to feed
He digests the gallop of the gallant interregnum specious in caitiff ploys and the recessive allele of commiserations against the piety of apolaustic joy because rambunctious speed always attracts a resignation professed from the tailspin of a crass voyage of ludic greed
Tricksters boast of passionate lubrications of finessed bread recocted from useless toasts glowering with insipid pallor as heat and humidity reckon billows of hype congregated more in cisterns of apostasy for remark than a marksman headshot of a Head Hunter wed tightly to a pregnable visions of proactive Ghost
Recidivism and time have a vendetta against verdant drolleries coated by waxen plenilune accordions rampant with polyacoustic rhymes
The tridents of mercurial weather bent on the ineffable vacillations of whether are the brazen opponent of Sterling fatherhood of life’s only father the clockwork animation of a living patronage of eternal existence cobbled from immutable time
To the glory of the Father the sun shades its whimpers and the moon alights as the frontispiece of nocturnal revisions to the New York Times but the hues of rocketed ingenuity coax the ingratiated few to the laureates of genius reckoned with both designation and superlative artifacts of pristine design
Haunted by Green-Light Politics for Greener-Eyed Ladies masquerading in star-crossed tomes of existential dread of lollygagged playful mischief tucked in the coach as he leads his team with sophrosyne feel-good invictive treacle we witness the fumiducts of fortune blitzing Hail Mary contrition with earnest specialty in defense of offensive precision
Games won by the squirrel are outnumbered by the stars in the heavens flagrantly devoid of specialized electricity enough to encapsulate the ommateum of collectivized insights found only in the most evolved sequence of cell division
Incarcerated by the scrappy schlep of bad beats and bronzed chariots roiled by the momentum of angular spears we seek oracular transcendence that cements decades into the span of days that portend the deliverance of future years from past and present fears
Presiding as proctor in the redacted exoneration of crash-course pilots glowering with the effluvium of recensed perdition the heyday of one becomes the mayday of anarchy tested only by the alacrity of the summation of its beloved yet maligned cheers
Against a prosperity hard-won by earnest husbandry commandeered by gammerstang notoriety spawning the recrimination of star power into centupled peers negligent of zero-sum opinionation wagered by Country Club fraternities embedded in the taxonomy of wilted hackumber for hegiras minimized by outcry but cemented by Dear Johns’ twinged with sultry pleonexia in taxed tears
So with the whipsaw of the individual between the collective funnel and the idiosyncratic insubordination that amplifies outcry galvanized throes of insemination built on cross-pollination is melliferous to a pretense of alchemy outstretched to sidereal wonder
Hardest to guess is intimacy clothed in Platonic virtues crumbling because puritanical pilgrimage is appraised as a joyous thunder for a abnegation from all potential blunders
To wager such a life is a depredation of the abundance that John breathes as a ceremonial birthright cast aside by latent regrets stampeding the realm of nosocomial reflections of the pallor of a lurid squander
So we are left to bemuse the decrepit bodewash of realism taken to such a virulent extreme it leaves few artifacts of nostalgia to croon about and ponder and fewer abstractions to yield to manicures of elegant troponder
Diminutive sinews in the intertesselations of heft profess a fidelity of notoriety carving life before and after death
Unsung by the beadledom of the usucaption of exotic tailored musician brutes upon my landlocked assault of chryselephantine usufruct I lampoon nescience as it lurks in murky graveyards of anoegenetic zombies covered in thick pigments of piggish soot
Yet this fuliginous bronteum of warped clarity transfixed by the ulterior wednongues of atrocious spans of provenance jilting providence makes betting interests of rivalry outcomes harder to win earnest roots
The trees of the gamboled skittish resignation of checkered blinks obscuring the curtailed discernment of bedizened slogans of future campaigns yet distasteful in ornery churning the bootstrapped tie their tethered laces to their acquired boots
Barnstorming through afflicted spandrels of abeyance shepherded by notions of public dereliction by imperium of centrobaric centripetal philters of concubine rhymes I surge beneath cordial flonky redhibition because of redshorts in estimable traction cemented by supernal design
Weak in luster my potent pollination for synergistic aplomb evades the fringe of corrugated affections mounted upon quixotic escapades of jockeyed statistics flourishing by reticence rather than frazzling the prolix emulation filibustering the mundane ignorance but garnering the harvest of the plevisable sequence from prime to prime indivisible by liberty alone or complicit with cadence sublime
Finishing the sermons of modern apostasy to a gallant cause my laments outnumber the muzzles belonging to the quorum of begrudged applause in the rawest spectacle of unheralded genius clawing insistently at the heart of electric gravity
The nuances of plausible nuisance bicker in emerald harlots of the tantamount nature of derelict frikmag to calculated prosodemic solidarity around insanity because the vein of the golden ore should see ivoride as nullification and inanity
We all stoop on counterfeit stencils of pretense hearkening a clairvoyant sun to droop for closer inspection but detective remonstrance is outmoded by dreary witless defections
Thus the drawl scrawled by the genius flonky in gadzookerie but gilded in rhapsodies of ineffable cadence fighting orthodoxy to a relegated draw sketches the outline of the special talents of lying claws
Because stipulated in the vast oversight that predicates reprisals of retches glazing in obtuse effronteries with eccedentesiast odontoloxia we witness the corrosion of race and gender into pontificating audits of nomadic treason in a fortress militarized by niche applause
Trickling from repcrevel faucets implicit degradation is a casual casualty of an abbreviated motive gestured in ponderous stupidity to distract abiding legislation into the giggled gaggle of tinsellated glitter
Fatuous by vacuums of gaudy prizes worthy only of token motions rather than locomotive strains of virulent and compassionate respect lapsed on vigors of vehement regret is a sing-song ridicule of a still-framed pillory erected as the obstacle that gouges the riddles of impediment and deprives the luxury of preferential emolument siphoned off to lurid jeers of mockery propaganda sizzling in the cauldrons of tilted marginalization
So we witness the faded declension of the hubris of fair-weather camaraderie as a flux dispersal of invidious buoyant bloviated streaks of temporal grit into inverted revelry never shared by the proper ubiquity of streams of personal recompense for plodding fragments of invasion
If I veer away from bickering cackles of denounced preeminence swiveled to face the shadows upon the great cavern of insuperable bounds of fickle human ignorance I deplore the vaunted toadies that shrink my shadow and diminish my viable conceptual and vibrant footprints
Few extinct creatures know the annihilation of petty fame quaffed on Whiskey Bars I never met because the insipid banal pleonasms of restructured irony grimace at my complexion as the scent of the game alerts the foibles of a champion begotten once before as a shark-tank prince
Livid is my grief in the aborning moral quandary of sunken priority overlapping with piebald skeumorphs of retches of blinkered allegiance faltering prior to the primary day of my true awakening because the completion of nesiote subterfuge  rusts on creaky hinges of noncommittal regressions of pointed but pointless deluge
I spar with the augury of irrelevance with a five-pointed star bequeathing rigid but plentiful provision to assist with more than a petty dime of tithe to a 20/20 flash of perfect prescience and hallowed vision
The eve of all destruction is the lollygag of subordinate squawks redacting convenient priorities on the slowpoke walks through teenage immaturity found in the infamous “talk” that the world is governed by evasion in supremacy rather than by the bywords of the perennial stocks in sublime stalks
This nation perishes with my visionary clarity because the bifocal constraints of delimited defenestration remands my custody beneath ****** upheaval documented by useless historians of deliberation in gaffe and ammunition for agitprop flickering away the aubades of praise for the stilted pretense of sclerotic values inflexible to authorship thus scuttled by crowdsourced dictatorship
How sad a spate that the welters of sciamachy hide behind the glaring shadow of immeasurable genius for an unwarranted earwig to steal the echoes of my thunder and poison the servitude of the minions to companionship to highlight aggrieved infamy over walloping feats of refrain found in an isolated rather than protracted celebrity
The guilt of the reproachable beams through the frikmag of tyrannical bouts of circular wernaggle as I carve spherical reckoning that outstretches in all viable directions so that “The Mailman” and the Male Man both succeed in historic insurrection
Flashy benumbed brutish ferules of ferocious dainty dances with an arbitrary cage highlighted among a voiceless heyday for an auditorium which perceives insanity more dangerous than inanity is a profane stipulation by wrinkled mediagenic hubris which scours planetary limitations for excuse to recourse and recourse to excuse
We find marvels in subtlety finicky on the apothegms of heterochrony divergent even further from syndication as the regimented nuances of abuse become plucky daredevils that cozen robust vital sapwood from anglers seizing by seizure the roundabout logic of the innumerable minority characterized forever obtuse
I writhe in delicate contortions of flexed directional bypass surmounting orthodromic velocities capering with the anenometers that spar against spangled enthusiasm only to become an anointed slave of the flagging moral resolve fulminating a huffed crusade with silentiums of false asylum for true achievement brusque against any resourceful tempest scurrying the hidebound illusion of pandemonium for scrappy shenanigans of vergers and emptied pews griping with the dearth of the day-to-day despite the known tomorrow
We cannot affix primary focus upon constellated wasms of puckered abstention borrowed from a maskirovka of secret hedonism wed to many vices among wives but deprived of sacrosanct remuneration for abiding expenses yet an atoll upon a continent decisive in its aborning revolution
Ribald wiseacres of a jovial dismay flanged on rectiserial exaggerations of sebastomania is a stranded frigate of a fugitive escapism wandering with nomadic insistence against cosseted blackguard of assertion without plenipotentiary verdicts against the suborned crater of overstated flimsy truculence in sardonic dissolution
In trespass of a reservation of recoiled tender of tutelage proctoring unseemly haggardly refuse to creak into noisome and noisy cacophony armed by centurions of merciless scorn that lackadaisical winter belies the meteoric riches of autumn mainour fungible with the retches of remorseful decay dangling retreat above entreaty for exasperated wednongues lacking curiosity or the backbite of counterfeit engastrimyths seeding an unknowing complicity to fallacy forked over by chiefs and chefs to an amounted dubiety reserves the armaments of glib sedition for inopportune blacklists by a whitewashed Listerine amenable to launder travestime into oversight rather than belabor banal graft upon the agelasts of a toilsome operose labor to trivialize Herculean monuments to creativity as backwater residence of restive plucky percurrent revivals of infamy as a primary thorn rather than a secondary abreaction
Sentinels swift to the expedited squalor intrepid in sclerotic simpers of renowned defalcation bludgeoned by the tridents of harmonized trauma healing the brayed complaint while regaining the quixotic statute of plevisable mobility belongs to the froward counterpunch to the flippant underminnow of savagery yet among noble personage a blip on furloughs rather than a singed diacope perishing in Wasting Light for denuded darkness to supplant the vacated stage of ironic upbringing bartered from a treasury of obsolete wasms of trivial shadows in the amounted lineage of time.
Elected by the purblind fudged cadge of intransigent solidarity behind unhinged proclamations of lewd lunacy the reset of wibble-wabble and conflagrations of trenchant visibility will cloud the cloudiest tempest with hurricane-force devastation by the healing stripes of the piebald idiosyncrasy of gerrymandered defamation failing where insular regeneration outlasts hamartia and blinkered foibles of girouettism to pillory the excess but not transmogrify the whittled progress of seminal generativity unbounded by harped lyres of discord for secret concords of select femicide
With outstretched hands I point to the tapestry of the Heavens as eternal folksy witness that to endear the temperance of time bullishly roaring on the laureates of prolific servitude to the malleable substance of capered argument the enigmatic punctuation outweighs the baragnosis of miscreant opportune glares at personal prospect for aggrieved sockdolagers of redstrall over the filigrees of innate geometry to cackle above the shouted gnash and the dissoluble squirms of blackened cremation of living memories into insipid fracking of sapwood caitiffs flowing on the motion of discredit rather than honor in valuable endeavor for future genuflection
Totems value me as much as they stalk grazed hinderbaggle of cosmetic devolution of ragged popcorn theatrics in the desuetude of normative ethics beneath the carcass of rotten dastardly cowardice brandishing an ulterior discretion beneath the level of the lowest stoop of any breed founded on loyalty verging into flagrant snipers of integrity for the integral unshakable paragon of broad illumination the guidepost for many spectral truths overshadowed by one miserly fool flummoxing with albatross without the overhang  of pluvious integrity shepherding his hauteur in zig-zagged wallops rather than buoyant serenades
Thus entrenched in juicy poignant barricades against virulent spawn of the katzenjammers of squawking femicide I spout the blossom, bequeath the gift, renounce the delusion and form a formidable bastion against depredated valleys blemished from sight by intolerable patches of darkened verdure hiding from commonwealth perception the pearl of ecumenical salvation swimming in the naked tongues of honest profession dancing with conventional demarcated demerits of Rimbaud ramshackle deracination as a humdrum belittled squander of a prop of craven filibuster rather than beavers outsmarting the delignated destruction of habitat because of outright distaste for plucky individuation above the squalor of relativism in minor octaves of gnashed betrayal rigged by hamsters rather than owned by the men trigger-happy with rat race motivation only to the servitude of degrees rather than plausible recovery embedded into the fabric of fickle society
Hidebound tomes fishing for destruction but grappling with the enormity of the plagued pitfall of ceramic skirmish with brittle conscience emerge with epincion rather than sulk in brooded hyperbole of convenient drapes of flocks postulating irrelevance clearly in the light of the truest day frolicking with gigantic swaddles of curated support etching masterpieces of traipse into the frescades of future calenture beyond the petty misestimation of hemitery politics
Thus the weapon serves two masters of row rather than regatta and the besieged rankles the testy predicament to a teased poetry riveted by years of rhapsody rather than moments of tomfoolery emergent victorious rather than dilapidated by what-could-have-been chary brinkmanship on the precipice of modern sacrilege
To instruct the herds of men to hoard and the wisdom of the wise to circulate that apothegm of reclamation owns superlative traction fundamental to whimsical festivity even forsaken on a churlish masquerade outmantled by frenetic activity famigerated by the true Richter Scale of public fanfaronade because justice is truth and only in germane truth beyond germ scares will decrepit scarecrows demolish their Fear Factor even when the gullible squirm for nexility on bounded continents rather than novantique frontiers
Conscription demarches for assembly beyond relegation and celebrity above frays of discordant rumination feasting advenient rather than cherishing internal and integral the virtuoso wrabble of residue generations churning wheels of acceleration rather than quibbling extinguished vitality as principal complaint exercised in negligent abodes of facetious barnacles to outlandish freckles in the majestic pulchritude of a Titanic salvation beyond and considering the curglaff of sunken resources pitted to my registry by slot-machine audiences incognizant of brittle whittled henpecks of adoring truth and perdurable verve
We sink and die by destructive tongues but abide and live by righteous exemplary prowess capable of scraping the towering canvass of the firmament and the retches of the deepest sea inhabited by any curiosity worthy of emolument
So in token liturgy I decry sidelong cursory squandered affronts that drive the Jehus madcap with fractious celerities of formal destitution rampant on flonky menace rather than modern hypertrophy
In The End, we see triumph in every nuance and bristling concord with every perspiration of ennobled effort truckling into serrated selachostomous and fractious bromides of wrecking-ball fashionistas fumigating cultural pederasty with subtle bailiwick but ragged travesties of taxidermy celluloid
Marvel in-between the serenade and grandstand and cull the turnverein of triumph from banished evasive rundles of the outlasted calculus to neuter the estranged and to estrange the atocia of vibrant surreal vibes no stranger to an alien hand in a desolate world.

Labels. Square. Cut. Legible enough to judge.
To rank and trivialize, hollow out a once million dollar view.
Leave only the shattered confidence and trampled mind to litter the scene
The roof of a skyscraper seems inviting with a
neon sign reading "Thank society for this."
You find yourself weeping, attaching, flooding your gates
To this sign, next to where you're going to surrender
Because no letter, no word, no other human
could grab your slit wrist  and lead you away. To say
"**** the square, cut, legible enough to stand scenery. Stop painting with your running blood"

Go with a plastic bag.
No- not over your head. Pick a size off the shelf
Now pour that million dollar view you make up in the bag.
Drip a few branches and some lamp posts,
or paint the sky arching to the shore with a flock of birds swirling around
Make it bulge
Warmth radiating through
Now toss it. Throw it. Hurl it. Hand it.
It holds, it shifts from a silent setting in one eye to a hurricane coming

Though the contents are still exactly the same
You cannot escape interpretations
For fear of the unknown and the trap door to never open up beneath you
But you can be a plastic bag instead of a box.

"I lost her to mental illness."
It just doesn't produce
Quite the same sympathy as
"I lost her to cancer." Or
"I lost her to a car accident."

People look at you strangely
As if you don't understand
What it means to be alive,
That you don't know a person
Is alive and well if they're breathing
And talking and living.
They try to correct you and say
That you're just not in contact
With her anymore,
Not that you've actually lost her.

People think mental illness:
"Can't be that bad, right?"
"At least she's still alive."
"You could still talk to her,
If you wanted."
They think being sad about it,
Being broken hearted over it,
Being depressed because of it,
Is just exaggerated hysterics.

But I lost her to mental illness.
I lost her to mental illness!

It IS that bad!
It means she is gone from me
As much as if she physically died!
I CAN'T talk to her
Even though I do want to!

There is no going back
To the way it used to be.
Every day of the rest of my life
Will be missing a key person
Whom I can never get back.

She abandoned me,
Chose to walk out of my life.

But it was the mental illness
That stole any hope I had
Of seeing her walk back in.
It was the mental illness
That orphaned me.
It was the mental illness
That "killed" my mom.

So please don't trivialize my loss.
Don't depreciate my pain.
It's just as valid and just as real.

I lost her to mental illness.

Oh Mr. Orwell
why did you have to write
that book
you know, the 1984 one,
the depressing one,
because you exposed them
and they knew you had
so Big Brother was taken
back to the drawing board
and they started from scratch
It was the best trick in the world
Instead of watching us
we watch him
instead of thought police
they just steal our thoughts
there is still a box in every home
and it shows episodes
of two and a half men
or the sucker free countdown
and jersey shore
I mean Jesus
they even managed
to trivialize reality
Oh Mr. Orwell
couldn't you have just
lived long enough
to topple this tower block
of spiritual silence

It’s something my parents insisted on,
Preparing for the trials and tribulations our world endures.
Thinking about how I’ll react to impending circumstances.
Overcoming adversity using my heart as well as my mind.

And in my later years I’m starting to understand,
Why they begged me to always be the better man.
So let these words sink in to your heart and mind,
Forget the hate you hear and those that try to trivialize,
The following things I memorized; so many years ago........

I was taught to be the better person
I was taught that relationships were built on honesty
I was taught to be a good listener
I was taught to be polite
I was taught to be patriotic
I was taught to be emotionally open
I was taught to fight against Injustice
I was taught and encouraged to smile often
I was taught to be humble
I was taught to be generous with my belongings
I was taught to feed the hungry
I was taught to have respect for all races
I was taught to have compassion for the less fortunate
I was taught to live by the Golden Rule
I was taught that unjust criticism is often a disguised compliment
I was taught a right from a wrong
I was taught to believe in a creator
I was taught that war is a terrible thing
And most importantly;
I was taught that acts of Love & Kindness can change the world.

threadhung
worded in our double-weighted net:
relationship
the stung looking said
the sweet hearing seen
1000 metaphors to trivialize the living web
unsensed
numbed and scentless dinner

but tasting unHomeric baths of guests
unknown
unwanted, to be known

Graceless
You are graceless
She is wingless, like you
Only yours were honorary
Yours she gave to you, so generous
Hers you tore from her
Shoulder blades,
Pulled a feather from every pore
A petal every time
You asked whether or not
She had been in love with you

She was
And she wishes
You were missing the same pieces
That were taken from her
But at the same time
She couldn't hurt a fly
Not on purpose
Nor without consideration
Nor without consequence



Because she knows better than to do what you did.

You cut her
Yet your own blood
Doesn't run with guilt.

You're Graceless
Selfish

Yet not as Graceless
As the young woman
Whom you laid on a metal slab,
Dissected,
And sewed back together
With romantic detachment

You claimed her,
You cut her,
You maimed her,

Don't trivialize her anger
She deserves to feel something again
Let her fly,
Let her fly
*******,

She doesn't  want her family to watch her die

9/2/2017

Sure, i was young and stupid
Its a good excuse its not nice to think you would make the same mistake twice
Im older now, more wise
At least, thats the narrative i live by
I wont be stupid again like that time
I wont misjudge a snake for a vine
I wont get bit, i wont cry
My boundaries stand high
Noone unworthy gets by
So dont even try

I will find good people, make good love
No more stupid mistakes, no more fuckups
My old self was sweet but messed up
Im stronger now, better at coping with stress
Less *******, more truth

But is that really how you wanna feel about the younger you?
The one that made it through?
The little kid that stood up time and again
When depression exacerbated everything she felt?
Who made it through her own hell?
Well, maybe its healthier to belittle her than to feel helpless
But know that she was glorious herself and
She was wise and well equipped
To cope with reality's *******
She survived the hellish
Stayed vulnerable, wasnt selfish
Hell, if thats what you wanna trivialize, be my guest
But just remember to say thank you
Because if you are better, its because she was the best

I am not in love with people who have fantasies
they trivialize the beauty of the world right in front of us
I am in love with real people
I love seeing people whose skin is off, whose soul is
burnt raw
the ice cold bitter air cuts them and they feel it
I love tender hearts who seem themselves for their own
beauty and brokenness
and beyond that, their own mediocrity
because we are all not clichès
but we are so **** beauitful because of it.

She smells of the ink that broke grounds anew
His skin, like the paper, passed from me to you
They spoke of that era, intimately gone
The children waited for their dance in the sun

Their biggest statues were products of their times
Five years of longing, and two of moonlight
They speak of a tongue under deep scrutiny
They wither to write and that simply can’t be

These Paperbound Heroes surrendered their souls
So that which they speak can never be controlled
Each one lingers about in a leaping house
Their structure of thymes, their words of coals

Do not forsake them for long

A dreamer bedridden to some old device
His mind of electricity kept out the lice
They’ll take your deep pockets and show you your heart
What “folly’, what “fool” will bring about a start?

The capes and the crosses, and their simple times
Where one could live free without begging a dime
They can’t save us from the books where they’re bound
But it is enough that these stories resound

These Paperbound Heroes sacrificed their souls
To fill what’s within, the new century’s hole
Each leaps about like a larking mouse
Their stature of crime, their works of tolls

They won’t follow for long

Where are the beat-down, the colleagues with crowns?
The always around, knowing what’s going down
The knowledge-filled lungs in the smoke-filled rooms
An idle guitar, the ideas to groom

The poets and dead-beats that you spit upon
Welded our worlds, those vast vagabonds
Vain as they are, rough as they come
The smallest of pawns are still parts of the sum

These Paperbound Heroes, they silvered their souls
In pure desperation to decry the poll
They lark about in the loneliest house
Their stolen rhymes, their worn-out goals

They are forever strong

The boy in the bed, well he wrote for a while
He was transfixed by the drawn, timeless smiles
So who’ll be the one that will get in his way?
And trivialize every word he will say

The girl with the gun chose to lay her arms down
She chose to cease with such visceral sound
I believe they’re happily married today
It is bittersweet to throw oneself away

These Paperbound Heroes are weary and sold
Their grasps so that they may simply grow old
But if you fret that they belong in their house
In due time, the kids will grow into their soles

Move forward with your song

i trivialize my life
consistently.
presuming life to be fruitful
for others
in ways my own cannot,
will not.
i feel at a standstill
climbing a hill whose peak is as elusive
as meaningful self-discovery is.

reality seems to idle,
ascension of the mind seems futile.

Talk works best when certainty’s aside,
so the company’s address is wavered.
The message, therefor, a matter of formality,
and the meaning, made direct.

Such is the secret of telepathy,
of the mountain mouse’s cherade,
What would the owner of the Place
do sooner than trivialize?

May he submit his truest fear?
The kind that withers into one's spine
For all his ventures, and all his colour
There is one thing he could not find

Would you guess, and play this game of man?
Trivialize him into a fact, or a song!
Fruitless, you will be, unlike his mind
He could not bear your answer for long

You see: he flies and he is well
He sees: only flies and bothersome dreams
You see: his ventures as a lonely dust
He sees: his truth, which is not as it seems

Truth, the obsolete, the sordid word
For it claims to deny anything but
You hang on to it, to define the worlds
That he wrote himself, like the galaxy's mutt

So you scream, and you *****, for the words that he sold
To portray him well, out of lust or pity
"The Caricature of the New Age Think"
The medium is lost, for a name in the city

So they'll point their fingers, at the primary antagonist
Of itself, the life it chose out of need
For what is one's purpose in some long-gone galaxy
When it writes for humans, when it needs to feed?

IT is longing, and IT is impossible
But tangible enough, to know of it's shame
That it was not born where and how it desired
So it manifests into me, and I am duly blamed

"I am restrained, and that's of no concern"
I will sell that line to give it sense
For friends smile bright and they mean well enough
Even if I must live with petty pretence

Is that truth? Well surely it is
You read it well, and I suffered to write
If it is art, and you are captivated
Then this is my closest to a star, and this is my blight

So, do you know my truest fear?
The dying of the word
The contradiction of truth
The self-denial of who I must be
The forgetting of my adventures
The extinction of my art
All to myself, only myself

Why can we not live
We survive, we get by but...
Why can’t we live?
A circle hits a square,
        Without edges.

I can’t help but ask:
Is this it?

I toss back my chemical charm and I wonder
What more is there?

Let us find out together

We wander in different directions.  

breathe

I need something, I need nothing
I need everything:
What even is that?  

Let it be anything
Let it be everything
Maybe I’ll learn to let it be

Gimme some air
Prey to god I don’t choke
I’ll cough up toxins

Keep it real
      Don’t trivialize

It’s victor’s birthday.  He’s one today
Doesn’t that sound wonderful?

I’m 26 and it’s tricky
Ain’t it simple though?

Harsh words,
A slap, a fist,
A kick, a twist.

Emotions are ******* physical she whisper- hissed.
And punched me in the cheek.

Bruise me, she begged
And drew a bit of blood,
With her slightly deformed knuckle.

I want to feel, please,
She pleaded with me,

Whip me, strip me, shadow both my eyes,
And she pulled my hair violently.

I cannot love, she said.
So please beat me and wear me down
Until I'm too exhausted to **** myself.

Do you understand, she demanded,
And she pulled the skin under my eye
Hard and
Away from my face
Hideously painful.

I want to die,
I want to cry,
I want to tell endless lies,
I want to despise,
And criticize,
Humiliate and trivialize.

I want to die, she said.

I will forgo without
Endure unjust ,
unreal suffering .
Trivialize my vantage.
Which leaves depravity
Insecurity
two goals my lifetime
Towering out of my grasp
.......never needing you to be burdened with shame of wanting to ask......
Work myself to the grave ......
Perjure myself infront of a federal jury.
Tape 50 kilos of coke to me
Watch me stroll through Iran border security
Give me vast riches ill live in poverty
Build the worlds largest castle the world has ever seen ....make the whole thing out of
Oxcodone oxycottin
Percaden .vicaden .or any type of ******.
Give me all comepletely
Legalize me to do
Anything
With full impunity.
Absolute imunity
..........
I will without a second thought .without even the hassle of looking about it.
.....for you..
And at the end of that tempting day will crawl home to you through lemon juice and broken glass
Give you my pay check
Cook you a five star dinner
Rub your feet and love you
Because
WITHIN me lies the truth of what you have done to me.. ..
And I know it
More importantly
I know you know it
.......in private .
Alone you try to deny it
One of us will probably
Die

LOVE ON  

in the warmth of a first kiss  
or the chill of a relation in flux
we were better then this

with everything we have known
once truly believed in, our love slowed
each leaf of passion, fallen to the ground

what is left to say
as we stand like strangers
here now, arms out- kept at bay

we cannot explain
for being careless with our love
is it possible, have the strength to change

can we love on,  or have dreams deferred
save it within reason, have a plan
somehow make it right; explain the unexplainable

do we realize this
or apologize in vain
when feelings hurt-whose to blame

who were we protecting
with words that trivialize
emotions caught upending

can we love on, give up all we had
or should we make another go
face it all, the good, the ugly, the bad

by Michael Perry