I was ready
am will be
ready
I looked to the lanterns decorating the sky
waiting in readyness
I took my things up, went down
cartwheeled around
now I'm digging, waiting
waiting for the green blades to spring in my mind
give me a field to walk with others
something we can share
waiting
what can I say of value when I devalue my suffering projected as words?
like a block in the road
it pops up conjuring dreams of random urban violence
driving the blade home
the the face of the hard working man of the street
his work place knows only unwritten laws
and the bones of his cheek stop panicked blades dead
as he pursues with regard to nothing but eradication of his enemy
so many souls like that
have touched mine
spewing lead into the sky
and into the street
loosing the protest of noble neighborhood dogs
grappling the hoods of the young and naive with sausage fingers
sprouting crimson blossoms
run
run from the image
seek the sun
the brilliant womb of massive celestial bodies
playing games of gravity
billions of wombs
spouting the ever accelerating goings on
it was in the night we censored ourselves
censored primal blurts of verse
for fear it was tried tripe
for fear it would bring darkness
the black, beeping blur
ringing in the ears
ringing the coming of a fistfull of dollars
ringing to the core of my brain
the impatient storm marching into a moment of greasy bliss
and the weather rolls on
pulling the sweat from our brows
deploying vast armadas of carnivorous insects
puffing massive blankets of clouds over the vivid green
feeding it with rain
and
the green looks so much more vivid in the rain
leaves cupping up to receive the drops
so that I could understand why the Japanese say, "itadakimasu"
receiving destractions
deterrents
beautiful diversions
snapping back to reality
in the cubic confines
devoid of solitude
chaos
broiling bubbles of suckling need
let's demand
demand justification
for creation
let's critique creation
let's devour the creator
Oh sweet creator
why have you forsaken me?
Why create something new
when you can fuel this fire
I long for you to fuel this fire
For it is not your creation
but your presence I desire
and if I weep in the night for you
you will hear, the world will hear
if I weep will you cease creation?
Or perhaps you will create a link
a link of warmth between us
I know you have grown cold
and the only warmth radiating from you
is the purging of floods assimilating into chains
in your head
withdrawn from everybody
in your head
too much flesh
too much flesh bounding around
too much outside your head
overflowing
don't stop
don't let them stop you
real people
outside of your words
outside of your head
inside your head
they demand and align against you
whirling worlds
tangling your words
and it seems
the language is dead
perverted
into the most vile of bile
you've only to
punctuate.
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