Tuesday, December 28, 2010

This Is A Thought, This Is Not A Thought...

Poetry is made up of words > Poetry is just a word > Words are just 'made up' > they don't exist > therefore nothing I write exists.  

If it does exist, it can describe beauty, love, lust, hate, friendship, discontentment, tragedy, humility, humour; life. It is a record of life, and everything it comprises, for mind's eye visualization, from vocabulary.

Art is just three letters.


Anger                          Angst                      Adoration                Aim          
Regret                         Revere                    Reason                     Righteousness 
Temptation                Time                       Tragedy                    Tact

Three little letters, one word; though it encompasses millions of ideas.

I may not write perfectly structured verse with perfect metric rhythm, or the right amount of syllables on each line- but I like that, because I don't subscribe to rules and the conventional. It's meant to be my way of venting, so why do it any other way? If words are made up then so too, grammar can be.
Writing is a solitary pleasure, it's used to escape and bring things into perspective, to vent, and to bring the otherwise ignored to life. Writing is true freedom. The pen is truly mightier than the sword.
Our free-will played a bigger part in our past than is possible now. As long as we have the power of free-will any oppression, in any form, will create problems.
Sometimes the world you see in your mind is alot more coherent and pleasure-full than the one you wake up to. You can objectively and subjectively observe human nature and report it in the way you see fit. 
I write how I want to write, otherwise it would not be mine.

My physical being is here, sitting in this chair, typing this proclamation, but my heart and my soul and my mind are on this page in letters, words, some sort of structure, ordered and unordered from somewhere in my subconscious. I am facing you, looking into your eyes and you don't even know it. You are absorbing part of me into your being, and if there's something indelible to you here, you will carry me with you for the rest of your natural life. That's part of the beauty.

Wednesday, December 8, 2010

The Wheels Within Memories...

Reminders of Nazi Germany were sitting in the diner
Next to an ice cream parlor
Stella wanted a coffee
And I wanted a cigarette
Idi Amin was on the 562
A few seats down from 'Headphones' Eddie
Saloth Sar was at the farmer's market
Next to the lemongrass basket
Charles Manson spiked the punch
At a Hollywood wedding on Tuesday

Tuesday, December 7, 2010

Transport Accident Commission...

I am a dangerous motorist
I drive my body to wreck and ruin.


Just dust on his glasses
Wipe me away with the sky
Pull the blankets from children
Speak calm in a hurricane
You do know the script is backwards?

Rolling fists
Sandstone cliffs
Giant fish
Lavender mantra
I am Calvera

A gypsy Grandmother with an orange peel smile
Lady fortune teller; dream seller
Stellar ambitions for a daughter
Of a divine Chief
The son of a part-time pallbearer

I am a placid Private
I just lost my Corporal
Now I'll lose the war

I feel ordinary- no flattery
I feel tired- no walking today
I feel useless- no apparent improvements
Drunk tongued awkward one
Solid lunged walking forward-run
My brain won't budge

I dreamt of violent people turning into lions
Eyes of miles and miles of ions
My neighbour hated my loud music
He was fiercely ill

Five fingers lead to one palm
Sprouting tall to touch the sun
Eating stars that fell to the window sill
It's more like photographs than film

A wood whittling box making occultist
Using small children's eyes to focus
Hocus pocus, whore and hostess
They came together like family
Drinking blood and lime happily
From Napoli- a soup made of lilly
I ate one full of napalm

Thursday, December 2, 2010

Natural Born Iller...

I want a gentle virgin without a face
To fuck and leave
Abandon- the horror
Abortion on the sheets
Hanging from a fan
Dry my shirt
Soaked- my washing is clean
Leave pure; unadulterated

Speech Atlas...

Bruised legs of chairs
Split an atom with a hair
Toxic Mongol
Blonde siren- violent
Minor psychopathic
Major reincarnation
Teflon, computer chips
20 minute automation
There in lies machines
Wooden spindle- rope
Suicide of knowledge
History and Greeks
Robed naked trainer of Olympian
Subtle breast- hardcore erotica
Your ankles are showing
Stoned in a hot sandpit
Temple in the valley
Electric engineering
Atlantis falls
A golden wreath angers the peasant
Thief in an exotic bizarre
Spice laden wicker
Helmet; sword - shin spliter
Sandal wearing shit kicker
Cosmic snake charmer
Innocent victim
Spectacle- the obscene
Beard with a walking stick
Englishmen in an alley
Peace thrown to the wind
Crushed ginger bug killer
Potatoes- conquest of the whites
Starving farmer house burning
Leave for extended port
Bottled hatred- drank by many
Europe indulge

Wednesday, December 1, 2010

Dead Man's Walk...

I was surprised to see Jesus nailed upside down on the back of a Combi.
To see some cat shooting up using a bike pump.
To see a Pro-Life letterhead on a death threat.