poetries & confessions.

a smoke in march with the boys

2011-11-21T06:54:00.020-06:00

We sat, unbeknownst, with the lion of March.His toothy grin in ours pressed into the bits of pipes,alive as a scratched matchstick roaringto the deep encouragement of a bourbon-soaked cherry.And in the space, amid brothers' candlelit conversation:better than blankets, we were wrapped into warm thoughts,intermittent with dark, Irish thirst.A thin, yellow wisp of sulfur appeared for a moment and

2011-10-21T10:35:00.001-05:00

Oh, I am a part of a whole. Adam, he purchased my soul To the hell that I am From his sin that began Death and grew, From federal father. That man Beget, like leaven, a man. And onward and ever, The race rose and delivered Us damned. Oh, black as the darkest of nights; Loving the darkness, a Light! Your Spirit shown in To my innermost being And I knew I would never be free; A part of the

On understanding implosion, Letter to a friend

2009-02-18T15:51:00.004-06:00

More or less I understandyour mouth so mighty and handsome:In the arms of a shorn haired Samson.In Timnah riddled in robes of the southand that rotting lion's yawning mouth,whose welling eyes and welling crotch,will welling, putrid air be lostto burst of hide and hive explodeto swarm of needles, teeth. And blood,in blushed mist of rising souls,steaming streams departing, rosefor an honor coldas

Letter to a Friend, Implosion

2009-02-18T15:33:00.004-06:00

More or less I understandyour mouth, so-mighty and handsome:in the arms of the shorn hair of Samson;In Timnah riddled in robes of the south,and that rotting lion's yawning mouthwhose welling eyes and welling crotch,will welling, putrid air be lostto burst of hide and swarm like soulsdeflated in their moldsspilt forth, and drank in wet and rankdeath like thesein Ashkelon of Philistines;full of

Refinement, Part 1

2009-02-15T15:54:00.006-06:00

[with fire fire burning grand]I do not pretend to comprehendthe gleaming graciousness at handthat in refinement takes a brandof ore, so brandished blandand blackened in its vein,plucks it from its soiled land,reduces it to comprehendnothing but its filthy standin fire fire burning grand,mercy but a thought rescindto Scorious slag it is (I am).And whenunraveling strand from strandelemental sin

Ephesians

2009-02-12T11:18:00.003-06:00

Outstretched, wounded,span hung and pounded,yet reaching, resoundedthrough commonwealth astoundedand the Gentiles allow-ed.

Monsters

2008-08-21T14:16:00.003-05:00

Wait, there are monsters there. They’ll cut into your heart and pull out all your insides in the dark. They aren’t sorry there. They don’t know the word.If I were you, I’d be pretty scared to be where you’re going,to know what you’ve known,to flip that switch and bed down.

On understanding letting go

2008-08-07T16:09:00.011-05:00

You grant life to the seed,coax unraveling buds to their needof eruption from stems,loose and untie the pregnant hemsof blossoms, seeds, polleneous pits;whose wide mouths are rapt,with any number of petaled lips,screaming until blushed unto Heaven-highwith pink hands raised out far as death is nighto the Spring until Winter through that Fall which will liethem lost to their seasonand I, lost.

Talky talky

2008-08-07T10:37:00.008-05:00

Say you're deep like ocean,wet me like the sea;but I've been so damn thirsty lately.Please, talk to me.A little drip in the desert, Honey;Soul's chapped and dry.I don't want to die,and time ain't on our side.Just talk to me.They say love is a current,a channel changing with the tide;say that sun and moon's a steady circlethrough the lows and highs.But I don't care what they say, Lover;you said

Forgiveness Song

2008-07-28T01:21:00.003-05:00

I'm a lost son of God on my way back home;Gonna carry my burden from when I'm young till I'm old;Gonna hold on tight to what it is that I own,I'm a fool.Gonna lie in wait in the crefts of the rockFor the devil to see me, for the devil to stop;For that old serpant to speak what he talks,I'm a fool.Gonna run on off like a scaredy catScreaming, Father, Father; Oh, Daddy Dad.Please tackle the lion

the boring and the miraculous

2008-07-27T00:26:00.008-05:00

Things are waning, lady;Young and yet you're hoaring; baby,The angels take to soaring; lately Flying seems a little less than Miraculous. You worry I could leave Like it’s ocean burnt and drowned trees; When you’re using all you’re energy To close. Leaving ain’t so Miraculous. We've always said The first step in doing Something is to do it. Step on out

=)

2008-07-17T11:54:00.009-05:00

I see an image of a scene, millions strong, but I am in it and so can only see perhaps a thousand around me. I don't see any faces, only our actions, one action. Our mouths are open, rapt in praise and singing in one direction. From each of our mouths a stream is going forth and depending on the slight positioning of our aim toward the source, with a slouching hip or pigeon toe to the left or

Either/Or

2008-06-18T15:27:00.006-05:00

Let others complain that the times are evil. I complain that they are wretched, for they are without passion. People's thoughts are as thin and fragile as lace, and they themselves as pitiable as lace-making girls. The thoughts of their hearts are too wretched to be sinful. It is perhaps possible to regard it as sin for a worm to nourish such thoughts, but not for a human being, who is created in

On Understanding Victorious Christ Amillennially

2008-03-03T22:38:00.010-06:00

More or less I understandChrist's kingdom come already:Though the necks of foes are footstools,press onward Christian fighting.You're rich you poor so safely, gailywalk these golden streets(where Satan beaten, pitted comethyet upon his leash).Peace be yours, for sin no moredoes reign within your hearts.

On Understanding Joel Olsteen

2008-02-26T02:44:00.004-06:00

To riselift your tongue,that fiery tenant of the heart,and sing down wallsthat envy Man to splinters,chink out the Cornerstonebut smile His work to see,call the real Babel dubiousbecause it left them shattered,and above allask for money.

On Constipation

2008-02-25T21:41:00.002-06:00

Drop me evil offal ardor, opal gleaming dark and harderby the moment.

On Understanding Capitol Punishment in Mundane Things

2008-02-20T23:13:00.008-06:00

More or less I understand: That governors' propensitiesunto their proclivitiesrender them prodigiouslyresponsibleto prolepsize proportionsof justice, that apportioned proficiently punishes evil permanentlyby ending it utterly, and looks not unto prognostics.

On Understanding Blood in a Band-aid Factory

2008-02-20T22:43:00.001-06:00

Mostly I don't understand a woman's need to understand nothing yet emote everything.

On Understanding the Condemnation of Dead Babies

2008-02-20T13:16:00.004-06:00

No more or less I understand the silent tongues of little men that never spun their father's wiles, "It was the woman, spare the child of innocence."In federal seed the plant has grown,and without youth has theived the oatsthat wild and willed would have been sown if good was done in Sidon.

On Understanding the Bellies of Snakes

2008-02-19T20:01:00.008-06:00

I understand the serpent entered:Who allowed surrendered will to mentorall the cretinous height of Satan and literally fell its lowly height.

On Understanding Trees That Don't Clap Their Hands

2008-02-19T20:00:00.003-06:00

To no more or less has God giveneach creation under Heaventheir respective allotments of the curse.

On Understanding Grace in Damnation

2008-02-19T19:57:00.003-06:00

No more or less I understandthe finitude of all the damned:ennobled(but unto struggles).

On Understanding Blamelessness

2008-02-19T18:29:00.004-06:00

Oh serious Heaven,fullness of righteousness,judgment and sight;manifest Purity, shadowless Light,Spare me notany of the consequence of curse; butdeliver too the utter blessing,the utter best from justest worst;For I in Christ havesuffered all; each momentrest in righteous rest.Oh sated God,who knows propitiate Christ.

Understanding Federal Headship, Seminal Seperateness

2008-02-18T23:29:00.006-06:00

No more or less I understandborned-disposition governing man:From Adam sown, his fruit apportionedto garden soul in full proportions.A seed, a stock, a fruit, a loaf.Children, children, seeds of leavenbaking unto Hell by Heaven;rising since the Fall.

Damn! do i love boxing

2008-02-18T20:22:00.000-06:00

She took a shot with a kiss,like a swing and I missedthe dodge like a manand fell.

Significant Other, oh my lord

2008-02-18T20:17:00.003-06:00

At times, like the psalter, so too do I know "My lord says to my lord." --Just talk to myself. And not so messianic that way though. To say, I am. Not He. To counsel myself as I counsel myself. I my lord. And with governing dispositions of demons and habits and spirits and wishes. With filibustering tenacity, lazy rhetoric, and honed congressional honors, I behold in me lord stalwart. The old

First Morning

2008-02-18T20:16:00.003-06:00

Morning after, "If she had any strength at all she would shatter into tears. Banished or no, some small part of her had clung all night to the irrational hope that, come morning, they might be allowed to return. That the awful night was just a warning. But with each heavy step she grows more certain: it wasn't a warning. This isn't a lesson. This is life. "On grapes after starving across a desert

Kafka was the Rage

2008-02-18T20:15:00.000-06:00

I stood in the kitchen and painted Across to your living room window,Smushing all the planes together Into foreground, light, and color; the sinews Of wood running straight to the weatherBehind the glass; They were a singular thing.There, a God fearing sky filled gaps in the Scratches the couch had made the timesWe'd pulled it out to do what we'd oughtn't; And the rising flood was falling Towards

Pamplona

2008-02-18T20:14:00.002-06:00

In a world where expressionism and existentialism run side by side as thoughtlessly as bulls down those famous corridors in Pamplona; in such a loud place as our own minds, where so many rushing options come so fast and all of them call themselves truth; in that pressing din that so often and dangerously charges through our minds' corridors towards a spiritual senselessness which often chases us

bacchus is a liar

2008-02-14T10:07:00.001-06:00

QUICKLY pass the social glass, Hence with idle sorrow! No delay—-enjoy today, Think not of tomorrow! Life at best is but a span, Let us taste it whilst we can; Let us still with smiles confess, All our aim is happiness! Childish fears, and sighs and tears Still to us are strangers; Why destroy the bud of joy With ideal dangers? Let the song of pleasure swell; Care with us shall never dwell; Let

All is not well at the well

2008-02-14T10:06:00.003-06:00

There was one daughter fair at the well. In the day light a wolf came.You might recognize the story, it goes all the same. It's no surpriseThe whole thing sucks, thought there was water there;and nothing of sort,she's dry and she's speaking out.At hungry boys come for church-going girls when they've finished with the others,"It's not my fault, born church-goingand pretty, and, today, wanting of a

a start, perhaps, or an end or last tuesday

2008-02-14T10:05:00.000-06:00

It was that loud kind of rainy, middle of July. Just the thing our parched midwestern city stayed up the extra hour for. She moaned under the touch reacquainted, like a monogomous wife her buisness-gone now returned mate. Windows were smudged with noses far past the noses' bedtimes. BANG! Sychronous beating hearts. A second smudge. Silence creshendoed to metzo forte droning, "pitter-patter,

Polite

2008-02-14T10:04:00.002-06:00

Francis gets a coloring book once a year from her grandmother when Mother and two of her cousins ride the train across Wyoming to Iowa's middle. Julie is older than Katy. Both are younger than Francis though old enough to be said that they are hardly polite girls. Being polite is very important as Grandma always reminds the three on their outings. On the trip, Francis tries to play games her

Inimical Vicissitude

2008-02-14T10:04:00.001-06:00

I saw her. Tonight went out. History silenced, time faded; there wasn’t night, just happening. The piano was hot; he wore white and black and black, slicked hair on white skin. No distraction that way, the piano was our focus. Not her and I--“our”--the sixty winos proper and I, sixty dulled, dimmed senses saw her; but, I saw her. She wore red, same as the wine. Crayon box burgundy, she wore red;

Make up the Breakdown

2008-02-14T10:03:00.001-06:00

I’m giving up fortitude. I’m breaking down bastions. I’m interested in anything of sustenance crumbling. This is a compromise. I resign the princess. Take the land, my life, my costume, and my gold. Here’s my hand to hold. If it takes an army to get inside or just a sword that’ll be fine. For the amplitude, it’s sickening. And my countenance is fading. I see it quickly hardening back to the world

The Falling

2008-02-14T10:02:00.001-06:00

The careful lover, barefoot and fallen,Barely hit the doorBefore the worry of his acrobat trapeze,Spinning above the world,Seeing all the smiling faces As he's reaching for the girl To pull him up, Comes crashing down As the gravity of being a fool.The rest from here is all unclear. This is as far as he's come. So in cryptic penned letters To her without a "from," Never given for fear Of setting

both of us will feel the blast ~Waterdeep song

2008-02-14T10:01:00.004-06:00

We’re both dirty, baby, That’s just the way it goes.We’ll try to cut the fuses offBefore everything blows;And if it blows and both of usAre standing real close by,Then both of us’ll feel the blastAnd both of us’ll die;But dying’s overrated,It’s a ticket on a train;And as long as I can hold your hand,I’ll know that I’m still sane.Maybe I’m an idiot for thinkingThat that’s true,But I believe that

Asprin

2008-02-14T10:01:00.003-06:00

before you read this one: willow trees, if you peel the bark, boil it into a tea, and drink has a quality that of asprin. So, that in mind, convalescing,Careful to walk where he shouldn't,He left the forest for a tree.She a willow weeping,Steady and flowing, drooping silently. If you cut her she bleeds convalescingFrom an ardent tap that in her, By the strip of her bark, drips unfeignedWater on

jessica pharo

2008-02-14T10:01:00.001-06:00

Intending to see what he should,He set sail on a wing to the sun.She was a sparrow counted By the hand of God, set soaring and falling In turbulent skies, wind burnt and singing, “Arise, arise, we will rise above this.The earth she is falling away.Arise; arise to the face of God,Through the night to the dawn and out past the sun;Past the circle of dawns always falling,And setting our watches to

Weather And A Swear.

2008-02-14T10:00:00.002-06:00

Fall lingered well into November before it fell abruptly into seven inches of insulation that just now, January fourth, melted away to still-green yards with a week of mist and rain. An ambiance that of Seattle right here in Iowa’s middle. Clouds sat heavy as old man winter plopped that lazy keister of his right down onto this Midwestern city of ours and sweated that dismal, thick, and damp

Ahem,

2008-02-14T09:59:00.003-06:00

Hey, sometime When you're possessing of your unabashed capacities Would you tell me your life?Because I saw it in you once as a fulcrumForces; pressing into lives and lifting up their eyes A little nearer to the unknown skiesWhere you seemed to spend your time Gaining weight and eating heartily from the tree of life,Drinking plentifully wine and levity from the divine? Oh, anytime,Would you spare

Talk honest to me like you used to :::

2008-02-14T09:59:00.001-06:00

Let's fight till one of us falls,Words and stones and sticks,Knives and knuckles all.We've built the great compromise,A brick at a time, Till it met the sky tolerant,And we've nothing left to say.Either swing or I'm jumpingBack whence we met.To the rocky depthsThat spired jagged pricks To soften a natural daughter To get hit by hitting bottom,And stick it out harrowedIn humble perspective,As she

Dinner and the Doctor

2008-02-14T09:58:00.004-06:00

Current mood: there is nothing good about virginia woolf at all.It has not so recently come to my attention that I am absolutely unclear the majority of the time. Especially when I'm writing/existentially blabbing and lost somewhere. It's not because I'm especially smart that I'm consternated continually. Consternated is exactly constipated but with thoughts. I think it is because I have poor

this is why I didn't make it over last night guys

2008-02-14T09:58:00.001-06:00

So I pulled a Riley with a twist of Graeme last night. I got out of the bath about 9:30pm intent on homeworking it when "AGHAST!" I am dripping with no towels. These bath mats sure are plush, thinks I, bet they'd hold alot of water. And then I roll over naked and dry at 7:30am late for class, hit my head on the toilet, and scribble that homework done. Such is 22. Here's a little irony thrown in.

A Smoke, or DavidGraemeRileyChas

2008-02-14T09:57:00.002-06:00

March's lion roared fire & sulfur first from scratched matchsticks Buried deep into bourbon soaked cherries Dipped amid brothers' candlelit conversation, thick and intermittentWith dark Irish thirst. Smoked under a growing haze,Drawing love and generally exhausting malaiseInto one cumulus pall looming,Apposed to individually bearing,They mingled each united bearing, airingMomentarily burdened

Remembering

2008-02-14T09:57:00.001-06:00

We were gentle rainOut there in the meadowWhen the night came downAnd our hearts were bearAs our clothesNo I won't forget you nowWe were driving snowBlind for every reasonWe were souls and leaves in the FallLet go of the worldAs our homeNo I won't forget you nowWe were nothing at allAnd for no reasonRain and heart, blinding snowLeaves and souls, bear and allIn the meadowNo I won't forget you

Purity, Bagshot, And J

2008-02-14T09:56:00.003-06:00

I want truth no matter the cost, no matter the dirt and grit and itch and sting, no matter the journey daily lonely and straight away from or contrary to my accepting and vain current contemporaries. I must, or I shall die unhappy, have sustenance, firm foundation under an honest firmament. And thankfully, I am standing on, walking towards, eating from, and basking in underneath the blazing sun

Hopes and Dreams and Greasy Farted On Memories

2008-02-14T09:56:00.001-06:00

I want to open up the floodgates Of inhibition, drench the living Room in tears and drown. I want to rise, Float up and up, and burst Out of this salty, second story apartment Through broken windows On shards of glass and honesty, Gasping for breath On down to the river. And, I want to bathe Our bleeding egos In the stream there That leads to an ocean In its infiniteness and melt all The muck and

Beet Red, A True Story

2008-02-14T09:55:00.001-06:00

They sent me home From nursing school TodayFor being lateThat's fairThen They had me drug testedSaid it was Out of character For me to be So foolishThat's supposedlyAn honorThey just "had to cover the bases"For my $79.90I peed beetsBecause that's What I had for dinner last nightInstead of crack rock saladAnd liquorRed stinking urineI'm sure That made them leeryThat's really Going to help-That

Stating The Obvious

2008-02-14T09:54:00.002-06:00

Man, it's a burgeoning spring green out the window in the underbrush of the woods. The elder trees are yet barren, though. No birds, because it's raining today, Resurrection Sunday... And I hurt. Feels like winter inside, barren and all the rest of the emotions; or like desert, dry boned and thirsty. Where's this new life, new growth, this turnover of the spritual seasons from the death of my

Easter Sunday

2008-02-14T09:54:00.001-06:00

Bleeding, beating, I am breathing, thinking,Seeing, believing that I am perceivingThe river and fishes, the green of the spring,The motions of wind on the leaves, and the singingOf birds in their chorus and nature alive, Bustling and rushing to bring in new life. This early hour of April IS Spring,And a day I am able in mind to believe,With ears to be hearing a world I conceive To be moving

Some Like To Think This Never Was To Happen; or, Progeny of A Fatalist

2008-02-14T09:53:00.002-06:00

The magnolia tree's dead, The blossoms fell from the tips of the stemsLike giant pink crowns off their wilted heads. They used to be aromatic,But one day of static from the source and they'd had it, And fell to the ground in vinegar drafts On the wind and rescinded their skin down and aftAnd rotted in streams where it rained, A glorious natural perfidious stainOf pink, like a river no painter's

Rise You From The Grave And Speak, Tertullian

2008-02-14T09:53:00.001-06:00

I call in a new testimony, yea, one which is better known than all literature, more discussed than all doctrine, more public than all publications, greater than the whole man--I mean all which is man's. Stand forth, O soul, whether thou art a divine and eternal substance, as most philosophers believe if it be so,-or whether thou art the very opposite of divine, because indeed a mortal thing,

Name

2008-02-14T09:52:00.001-06:00

Been asleep for twenty two yearsDreamed a little thinkingBout the shape it'd take To make the word That'd take my breathAnd wake my restDidn't know that it'd be yoursBeen taking it in for all my lifeReal purposefully bout half that timeBouts young and felt wonTo held heart and silent toungeBut Oh, to speak the things I heardAs fire from this holy chestTo quench that only name upon my breathDidn't

On Reading Books

2008-02-14T09:50:00.001-06:00

Borrowed the feelings from deep inside someone else's reeling mind, To honesty, Salvations! Or vainity, Or trepidations, Yea and even travesty, and took them all upon me.So what to feel another man,empathy's no fools gem,Or thorny prick from fragrant stalk;the wasted miles I'd have to walkin other peoples' shoes to walk.Nay, walk cadenced to a tune in time;Walk, because a better rhymeis better

First Night

2008-02-14T09:49:00.000-06:00

Listen to the singingRinging courage, bleedingArrows--eyes and lips. TheAngles of an angel paintingRed, red, red resoundingSee, see, see this heart exploding.Your coping is salvation to us all In the glourious awful this, The mess of lamentation.Fall and raise me, repaint, Repent and change me. Oh contritionChange me in a hazy bar with arrows. Sweet daunting daughterOf melody. Young bloody

Truth Sayer

2008-02-14T09:48:00.001-06:00

truth sayer Category: Writing and PoetryHe never purged my tongue with fire,No angel gave its breath,And David never lent his lyre;Nothing of the Heavens siredSpoke. Oh, all of Hell, you quiet deathEnvoke me not--as to tell a liarOr some exalted fools shortness of his breath.God of sight, Infinite Manifest, fireBoils on my tongue to saithThe Son or grant to me that silent death.--I don't want to

Oh Spiritual Dog

2008-02-14T09:47:00.000-06:00

I am a single man, endowed by the spirit of God so gracious, full of peace and happiness for that reason alone. I will not lie. There are remembered pleasures and there will be more in this world that have spent my time, have tripped my emotional trigger fired and shot me to smile. There are nerve endings that I've only the appreciation and awe to say have left me shocked. I will not lie, I

Nice To Ramble About These Things

2008-02-14T09:46:00.000-06:00

Jesus Christ truly is the Way the Truth and the Life. And what a life it is that I possess in Him through every bit of the fullness of His holy life in brotherhood to man, each drop of blood as my sacrificial atoning death, and the whole reality of His resurrection from the dead to New Life as my Salvation and Advocate and Hope with God who is Holy and Just and has spared me not, as a Judge, any

Falling

2008-02-14T09:45:00.000-06:00

I've fallen a lot of places in my life, but right now I'm not sure where to, like I'm playing Descarte's argument for immaterialism but for real. I can feel the force of gravity and the breeze, so I definitely know I am alive, which is good, and am falling speedily; but as to the rest of my senses: blind, deaf, unintelligibly unaware, and useless for the discovery. I hope it's not to a pile

On Praying

2008-02-14T09:44:00.002-06:00

Full moon arisen under much derision.Low in the Heavensa sentiment beckons. A prayer is reckoned;a lame arrow shot.With the speed it is moving, through particles pushingand pulling, and the wholething not starting or going as smooth as it should,it's not going to make it.Orb naked in night, in the sky full of night,lend a drop from a prick of an arrow of the blood of the Heavens;a prayer from a

On Aphorisms

2008-02-14T09:44:00.001-06:00

All sorts of reflections of this nature pass through my mind. For, as I grow older, I regret to say, the detestable habit of thinking seems to be getting ahold of me. In the morning the children would be fatherless, the mothers widows, and men cold and stiff. Only the old moon would shine on serenely, the night wind would stir the grasses, and the wide earth would take its rest even as it did

Pigs

2008-02-14T09:43:00.000-06:00

I watched a pool of blood in the moonLight up the pit of the hollow of mudWhere the pigs went And little ones were told not to go;But I know they go,And I know why they go;Because they hear in the dayWhat I heard by the moon,What was seen in the fogAs it disappeared from invisible lips, That in the ugliest quickness takes you Squeeling off to sleep.

On feeling it tonight.

2008-02-14T09:42:00.002-06:00

This bit's a part of a disjunct series of made up situations that i felt. But together they're supposed to mean doing stuff that people see, mostly loud stuff like comedy or exhortation, a lot of times is lonely and people generally don't understand that because it seems to be something very involved; but they're wrong and they don't know and they won't know until they experience it. I watched

A bit to explain some things I've sort of said in the past

2008-02-14T09:42:00.001-06:00

--Empathy vs. Sympathy, I don't have to drown to have an idea of what it might be like to be scared in the water, because I've been scared. I love this simplicity: no one is you. They can't be. They don't "know what it's like," as the saying goes, because they haven't done whatever "it" is, because they aren't you and can't be. And that's why I love what Thomas Love Peacock says in a poem I'm

Going southernly and sour

2008-02-14T09:41:00.002-06:00

From taking in a Summer flower,Passed her flighty Springy hourStanding fierce, a colored glower Powerfully through the sun and shower;To the wilting, waning cowardFallen cytoplasmic tower;Blocks and petals, all the doweryGone. Returning to her Earthly bowelsAs vinegar, stinking, wasted, foul.

The tree

2008-02-14T09:41:00.001-06:00

Eternal life was in a TreeI am the termites and hives and sting;I am the bite of those beasts to splinters;I am too, the dogged winter Rasping, biting, monster, splendor;I am the salesman, theiving vendorSelling it to warm as tinder,Firing, blazing, burning rendered; I am the morning steadily sourced Cutting slow my fickle course Across the roots; I am the river changing,Stealing footings,

Fun Ranting A Spell About Ownership And Guilt

2008-02-14T09:39:00.002-06:00

It's Saturday morning, post-shower fun, but I do feel it. It's supposed to be first stanza: extreme experience indicative of the worst of possibility of our misuse of the gift of life, the stealing of the innocence of someone else's gift of life; second stanza: a natural inclination to blame someone other than one's self, and the need to have that discharge of stressful energy that accompanies

A Love Poem

2008-02-14T09:38:00.002-06:00

The rock and the stoneArrested their silence,Flesh unto dry bone.No Moses--themselves struckThemselves with violence,From the clay and the muck.Oh inanimate element, Of boulder of dust,Confined conglomerate Broke ye dumb trust!Explode ye through chestof iron! Ye poured forth in a watery address.We cried out, an explosion,Ejaculate exclaimate;Shameless, but of utter compulsion."Oh liveliest

"Roar," Said The Scary Thing

2008-02-14T09:38:00.001-06:00

The monster smoked dynamite. He lit the wicks with whole trees. Once, a country begged him to leave. As he left, he puffed acid clouds in perfect rings around the top of their mountain. Fire hissed from chapped lips as he hawked spittoon lakes numerous as his cavities, numerous as the discords he whistled through so many holes in the mean teeth that there were as much teeth as holes. Every breath

Poetry

2008-02-14T09:37:00.000-06:00

Spit from the hip; Signed it, "Your's truly,Poetry." Mother said, Wonderful.Teacher said, It was punctuated incoherently.Publicist hated it,But folks were changed by it. I wrote it. That was all.

Fodder

2008-02-14T09:36:00.003-06:00

Cry our eyes dry as summer;Cracks and blisters,Sufferings in gone fathers,Blame not sought or not there, Because we're all aware We all got burning problemsThat in light of the present situation,Were things that just happened;And knowledge just dampens;And objectivity's no solution;And; And; fodder; father; Fodder; father. Flame. And there's no fault for a motherTo get a stepfather For three

Confession, In Haiku

2008-02-14T09:36:00.001-06:00

When sex and fire wereYouthful pools, he wading on,Splashed 'round, sipped the deep, Did not remember The loss in stealing, and drained The future floods; and,Did not know then thatDepth, blindly, fully deep couldPour from loving lips,Flooding his bank onOver her banks and her back;And then, then to drinkFrom those oceans redWith womanly water—no,But wine. Oh to drink! He did not know thenWhat it

Forgiveness Song

2008-02-14T09:35:00.000-06:00

I'm a lost son of God on my way back home;Gonna carry my burden from when I'm young till I'm old; Gonna hold on tight to what it is that I own, I'm a fool. Gonna lie in wait in the crefts of the rock For the devil to see me, for the devil to stop; For that old serpant to speak what he talks,I'm a fool. Gonna run on off like a scaredy catScreaming, Father, Father; Oh, Daddy Dad. Please tackle the

2008-02-14T09:33:00.000-06:00

This is a poem about the very present and firm affirmations of the commonality of stress, as opposed to guilt, in the failed consciences of individuals. It's good to hold in tension that in order to keep a punch clock running, that is to say, paying customers coming, that there's a need to be needed, or, that is to say, an agenda to present or pass off one's field of work as professionally able

Books

2008-02-14T09:32:00.000-06:00

Top Eleven Life Changing Books 1) Pascal's Penses, Pascal2) Kafka was the Rage, Broyard3) Catcher in the Rye, Salinger4) Screwtape Letters, Lewis5) The World Next Door, Sire6) Complete Works of John Donne7) The Stranger, Camus8) Fear and Trembling, Kierkagaard9) The Hapless Child, Gorey10) The Man who was Thursday, Chesterton11) Brave New World, Huxley12) Burning in Water Drowning in Flame,

Men of Greed

2008-02-14T09:24:00.002-06:00

A ship sailing on a steady ocean, heavy metals gleaming black by the light in bough of the thing, sinks poorly with much screaming. Except for the treasures that bury the sailors, God's wind had carried them. A distant docks' lariats pulled their chariot o're the breakers,--- but offward cut the troubled men, their lust to o'retaking, which freed to law of sea they saw that freed-to-law succame

Saturday Morning

2008-02-12T14:55:00.000-06:00

Gate's narrow and the path is steep,and he's so dizzy from the winding streets and the options there that are there to meet with such friendly faces and dragon teeth, that sink so deep. They are calling, but he keeps onward, out of control.Just two lines there in the mountain snow.His chest is hurting from a distant rope,a lariot's burning, slipping hard on his soul.In time he'll make it, he

Girls in Relationships

2008-02-12T14:13:00.001-06:00

Does he love you tonight?Did it keep you up till tomorrow?How do you keep it all together, Babe,counting all those damned dead sparrows by yourself?You're by yourselfAnd you'll always be alone there by yourself.You got your anger in the whitest little flame,color of your ghastly, ghostly, cowardly little game there by yourself.You're by yourselfAnd you'll always be alone there by yourself.The

Pamplona

2008-02-12T14:05:00.003-06:00

Song I Hope Not To Mean When I'm Dead

2008-02-12T14:05:00.002-06:00

When I get older and the angels come, and I open my heart up at the top of my lungs,and I sing and I scream, and I whistle and hum,flap my little arms, and fly to the Onewho gave me life, breath, heartAnd the thumbthat I sucked,I'll sinkdown to the bottomof the drink that I've drunk.And oh, how I'd cry,but I'll have been sucked dry;And I'd throw up at all, if it weren't for all those deserts I'd

A Quivering Leaf; or, a Halloween Story

2008-02-12T14:01:00.001-06:00

In the early hour, there's a moving power coming over the hill, coming through the still. In the distant dark, there's a distant shrill, the cry of a crow from his angry bill. And the distance fills with his angry will. A single leaf has stayed the night without his sleep, yet awake, and tarries weak amidst the scream, amidst that moving awful thing. Amidst the night, he lasted on:The single leaf

Kafka was the Rage

2008-02-12T13:51:00.001-06:00

Understanding

2008-02-06T12:42:00.000-06:00

No more or less I understandthe finitude of all the damned:ennobled, yet unto struggles.

First Morning

2008-02-05T22:59:00.001-06:00

Damn! do i love boxing

2008-02-05T01:48:00.000-06:00

She took a shot with a kiss,like a swing and I missedthe dodge like a manand fell.

Tartarus Babble

2008-02-04T22:57:00.002-06:00

My troubles? Friend, the world is as big and as small as you allow yourself perspective. Is God God or isn’t he Lord of all, Master over it and Creator of it. Are my troubles mountains rising up beyond the height of birds that soar at such great heights. Are my great mountains of burdens and thoughtfulness beyond the heights of even heaven, where some godlike being dwells yet too small, so that