Einziehen des Äquators
Wednesday, September 28, 2005
the day is eaten by a figure--
hooded, cowled and ominous...
a dark brocade of fluid cloth,
crawling, consuming,
moving before movement, steady and bold.
bringing forth dim alleys and black cats,
creatures of enigmatic morality following.
mouth agape, spitting out celestial maps that wash the sky,
fecunding the air with a chill and the smell of hillside bramble.
knowing no perimiter,
bounding rooftops
and laughing
at the futility
of street lighting.
hood and cowl labor steadfast, hasty and silent,
knowing whilst the work accomplished is thorough...
it is,
and always will be,
in an unfortunate state of evanesce.
the poetry in chemistry
Saturday, September 24, 2005
this sunset was a woman.curving colored radiance
draping the horizon in silk-like viscosity.
of hues upon volumes of text could be written,
all in vain attempt of description.
panoramic views in which a better man will wholeheartedly share,
...but you are not that man
and in your clutches
between tightly laced fingers,
you wish to keep this spectacle so selfishly.
soon time's hand will muddy this stunning pool of empyrean...
and the feeling
of longing
for moments hastily spent elsewhere
will settle heavy in your stomach.
a footnote of applicable substance
Wednesday, September 21, 2005
oh, how we trembled before his disposition...
fallen prey to his every whim.
...we laugh now.
his bones turn to dust
right before our ravenous eyes.
[learn from this.]
fine china for rotting food
Monday, September 19, 2005
the dusk moon a mere tracing
to the masterpiece the night sky paints.
i know this, so i wait.
anticipation.
drifting away.
oceans of thought.
lights awaken my cerebral dance,
which had been gracelessly stepping all over you.
the lights... define.
right angles of houses,
jagged ridges of tamed brush.
closing in...
will this be the one to bring change?
jumping inside,
jumping in front?
you'll never know.
[
safe yet unknown, a familiar looking home.]
attack of the haircut
a trainwreck,
a social event.
blaring background music...
every note ignored,
every word better unsaid.
your disconnection
is requested
and (apparently),
required.
fashion almighty, i covet thee.
i shall learn to fly and without regret i will forget to say goodbye
Tuesday, September 13, 2005
venice beach five seventeen:
i bought a picture of a place i want to hide--
beneath coated planks
and on top of sand,
watching the lapping tide.
i'll step in there from time to time,
using occular mind...
for this place is safe,
it's pictoral scenery you can never find.
twilight on fire
Monday, September 12, 2005
america...
invitation to meaninglessness.
a giant retail-ready wasteland.
where's the exit?
...can't find the exit.
stopped and asked for direction, for truth.
through lying teeth, with clean pressed suit--
a man takes a story down from the shelf,
forcing it into my hand...
i thought i knew better.
[democracy as performance art]
communism roams these darkened halls
Friday, September 09, 2005
a call to action came down from the hill
the commander knew defeat
would never taste so bitter.
hope was an empty wooden box.slot at the top,
waiting to be filled
ballot bodies of young flesh
sold on an ideal...
...it was the only thing they could afford to believe.
brotherhood of the silent spokesmen
Thursday, September 08, 2005
weight.
thoughts.
pyramid-like in shape,
giant eyeholes eat heavy ropes,
their tails (and tales) tied to even heavier thoughts...
heads wrapped around appendages,
struck raw from attempting to flail.
...and all of this a mere background spectacle.black hearts and hand grenades,
flames melting frightened onlookers...
flesh fused into rows of seats.
all such wonderful theatre.
laughing could be heard over the crackling of fire
as the emotional militants make another grand escape.
[the debate on whether or not Che would be proud would carry on for weeks.]
i am the architect of these great walls
Tuesday, September 06, 2005
such horrific dark acreage...
black marks on calendars,
they laugh and recite tired,
prison limericks.
i force a smile to seem more human,
though remain alien inside.
i relate
those incarcerated,
those infiltrated,
those lacking hope.
another marker, another mile.
a sequence of numbers i don't understand.
borders are just lines on maps...
some lines keep our flesh together
we tear lines open in moments of weakness,
to extend,
quell fear,
protect bloodlines.
often it is better to constrict,
circle the wagons,
and lace barbed wire around us.
such horrific dark acreage, indeed...
