The Death Of Poetry, The Death Of Me

Oh world! (blah). Poets! What have you become?     Directionless without Bréton´s authority  Obscure like early Rimbaud  museum pieces in the attic  trapped on this plane, marking revolutions  from bored jaded middle-classes.  Alone on a stage with Kevin McCameron  with no one to listen  or  pass us by.                Western destruction imminent and passé.  It is only best to speak in love poems  sonnets, and prose of sweet rememberance.     The sun sears asphalt on stop-and-go traffic.  The heat smells not all different from colors  in crowds of faces too unhealthy and beaten  to see all the beautiful things just outside  their frames of mind; characters only spoken to  in old books and ideologies.     The Meaning of life:  To catch a glimpse of the waitress pretending not to notice  the table full of torn notebook pages during happy hour,  but you notice her                      and she held your hand in meditations  that very morning.     To teeter on the edge of obscurity because not all hope  has yet been lost.  The universe exists in infinite space.  The Bodhisvatta has a pleasant smile, straddling the body  like a dripping wet sweatty naked woman in a blanket,  the fourth dimension hidden by the other three     length height volume.           Poetry has done nothing for me.  War made me fast and violent,            bloodied my knuckes with blistering cigarette burns.  Death made me a man without dreams of  towering cities over lakes and rivers.  Spain made me human, fascinated by  unscripted lives that moved still with time  lacking purpose.    Priya taught me love  risk and heartbreak.  To love is always best,  To love unconditionally is always better.     God taught me to never give in to astonishment,  to understand what is directly in front, but  can never be seen.                        Everything that has been written  or will be written has already been written.  Fear is control, Fearlessness is freedom  We are only theater, extras trying to remember  what it is that we´ve already heard.