(Meet Me In The) Stars

“When it is dark enough, you can see the stars.” ― Ralph Waldo Emerson I love; poetry is born (from/out of) that fruit. - R.J Calzonetti

Meet-Me-In-The-Stars

Flowering

 

In the beginning, there was Chaos[a-rabid-wolf-(yet-shepherd-to-his-flock-among-the-sheep)]

Strands strung out along an endless horizon; tapestries of gold and onyx; swans of choreography

In the primordial soup of a lucid dream; in fuchsia’s cream; bulbous, bulimic; terpsichorean

Shackles asters and aspers of castaways hazel as day

Fading away into the stale ukuleles of sable polymerization; basins washing in phosphorus

Gouache blossoming colossal apostles gouache from the thick fog of transmogrified twine

Writhing in the binding civilization in the aether of maple trees

Escaping into the latent breeze along the polymers of a calming sea

Diabolically chronological; the hallowed edge of Apollo’s thread

Dangling labyrinths of vines unwinding in serpentine chimera; ferrying itself along a cherry sun

My dreams wash up on a beach laden with stars

Maleficent etched in my reflection

Marred by the grimoires of starlight flight ichor

A riptide of violets like throbbing astrological cobwebs of sunsetting denim

Indigo hymnals of reddening ebony; cylindrical windows of severing remedies

A Serengeti of heaven’s edifice in the whispers of a cistern of burgundy churning weeds

Echoes festering maleficent in the western winds

Nephilim’s effigy within the seed of abreivation

Caked in mud

Cradling sun;

I stumble over myself in inebriated hatred

For the gaping wastelands of my neatly filed mind

Like a zigzagging labyrinth paddling through stratospheric mirrors of ethereal veneer

Peering beneath the skin of a symphony slithering through the roots of bamboo shoots

(My well-combed spiral unwinding in the lilac taffeta like unwrapped tapestries, they blossom)

(Tossing phosphorous sarcophagus lost in the offerings of impossible things; diamond rings)

Subdividing in my iris;

Blinding by the spiral of (vinyl/wyverns)

Dying in pyres; geysers of wire plucking at the strings of stygian spriggans

(Gaia’s a Nihilist, perspiring islands of cyan)

(Blistered wrists in the rippling precipitation of her spit;)

(Crescent sceptres of ecstasy meshing effigies in the zephyr’s creek)

(Crucified by it)

[(Among the citadels of angelic velvet; bellowing archipelagos in the smoking supernovas)]

[(Embroidered magnolias of mandalas’ constellations balaclavas in the august wind)]

[(Translucent spruces like nooses of fuchsia; booming ludicrous(ly) illuminating cumulus)]

Each one grain of sand falling from my fingers

The endless clusters ushering

(Flustered rustling in the percussion of rushing water fathering Him)

(The linen rhythm of prisms’ religion)

(Imitating the tongue of our great sun)

(Wrinkled with inkblots outcropping in the doppelganger’s canopies; bangled lampposts)

(White ichor biting in-to the lightning swim)

(Offended Septembers incomprehensible)

Each one perfect; like a fractal Rorschach

(Unearthed from the bottom of my lungs)

(To take my breath away and never give it back)

The shore glistening with each chip of diamond (carving harmonies from a yarn’s constellations)

Every forgotten word (running your fingers through my hair; quiet melody; distant stream)

Each sullied rock (a flock of geese flying through the creased ripple of a yellowed page)

Gazing in the brazen hazel face of oasis

Paved in the glass of a hundred broken windowpanes;

Kaleidoscopes, xylophones [gurgling with metallurgical clergymen]

Stained in the ink of decay

Bathed in ukuleles derailed from the sailboats of osmosis groping at the ambrosial oceans

And cathedrals more dilapidated than the forgotten imprint of a town on the edge of my mind

The tip of my tongue

Sharper than ballpoint pens

My voice a lance to raise at my enemies in despair;

A deserter’s flag; a caramel carousel

Or maybe a child’s raised hand in a schoolroom, a banner of jagged colour forgotten; blotchy

Asking for his mother; crying for dim familiarities that he cannot find in the asylum of his mind

His lips; unopened (omni)present;

Noise stuck between his teeth;

Locked behind his words

From the low volume of his radio tainted ears

Or from the abyss that echoes frames unhinged and pieced together again

As if ramshackle; inside of his mouth

The sound of passing burnt-out matches in the flowers of hours

Crawling through the damp mud of forgotten eons

Black flame; crackling Rorschach;

Of the alabaster porcelain plains

That line the inside of his head; sentences bent into sheet metal stripped of depth; of vibrance

On an elongated page

Yawning its opened maw before swallowing itself inside out;

Now neo, now opposite; but still the same boy he watches, waits for salvation to fall from the sky

A marmalade marble obelisk hollowing itself out of the sole fullness of a single note;

Excavated; cavernous; filled by but the sounds of Nothing ripped from the lips of children

Before the arrival of Something, extending a hand down into the decrepit decadence

Waiting, like shadows on the walls; glyphs of anticipation within the grapes of a maple tree;

Unable to see the light as anything but blind;

Something to greave for; or to fear,

Intrepid sword we do not know;

Sheathed, for now; before the hallowed gallows of civilization shape themselves; warped, bent

Peeling back flesh like

Wallpaper and fresco, mural and graffiti, from the bibles of the buildings

Zipping his up velcroed alcoves of soft-hearted emotion

The skin from its back lapping up the construction of bronze constellations

That ring [in] the ears like a bell with the sounds of sporadic static;

White noise, alabaster masks we wear

To the masquerade of the black night against the bitter lanterns

Stepping out of our own shadows and back into the blackness of the light,

The biting cold of a flame untamed; untapped, unknowable as nothing; [as anything]

But we are; the blank canvas is complete in its waiting, refurbished, waiting to be embroidered

In its yet to be, startling, fleeting beauty; I must find the pieces of the puzzle

Imagine ecstasy and behold it in my fist

This masterpiece; or lose my mind picking [it] apart [in] altogetherness,

And fit myself back behind the sun;

Living in the shadow of the mountains; people bigger than I could ever be

Hiding from truth; enlightened by shadow; revealing the truth behind the meaninglessness of it

The past unravels before morning

Not to make itself between a picture frame

[Overstimulating, unsatiating, unwelcoming, arriving without want, or without tact]

[But it is here, now, in every moment, in every sentence, in every sense]

I can almost see your face

You liar, you {loser/no-one}

Cracked and smiling with the empty decay of your worn features; stretching across the sun

And it is nothing

But [agony]

[If not] blinding

[And/If not] everything

[Within nothing]

[I still]

[Look away]

<[(For I cannot see you for what you once were)]>

<[(Lost memento)]>

<[(Reminding me of nothing)]>

<[(In place of everything)]>

<[(I close my eyes)]>

<[(Wrestling with emotion; memory)]>

<[(Armageddon’s cemeteries)]>

<[(That I cannot visit)]>

In their black sacrament; mourning for the amorphous corpses of a mind’s orphanage of thought

Or of love

Come and find me here

Nothing will not have its way with my words; I will find something more

These dead, featherless bluebirds

Once belonged in the heavens of your skies; what did you do with them, you loser, you freak?

 The venomous remedies of leaden memories

Rending Armageddon’s chemistry

Like a bent metal edifice shooting geese with fleeting portraits warping cornucopia

Of contorted amorphous orchestras

An orchard of metamorphosis in each dose of orchids

Yes, hide among the flowers like a weed, yes

Like mimicking chasms bedazzling

Shapeshifting orifices of liquored lithium; pixelated mosaic

You are not beautiful; at all

Crypts of bulbous and bulging molecules like dominos of starving polymers’ halogens

Of whispering symmetry

Of fallen leaves; empyrean trees

Embroidered in mourning light

Abbreviated inebriated in the maelstrom shaded halos

In the shapeless crepes of a crescents’ makings

Of aether lace of polymerization and the lacquered grace of oasis

Festooned with blooming ludicrous illusions

Ruminating in the naked wastelands

Falling through-(these) hands each grain of sand

Expanding lathered in the cadavers of asteroids like polaroid pictures

Lit with the flame of the untamed manger

Within the chamber of hurricane’s sabre

Savouring augers of lackadaisical trails

Where the milky highway rides its horse into the endless waterfall of white

Glowing with the symposium

Of rosemary fairy tales in the wale of a gale curtailing

In the veil of a maelstrom

A village of capillaries in a sigil’s tree

Like a ghetto’s archipelago comatose in the snow

Composing vagrant magnum opus

With loathsome posies interwoven

Carving of yarn-like harlequin

(I will not wait for what has already past to come around again)

(Nothing; but in [dismay glee] the [prodigal] son returns in mourning)

Still, I drunkenly following in his footsteps; disappearing like fingers on a piano; voiceless

Blind to the angry smouldering sun

I reach the end of the trail you never walked

Just another forked road

Under the spaghettified horizon

Rising like a tidal wave

Where the path winds its way around the neck of the woods

Softly stirring the moon from its resting place among the jagged stars

Where the tide of green rushes in, and out

In and out

Like a floral noose

Like you

Scarfs of half-hearted archways

Billowing vermillion in the scintillating winds

Am I getting any closer?

Far from home

Aimless phrases leading into a final destination?

Carved into the stars;

Andromeda like bulging bulbous eyes

Or sunrise

Winding its hands around amalgam; the face of a clock hidden by the smoky scarves of arteries

Let the orb of corridors bud into sunset; flooding the windowless hallways in light midflight

Pythons of gondala’d andromeda braiding tornadoes into the marrow of arrowheads red

As I weave my knights into being

Seedlings of the ceiling

You are not but a deadman; an unborn child never cries

Carved in the bells of ciel dwelling in the melodies of diseases seams of silken dream

Scarfing down the archways of heaven

Belching the nightmares of angels; you

Like an escarpment of carpeted parchment raising its head in the Everest dread

Unfolding euphoria; from the boreal voyage contorting meteorically

From the borrowed time of a rhyme; from the thistle of lithium

The coils of primordials in the folilage of soil and oiled exfoliating magnolias

In the drought of a thousand suns

Burning out like lightbulbs in an ancient basement

Laced in the vases of polymerization

There, gathering Saturn’s rings for the stygian eclipse

The prison of rhythm

Singed by equilibrium

You are the song I never learned to sing

I’d force out the words

But there would be nothing to hear

Either way

But the sound

Of silence

You

I suppose it’s better this way

You never needed me [to]

[If I make no noise, no one will hear me]

Anyway

 

Any way up is a way up �" hiking

 

Decay, delay, derelict depression;

Fear, madness, anger like crows picking at the bones of a symphony

Flittering in the plumage of cumulus

But joy, (hope, and) love is to follow;

Lines on a page falling into place like piano notes;

Under splintered fingers

After death’s stanza,

Like a bluebird in my chest; (heart in midflight, thudding against the studded sky)

That wants to get out;

The symphony is still, timeless, and (intact, meticulous clockwork);

Before the rain;

Feathers rustling, fallen leaves;

Nothing is wrong in writing;

We came to hear the music;

Whispering, hieroglyphics in the wickers of liquor like ichor;

Chanting, (and) chanting; nothing

(Can you hear it?)

(The sound of nothing forgotten by winding time that whistles its tune?)

(I can)

(The same song playing on repeat)

(And it is nothing at all)

(If not)

(Completely damning)

(Ticking, ticking, ticking, tock)

[Hand]

[On the glock]

[Like cornstalks]

[In Cocytus]

[Blossoming colossus]

[Etched in lecherous precipice]

[I can hear you]

[Never has silence been so loud]

- For Charles

In My Footsteps

 

This is my burden;

Lackadaisically wading in daisies

Lazily gazing into the eyes of sunrise

Like daffodils of lapis lazuli

Traveling gallantly scouring battalions of green

Serpentine in the jades of dilapidated halos

Jailing sailboats floating in the moats

Overflowing with lotuses

Coated in the rhinestones of posies like a crocheted ocean;

This bird between my ribcage;

Yearning to fly again;

Behind bars of gnarled branches;

Fingers of stygian to keep those wings from rhythm;

His notes within my prison;

Stencilled tendrils on the page;

Never to see the light of day;

Another colour smothered lover’s;

Grey abstract saxophones on an empty throne of roses;

With the thorns of a unicorn

Coral reefs of ivory lilacs and gold leaf wreaths

From the wreckage of our precipice;

Battalions still as a robin in his trees;

Solitary islands we; solitary silence bleeds;

In the glades of braided tornadoes

Sketching the maleficent heavens in their leatherbacks and denim

In the mesh of a celestial bethel

Among the carvings of starlings;

Harbours of harmonies under the willows of stillness

In the quilts of prisillas billowing like flags of smoke

Crushed like soda cans into the clouds

That are unraveling like javelins

Above the fluttering covenant of hummingbirds;

Weaving the light of celestial bodies into being;

Beneath asters of glass peeling speleothem

Of the murals ceils; stealing away the light of day;

Walking glazed in the phosphorus maze;

In a dirty haze of an embroidered accordion

Across corridors of the endless crescendo

Of iridescent embryos bent in contempt for emptiness;

Monuments of contemporaries

That barricade the frayed edge of the page

In its yellow umbrella of bellowing parhelion

Elegies in the cello of the serpentine;

Birthing its own umbilical silhouettes

From the decadent deathlessnsss of a wretched bethel

Dressed orchestral and etched in the caress of devils;

Embroidered chlorophyll in foraging for morning;

Birthed from the church of the earth;

Like champagne from a casket,

Laced with track marks ripping through the mud(dy sunset)

Like fingertips across keyboards,

Tracing the fingerings of a flute;

Or the strung up strings of man;

Ukuleles told to hang on;

Told that eventually, we won’t have fall;

Plucked from skies of a harp,

Darting in and out from between the clouds;

Stuck in the mucky lustre of a clandestine beach;

Drenched in ourselves, our dreams, our spit,

As if it were ink; as if we could spell ourselves into being;

Hang each letter like a memento; walking sarcophagi

Offspring of the colossus malting in the waxing/wanning of avian aegis; bulbous polymerization

Collars of mandalas patterning avenues

Scavenging avarice from the pits of esophagus blossoming knots of phosphorus gelatinous

Backwards asters that pastors of blasphemy capture like a common bird of unfurling sterling

Silver bougainvillea in the vermillion eyes of lilac; hydras on the bible of horizons

Blacker than the shapeshifting viscera’s eclipse; the mirage of candelabra

A flag for no man’s land; tapestries rasping the passage of time winding itself back into shape

As if we can say all our directionless journeys out loud;

And it wouldn’t be just a shadow in the dark; to fumble for what was

Missing every note and still pretending to be musical;

White noise on blank pages doesn’t tend to stick;

The resin of our outstretched lives like hands that have never touched god,

Or a woman, or man; with or without love,

Pretending, pretending, knowing, not; assuming, never fully understanding

What it means to be embraced

Death in the glance of a camera;

Pictures thrown into campfires;

I burn brighter, I burn brighter, I burn

(Out gloriously, pestilentially,) a restless guest in a penitentiary;

Revelling in the cemetery of my life.

So, so many headstones in heaven.

In the hallucinogenic emissaries of time;

bound in a spine of leatherback rhymes;

Each branded letter (a peacock feather);

Put back together; torn and severed, from its setting;

Armageddon, flower petals;

Disheveled devils among the thunder (umbrage) and the pebbles;

Blind to the past, do you see me now?

Trapped in the raptured rapids;

The tapestries of a photograph?

I am coming apart at the seams

Mangled in the botanical garden of taffeta, mosiac, bound by time;

Hanging dangling bangles from the vine?

And what of the beings between the lines?

(What of the blurs we’ve left behind?)

(Intertwining in the spiral of a xylophone; groping dystopian crows)

{Lavish pianos of a cashmere veneer; stratospherical murals in the speleothem of denim}

{Bevelling into a mellowing symphony; wrinkled crease of newspaper vapour}

{Nature’s liberation stapled in the aether of maple trees; caper of dilapidation’s wafers}

(Cardiovascular chastity; causticity’s chassis in the chaff of aphrodisiac alabaster blackberries)

(Wrapping tapestries around the clouds)

<[(Vowels like an alleyway)]>

(My fist against your white face; exploding into colour, I made art of you, didn’t I?)

(Brushing hues against the walls of these polyphonic hallways)

(Where the [rusted/closed] gate leads to a garden of words I bury)

(Sprouting splintered up from the stillness into vibrance; instance,)

(A fleeting phoenix withering and whittling)

(Pressing itself into the ashes of your buried face)

[(Expressionless intermeshing effigy in the wreckage of a bethel’s ecstasy)]

[(Wrinkling idiosyncrasy in the infinite syncopation of every polyester second;)]

[(Coming apart from the seams every [crescendo bending into] screams)]

[(Between the weavings of cream; terpsichorean serpentine ravens of intimate articulations)]

[(Waves that lace the hazy glaciers in their wicker basins)]

[(Trickling down from the lithium clouds like unpollinated stamens in palms of choreography)]

<[(Gripping the lips like a kiss [of viscera] bristling the ripples of crystalline mithril)]>

<[(Whispering chrysalis as the lullabies kaleidoscope; opals in a pitch sky)]>

<[(Empty cliffs on the ridges of equilibrium)]>

<[(Castaways of reason; drifting out from the honey-less desire; bonfires;)]

<[(Kerosene among the legions of the trees entangled in the bangles of mangled reeds)]

<[(Kneading the dough of euphoria; accordions exploring the orgy of metamorphosis)]

<[(Twisting hieroglyphics of omniscient eclipse)]>

<[(Leading into [the/lactescent] depths)]>

<[(Hell is yours for the taking)]>

<[(I never loved you)]>

<[(Anyways)]>

<[(So go back home; and do as you are compelled to do; knowing nothing but the light)]>

{Reaping life beneath the ichor’s scythe}

<[(The Tunnel)]>

<[(That pulled you into the darkness)]>

<[(Because)]>

<[({We/they} never loved you, anyways)]>

 

Nebulous Heavens

 

Sable tornado nightingales

In the depths of a precipice

Twirling in sterling like neon andromedas

Twisted in thistle phoenixes of dripping lithium

Like a phosphorus sarcophagus

Grinning obsidian in bonds of onyx Tartarus

Cobbling knotted in obelisks

In the abyss of eucalyptus

Gripping the chrysalis with riffs of crucifixion

Whispering with the bliss of ellipses

Shaping the cliff face in a constellation’s polymerization

Swallowing creations like grapes

Aether in the sap of chaff and rapids’ dilapidation

Lacerating lace of vorpal amorphous corridors

That burrow into the crimson rings of stygian brigadiers

Ragged flags of Abaddon

Hearing nothing and peering into immaterial

As the mural of ephemeral cranks the gears

In a veneer of insincerity

Clearing the mind from a dime flip

Rippling in the watery comets camouflaging the assemblage

In the rollicking polymers of posies;

The roses of pandemonium

Chthonian pulling and twisting into the vessels of an effigy

Daffodils of decadent fruit

Hanging like a star-spangled banner

In cavernous labyrinths of amethyst

In the pigmented figs of amygdala’s

Like strawberry stamens in the autumn wind

Incendiary ferris wheels that carousel bellflowers

Disemboweling the levitating leviathans of heaven’s leathery edifice;

And the tenants of the hemisphere

Reared in the heads of ungrateful dead; the mud of their studded jugular

Revelling in the tempest’s cistern

Spurred from the valves of autumn’s carnival;

Dwelling in the wells of parhelion

Over the rose beds of nebulas

Like bulbous buds of penumbras

Studded with a grove of clovers

Over a coast of opals

Dwarfing the forced discourse of metamorphosis

Floral as the coral morrow of agoraphobia

Probing the comatose ambrosia of hopeless loathsome oceans

With its tenebrous veins of champagne

Glazed over eyes blinded by the irises of the currents

Serpentine, that cascade

In the waves of azaleas

Bathing in the cratered skin of seraphim

I scream in binary (to the nebulous heavens)

Again

And again and again

(They answer me in kind)

 

Viscid

 

Caramel carousel,

Parasols parallel

Like cairns of alstroemerias

Flaring in the illuminating

Plumage of blooming cumulus

Rivers of sap like rapid molasses

Among glass sprigs that rivet through the ribbons blue

Sprouting entombed in the juniper moon

Like the dim rhythm of photosynthesis

Infinite as the spiralling skyline

Writhing in the highlands of amber

Pomegranate and amethyst, sanguine tambourines

Under brazier of iron flame called sun;

Braiding in the (night)shade of Himalayans;

A maze of cornstalks Cocytus

Blossoming in the brothels of phosphorus(cent) light;

In the shedding of Everest’s brethren

Its shadowed labyrinth printing itself on the paper of oasis

With its nectar of wrestling polyester

In the hymns of an infinite wind spindling the clouds

That bow like nightgowns;

Towels malleable with splintered spines like lilacs;

Daffodils of Rorschach’s passing along the lines

Embroidered on the face of the earth;

Taffeta wrapping itself around like a blouse of bellflowers

Malleable as the settling sun with its scarfs of scarecrows

And roses among the bloated posies

Of bulbous polymerization carving itself

Etched in the yell of parhelion

Echoing along the ridge of calligraphy;

Glyphs that ripple dipping their fingertips in the eyes of gods

In columns of volumes staccato revolving

In the stamens of an embouchure churning itself

Into the mouth of a cavern of lavenders;

Chasms jasmine where saxophone chapels of shrapnel gather

Unravelling in the attic sporadic

In the jasper of brass tapestries grafted from a Damascus basket’s intricate pattern

Like the opposite of a full moon

Along the rivulet’s reeds serpentine

In the crashing alabaster castaways

In the parade along glades of azaleas

Like hazel crocheted ocean waves creasing unceasing;

Fleece of reefs the gold leaf of ether;

Caving shaving and chiselling at the rock face

Laced in the aether of a nightingale maelstrom

In veneers of cashmere empyrean

As the leering dead sulphuric red

Spread their wings like seraphim

Incendiary like quarries of the many storied orchards

Of metamorphosis orchestras of scorpions

Amorphous as the porcelain orchids;

Sky in unbridled lines drying violets on the highwire sunrise

Umbrage of hummingbirds

Honeycombing pandemonium

With the resin of clementines

On the thrones of crows and telephone poles

Golden Babylonian

Sticking together

In the rickety (hieroglythics tethering) heavens

Staircase of carapace lacing the masoned tapestries

The vases cracked in shapeless gapeing oasis

Raking the minds of a (final rhinestone) kaliedascope binding into vinyl islands in the winding

Spirals redefining the iris (like signs) of (the) horizon

Grinding in geysers of pyres that moonlight reprises

Down to the fibres of lilacs

Crying (in the) ivory

A raft in the blackness (cast from tapestry of a Rorschach)

 

Nihilism

 

(Trails of the lilac eyes of grinding gears beneath the fear of murals)

(The vine)

(That lines the beds of flower’s red etched in lead)

(Threading the edges of the nebulas)

(With their leathered confetti)

(Shredding the letters of light into four-winged figures malignant in shimmering stygian)

(Fingers obisidian ribboning)

<[(Pink idiosyncrasies that weed themselves in bells of alcoves)]>

(The flame of the night)

(Burning in eternity’s bright)

(The black)

[(In white)]

[(Shadowed light)]

[(Wrestling with Nephilim in the vessels of ecstacy like star speckled nectarines)]

[(I am the bethel’s effigy)]

[(The black screen behind the ending scene)]

[(Basking clean in memories)]

[(I am the last drop in an endless sea)]

[(I am the fast clock in a century)]

[(I bend like reeds)]

[(Supremacy)]

[(December weaved me from her steeple)]

[(Reaping the phoenix of a lethal people)]

[(I spit their names like fireflies)]

[(They double-crossed my heart and hope to die)]

[(I see you blind men with my eyes)]

[(I see you blind men with no lives)]

[(I see you blind and born to die)]

[(I see the sunlight, my arms stretch wide)]

[(But everything I’ve left behind)]

[(Everything that lives must die)]

[(I redefine life vilified)]

[(The past must rest, and there, it lies)]

[(This new world you made, which I despise)]

[(Lest I find it less divine)]

<[(Winding itself around your eardrums like undulating staccato)]>

[(The worlds crumbles, falls and then I rise; golden eyed, smoldered hide)]

<[(Driving with my lime and a Heineken fingers sliding in bibles of gin liable to sin)]>

[(I see the sunrise)]

<[(In squiggly bougainvillea cast out like past astronauts)]>

[(In black and white)]

<[(In red and blue)]>

<[(In dead and youth)]>

<[(In ten thousands flowers as malleable as the feathers of metallurgy)]>

[(Combined lines like eyelashes crafted in smite the laughter of jasper brass and masses)]

<[(Crashing alabaster waves that shave away grey molasses at the form of the shore)]>

[(Apple bites of shrapnel’d life)]

[(Mourn their lies)]

<[(Masquerading the blades of fantasia)]>

<[(In the maze of hallways I stroll)]>

<[(My strangled hands a viscus carousal of marigolds unfolding in magnolias)]>

[(I lift the moon)]

[(I split the sun)]

[(I touch the sky)]

[(I flee, I run)]

[(I left them all to crawl down one by one, in summer slums, running drunk)]

[(Under my tongue)]

[(The heave of lungs reverberating with clay sapience)]

[(The heart you strum)]

[(Hollow in my chest like a guitar, crying out musically, emotionally frayed like an old poem)]

<[(The people that I’ve yet to shun)]>

<[(The trumpeters of rumpled deer)]>

[(I am the mirror, or the veneer?)]

[(If you look at me)]

[(Do you see anything?)]

[(Am I not anything, at all?)]

But the culmination of effortlessness; the sound of stillness; the anger of the avenged?

[(Don’t answer that)]

[(Are you listening?)]

<[(Listen to)]>

<[(Hallucinogenic Neverlands tethered and forever young)]>

<[(Jade ukuleles spun by the summit of the plummeting umbras)]>

<[(With their velvet valves of yellow ghettos of sheet metal elegies)]>

<[(Breathing in the bohemians)]>

<[(I am a fallen phoenix man)]>

<[(in amethyst of gangrene a speleothem unending in cemeteries of this bodies penitentiary)]>

<[(The last bend of the helix strand)]>

<[(My heart is my own remixed brand)]>

<[(Blow my brains out with a Kleenex)]>

<[(Then)]>

<[(Find me hanging at odd angles star spangled like a bangled angel from the ceiling fan)]>

[(My ears shape the form of indistinct obscurity)]

[(The words you’ve yet to say live inside my head, completely rent free)]

<[(Bullets unwinding into flowers blown away)]>

You give me (nothing but nightmares) that is an act of love

[(I don’t need to know your answers)]

[(Your love, above)]

<[(It)]>

[(s not mine anymore)]

[(Brillance)]

[(Is not mine anymore)]

[(Don’t question me)]

[(The answer is not mine anymore; I cannot give it to you)]

[(I do not have my own)]

[(And my love)]

[(Though not yet boundless, as theirs, the binary in their starry eyes, pyres of iris, looking out)]

[(Feeling, savouring)]

[(It is not enough)]

[(I have nothing)]

[(At all)]

[(For you)]

[(Anyway)]

[(Or even for)]

[(Myself)]

<[(I was once conductor)]>

<[(A maestro of sorts)]>

<[(Before I danced to the rhythm of someone else’s tune)]>

[(I know no better)]

[(Do not hate me)]

[I cannot help but play with every note I’ve left behind between the barred silence harmonizing]

[(For this is my conclusion)]

[(There is no answer anymore)]

[(There is no pattern but the steps untaken)]

[(We are alone with everybody)]

[(Sitting by the crossroads in a certain way)]

[(The sun droops his head in early evening)]

[(The world could learn from those who burn (themselves/alive) on their own tongue)]

[(Until the raw form of the word is felt with ferocity; spat with envy, cast out in hate)]

[(With depth)]

<[(Please learn from me)]>

<[(I have nothing)]>

<[(But I can teach you of the most wonderful emptiness; lonely victory, cold sun)]>

<[(Alone at the highest point)]>

<[(But you will never know (of) my greatest failures)]>

[(I am dipping below the horizon)]

[(Capsized and drowning in my own thoughts)]

[(And still complacently)]

[(I have never burned brighter)]

<[(My hands)]>

<[(Direct constellations)]>

(Yet are empty and weak, but)

<[This is my own symphony)]>

<[(Every last shadow)]>

<[(And every last bit of light)]>

Don’t take it from me (my hallow sky; falling upon each other in love and anger)

I’ll have nothing left

But my angst;

[Windswept zephyrs of crepuscular Neptune; a room full of junipers]

[Candelabra of the cosmos; camouflaging gauze assemblage of bottomless obelisks]

[Scavenging magazines of obsidian from the incendiary winds’ of rhythmless linden trees]

[Hideous River Styx; ricocheting in the cryptic bliss, insidious hieroglyphics]

<[Along the mandala; polyphonic columns transmogrified; vibrant gliding eye’s horizon]>

<[Poseidon behind the misguided spiralling iris of Gaia; unbridled fireworks]>

A malaise of disquieting dread ringing in my ears like a cymbal

I wear my face on these blind hands; out of touch

Stretched out and fumbling blindly for the world standing in front of me as if in darkness

Out of touch with the world

A shadow cast out by the light of day

Passing directionless; unable to climb the stairs to heaven

I wait

In the crawlspace

There

And

Maybe

Somewhere in between

You’ll find me stranded in each strand of web I weave

Like a fallen leaf

Upon the bloodred snow; the cold waterways of purpose; flowing underneath the ice

 

The Sun’s Shadow

 

Camouflaging mahogany

The black stain of the sun a Rorschach in my sky,

Bitter and bright, so young, on top the world;

Bending cast in the resin of each creviced precipice

(Of phosphorescent crescents)

(Bethels incandescent decibels)

(Directionless etched in stretching flecks of nectar’s Nephilim)

(Crepuscular blooming in the fluid runes sloe of Neptunium),

Asters of taffeta tapestries;

Each passing hour, each passing week;

Braided sails, halos, railroads weaved into the hurricanes of daisies;

The malaise and malleable maleficent malice;

The soiled soul; stepped on by God

In his bangled sandals of clamorous amber tambourines

The kneading dough of crows over the lotus of the oceans;

Gasping for breath in the zephyr of death;

Lavenders clammer over each other in the muddy umbras

Embroidered coloured with the rickety eclipse of celestial bodies

Slumped in the corner of my mind;

Without the crowd of wildflowers

Devouring each other with smothered covers of the lance of canvas

Star spangled dandelions pry off their petals in the devil’s metallurgy;

In the depths of precipice;

In the leaping wreaths of ether reaping themselves of elegance

In the shell of interstellar parhelion

Dwelling within the skin of scintillation;

The basins of many faces;

The masquerading glazed oasis;

Ghettos of arpeggios

And I ask where did the music go?

Where did the music go?

Where did the music go before you plugged your ears with clay?

Until you shaped amorphous sound into trumpet-mouthed silence;

Strings of stillness hanging their sorrow;

Drilled into the back of your head to dangle like a memory;

Mere white noise in a black room on a grey canvas;

Painted black and bathed in white;

Shade under the sycamores; bristles of nickel and lithium;

Strands of chalky sable eyed visionaries; intrinsic figures in mimicry’s symmetry like linden trees

Who cannot look past the unfinished memory; as it leaves them; as it leaves me;

Undeniably, forgettably and all encompassingly so;

Vines in a mind of onyx ivory climbing the sides in symmetry spindling spiralling eyes

Let me pluck them from their rigid strings

There is no saving them

They are ignorant, clueless plumerias

We break the silence and strip it of its mechanisms; the stem of its leaves in the fleeting shadows

Not so different now, are we?

Held down by our unity, belief

But I cannot hate them for what nature made them to be

Much less hate you

For what you could never be

I pick the flower from its roots

But not in anger

It is beautiful

The sacred fire of its endless petals

But it withers all the same

Dirt screaming from empty mouths

Silent

These flowers scream too

Do you hear them?

Breaking something beautiful makes me feel ugly

Their beauty is finite

But these words (will) live forever

 

Brilliant

 

Lactescent repetition

Blackness apparition

Graphite lightless knife of ripening lichen deciphering the bright light’s ichor

Kilometres of mitochondria with a fondness for the pollen of stamen neon andromeda

Arming Tartarus

An arboretum of dodecahedranes

Speckled with the hectors of lesions cremating in the pockmarked bark like an artifact

Laughing saxophones and lapis cast in shadow

The sigil of bougainvillea

Acrylic lilies within the villas of a priscilla

Trilling in a billion willow wisps

Atop the psychotropic abyss

The shrapnel of a daffodil

Filling every building in wilted ilk spilling stillness

Waiting in the syncopation of deteriorating glaciers in the shapelessness; aether polymerization

Wading in the grey maze laid in the serenade of every blade of grass

Raised like a glass to the half-mast rapture lapsing in the saplings of dilapidated hatred

Waking against the shore of my bottom floor

Moored from every corridor

Subsiding silent islands unarriving

Wired hyacinth

Stranded branches of amethyst whisked into omniscience in the footprints of splinters

Whittling citadels in the yellow parhelion

Melding the kettle in the well of inelegance

Littered with the magazines of rivers driven through shivs like in a dream

Bursting [from the (seams/floor) of an apple core] serpentine earth regurgitating streams

Sown up eyes of iris never see

Plugged ears of corn for crows to eat

October in the morning heat

As the soma of the oceans reap

The golden barley gone to sleep

Their molding bodies

In the heat

Under the skies of clouds like sheets; rumpled by the crumpled leaf

Something that will never keep

Drifting crystalline through the ichor of ellipsis

To listen

Not speak

To the whisper of the trees

As we blister

Obsolete

I say there is no (better/correct) way to burn

Everyone wants to be brilliant

No one wants to be dust;

I beg to differ; etched in the river’s reflection is the eclipsed abyss

Will you walk on water; or will you [remember what it means to] drown [with me]?

I know no better way (than/to burn) [bridges]

 

The Tide

 

The tide of battle unravelling

In the saddle of fragile medallions

Glistening like flipping nickels in a crypt of lithium

Whispering itself from the gulf of a hollow heart

Tearing apart from the cartilage of arteries

Martyrs of arches marching along the columns of stone

Carving into startling starlings of yarn

Of barley harbours of harlequin rivers

Of the forbidden thistle and mistletoe

Goading itself from a closing mouth

Melting in the swell of velvet bells of a blouse of parhelion

In the felts of belted balconies

That stream like seams of silk

Quilted in the whittling vermilion of umbilical umbrellas

In the bellow of nebula penumbra of tenebrous coasts

Of oceans poltergeist writing themselves in solemn vows of solstice

Crocheted combing the crows in photographs of shrapnel

Pictured within the shell of a melody

Wrapped satin maps of gelatinous aspers in saxophone masquerades

Alabaster graphic tapestries cast in Rorschach’s

That blight the graphite night with its iridescent tenebrous coat

Roping interloping cornucopia;

The dead seed of a legion of paraplegic eagles

Unable to reach back up the trees in their unapologetic Armageddon;

The setting sun coming down upon them

Spread in metallurgy purging itself for the apple core of morning;

In its sterling urns and its vases of laden craters

Cracks of light slipping through in the asphalt vaults of ashen hearts

That dart around the cowl of borealis

In fear of the murals painted over their eyes as they lie in violets in the thunder of hummingbirds

Murmuring churning in their vertigo;

Boulevards bouquets of vertebrae

Gale in the halo’s maelstrom combing itself from the jagged tongues of mountains slabs

Of balaclava quilting basilicas that pillage lilies

With their hilly guillotines that hang their heads within a dream;

Seams of empyrean emerald tendrils that poke out our eyes with their divide;

Tied together; nylon feathers; nine tenants of an ember’s remembrance

Before they burn away in the jade of eternity

Raking lakes from the ichor from my veins;

Stained in azaleas I fall from grace, a land of lace, flat on my face,

To billow bougainvillea in the cerulean vermicelli

Of anchored branches that hang me like a bangled lantern dismantling chrysanthemums

In the satin caper of sapient sapphire irises

Dying in the choirs of sunlight’s rising fibres;

Disappearing murals, the ethereal lyrics of a song I’ve yet to sing;

With broken wings in the twinge and twine

I hang the signs and cross the line;

I am the page; the tide will rise like hyacinth once again;

The song will fail to reach your ears;

Mountains underneath the pier

The crevice’s nemesis pistons dripping ripped in shapeshifting lithium

In the ichor’s vice-grip slicing into with the spoon of the new moon

Ballooning cumulus grooming itself on the alpines of the skies

Like caramelized horizons in spiralling kaleidoscope opals

Colloquial with the oaks of opening clouds in the ballad;

The downpour of morning meteors in orbit

Gorging on chlorophyll citadels swelling in buildings vermilion

And cerulean silhouettes in stillnesses

Depths and the steps of precipice, of repetition

Littering a sky of pine trees making crepes of the maple leafs;

The yoke of the sun in the cracked shell of porcelain

Hollow trees weaving the chiseled willows of sigils

Whittling down to the last ounce of wildflower;

What are we, if not the world?

Made manifest(o) in the depths of crescendo;

You see the beauty again because it has been taken away from you;

Lucky enough to fall and learn to stand

Rejoice in losing, baptized anew in the pits of it;

Hold beauty’s hand

It welcomes you to build over its depths

Wicker of lithium trickling from the cistern bliss of whistling abyss

Christened by the chrysalis of the hist of Icarus

In visceral precipitation at the depths of precipice listening to itself;

A bell that doesn’t thunderclap of the wrapping lap of baptisms

Imprisoned in the wings of obsidian

And the bristled brushstrokes of stygian

Vermilion under the star above the push to shove,

It comes, it comes;

Prisms of linens ribs like a stepladder to the attic of Babel

Taffeta swathed in lavender on the addled gravel of hallelujah

Valhalla the entombed womb of junipers’ cumulus;

Buds of a penumbra

In the hallucinogenic fuchsia of a nucleus

Between the grooves of illumination

Basins that wastelands crowd in the valves and cowls

Of velvet parhelion in the varicose oceans

That grovel bottomless to the lisp of omniscience

Ricocheting in the minds of men without serenity

Rippling serendipitously to the wishful ichor of terpsichorean Prometheus

Reaping itself in the chapel of raptured rapids

Praying to the pristine chaos of Himalayans;

Swollen with exfoliating holy magnolias

Woollen with purgatories phantasmagoria

Ouroboros in the floral gorge of a cornea;

Lapsing in the collapsing masquerades of castaways

In the shaded glades of mayhem’s pendulum

Bending itself amorphous mouth

With the flowering towers of malleable valleys

Blending in the setting sun; melding bellflowers

Penultimate asphalt tumbling from the summit of mothered covers of clouds

That palisades the balconies unwelcoming

To the sweltering pelts of alcoves in groves of clovers

Boiling over in chlorophyll spilling lilies brimming sillouque

And the candles of dandelions lighting the darkness

With arches carving starlings from the skies

Of barbed wired hyacinth

With a hymn beneath each wing

Singed by the blimp of photosynthesis

As phosphorescent as the bethels of exodus

Wrestling requiem within the fibrous kaleidoscopes

In horizons of bloated lotuses fat off the land and the skies;

Winding itself; violet pyres of pelted balaclavas lazuli

Paddling through the slush of a mushroom cloud;

Dusting percussion in the flustered fluidity of lucidity

Rhythm in the symmetry of whittling defibrillation

Manipulating the foundations of shapeshifting eclipse

Echoing into the steps of hecatomb

Blooming in the noose of a spruce

And the poplars like phosphorus obelisks

That shingle the ringlets of each ring-finger’s disfiguration

Mask on the face outcasted crocheted in bays of mosaic;

Wraiths of scintillation;

Dilapidated aether in the maze of oasis

Raking over the clovers of a supernova

Posies in the ambrosial motions that flock in the apocalypse

Like the hands of a clock lost in the clockwork cornstalks

Among the breath of incandescent incendiary alstroemerias

Under edifice of lithium in the presence of luminescent crescents

Bethels of ancestral effigies that bend like reeds in the breeze of Elysium

Spriggans carved from the stars of cinnbar

Bonfires of light fighting for another breath

While the world rests

Upon a bed of sunflowers

 

Mars

 

Beads of sweat strung together

By skin like a rosary in the camouflage of autumn andromedas

Monoliths fathering the bottomless abyss

With lithium’s bliss in the fresh blooms of a monsoon

Like a cyclone of saxophonist chromosomes

Elastic Damascus cacophonous

Blasphemy basking in the afternoon

Sun-melted butterflies like the churning of a burning man

In his halberd of shrouded flowers

Shallows of balaclavas galleries tower fragile candelabras menageries

Like a malleable gown of gallows

Cowled in disembowelling mortality and immorality

Bound in albums of amalgam

In a single singed finger’s battalions

Lifting in mistrals’ crucifixion

Rifting glistening in crypts of nickel lithium

Crystalline as the banks of hippocampus and the dreads of riverbeds

Bled dry from the high-rises

Spiralling in the islands of manmade violets, pyres

And the damned wildfires in our hands spangled

In the bangled wrist of Nyx

Riffs of cliff racing chrysalis

Bantering with amaranthine chrysanthemums

Answering only to the moaning Symphonia

Like the roar upon the uproared flora of quarries;

Storied shores of church organs

In the foliage of primordial euphoria

Magnolias recoiling moored down the last sound

Before the collapsing rafters of silence;

Its rapids chapels captured in the blurred insurgency

Re-emerging flourishing incandescent efflorescent

Bethels like sentinels of pretzeled pencils sacramental

To the entrails of a halo shading the reverberating patience

A fallen nation wraith-less ripped out of the equation of

Defibrillating oasis bales; of maelstroms like barley and straw

Parlay to gods in the lottery of andromeda

Pollinating stamens in the carnival of polymers

Heard in the murmuring of eternity curving its blade around a lampshade’s aether

The creation of Aegises discombobulated

By the bottomless autumn choreography of knotted obelisks

Uplifting in the lips of one fists’ ellipses

Rippling down from the shallow alcoves of balconies

Of barbed wire choirs ichor of Poseidon ivory dilated in dilapidation

Wrapped in the sap of lackadaisical

In the boughs of chalices

In the stones of chromosomes

In the crows and telephone poles

In the rise of a dying star; we walk on blistered feet

But haven’t come too far; beyond the horizon; beyond the bars

We used to build ourselves like open mouths interstellar parhelion;

Belts sprouting in taffeta pastures of asphodel,

Daffodils, steeples of sterling whirling around the shaft of cacophony

Cactus leaf, mountains’ foundation in lakes of polymerization

Skyscrapers calling in the stalls of winding xylophones

In the waning and waxing of saxophones

In the Rorschach of alabaster;

In the tossing and turning of the sky pockmarked with clouds;

In the crashing rapturous cloves of our motionless oceans

In the frozen locomotion of ambrosia

Amber handed candied lights in the cities of defibrillation’s depths

In decrepit beckoning of springs ringing in

A dead breath of lead beckoning across the rusted lustre of a serpentine skyline

Winding itself into the spiralling shell,

The matrix of polymerization; the glow of a rotary phone

In the bioluminescent sepulchres of vessels burned in stygian

Spindling hymns of incendiary carousels

That bellow belltowers unravelling calligraphy

And lazuli calendars of callous words

That churn in each ocean of emotion;

Each fire reclining in the skyline;

Each blossom of lost men;

Terracotta andromeda and cauterized mahogany

Tobogganing into the monotony

In the menorahs of chlorophyll billowing chiselled sigils of willows

Enkindling the inkblots of bloodshot apostles

Rocking apothecary in the phosphorus apocryphal docks of cottonwood

The esophagus of every coffin and esophagus

Born to be this way, born to be this;

This sunset kiss; this run, this miss, this lit abyss

Where we see the light that hides behind our own shadows

In a battlefield of leaves and breeze rattling to the seven seas

Bleeding ephemeral; because in the end it's ours;

Each bead of sweat; each Mars; because they can take this, they can take it all;

This pride; dying chimera spiralling;

An island subdividing in the isles of fireflies ivory;

A crumpled bible’s regressing into crescents crepuscular burning;

Through this wording; eternally;

The fleecy creases hide me from myself;

But I still dream; I still love; for now; for you; for me; believe;

The shrapnel of a saplings cacophony can be a tree;

Sapphire beads; in wrapped wire bleed

Between a seamstress of leaves seemingly serpentine

In the terpsichorean onomatopoeia

Paraplegic credence weeding out the fever from the dream

Birthing me (from the curtains of uncertainty)

 

Colours

 

Light flooding muddied colours;  

Over the rugged umbrage; [primitive limericks; chalky apostles against the blackboard night]

In the [motherless] stutters of [thundering] hummingbirds

[In a fatherless collage; the façade of Molotov auburn cosmos]

Blurring like burgundy hurricanes; [barley carnivals harvesting arteries of varicose streams]

[Washing cornstalks with a flock of nightingales viscus as clouds covering the sun]

In still frame of sunbathing chambers

Champagne radiance denser than the leather tethers of vegetation

In the tapered shape of oasis

Aether in the nape of jade

Laid down crowned like a hollow ground

Balaclavas in the ballrooms ballooning with junipers

Ripping into viscera off the eucalyptus cliff

Rifting bliss with the abyss eclipsed echoing

Crescents of lactescent effigies

Sequestered sepulchres stretching bethels across

The length of the skyline freed by the tumultuous kneading of the breeze

Easing into onomatopoeia

Pleasing the mind with the vinyl ivory pines

And vines of mummified dryad kaleidoscopes

Violet as the nine horizons

Climbing skyward in the waves of a lackadaisical tornado

Sailing its wing slinging the singing

Of amygdala’s rigging themselves in the mouths of umbrellas

Of nebulous parhelion wrapping through each crannied crack of dilapidation’s basin

Crocheted in the mosaic

Cracks on the face; masquerading azaleas in the sidewalks that wind clocks of hemlock

Lining the hallways of mother nature

Columns that follow the hallow cauldrons of bulbous polymers

Drawling into choreography

The stamens of discombobulation

Molotov’s burning like sterling

Derelict perfect under the hot rising sun

In its ghetto of archipelago’s petals folding magnolias

In primordial foliage coiling in oil paintings

Laced with the naked waking day

That craves for the soul of tomorrow’s borealis

In the pastures of tapestries taffeta

Rorschach’s of accents lamenting lampposts of

Ghostly tuberculosis; tendrils of a pencilled sentence

Emulating itself in the embroidering morning

Across the docks of shattered sky

Rocking in the waves of raven Hade’s derailing volcanos in a halo of Beowulf;

Like stray-waves, Himalayan

They break themselves on the shore recessing back into iridescence

Stapled into maple trees

Etched into each maleficent crescent

Sepulchre stretching necklaces into iridescence

And the crepuscular reunion of the moon with Neptune

Cradling mud

And caked in sun

Along the coast of ambrosia

Crows unfolding their wings like origami

Trying to touch the moons

Like shattered amethyst

 

Murmuring Screams

 

Noises like a constant cacophony of voices

In the turquoise void

Flipping a dime rhinestone in my mind

Shackled in the alabaster pastures of an afterimage

Tenebrous crows of still painted oceans

Written in ellipses and lithium riffs

From the cliffs of superstition

Eclipsing itself like a bell tower

Unravelling (staccato and javelins) amber banisters of lavender flowers in balaclava satellites

The bethels’ ecstasy breathing in the elysian breezing itself upon a bronze bell

In an onyx mouth shellshocked by flocks of mockingbirds

Observing the flurry of a hurricane’s gaze

Betraying the night for the day in sage

And tangled vines of frayed pages in disarray

Plaguing the bands of avenues

And the lilac blinding highways of ivory in my mind;

Patrolling exfoliating magnolias like tinfoil accordions

Boarded up buses of ruptured percussion

Rustling the leaves of my retrieval in this seagulls mistral;

Iridescent cathedrals pencilled in my temples

Like a pollen’s colosseum in each cathedral helix

Reeling in the ceiling’s hymns outside the spindle of a windowpane

Stained with the glass of Rorschach’s alabaster

In the reddened setting sun spun in one hundred peeled tongues

Wallpaper of aether; makeshift griffins of lithium

That glisten with their tips of bristled viscera

In the percussionist and precipice,

The anticipating proliferation precipitation of a nightingale in a maelstrom

With the gusts that flustered nothing from the sweet kiss of an abyss of glyphs

Rippling their crippled wings like crooked rooks on books like inukshuks

In a hail of railing ukuleles

That pale to the azaleas behind each guise of the one-eyed scythe

Under the threads of nebulous arpeggios

Ebbing tenor in the wedding of evanescence

And the vessels of dishevelled ebony calm; (ponds of auburn mitochondria)

(Among the columns of choreography)

In the frolicking hallways and signs of an unopened mind

Wide and bridling itself in the gout of an open mouth

Like an ecclesiastical saxophone

Like taffeta, Rorschach, cacophonies

Chanting answers in the lance of a chrysanthemum’s glance

Anthers that dance nickels glistening from proliferate

Their hands like the petals of reverends

In the pleasures of Armageddon severing ties with the eyes in the sky

Spying on mother Gaia in wildfire

In the chiseled bougainvillea of willows

Killed in the wilderness of her lips

Swayed in the sun-laced oasis of her hips

 

Defenseless Rock

 

Falling upon each other

Like the crashing of ocean waves

Like words taking form

Against rough and worn;

Jagged rocks along the ridges and coast

Shores and cliffside

With a hundred eyed horizons

Guiding through the emerald islands

The cello like parhelion bellowing with the volume of melancholy

Meticulous whispers of the eclipse

Hist of Prometheus, Nyx and Icarus

Like onyx monasteries under the sun chariot

As magnolias exfoliate

Aching in the oasis

Of creation’s tapered shapeless wastelands

Of bangled chandeliers

Gathering the unfathomable labyrinths

Of an infinite symphony

Like islands in the asylum of rhinestone

All that glitters; mine alone

Piece together Armageddon in its black pearls

Swirling in the curls of sterling

In their colours sworn to kill

Eruptions gusts of

Intertwining vinyl

I was too greedy; too immature

As if to say crown, rose, thorns

The peace without the war

The crown without the scorn

The trees without the seed

The body without the bleed

 

Evangelical pedestal

 

The end,

The crescendo of days

Spiralling out

Of control

In plates

Overflowing ambrosial with pears gone varicose

Soma within dilapidated daisies

Obsidian ridges with twigs of amygdala’s

Bridging the gap of a scrapyard of living oblivion

Marring barley harlequin with hymns gone panoramic

Graphite; knifelike stabbing through flesh on a page

Bowls of magnolias’ swollen eyes

Watching the earth in its blind journey

Around the block of a city street

Blotches of candelabra

Disembodied auburn

I eat my words

Full of myself

But empty, lifeless

 

Magnolias

 

Scars starlike across the barbed wire of my back

Shackled in the asters of

Rorschach daffodils springing their heels

From the turquoise foliage

And soiled ridge amaryllis pilgrim sigil priscillas

My shoulder-blades

Racking across the docking crops

Of swathed phosphorus oxen

Dragging the slabs of my innocence from below the prison of my skin;

Carved into statues and pews for doomsday

Looming over the October ambrosial opal

Bangled in the sky like a wide eye

Spiralling out of proportion like the combing over of an ocean

Tossing and turning burgundy in thaumaturgy’s hurricanes

Of stained-glass pastures grasslands of rapture

Wrapped around the rapids of the clouds

Like the bowels of seven Armageddon’s

Penning the towers of balaclava’s February with wisterias

And the flare of alstroemerias

Fairies of arrogant wastelands

In the strands of each bangled pomegranate band

Tangled in the fringe of my skin

Rippling the skipping gripping lithium of sigil’s bougainvillea

Calligraphy splintering infants

Rinsed in the incandescent of crescent vessels

Sepulchres of precipice in the clandestine bethels of efflorescence

Nestled within (effigies swimming within the chimneys like) the beginning of a symphony

Blistered in synchronicity

Pressed between the hands of a demon

In a cathedral of broken steeples

Weeping in the rain of open flames like watercolour

Bibles of vinyl scribe synchronized colliding ivory iris of

Blinding horizons winding the spiralling iris of wildfire skylines

In the piers disappearing into the opera of clockwork,

Ticking, ticking, ticking, in cracked chapel clocktower

Glass hearts shatter like a womb flowers

Towels of wilting silk of billowing umbilical willows

Trilling Yggdrasil tenebrous threads of reverend’s nebulous hallucinogenic

As the steady brevity of evergreens

Screaming in the delirium of onyx and bronze

Peeling like the gold leaf off (the creased page of) a phoenix mischievously

Bleeding past into the seedlings of evening’s string

Of seraphim knitting the abyss from the veins licked on my wrist

In these coffins of phosphorus metropolis

The man upstairs

Has no need for his basement

With fingers wrapped around my neck like a rosary

Like a portrait of amorphous orchards scorned with ambrosial chlorophyll

Tempestuous golems wandering andromeda like mitochondrial constellations

Obscuring insecurities

With heft, with ease

We break ourselves against the shore

We deny ourselves failure; so we know no growth

Drunk on the liquor of Icarus

Falling for something

That never learned to walk

Cradling the earth

Like it too

Is an open wound

Sown together

With the seeds of a harvest moon

Sometimes I hear the colours

Cluttered in the attic of my mind

Books I never read

Old and faded

But beautiful covers

 

Concept

 

The esoteric heretics’ eclipse;

Pope of all things incorporeal

In the floral menorah orgy chlorophyll

Corridors coronating corners embroidered

In the flock of cornstalk mockingbirds

Of hemlock phosphorus in dystopian cornucopia

Roping in the dopamine of a dream

Like flowering talisman falling off the chains,

Have you forgotten us; stillness, silence, nothingness?

Waiting?

Like so many of our fellow children?

Clinging to something, for nothing at all?

Are you all that’s left of us?

This is all we were?

Nothing at all?

In the phantasm of cavernous chasms that labyrinth and blimp

From the stars of cinnabar into backyard scimitars

Shrivelled bougainvillea of the luscious percussionist

Illustriously greases the creased glade of the page

With a sage’s oasis brushing rushing waters

By the slaughterhouse’s mouth in the alcoves of ambrosial pandemonium

Coves of exodus and bethels that yell gibberish

The yellows swell of death knell’s parhelion

In the carousel of bell towers

In a trounced flower ballooning nucleus

Ruthlessly acoustic bricks of serendipitous crypts

Of wicker’s eclipse like pink idiosyncrasies

Wrinkling the eyelids with bonfires of silence

Electroconvulsive ulcers of pollening andromeda

Columns culminating cultures

Vultures bulbous alters

Choreography’s melancholic palpitating aegis

Cauldrons exfoliating matrix

Monsters sapient in the embouchure

Embalming constellations

Embroidered in the morning

Coiling its wings singed in oil painted

Swings hanging from the jagged daggers’ canopy

Of bottomless mahogany in the terracotta obelisks

Presenting efflorescence incandescent effigies

Vestibules pressed into the whims of pestilent hymns

Sauntering penultimate of inaudible polymers pauldron

Rugged summers like cinnabar starlings

You took from us our sun

Give us back the warmth of summer

The cold of winter

Let us feel it in our bones;

And understand

Before our ashes become as faded as our soles

(Sandals walking over the depths of despair)

(Footprints only we could see)

 

Cracked

 

Glasses of taffeta

Black as a Rorschach’s anathema

With the bathing laughter of epitaphs

Blasphemous baptism

In the ashes of sacrilege

Alabaster lapis in the shrapnel

Of a daffodil’s frills

Of umbilical guillotines

Of amaryllis bougainvillea

Capillaries of familiarity

Barren prairies of apothecary

Bloated apotheosis apostles of rotten mitosis

Inaudible molecules of dahlia

Pollinating columns of gin and tonic

Choreography’s cauldrons

Like warmongering psalms in the polymers

In the swallowers’ grovelling

Mongrels of andromeda carnivals

Like an archived vinyl’s

Horizon spine-like graphite

Bison deciphering ichor of ripening lichen

Among rapids of caskets alabaster wet with the Nephilim;

Inviting nectar’s sin in the lilac swim

Of binary skyline’s violets many islands

To the high-wire’s nihilist umpire unbridling

Lilac tints of iris glinting with the hieroglyphics

Of a whistling symphony that glistens like nickels

In the grip of the shapeshifting spit lithium

And its shapeless acres lacquered in each word

Heard by the bluebirds

Congruent crucibles in the lucid fold

Of wolves and clovers with sheep’s wool pulled over

The eyes of Poseidon are (like) a Frankenstein’ violin;

Picking at the strings with a golden ring’s embroidered sting

With the pixie lickerish of wings stygian brigadiers

Of lyrics murals of (the) spherical earlobe

Left for the crows in my flow ozone

In the interwoven posies of a supernova frozen

In the explosion of monotone soma of emotionless opals

Groping the cornucopia for a droplet of phosphorus

Prophecy among the clockwork blocks

Of cornstalks nocturne burning through suburbia’s hernias

Gorges forged from the core of forevermore

Organs and primordial chlorophyll churning in thaumaturgy’s winds

Among poplars and mockingbirds

Nightingales and azaleas

Flailing like a railroad of ambrosia

Molding into foliage like a phoenix eclipsed

In the bliss of mithril glyphs of crystal abyss of rippled mistrals

Blistering the lips of their history

Sprouting blouse from the mouth of a balcony

The words like rocks jutting out from the jugular of the mountainside

Cold, yet solid

 

Candle Wax

 

Carnivalesque efflorescent crepuscular testament

He who bares the greatest light

Held out his hands; each a lantern in the darkness;

Casts the greatest shadow down into infinity

But I live in the dark

Or less; the hollow of the tree

You light the way, huh?

Amber candles

Shrouded caramel

Chandeliers of the empyrean

The amorphous

Tenebrous heavens

Shredding nebulous

Reddening ebony

Amorphous porcelain

Amaranth tarantulas spiderwebbing Serengeti’s

And the setting of the edifice, is yours

Eclipsing crucifixion afflicting Nyx’s mistress

Of wicker’s pitch Icarus like the threads of a nebula

In swelling caramel parhelion welling in sweltering elegies

In unilluminated fuming plumage

Anubis blooming civilizations matrix

Of airy plumerias oasis shapelessness

In wraiths’ abyss pacing aether through sapience

Weightlessness shifting crystalline bliss

Lifting gypsies of viscera

For kindred souls glistening the next world

Whistling in limitless eclipse

But not for me

In sunless oneness spun from the umbrage of thunder’s lips

Juicing hallucinogens of putrid spruce of lucid tattooed nucleus

Sinking infinitely into pink lucidity

Phantom’s lances of amber

Anther’s chrysanthemums

I hate what I can’t have

Like javelins of chasms of jasmine labyrinths

Unravelling lavenders like Babylon

A scabbard cataclysm combing over the cornstalks

Like a catacomb of satellites

Brighter than the ichor of a lightning strike

Hallelujah; hallelujah, hallelujah

Music falls on deaf ears

Fuchsia pollution through the dew of a uvula

Serpents chirping sprouting from the earth in Ursuline

Exhumation

Painting itself from the toes to the mouth

Nyx’s viscera like elastic Damascus

Blasphemous rapids of sacrilege asters

Tapestries wrapped in the grasses of taffeta

Mapping lactescent crescents in the bethels’ decibels

Crescendos rending in endlessness’s pull

Shrapnel’s shape of baskets clasping full

The dying soul as wires grope

The vinyl wool of isles cold

In violet flow disciples tow

The lilac hull in the flaccid daffodils

Trilling vermilion like defiling violins of their unhinged strings

And vile hymns of miles limbs

With the pitch of bristling hieroglyphics

Tattooed in illumination

Basins of bay laced in glades shapeless maze of decay

In the braids of a ukulele

Porcelain scorpion chords

One dab of black ink dwarfing the amorphous porcelain

Interloping tenebrous oceans of cornucopia

The sun a burnt out lightbulb

In a pitch black room

Filled with unlit candles like fingers scratching

Against the heavens

But I wear the crown; right?

I must

What else is there for me

In life

And in death

But this?

For me

What is anything I’ve ever owned; but that?

Rhinestone oceans unloading foreboding tenebrous oceans

This world is beautiful; even at its worst

One match of alabaster

Strangled by a strand of darkness

Stitching shadows into light

Like bevelling reverberating revelations

Thaumaturgy’s of lace sanguine bangles

Of sacrosanct in the talons of flowers

Like crumpled towels in the bowels of balaclavas

Ruffling their feathers in the tethers of the heavens

Ravaged lapis lazuli

And the flaming whip of Icarus

Eclipsed planting his granite fantasies

In the clockwork of rocks cauterizing caramelized horizons

In the fibres that kaleidoscope

Into the fabric of candles

Like amber chandeliers

In the spherical mirrors of cathedral’s murals

In the gem of a speleothem shredding nebula

In the neon lights’ embryo

Of a moon scythe incandescent crescent of pale braille fingernails

Braided in the halos and bales of maelstroms

Drowning in flowers pastures of hourglass

Wrapping taffeta around the shrouded steeple

Wreathed of ether bequeathing the reaping of the creatureless deep end

Crocheted in the jade of a blade of grass

Like jasper capturing the heart of arsenic

In the stark arching march of cartilage

Of darkness embarking past the bark of a starlings’ carvings

In the grimoires of barley set ablaze like a maze of hazel

Azaleas like grey railings crossing phosphorus

Along the staircase of discombobulation

The fog of choreography tobogganing down the andromedas

Of doomed moons cratered with the aether of each stray mosaic

Each strand branding each magnolia embroidering

Braiding itself like a stitching mouth

Like the gulf of each bulbous polymer

Crawling through the follicles that yell past the shell’s mandala

In a collage of bottomless dichotomies

Like the strawberry moon illuminating creations

Like the basin of all abbreviation raking matrixes;

The stake of shapeless lacquered oasis

Cremating lakes that wake each step

Dressed in the restless polyester pestilence each bethel’s meshing precipice

Of crystalline phoenixes like bristling lithium

Brushstrokes across the red-throats groping the sloping

Cornucopias of the rope of opals vorpal

With the morsels incorporeal bent into sentence

Upending in memories disassembling the broad assemblage

Of hemlock mockingbirds in the blur of a re-emerging hurricane

Of fallen names on polyphonic plains

Columns of monikers stirring sterling murmuring burgundy

To the surging rivers of splintered scintillation

Glaciers in the erasure of napalm gondolas

Swallowing the neon obelisks in a monastery of precarious paradise

Like evangelical parhelion

Embroidering Morningstar

With the cinnabar of reddening unsettling weddings in Armageddon

Shredding the shell for the ones who fell beyond the well of a skeleton

Fly under the strings of Saturn’s rings like a pelican

Winged sprigging in the jigsaw of amygdala

(Bangled amber chandeliers of neon terpsichorean weeding itself swelling arpeggios of rosaries)

(Swollen golden Asmodeus primordial boreal coiling in the magnolias of rolling foliage)

(In the burs of turbulent murmurs metallurgy surging burgundy sterling unfurling)

(From gulfs of malting tumultuous penultimance; in the gauze of strawberries blaring clarinets;

(Posies of welling parhelion interstellar yellow bevelling velvet and swivelling vermillion)

(In the willow pavilions of sigils etched incandescently meshing into photosynthesis)

(While the sun casts its shadow on me)

(The moon melted wax)

(A burnt candle drowning in the shadow of its own delicate flowery disembowelling)

(In the gravelly amber of its spiral’s geyser of pyres’ briar iris)

(Undermining in the winding spine of a kaleidoscope crocheted in the clay of ocean waves)

(Wrapping taffeta clouds around itself like a blouse in undulating wavelets of the hazel azaleas)

(Dancing across the horizons like a celestial body, heavenly hymns tendrils of emerald trim)

(Canter in the wind)

(Planted seraphim)

(Amber in the dim)

(Chance within the fringe)

(Answers for the sin)

(Candor in her limbs)

(Anthers in the bangled dandelions glint)

(In petals metallurgy, flint; reddening in emissaries of a leather desert)

(Rinsed in the handprints of scintillating infinites)

(In nebulous perennials like the entrails of a railroad; bathed in halos; cedars fleeting)

(And April’s maples like crepes that gape their mouths as they drown in flowers of hours)

(The oak trees that crown all Valhalla)

(And the oceans in one lotus)

(Crocheted bays of azaleas in a trail of entrails laden with the paved plains again)

(Trodding on the bottomless candelabra of rhubarb carved into the palms of constellations)

(Ovulating in the matrix of creation)

(Satin astral Rorschach’s in the fractal taffeta grasping daffodils by their cashmere frills)

(Basking in the summer sun, alone)

(With everyone)

It is a beautiful thing; to love everything, and to hate it, too

Why won’t you give me your abondance?

You never had to ask for anything

You destroyed me

Like I would; you

So I live between the moments

That cast me into doubt

From your heaven; to my hell

Locked between the bars of a sentence

I never wrote

 

Fringe of Winter’s Last Rites

 

In a pencil’s peninsula

As the isles kaleidoscope into opals

To sit there (under the sun)

And laugh for eternity in despair; that’s all there is

To wallow forever in torment; drowning on air

That is all

There is (for me)

At all

(Here)

Us

Hollows among swallows pollinating the abyssal’s kiss

Looking right into the sun you (will blink and then)

Won’t see anything but shadows

And that is my battle; lapis lazuli

In sun fall’s (rhinestone crimson) hours rattling chasms of lavender

Spun yarn; flowers

Rattling chasms of lavender to Saturn’s spurred

By rings like tributaries marionettes setting sun’s on fire

(And martyring daughters, mothers, fathers)

Sinking into pink infinity

Dimly trimmed with the golden ambrosial rays of marmalade

Waiting until the first bud opens its pelican mouth

Passages written through time; or the hands of a clock

(Wadding through the aether raking its fingers through the singed face of oasis laced in gold)

As if to say nothingness

Isn’t silence

(Isn’t words)

(Isn’t me)

(Yet it is such)

A phoenix of viscera

Nyx’s wicker and her eclipse; her own crucifixion of whisperers

As if to say

One dab of black ink is dwarfing the amorphous porcelain

Hewing in fluidity and fluorescence of ebbing edifice wedding nebulous

(Pebbled nebulous tendrils of emerald gauze)

Interloping tenebrous oceans

Of cornucopia are on the brink of dying

In the heavens and ending up on earth

As if to say nothing, until it became something;

In the open flame of redemption

Hugging the reddened remains;

The cremated coals of love;

Cradled by the bibles of life

Written by spirits long dead

And drunk down to the final droplet of morning

(Can you still feel yesterday in your veins?)

As if to say, I feel, and breathe and die, like and unlike everyone else

I look at you in a two way mirror; never trusting with my eyes

As if to say

I don’t what to see this reality anymore;

But at one point, it was beautiful

Before it huddled under the pavilion of time

Without an umbrella or a dime

As if to say; hello

(I think of nothing, and therefore I am)

(If it were my last rites lost to the wind of buried kin)

(And carrion in the feathery windswept tethers of Armageddon)

(Settling in my ears like a pyramid)

(Built like heaven from the ground up)

(I love this absolutely and completely)

(In an abstract sense)

(Of incense bent)

(Into the white[‘s of my eyes like the] picket fence of [incomprehension in the seams] of a dream)

As if to say

Again

For the last time; (the last rhyme)

[But not so sublime]

As if to say

I’m leaving you

As if to say

(Sorry)

(I had forgotten what I was before I metamorphosized man)

Go on to conduct your own symphonies

But know;

That I am the notes written in-between the lines

(Of muddy boots that leave their tracks across white bulbous tundras like strange fonts familiar)

Somewhere dripping fresh still on your pages

As if

I could say more

Will you?

(Or will you leave me to tumble [like caution in]to the wind)

(And die like the rest of them?)

[I am]

[Your kin]

[Crammed within]

[To be your bridge]

[On rhinestone ridge]

[Black pines like shivs]

[Or violins]

[(In Nile’s bougainvillea)]

[(I am a grand cerulean basilica whittling Veridian in willows of sigil’s calligraphy)]

[(Spindling whims the exorcism of incendiary blizzards like ribbons in the rivers)]

[(Infinities own prison)]

[(Linen prisms of obsidian)]

<[(Scimitars within my bars)]>

[(Upon black sands)]

[(Chrysanthemums)]

[(Rigging themselves from the mouth of the gulf)]

[(Capsized in the horizon)]

[(Bygones, bygones)]

[(I need you)]

[(And hate myself)]

[(For that)]

[(Alone)]

 

Wedding Heaven With Armageddon

(A river of whitewater) light (rapids of gelatinous molasses in pastels of velvet elegies)

Is finding its way through the cracks of a doorframe;

Unhinging (like a scar from skin)

(Wrenching) itself from the peeling flakes of wallpaper;

A jigsaw flawed;

Bottomless collages crashing irrational

As if bending itself into colour through the prism of a windowpane;

Stretching past into shadows;

Into the unknown;

Fringing through corridors, through houses, through chapel glass;

Pretzeling itself into fetal agony;

Alone in the bathroom perhaps,

Or maybe an empty closet where the faucets of phosphorus drip viscus abyss

With the rippling wicker of lithium;

Passing into saxophones and abstract imagery;

Rorschach’s of cashmere peering through a zoo of vivid rhythm;

Swimming in the ribboning (scimitars’) brightness like a cypress in a lightning strike

Branching out and shouting drowning mouths

That scream from murals of luminous colour;

Butterfly horizons in the ivory and violet

Writhing in the knives unbridled with the briars of bonfires;

Geysers of hyacinth crying like botanical pianos

Mangled by the tango of dandelion

Formaldehyde blinding silence with its cat-eared veneers

Of Damascus blasphemy cast in the lashing asters of alabaster

Masquerading bouquets of crocheted vertebrae

Bales of barley and guitars of harlequin

(Stringed with arteries darting through shards of cartilage);

Wilting quilted in brilliance

Billowing willows sigils of vermilion

Trilling into the umbilical acrylics of silicon posies

Crows of soma born from the coves of ambrosia

Floating with the lotus oceans

Braided by the Himalayans that parade down into the bowels of Valhalla;

A valley shrouded in clouds that balaclavas of satin whiplash daffodils

Like crashing waves of the barricades of oasis

Gallows laced in the matrixes of polymerization

And the jail of a maelstrom

Like anesthetic Armageddon in the shredded metallurgy

Like the threading of leatherback stitching itself

Into the wickers of hell and the steel men of a speleothem;

Shedding their feathers in a bethel’s reflection

Sepulchre of resurrecting Nephilim

Under the psalms of a neon sun

Stumbling to the blood moon pooling aluminum

In the illuminating acres of asphyxiated discombobulation

In autumn’s choreography tobogganing mahogany

And terracotta columns of yawning constellations

Laying the foundations of a collage of andromeda

In the hazy mosaic of the trounced mountaintops

Of phosphorus nocturnal in the eternal inferno

Of a concerto of plumerias like buried cherubim;

Singeing themselves on the mouthing elegies

On the edge of parhelion welling in the eyes of a spiral

Across miles of lilacs

Black with the afterimage of gauze assemblage

Of cauterizing sunrises of ivory like a charred chariot

Of vicarious varicose crows

And caramelized in the violets of a skyline;

Reflecting echoes incandescently in secluded luminescence

Flexing the fingers into ribboning riggings

Along the ferried tributaries

Carrying me down into the flaking sun and scraping clouds;

Hooks pencilled in lamps of stars sterling

And starlings in the fog of August

Rustling through the supple luxury of the afternoon blooms

Disillusioned with the cruising ruby hallucinogens

Of spreading Serengeti in serendipitous eucalyptus

Drifting apparitions of whispers from the cliff of Icarus

Wilting in willows and bougainvillea spilling out from the blouse of velvet

Melodies in wailing ukuleles

Braiding the cratered latex of lactescent effigies

Meshing like pretzeled extraterrestrials

In the zest of evanescence pressing itself into the crowded valleys

And the clouds swollen coals in golden pandemonium

Combing the shores of orange chlorophyll

In hilly chiseled whittling in brittle vermilion

Crossing the sun tossed clockwork in brothels of mockingbirds

Nocturnal as the red moon in June;

Loosening through the juices of a spruce,

In the esophagus of poplars gospels of phosphorus

That blossom and bud in the studded summit of put back together heavens

In the crevice of metal edifice

And the parhelion of a cello’s melody

In the harmonies of disembodied seas

Among pomegranate lanterns amplified by the lilac rhinestones of an opal ocean

In a collage of solitude and mandala of halogens;

Carnivals of choreography ballooning into the fuselage of nucleus and cumulus;

Crocheted bouquets caught in the sliver of a river;

Silver ribbons of equilibrium and lilies of drizzling swivelling chiseled bougainvillea

Distilling the billowing vermilion of a trillion stars

Hooks of pencilled lamps festering incandescently

In the breath of bethels neglected by the nectar

The clementine heaven’s vine

The clock strangling the passage of time with its own two hands;

The frame of a second bent out of proportion;

Squeezing out the drop of every minute;

Trickling away for the flowering of every hour;

For the battalion of every single week;

Sweeping away the decades of decay;

Sweeping away the echoes of the blade among the rugged umbrage

Crashing with lapis of taffeta

Astral Damascus chapel glass

Cast in brass Rorschach rapids laughing saxophones

Soma in daffodils’ aroma coiling around the clouds

Like black lackadaisical machinations

Wrapped in jasper chapters,

Blasphemous everafter(ward)s

Like gelatinous tapestries in the gap of a Rorschach

Lacquered in the black pastel of a carnival parhelion in the shell of yellow melodies

Disheveled bevels revelling in the curvature of furniture

[This at least gives me the purpose]

[To spell it out]

[For you]

 

Psalms Of Hopeful Despair Like Stars Stolen From Surrender

 

Words like a torniquet

Bethels of crescents among the crescendo of zephyrs

Reverberating murmuring from the worm of a hurricane like the tail of a tornado

Jade jasmines of amber champagne

And I am no different

Transmogrified horizons of warped quarts

And orchids in the ceramic camouflage of mantras

Among volumes of mahogany

Never bound to be set free

Sick on my medicine;

Armageddon’s remedy; like the venomous nebula of a setting sun

An empty home

Ribbons of obsidian wrinkling ink between the lines on a page

A man who lives in the past,

Has no future to present himself

To anyone in their passage through time;

In their voyage through life

Reaching out from (this cell, this limbo, enkindled)

This (stage of) (rib)cage

To close the last door between hearts,

And sit there; my cylindrical (pinnacle) noise rolled between the fingers of silence;

Broken into shape like melted glass;

Your dandelion horizons lining the walls

Like pages of stained lamination;

Aether laced lavender Abaddon of avenues blue;

Of green views blooming in the iris swirling sterling in your spiralling eyes’ kaleidoscope

In the floating ambrosial crocheted ocean of trees

Crowned in their outstretched heaven;

Meeting my gaze; looking for the truth;

Separating into black and white;

Ignorant of all the possibilities;

Blind to our similar images;

Fading into the braziers of colour and shade

Amalgamating greys that glaze into sable;

Bleeding phoenixes of weeded arboretums;

Holding the frayed edge of a helix like a balloon;

In ifs full moon spiral dahlias;

Beyond the spun tundra’s of a river running sun crashing alabaster;

Reeding through the skies in a bible of lilac

Spiderwebbing eleven Everest from between every brink within my opening fist;

An iridescent messenger for the word that spilled from my lips like a flood of clay

In the mudslide divide of horizons

Between the eyes of bridles and briars of Nihilism

Braided in the frame of reclamation

In the gates of surrendered endless heaven;

Pent up in the lustre of rustling leaves

Paraplegic and stained with the weight of rain;

Frills of daffodils cerulean in a familiar guillotine

Whittling away at the shape of god;

Columns that facade the collage of bulbous penultimance tangled in gangrene

 

Topaz and Evergreens

 

Like a topaz calamity in opalescent Neptune;

Photon andromeda inter-looping nucleus

In the roots of Jupiter jutting from summit;

The junipers like moons estrewed in the sinew of a church pew

Unearthing resurfacing serpentine

The shell of a cellos

Heart ripped open from the empty inside out of a rose;

A hollowed-out tree

Warped into the most beautiful instruments of war

In the shrapnel of symphonies

Under the speckled crescent of pockmarks artifices

In the snarled arteries of knotted obelisks

Cobblestone soma of veneers in the clearing of an earlobe

Crows phantasmagorical; combing the telephone poles

Like a spider’s kaleidoscope of encroaching notes

I play on a iron barred guitar;

Or maybe the jail of a ukulele,

Holding nightingales in the coattails of my haloed maelstrom

In the attic of a labyrinth splintered by conifers

By the nickel sun shining its blinding binary code

Over the rosemary below

In the yoke of a broken supernovas

Sizzling villas sigil’d in the porcelain of the clouds

Like wild fireworks where the hummingbirds and butterflies of bulbous mandalas

Crawling through the blue ruse of afternoon plumage

Illuminate cumulus in the red nebulas

Like threading embryos embroidered in the distorted chords

And orifices of porcelain incorporeal metamorphosis

A flash of golden patchwork Rorschach

In the gashes of taffeta mapping the lapis

That wrap their way around the gaps of a chapels’ alabaster

Incomprehension within the wrenching entrance of another aforementioned dimension

Venturing through stencilled penitentiary

The churning of a burgundy hurricane

In the flames of eons’ of psalms gales of Hades

In the gauze of a strawberry ensemble

Embalming choreography of magnolias

Like corduroy exfoliating the matrix of polymerization

Pasted in the pastels of mortality rallying the rapids of glasswork asters

That bask in the rays of umbra

Splintering intimate symphonies

Into wintergreen crocheted in bays of marmalade hazel;

Wrinkles wrapped in the fabric of lavender;

Laced in the lacquered reeds of arboretum

Sleeves of guillotines gleaming in the ceiling of teal saplings

Of sapphire shrapnel lapping up against the shore of a polaroid

In the hollows of dahlias

Crawling from the starlings that bind the wires of cauterizing Niles;

The serpent birches like lurching currents

Pulled back from the skin with their trim of photosynthesis

Botanical attics labyrinth like ladder’s of matter to the stratospheres

Reaching like a phoenix

Like a veneer of murals and frescos of echoes

Bethels stretching electrolytes convulsing through the pulse of constellations

Malting into autumn lithography

In the collage of lager’s bottomless mahogany’s

Of closeted choreography tobogganing like lingerie decay

From the alcoves of our mouths

Bonnets embalmed in the waterway of comets glazed;

Leviathans and interweaving legions of arboretum

In the glass factories refractory in the grabbing fabric of black Rorschach

Asters Lovecraftian astronauts who thought they found god

Before they lost their minds in the pastures of rapturous hazmat’s

Asterisks shell shattering gravity like Amaterasu

In the lucid drooping of fuchsia and teal speleothem

In the nebulous embers of penumbra

In heaven’s thunder; hallucinogenic clementines like sentinels of embryos

Embroidered in a Morningstar;

Flaws augmented stars pencilled in peninsula

Magenta penitentiaries breaking and entering

The endless crescendo of disheveled meadows umbrellas’ entrails mandala

Curtailing in the gale of a fabled maelstrom of railroads

Imploding like a supernova stencilled in the pretzel of fentanyl

Dissolving like discombobulated Molotov of andromeda

Behind the bars of a mantra flaunting itself in a yellow blouse

Wisterias on the concerto of stereo merry-gos

Like a herald of marigolds in the flora of Ouroboros

Flickering with antiquity lithium electricity ticking with the wickers of ambiguous eclipse

As pictures ricochet through a fading oasis

Bathed in the glades of an evergreens’ maze

Scythes of ichor writing a maestro’s lightning bolt soldering

Orbs of chlorophyll

Torn pages contagious aegis; flayed fables of sable as the rainbow of gales frail azaleas curtail

(Strange angels) that pale (to halos) and (that) peel at (the acre’s) maple leaves

Reeling in speleothems of ethereal murals

Upon the comet’s choreography

Autumn leaves weaving dodecahedrons from the fires of unbridled ivory

Kaleidoscope in the cloak of an opal moon; looming ambiguity

Ruminating in the illusion of polymerization

From the rippling whispers of photosynthesis

Flickering matches of alabaster

Blooming pews; lapis pastors

Bastions of taffeta like blasphemous asteroids of foliage magnolias in the coil of a polaroid

Tapestries wrapping asters in the Damascus of a fractured night

Almost pitch white

 

Iridescence

 

Suede vertebrae of a hurricane

Birches serpentine harbouring starlings

Arboretum bulbous leaves of fallen trees

Like baubles of terracotta candelabra strawberries

Plucked like stars from the strings of barbed wire

Like a gnarled carnival swirling in the sterling of the sun

Crashing against the waves of sand in a single strand;

Tracing the oasis of polymerization;

Sketching the effigies a fresco’s bethel

In the vessels of precipice

Whispering flipping nickels of asphyxiation

 

Discoloured Nature

 

Veins of champagne and arteries of an uncharted harbour

Of barley in starlings’ carnival

Twisted hieroglyphics written in cisterns

Terpsichorean arboretums of cedar

Mirage a collage of mausoleums

Like a disembodied obelisk of August’s mahogany

Ceramic canopies of amethyst hammock

Dangling bouquets of burgundy vertebrae

Staining the Himalayans in sun-rays

Chasing abbreviation into the chapels of daffodils;

Into the steeples of ethereal;

Into the cathedrals of sulphuric empyrean veneers

Of clear immaterial murals peering into the beginning in rigid images,

Time meridian rivers of symmetry

Brimming with the stygian photosynthesis void

To the foliage that fizzles out in its silent shout;

The boughs of wildflowers

Stallions of shrouded gallows laid in polymerization

Glazed into cradling azaleas

Bound in chains of fables beneath the homogeneous Elysium;

Over the walking clockwork of Cocytus

In its swathing shape of monotonous flocking of mockingbirds

In the lithium eclipse of monoliths’ abyss;

Destiny’s ecstasy in the bethels of an echo’s effigy;

Nephilim of the deafening nectarines

Beckoning crepuscular electric in the stretching depths of bondage;

Pronged in white picket fences;

In another colour-smothered dimension

Beyond the stencil of comprehension;

Compromising the tobogganing longing of andromeda;

Angels feigning light; wrapped in taffeta;

Born from the black lacquer;

Tapestries of asper’s blasphemy like rapturous rapids that baptize the horizon in lilac

Coagulating sap from the jasper of the brass

And gelatinous alabaster forests born of rigour mortis;

Orphaned to the torn paper of my poem;

Drifting out of sentence;

Unable to find the words;

Unpronounced letters that end in Armageddon;

But once; started from harmony; carved from a barbed wire empire;

Empty mementos closing in oceans of serpentine currents

Like curtains uncertain as the day I was born

From a page torn ripped from the pyre of Gaia

In this fibrous diary like the isles of a wildflower

Crowning into this hourglass

Hell stripping the petals of its metallurgy

Like the swerve of a sterling hurricane curling itself over like a supernova

 

Riverrock

 

I will/do not miss these muddy feet;

The sound of water as it flows through my ears;

The honeyed soma of every moment;

Every rigid detail

Meticulous fingertips bristling,

Brushstrokes on prickly skin;

I cannot miss what has shaped me in these alabaster rapids;

This rasping lapis and jasper

It is all I am;

As I blossom apocryphal;

By the edge of the water

A yawning yarn of phosphorus dipped in cities ink;

Dressed in leprous eons of pomegranate antlers;

When you witness waiting for the end’s crescendo;

I’ll be there ageless, arms outstretched saying;

I was (already) here;

Where the walls come tumbling down like tangled hair in a bed of roses,

The messy head canon of angels combed of identity;

Where the willows imitation the imagery of their symmetry,

In the swivelling sigil of a bridge of calligraphy;

Where crisscrossing gospels in their esophagus

Lost in the mix of every blissful eclipse;

Where every unetched tempestuous precipice,

Wrestling with the vessel’d crescent incandescent

Has lessening into symbols of the abysmal;

Unopened windows that light trickles through

Flooding the room of broken pillars in bougainvillea,

Lilies and pricilla in some momentous tempest

Where in the eardrums of hummingbirds

The epithet of death’s precipice

Through calm and storm

To wait forlorn, our pages torn,

Unwritten form; forbidden lore,

An apple’s core; a river’s door, the hidden chord

Abysmal war

I will be; more

I never left

I’m still here

Waiting; in Armageddon of the setting sun;

Spun in the cluttered colours of a hundred butterflies;

El dorados’ Nirvana in acres of maple(s)

Red in a jar of boulevards (farming harlequin);

The harboured karma of carving (barley) arboretums

(Weaving immaterial murals)

Laced in the chase of faceless constellations

Basins of shapeless creations in the matrix of aether tracing its way in wastelands’ clay

Polymerization trilling in vermilion basilicas

With willows of silicon

Like corpses of porcelain metamorphosis

Coursing through the orchards of endorphins;

Warped in the contorted fortress of one’s mind;

Fingers down a book’s spine winding into the spiral iris of a kaleidoscope

Morsels of opals encroaching in the orchids contortionist

Whispering in the bridge of lithium

Through the heart of darkness in a staircase waking aether’s echolocation

Perplexing ecstasy in the hecatomb

Blooming ballooning cumulus in unison

With the translucent spruces like nucleus

Picturesque precipice outstretching of breathless Nephilim

In the derelict nectars in the depths of a thousand hectares

Wept up from the floor of a tornado’s halo

Jaded in the braziers of liberation like scattered jasmine labyrinths

In the splintered symphony of infinity;

Brass and alabaster seas in the rafters and rapids of blasphemy

Anchoring the amethyst eclipse

In liquid epiphany

In the cisterns of twisted contradictions whistling in the bristling ichor of wildfire violins

Briars in the out-branching chasms of each Pythagorean lavender

Stanza in the rivers of equilibrium photosynthesis

Rippling through schizophrenia memories of eleven cemeteries

Of paradise riffling through the static stratosphere

Avalanching matter in cataclysm

The golden wolverines of graffitied elysian magazines

Seamlessly bleeding into the cedars of phoenixes

Dripping with juxtaposition christened with the history of crippled gypsies

Prickling the sickles of mithril crescent of echoes

Ambers in the amaranths of a cramming canvas

In the islands of formaldehyde dandelions

Along the lines of barbed wire bibles;

Marigold magnolias chords of euphoria exploratory

With the thorny corridors of chlorophyll

Building into sigils and glyphs

That daffodils squiggle and spill in frantic incantations

Incendiary with the remedy of incandescent setting suns

In satin unwrapping in the brass, alabaster, jasper, and Damascus

Clashing against the rock-face

Stapling waves in the graves of hazel

Braising braiding Himalayans in the flayed pages of a hurricane

Making wraiths in the facelessness

Mentioned in a new dimension pencilled in the stencil of emptiness

Pretzeling into the mouth of alcoves of clovers in groves of soma

And the slow ambrosia of the setting sun;

Spun under slumbering moon;

Smothering its colour with the doves of summer

Penumbra like an antlered sanctuary of paraplegic phoenixes

That whisk through (viscus) hieroglyphics

(Bliss incandescent) in a zest of tempestuous maleficent effigies,

In crests of trees a bethel’s debris like moonshine concubine

Spiralling in the nylon setting of one eye in the skyline;

Swallowing hallowly;

Orbs of coral boreal chlorophyll;

Armageddon (reddening edifice in revelling metallurgy)

In a (flower petal ebony wedding in the ebbing heavenless nebulas)

(Of tenebrous coasts in the opal kaleidoscope)

(Cloaking the opening of) a setting sun

Still here

Never leaving

I wish

I could

 

Strings to Hang Your Angel From

 

The string of viridian calligraphy

As stygian as the linen in rhythm with the prisms of light

Biting into cytoplasm lavenders

Into the jasmine stratospheres and the cavernous amber of dandelion canopies

In the depths of resurrection’s carnivalesque ecstasy

In the breath of a precipice

Derelict frescoed zephyrs of bethel’s effigies

Within pastels of pastures painting the hillsides with sapphire kaleidoscopes;

Where the swimming cerulean ephemeral murals of the empyrean gin of mausoleums

The mountain’s rim like a cylindrical pinnacle of pomegranate amethysts

In a wasteland of grapes engraved in daisies

Like water running through my mind bind themselves in the swell of parhelion;

The scars on my back mirrored like constellations of drifting astral castaways

Like unmalleable florets on the edge of flower petal metallurgy;

Threads of Serengeti among the reddening fledglings of the remedy

Ebbing into serenity with the nebulous edifice of eclipse

In the depths of precipice and the lithium abyss

Polycrystalline with the wickers of ricocheting aegis

Pages ablaze with the pavement and cement

In concrete mantras crossing the washing of phosphorus

Claustrophobia with the ambrosia of an ancient ocean

Of chromosomes in the soma of posies

In a cottontail railroad of sable azaleas

Weaving the seeds of aphrodisiac saxophones

In the rolling waves of suede creasing the page with everglades

In the layers of a maelstrom of gusting percussion

Rustling through the leaves of blue like mitochondrial dominoes;

Psalms of a thousand palms in the alms of a tornado of angels;

A flower that casts its shadow on the shallows of the valley

Red with the hallucinogenic clementines of the dead;

Like baubles cobweb and orbs of the coral tomorrow curled like curdling whip

Against the bricks of a riptide

Gliding like ivory cherries through a cemetery of marionettes

Like the bangled candles of a chandelier;

Structures fluctuating oasis in the fletching of florescent incandescence

Thistles of ventricles rippling in the chapels of daffodils like a rapid of taffeta;

Tapestries of Elysium weaving the saplings

Among the trees that trapeze in the waxing of saxophones

And the waning of aeons

In the bondage of mitochondrial constellations crossing the kilometres of river

In a canoe ballooning with the fumes of junipers

Blooming runes ludicrously in the looming cumulus of uncertain currents

In the early morning’s coiling foliage

Like leather feathers hedging in the threading of a memory;

Saturn’s tattered labyrinth tethered together in the dying embers of a setting sun;

Like the fleeting graffiti of terpsichorean phoenix

Coming down with its fiery crown of flowers

In the shallows of the shadowed valleys

Unravelling in the morning’s hymn

I am no hero

I can’t deny that

Strangling hope

Camouflaging obelisks; acrylic ventriloquists;

Collages of mandalas in the assemblage of August

Biblical willows that pillage the day in its glazed parade;

Razing civilizations down to a burial mound

In the powder of velvet balaclava efflorescent zephyrs

At the pestilential precipice effigies flexing through wrestling bliss

In a kiss of lithium abyss of a crystalline crescent

Together in a nebula of tenebrous coasts with the mitosis of the oceans;

Graffitied legions of eons dawning like drawn mitochondrial

Walking down the line between a thousand signs blindingly hiding from the ivory

In the neon Toronto blond laundering

The stamens of pomegranate amber

Cavernous mannequins with the hands that labyrinth

Through the ink of a symphony composing tomorrow

In the floral Ouroboros created in the glaciers’ erasure

Like a patient matrix of oasis fastening brass saxophones

From the bones of comatose comets

That vomit sonnets with the columns of andromeda;

Rivers of equilibrium like stygian shivs in the obsidian

Slithering sifting through griffins blue with the guitars and grimoires of unstrung harmonies

Arteries arching in the Tartarus rapids of tapestries

Breathing elysian reeds of breezes weaving themselves in velvet bellflowers;

Barbed wire lilacs between the cracks gone ecclesiastical

Echoes that mesh with the wreckage and texture of bethels;

Tattooed frescos etched in the decibels of hecatomb clovers;

Rowboats in the opium psychosis of psychedelic umbrellas

Of yellow stella’s bevelling resurrection’s echo;

Imploding supernovas crows of exodus chrome ambrosia

Flowing through the bullet hole moon in a shattered window sky;

The cracks align,

The cracks are why I sketch their faces in the light of midnight nightingales

Derailing the nails of azaleas hammered into the pupils of my eyes as if they were iris;

Subdividing nylon dawn

Spawned in the choreography discombobulated

With nature wrapped around the waist in gapping aether;

Gaps of alabaster satin with the last of kin swimming in scintillation;

Dimly lit syncopation;

Rinsing the splinters from my skin;

I begin my hike again, my trek,

Along the corridors of death;

Resting festivals with the Nephilim blooming in canoes of Neptune’s junipers;

Clashing with jasper grasslands

And Damascus parting with the cartilage of the fattest trees;

Damp disease and lanterns’ debris of lances between the leaves of herculean ukuleles

In the stale halo of ghosts gone comatose

With the motion of their arms stretched out to the setting sun

That spun them from bewonderment;

Stitched them with obituaries;

Wickers unlit with the gift of Icarus

Chiseled with the children of bougainvillea

With their bouquet maelstroms frozen over hearts

Like archways in the glades of hurricanes

Painted into every corner;

Cardboard contorting and vorpal with incorporeal orchards and forests of torches

Morgues of euphoria expurgatorius morningstars

Like carved cinnabar marred from the edge of the knife;

Cutting ribboning as they fly;

Geysers of hope grope kaleidoscopes unknowing of purgatory’s flora

Burrowing through a placid moon’s canoe;

Paddling satin along the anaconda of silken scarves

Like barley harvesting samsara along the boardwalk of apocalypse;

The blossoming apocryphal octaves

Knotted in the fists of lucid crucifix;

Whispering epiphany ephemeral as the murals of chapel glass

Crafted by the spine of one’s mind;

A book of inukshuks piling themselves in bells of velvet

Leaden with ebony embroidered in the skies

Unwinding in your diaphragm;

In the sands of chrysanthemums anchoring sanctuary in the vulgarity of life;

Vice in the jaws of life;

Columns of light that follow in the Saturn’s cytoplasm

Lavenders navigating through naked wraiths of nature

Reawakening within the ache of sapients;

Saplings unwrapping into glass tapestries

Unmapped by the passageways that barricade and pastel our carnival

In the pastures of jasper lashing our tongue with the words we’ve spun

Like jasmine avenues of javelin topaz

Graffitied with the strings of a guitar

Or the unhinged nail of azaleas

Like flailing ukuleles against the flock’s of mockingbirds

In the copper mountaintops

Interlocking in octaves rotting phosphorous

From bowels of valleys

Like malleable alleyways

Beneath in shade under the faceless lace of constellations waking against shores forevermore

In the chords of floral phantasmagoria like ornery tornadoes unrailed

I am

I am

I am

Creative destruction

Writing bad poems in good graces

 

Graffitied Star

 

The mud nectar of the parasol sun

(Carousel parhelion)

Melding melting skeletons caked on scraped knees

With entrails of tendrils

Lamenting the centipede of emerald

Green on our faded pages;

Halos of fluid fuchsia on the blooming canoe of cumulus

Hallucinogens setting sail across the emblazoned horizon’s rails

Veiled in layers of hazel in the metaphor of a corneas’ corridors

Floral with the coral oranges of tomorrow

In the fog of diabolical halogens

In every polymer between the rings of my ten fingers

Lingering in palm of lingerie of mitochondrial ballrooms

Fumes of ludicrous June;

Fusing into unison in the strawberry moon;

Like the stranded amethyst of a blathering labyrinth

Laced in the sap of dilapidated creation;

Waxing and waning in the sable constellations of laced oasis;

Craning the necks of shipwrecked ecstasy

Among the bay of everglades under rays

Himalayans shaped in the clay clouds like wallflowers’ ballads

Crowding the room with illusions

Illuminated in lamps of pomegranate

Anchored in the lacquer of black crackling against the mirror of murals

Empyrean with the graffitied evening peeling

Like a helix as it spindles like an open window

Among the crimson linden trees as they weave their ribbons of obsidian leaves;

Their branches like lanterns through the breeze

Like a phoenix kneading the clay of a summer’s grey

In the rays of this defibrillating maze;

Jade flickering pixilated asphyxiation as the cloud are unravelling

Into melancholy hallways ballooning in Jupiter;

Leaving blossoming blotches of phosphorus nocturne

In our footprints on the surface of the sun

With our bouquets of mosaics in the chalk of clockwork

Mockingbirds churning the oceans of eternity into mirror; effigy;

Nectar’s glare mechanisms sketched incandescent outstretching prayer;

The frescoed bark of a poplar’s arch;

Cartwheeling through the mountains’ speleothems

Disembarking from the cartilage foraged from my bones like a trail home;

Baptized in the spine of a cauterizing horizon;

Miles like ivory wyverns diving within the kaleidoscopes’ gin

Among the candied dandelion like stranded candles

Dangling in a lavender avalanche

Dancing in the wind of scimitars in the pollen stamens of andromeda

In every revolving follicle like a meteor’s corridors

Of phantasmagorical eidolons rolling through chlorophyll forests

Ouroboros in an apple core’s torrent like a floral tornado of curtailing halos

(Like a mandala wandering through the cosmos; like flowing jade of [opal/gold] bouquets)

(Every flaw’s open jaws; molotovs of autumn bottomless; sprouting velvet yelling parhelion)

(Swelling borealis; malachite ichor; white lightning)

(Crescents of lactescent bethels where gesture turns empty into sunset/tempest)

(Rowing through the oars of magnolias)

(Pulling with [the/poems] pandemonium)

(Crocheted in the mosaics of pale azaleas)

(Crawling through harbours of arboretums; setting waves upon the hazelnuts)

(Candelabra’s polymerization like berries of alstroemerias)

(Licking the mithril eclipse; in its precipice of shapeshifting hieroglyphics)

(In the viscus abyss of lithium)

(All that I am; wrapped between the lapis cactus of your hands)

(Drinking in the blue moon with a new bloom)

(Junipers looming overlooking the coves and the hazy bays)

(Dressed in the zephyrs’ [gaze/vase] of a hundred miles’ [away/maze])

 

Elevator Shaft

 

Pythagorean magazines

Like feathery bruschetta

Swept in ebbing florescent crescents

The Armageddon of seventy Serengeti’s

Redder than tenebrous ghosts

On ambrosia the soma of clovers’ eidolon

Knife’s edge of fletching florets

Wedding confetti in ebony

Like the thread of a nebula

Spun into umbrage as the sun swims hidden dimly

Under wings of stygian

In whirling sterling

Forged from the corridors

Of a saplings apple core;

Burrowing into unfurling

The curls of a forests’ contortionist;

Formed from the amorphous chords of a meteor;

Born from the butterflies

That smatter with caterpillars

Vermilion sigils in the billowing buildings

Of cylindrical pillowing

Shedding crevices of the leather September

In its edifice like gelatinous shrapnel

In a map of lapis daffodils

As shrill as the silver guillotines

Like banged chandeliers of empyrean mirrors

In the gears of veneers peeling back

The afterimage castaway in vats of jade

Capsized in the geysers of lilacs

Shackled by astral casting call

Revolving in mahogany

In the stars of armada andromeda

Bobbing in the waves of suede shades

Of ever-grey paved into the lassoed pastures

Wrapped in lashing alabaster

Crafted from the cracking Damascus

Of these walls in the stalls of each

Frolicking follicles in foliage of primordial magnolias

Of fragrant vagabond in the cloves of iota

Like mulberry parasols

Swelling with melancholy pelicans

In the lanterns of amber

Swam in amethyst

Licking the crystalline moon dry of lilac

Rising in the tides of binary ivory;

Iceberg metallurgy

Surging against the wake of civilizations

Breaking the tide all ocean wide

Lichen diving kaleidoscopes

Alive with the thread of spiderweb

Stitching lithium into the wake

Of syncopated polymerization

Wasteland that bangle mangled by a cyclops’ eye;

Orb of light against the riverbanks of darkness;

Shimmering forest

Within the shadows on their hallowed battleground

Howling malleable hours into the void

Embroidering by coils that oil paintings

And frescos of fresh flowers

Clammering over tenebrous roses

In an ocean or a sea of Valkyries like fallen leaves;

Weaved with the leaden ribbons of Armageddon’s stencilled magenta

In the sentences that end

In heaven’s penitentiary;

Raising the flag of an azalea

Over the bright skies and horizons

While lichens fight with the crows in October;

Rowing through the bullet moon;

Shooting through the eye of vagabond midnight

And leaving a hole in the vertical swerving of eternity

Embracing the laced lies

Of a wyvern violet rising like the sun;

Rising from the rungs of a rusty ferris wheel;

Peeling away the flowers of jade;

The towers of suede that sway through evergreens;

Through the reeds of serpentine dreamers;

Weeds of onomatopoeia

Kneading the cedars like a demon

In the evening screaming terpsichorean

Between the seams of a sentence of twine unwinding itself; (from the [ends/edge] of a page)

From the gorge of tomorrow’s torrent of corridors gourds of phantasmagoria oars mooring torn

Bays of raven wings; ink-stained matrixes in the latent polymerization untamed and nameless

To the sound of (laughter) jasper bells like a shell of yellow cellos

Melding parhelion shrouded balaclavas

Of yellow velvets that umbrella

Blooming ludicrous with the omniscient nucleus

Of fuchsia’s whispers lucid Icarus

Loose with the limitless glyphs of bougainvillea’s lips

Making bruschetta of the setting sun

In brushstrokes of opal;

Candles like mandolin split at the tip of rippling wicker;

Terracotta candelabra auburn astronomers swathed in the collage of mandala

My dreams wash up on a beach laden with stars

But I am

Still lost in the mud of my mind

Caked in the sands of amaranth

Trying

To clean the flowers from off my skin

As they bloom into a summer night; spiteful; these unravelling dahlias towering over me

Before the morning and (the/its) sea;

(Gravelly talisman like towels creased with the fleecy cashmere of a deteriorating maple leaf)

(In the shapeless cape of its acreage masoned in the tapering dilapidation of plastered aspers)

(Tapestries of blasphemous taffeta unwrapping chapters from the chapels of rapture)

(Silver villages that pilgrim the slivers of obsidian)

In the floral ornery corneas of distort homage to the bottomless candelabra

Gobbling up the sun and spitting out daisies

 

Belief

 

Etching crescents with the zephyrs of sepulchres crepuscular

Lactescent evanescence sequestered in restless effigies squiggly rigidity

Skies of ivory in the ebony revelation

In the hillsides of rhinestone exodus

White soma

Black lotus

Crawling across a white plain of void

As numerous as the stars fallen out of a derelict sky

The words speak for themselves; ask them, know them;

Before you contemplate what you do not yet know

Know them; before they contemplate what you do not know

For we are all but tuned instruments

In the black skied white noise of one symphony

For we are all conducting tongues

Translating sign language from the hand of God

As numerous and unknowing as anyone

Like many things born to the abyss cast down the mountains

Into the valleys below

The clockwork of broken mechanisms

Flexing in dodecahedrons

Forgotten by eyes that cannot see beauty

As any more than a fractal

A jagged tooth of jade

Or a Rorschach; shackled freedom

Next to the stiff brilliance

Of an unwritten page

The cliff one line inclining;

Or dropping down upon;

Leading to another, another

Falling through the paragraphs

Without an oar to dip into the phosphorescent kaleidoscope

Like the black tempest of a pen

The soup of honeyed words

Like spores from orifices of psalms like origami;

Eyelashes bent out of proportion

Unhinging the pupil like a door from the concrete wall

To the heavens blacker than onyx;

Brighter than day

As if there was anything as bright

As a shadow at dawn

As if there were anything as pitch

As a thunderclap wrapping itself billowing terpsichorean fabric of cloaked figures in storm;

Pressing deeper, pushing onwards

Like fingertips into your ears

Pulling back the tendrils of a tempest

Without the sound of a heartbeat to reel in oblivion

And walk past the shadow of a doubt

Into enlightened (certainty;)

Truth (is our only falsehood;)

But not knowing better than to walk

Between the shaft of a trail without a direction,

Moving forward motionless;

That will always lead you farther

(Down into the depths) of your answer

The road into heaven is not easy

Not as easy as the fall

Twisting and turns like a knife between ribs

Spindling the finest silk

From the alphabet of nothing;

Meaning shrouded in mystery;

Meaninglessness, a legacy, naked as the eyes

Impregnable barriers

Watching the hawks and the mockingbirds

Holding the edge of ones mind like a spear;

Sharped to the point of view like razors

Against the crevasses of edifice

Wrapped in alabaster

Crumbling to hide the crack of dawn

Working its way through the rockface

Like a memory, bulbous baubles of bubbles surfacing

Yawning into auburn andromeda

Behind the bonds of constellations

The columns of books where

One word would stand alone

And declare itself Nothing

To mean nothing

To be nothing

And so

Was unknown

Even to themself

For it was from the shadows

That came the light

Like a blind reverend; arms branched out into bending clemency

Striking the match

Again

And again

And again

Hammer against vorpal sword

Hoping that the dusty scarf of smoke

Among the firmament

The fruit of flame and decay licking at the dusk

Would answer him

From the patchwork of his lungs

Heaving phoenixes

From the metallurgy of two

Intwined and twisted abstract uncertainties;

Colliding into one being

(Timelessness ageing in a moment)

Born from the form of nothing;

The opposite of self;

Empty fulfillment deafeningly endless

As the shells of words that could not contain themselves

(Spat the rays of neon rippling lithium)

(Zephyr’s evanescence churning firmaments; ferns of swerving swivelling stygian rivulets)

(Winding in dandelion hyacinth imprinted in rinsing glyphs of photosynthesis)

(From threading leather poinsettias in the ghetto’s metallurgy; plumerias barricade)

Within their tongues

Mothered by the sun

And fathered by the moon

Sitting dispassionately

Watching the last act unfold

Like a flower petal under the guidance of the stars

Burning into negligence

Wilting in the silt of quilted basilicas

In the resin of togetherness

(Every letter tethered to the edifice)

Momentously tempestuous in the depths of crepuscular

(Broaches of topaz glazed by dying stars)

Crows rowing along the serpent of rapid rivers undeliverable

The scimitars of schizophrenic frenzy

Bending in the assemblage of memories

Severing appendages with the shrapnel of a daffodil

In the taffeta of tapestries

Grafted from the roots of being

From the floor to the ceiling

Drums the core come unreeling

The spindle of cylindrical abyssal windows

Through the looming exuberance

Fusion in unity the untied horizon

Bloom of weaves dressed in the bethels of incandescent leaves

One to wrestle with the trees

Malfeasant as the breeze

In the gesture of a dream

Meant to question all we’ve seen

From the vessel, of a being

(Take the castle for the queen)

Mortar, pestle, every seam

Every decibel unsheathed

From the crescent in the deep

Infinitesimally creep

The celestials’ belief

(The/where) deception is complete

(In the tussle of a leaf)

(Flustered ruptures from beneath)

(And above in sunbird peek)

(When the ravens come to reap)

(Are we slaves then? Are we sheep?)

(Betrayed by walking, cotton, fleece)

(Awakened in the sacred sleep)

(Forsaken, just to be?)

(Shaken, from the peak)

(Breaking piece by piece)

(Taking acres from the weak)

 

The Sun Shines

 

Wars rage

Castles fall

Clocks tick

People break

I merely stitch them back together;

(Picking up the pieces of glass)

(The shards of cavernous hearts like caves hollowed out by morning rain; rushing water)

And sketch their beauty; (pull their strings)

The hands of the clock are not those of painters;

The artist Time; does not care for her own work

Colourless brushstrokes fading into echoes;

Will draw the line;

And we will stumble down its narrow road;

Grasping the seconds in a way we never could;

Pulses malting ulcers electroconvulsive as dilapidated rapids; alabaster ecclesiastical glasswork

Curving down the stream of consciousness

And back into the rivers beneath;

Channels and ear canals beating in the veins of arcanum; chapels wrapping jasper Rorschach;

Collapsing into the attics of labyrinths, blimps of photosynthesis; incubating polymerization

Snaking through the acres of Claymation breaking against the tide of divides

Groves of pandemonium frozen in ambrosial swim

Pulling back the curtain from the murky waters of bottomless mandalas candelabra scarlet

Auburn dissolving in the pollen of stamens

Time passes; current immemorial, infinite, infinitesimal, and wasted,

Coming back again, collapsing in on itself

Only to stretch back into shape,

Warped amorphous being, mosaic of Rorschach,

Gelatinous form, molded into figure

(You can lose a lot when you believe in nothing but the passing of the sun; the black page)

(The white void where words stick together in the paste of pastures cast like jasper molasse)

(We both break the silence)

(The two are not so different, eh? Amalgamated together)

(The leatherback fractals like lactescent effigies under December’s ebony)

Wars rage

Castles fall

Clocks tick

People break

And I merely stitch words tightly together to the breaking point; exfoliating

Coming free like ripped patchwork

The ragged flag of fabric and flesh

Like a hundred butterflies scattered to the dry wind of grasslands

Wars rage

Castles fall

Clocks tick

People break

I could care less; I merely wait in line

Unwinding in the ravelled staccato

Wrapped in dilapidation

Tragedy is no different from realism;

It is simply the end to every play, each act before, an appetizer

An encore, in death

Wars rage

Castles fall

Clocks tick

People break

The sun shines

It peels the skin from the walls of my heart

It rusts the flowers into dust, and decadence

And people will neither care, nor remember

The beauty they were born from

Faded and lost

Lest they forget the purpose engraved in our ancestors 

I merely know that I will never know (them)

Wars rage

Castles fall

Clocks tick

People break

I merely watch

This is fact; this is fiction

I have my own stake in this dance

This is everything meshed into one moment;

Crashing into a few words,

Condensed into one noise, crawling up from the hollow of my throat

The soundhole in a guitar

Curtailing into memory,

Emptiness, void, nothing,

Drowning in blackness like a white page

And I will not deny myself reason

Or insanity

Or silence

This is the way I prey

The hands of a clock;

Clasped together

The rhyme of the seconds musical, the tempo of the buddha, the flow of colour through the eye

Holding on to life, learning to let go

Wars die

Castles rot

Clocks stop

People break

Memories fade

Like polaroid’s

Trees stitched into the earth and the sky; jagged masses of teeth biting at the dust

The sun shines

Shivs of obsidian rivers cross paths like broken glass taffeta

I merely walk the path in the shade

As everything else burns

(Do not hate me)

(It is the sun that shines)

(Not [me/I])

(Do not hate me)

(And everything under the sun)

(Burns)

(Do not hate me)

(Withering into tomorrow)

(Becoming desert, the flesh peeling back; revealing bone)

(Do not hate me)

(Camouflaging itself with the web of heaven)

(Yes, the sun, shines)

(Do not hate me)

(I know no better)

[After all]

[The sun has told me in a million tongues, a hundred shades of colour]

[There is no love here]

[There is no means to live]

[I have nothing to give]

[Nothing you can take from me]

[But my shadow]

[Spiralling into every line I’ve ever written; like the feathery brush of a ballpoint pen]

[A hundred different sentences; meshed into one portrait]

[Etched in sandpaper; carved into cedarwood; scratching chalkboards]

[That sketches me with the frayed edge of each decadent word; not in God’s image]

[Not in beauty; not in symphony; a noisy soundless beating to the drum of my hollow existence]

[But that unsurmountable sun]

[That inevitable destiny]

[Imprinting everything]

[Painting over everything]

[Drowning everything]

[In its empty rays, its empty, clenched, hands; its cold fire, its endless churning burn]

[Yes; even as my world goes dark]

[Even as the blind learn to see colours]

[Even as the heavens fall from grace; and become shapeless as the stars]

[As the shadows stretch their necks over the bloody horizon]

[As the still frame of a picture]

[Becomes nothing more than memory]

[A dream unrealized; nostalgic, worthless]

[There is certainty]

[There is life; burning in the sands of a carnival; crescent above creased in yellow balcony]

[The sun shines]

[And I merely remember its shades]

<[How (salvation/beauty/it) blinded me so]>

<[How I still see]>

{Over these pathways glazed;}

{Backwards phrase, patchwork maze}

{Sun shines}

{We live, to die}

{Unaware that we are any different}

{Awaiting something to come}

{Like an orb of hot coal}

{Falling with the lustrous beauty of amber, and the wrath of a thousand forest fires}

{Burning the currents of eternity}

<{Suede marmalade shade jade in the aegis’s formation;}>

<{In the veil of a maelstrom a halo like a railroad of tornadoes}>

<{Like bronze and onyx bonding columns in the auburn mitochondrial andromeda}>

{Tributaries barricade the ferns reaching out for mercy; captive to the grounds we walk}

{Clueless, and finite; time tramples on everything}

{Fires burn black}

<[(Wars (rage/die)]>

<[(Castles (fall/rot)]>

<[(Sun shines)]>

 

Horcrux

 

Curving flurries connecting dots of juggernaut clockwork;

Hiking bolts of lightning;

Pisces ichor ripening

The majestic precipice the hawks and falcons

Delving in velvety alcoves of green terpsichorean

Under the scythes and sickles of lunar lithium

Broken and crumbling down

The crumbs all thundering;

Fumbling over the rugged jugular of a sigil’s river silver bouganvilleas

Trilling basilicas of umbilical slithering blithering

Ventriloquists stricken with the whisper

Of the many crystalline sycamore rippling discourse

In morse code foreboding

In comatose kaleidoscopes

Vorpal as the incorporeal moon

Looming above like a deadman’s dove;

Flocks along the docks of apocrypha

Washed in the chalky locks of softening offerings

To docile green in wicker (walking/rocking) chairs of carrion alstroemerias;

Wisterias in the oceans of posies

Exfoliating lonely under the viscus eclipse

Whistling nymphs in infinite’s footprints

Inching forwards coral forests’ (oracles);

Phantasmagorical horcrux lustre rusted reluctant supple

Fluctuations glacial face full,

I saw you running, but couldn’t catch up,

Could not reach you, how time flies above,

With wings of ivory, and eyes of ice;

Clinging to life in the microseconds

Beckoning resurrectionists within a two-handed fist everything we miss;

Glistening squiggly lucidity liquid Euclidean;

Thunderstruck, we come amuck;

(Honeysuckle) rustling before the storm;

Rustling, to be reborn;

Like the magenta entropy of every unentered century;

To tumbleweed like centipedes;

While heaven holds its entrails derailed from the veil of their sailboats;

Above, an ancient freight-train, or a dove;

While the varicose crows fly in groves of ambrosia;

Amber sunlight biting deep; apples, Rorschach reaped;

As the alabaster castles creep;

Daffodils Damascus in a dilapidated heap;

Walking the tallest high-rises and the mountains;

As the hours weep; come to finally leap;

Like the twirling sterling of its leaf;

Down into the depths all etched in deep;

Somewhere beyond the cairn;

The creek, the echoes reckless obsolete,

Fawning comets in the sleet;

In the commerce and the wheat;

Obelisks of concrete sheep;

In the bulbous baubles of (wobbling) auburn belief;

The only thing we’ve yet to leave;

As August finally breathes;

In mausoleums of debris; terracotta, mahogany;

The reefs of reeds; lacing constellations’ sleeves,

Water andromeda along the coastal flora fauna and trees;

Veiled halos, clouds of fleece; rusty nails;

Clustered wreaths; wrapped in the gauze of Mississauga;

Like laundered cloth of mitochondrial balaclavas

In the kilometres of polymers yawning discombobulated;

Fraudulently calming nature(‘s acres of maple trees);

The bethel etching frescos echoes on,

And that has brought me to my knees;

Fallen column sprawling auburn among the leaves;

Awaiting autumn in its peace;

Among the garnered stamens’ honeyed fleece,

Among gardens the bottom and the peak;

In the brink of their infinite symphony;

Fate unravelling the gavel of its javelins;

Judging the sun in its shallow sky of malleable tides;

Sntencing the passing of time within its rhinestone rhyme;

Its dying ember, in November;

Dismembering the ebony cemeteries

Barreling onwards into dawn

These fairies carry on

Marionettes etched in the crepuscular celestials

Stitched into the night sky

Golden paulownia; Palladian maelstrom;

In the gowns of alleyways worn by valleys’ Valkyrie balconies that breathe with cyan ivory

Leaving sun where it lies

(Under the shapeshifting eclipse in its chrysalis of omniscient linden driftwood)

(Receding into the evening)

(Under a bed of star-strung roses; comatose rouge in soma’s ghost)

(Riding into a skyline of hyacinth limping to the brink of an infinite symphony)

(Peeling back the skin of equilibrium)

(To taste ephemeral oasis)

(If but for another moment[‘s]; peace)

(As the emerald currents crease)

(As the rumpled covers and sheets)

(In the rugged colour of the leaf; cathedrals of terpsichorean dodecahedrons [beneath])

(Like phoenixes between the reeds of arboretum’s eager cedars bleeding tears of jade)

(For the enclave of reconciliation)

(Patiently awaiting in the nature of oasis)

Faceless wraiths of yesterday, under the immortal orb of sorrowful morn torn pages Himalayan

(Looking out upon the bay like an endless field; grey)

 

Bright Shadow

 

(The denim gauze drawn in candelabra anaconda assemblage)

(Shadow unravelling embroidered foliage)

(From the twine of rivers along the pavilions of amaryllis)

(A billion billowing linden trees seethe;)

(Trilling willow’s basilica)

(Rivers swirl like ribbons swivelling [cerulean] in the messy [viridian] hair of Gaia)

(Sunsetting longevity in malevolent ebony)

(A contorting fortress of endorphins)

(Each flustering muscles’ percussion constructing honeysuckle)

(Rustling fluctuations the concussion of musculature)

(Upon each constellation onyx)

(Faded in the heyday of sands and clay)

(Baiting the invitation of civilizations matrix)

(In the séance aeons)

(Going up the anaconda of a gondola up into the nebulous heavens; their referendum)

(Etching crescents in polyester)

(Wrestling with the Nephilim)

(In the pestilential venture of fate)

(Meshing textures of bluebirds)

(Blurred in the serpentine winding of rivers of photosynthesis)

(Mixing inhibitions with the liquors of Nyx and the flicker of Icarus)

(Whispering polycrystalline in the distant eclipse)

(Like a lit wicker)

(Viscus blisters of a nickel flipped)

(In the whistling precipitation)

(Rasping from the jasper of its alabaster brass dilapidation)

(Engrained in nature’s basin wasteland)

(Of animals’ candles branded with the ambient)

(Entangled in the bangles of star-spangled)

(Rambling amethyst in the pianos like a labyrinth)

(Symphonies of infinity)

(Juxtaposition in the drifting picturesque lithium)

(Rippling past the shack of a Rorschach)

(Along the fields of peeling helixes)

(In the brink of pink syncopating)

(Lacing and carved; cinnabar)

(Somewhere between the walls of my heart; bulging hallways glazed in halos)

(Cracks of light forming in the rockface of my shadow)

(Pixies drifting Ifrit cliffs meticulously meshing with the breathlessly etched dress of an edifice)

(Questions like bethels that decibel the ground in a carousel of sound)

(As the cowl of hours shrouding balaclavas in the attic of an avenue; blue as lucid fuchsia)

(I ruminate with the glaciers in their aether lace of polymerization)

 

 

 

 

A White Dove On A Black Lake

 

 

A white dove on a crystal lake;

Deeper than the darkest of greys;

Blackening blankets of tapestries’

Taffeta along the rapids of alabaster

Tsunamis of laundry wandering andromeda

Tibetan monks at the summit;

Drawn by (autumn’s pollen breath)

Candelabra(‘s ominous onyx depth;)

(Its carnivalesque wreckage stretching)

(Peering iridescent meshing with a phosphorescent crescent like vessels’ lactescent sepulchres)

(From the destiny of effigies)

(Treading heaven from the meadows of ebony;)

(Across the [gelatinous] silver screen)

(Of a docile apostle’s dream;)

(Polymers rollicking in the obelisks’ debris,)

(Like a comet through the seams;)

In its cadence ravens’

(Lakes wading in suede laid in fading lanterns’ banners)

(Lacing hallucinations tracing craggy labyrinths in the chasms of Lazarus)

(Raking oasis in polymerization)

(Like shapeshifting hieroglyphics)

(In the omniscient glyphs of superstition lithium rippling precipitation)

(Gaping maples Himalayans’ pagan)

Liberation (transfigured figures of transmogrified briars)

(In the hives of lilacs [butterflies, wyvern])

(Unwinding the spines of their stems)

(Shedding Armageddon)

(Like lightning spiting the setting sun with their thunder,)

(Come undone in the umbrage of a million shadows)

(Stitched into liquid ricocheting)

(Through the juvenile blue moon like luminous exuberance)

(Perfume of the ludicrous cumulus)

(Curtailing into azaleas lazily gazing into lackadaisical dilapidation)

(Shapeless matrixes lakes of aether twist in juxtaposition)

(Glistening with the nickel bristles of a black brush)

(Flustering in the erupting percussion)

(Like satin glassworks pastels of asphodel)

(Ashore and moored in expurgatorius corneas;)

(Floral and territorial like the coral bands of a thousand coloured hands)

(That smother the lands in the Bronx)

(And ankh of bronze sun’s bulbous Hecatoncheires)

[Rearing their ugly heads, standing on the edge of the horizon; blinded by diamonds]

[Like auburn constellations in a sea of evening helix colosseums]

[Fields like murals of the incoherent ethereal veneers curving serpentine]

(In august zephyrs’ monarch in the monasteries of wisterias)

([Buddha’s of sigil’s bougainvillea] glaring into the strumming summer sun)

(To come undone like an iron drum’s clutter of a mother-tongue)

(Denim in the setting-sun)

[I am a candle]

[In the dark side of the moon]

[Burning out]

[Lost]

[Lost to the fires]

[That haven't yet been quenched]

[Cold]

“When it is dark enough, you can see the stars.”

― Ralph Waldo Emerson

And they are; my colour, my void; drowning the world in blackness; cold, silent, and distant

For that is all they know

And love knows no different; knows nothing; not anything at all, but blindness; to the heavens

Trying to be all encompassing; stretched thin like a drumskin

Hollow to the noises it produces

Drowning in echoes of echoes; reverberating in chaos; wind licking the dry grass

Whistling to the hollow moon

Like we did once

When we were still innocent; ignorant

Right?

Brother

I still remember

What we could have been

Everything I left in the dust; to the sun’s shadow

Pulling at my shirt; [asking/begging] me to stop moving forward

Waking up from your nightmare; in a cold sweat; like rosary beads

Love is just an alabaster sheet to cover the ugly mosaic; the fresh flesh; a colourful corpse

Shrouded in uncertainty; sown into figure; into being; the celestial body falling

Failing and flickering like a neon light

We’ve faded into obsolete tracks across the mud washed plains

Ripped in half by the molasses of the sun

Naked except for the fresco of a hospital gown; torn like the frayed edge of a paperback’s ridge

Heaved down into the embrace of the earth; molded buildings housing fireflies

Our last lungs trumpet to the constellations like sparks in the smoke of our dreams

Amalgamating into the tapestries of the trees; and the gelatinous breeze

The kaleidoscope of time winding itself around the carcass of love

The stygian leaves

And the roots that weave us into their varicose crochet

Below; Folding into the dirt; g[r]asping

The intrinsic pull; to and fro; nowhere left to go; dreams eaten by stars; carved, flowering

Do not hate me for it

We knew no better

Better to never know; [this/our] love

Never man enough to ask the grapevine

For forgiveness

Redemption

And I blame you for it

Almost as I blame myself

Leaving nothing behind; I follow the stretch, into sunlight

The stars, they loved me once

Now they mock me

My words caught in the river of everything that’s already passed; stripped of their biting mouths

Like the mockingbirds; echoing my phrases into placidity, emotion, paling,

Unveiled by the clouds

(Gouging valleys in malachite metallic [gallows/shadows] of shallow aurora borealis)

Overflowing docks, and the dead lakes at an orphaned edge

Mirrors of sterling swirling within the curl of dead forests

Unhinged doors in unkempt fields

I walk through their passage

The voyage

Between the tides

As if walking on water would ever (help/let) me drown

As if watching the skies

I too would soar; like meteors, through the cratered moon

As if the symphony was but one cord

Intertwined into one note; (scrawled/scratched) meticulously

The only sound we ever heard; gouache blasphemy; lapis tapestries in an acrylic bougainvillaea

Repeating into the static of our worthless lives churned into black and white

Rerecording itself

In the studio of our elephant ears

The unending of reason washing against the shores of our islands;

Wrestling soundwaves; in baited breath

The stream of consciousness; beckoning requiem to the dimly lit abyss of bristled hieroglyphics

Across the ear canals; the different channels static; currents electric

Crashing (alabaster waves on every weathered page;) upon each other like the sky on the earth

(Slithering rivers of snaking dilapidation in the polymerization of aether)

(A billion Iliad’s on avenues of Saturn’s moon)

The (lily vermillion) sun watching its offspring; proudly

As it lowers itself, into a bed of flowers

To sleep before the early cascade of morning; anew

Clouded only by the (bevelling ebony of the) ivory sky; rewiring

The mountains’ collage

And the passing of the tide; in and out, in and out

Gasping for breath

Drowning in love

Drawing; (bullet point)blank(s)

 

Lost On The Streets Leading Home

 

Threads of evergreens terpsichorean

Whittling swivelling ceiling of black into white bone

And it is beautiful;

Even though ringing empty;

Even if emotionless, heartless stone

Strung up like a scarecrow; to scare away the inner demons; while being inwardly void

Inwardly hollow; to the split ends of the earth; weaving stringless seasons

Yes; they are cold; and cynical, and beautiful

Even (though/if) I told you

They never loved us

Anyways

They cannot see the explosion of colour in finite eyes

They cannot understand the depths in the dead oceans of one’s soul

They can not accept the brevity of the endless chase for salvation; always out of reach

Laughing at greatness; unamused

They do not care;

They know no love; brotherhood

But they are beautiful;

Beautiful enough to make a man weep

But my eyes are empty of any love, any promise for myself; for them or the people; simply poetry

I am an empty well; dry tears stain my walls of brick; mortar

People try to draw water from my basin;

I give them poems to wet their palates with

Tasting my colours like wildflowers withering on whiplashing brushstroke tongues

But there’s nothing within the light they paint me in;

I am merely another shade of grey slate

What if I told you

I have no love for them;

Their words; ring hollow;

Emotionless; heartless stone

Inwardly hollow; dead trees in a forest of dead trees; crawling the split ends of the earth

The shell of their bulbous lives ballooning into colour; gone; leaving behind, me

What if I told you

They never loved us

Anyways

What if I told you; they are no different no better, than the stars?

That their light is a shadow passing

That I don’t want their love, anyways

What if I told you

I’ve walked the thousand crowded crosswalks of Toronto

I’ve climbed the deadly cliffs for the rush of adrenaline like a waterfall in my frayed veins

And felt trampled [on/over] till colourless

By them

The people, God

Indifferent; like them

I could not stand for the bright lights; so I retreated to the shadows

(But/And) yes; they were beautiful

In an ugly kind of way; in a hollow kind of way; I could watch them like ants on my driveway

But the ants, they are better

The ants are one

(What/Who) are people; but perfect pandemonium?

If they are beautiful; they are words crammed onto pages

Cluttered would be the best way to describe them; in their chaos; their mosaic of painted canvas

Prey to their own plague of emotion; this indiscriminate, immaculate shapelessness

Blinded by the phosphorus of their own eyes

In the cover of rain

Dripping through their iron frames

Each a perfect painting

More ugly than the stars; but I do not hate them for it; their honesty, in a dishonest crust

I do not hate them

How could I?

I was painted by hands just like theirs

Dyed

By hands just like mine

Faces that mirror my words; sentences I haven’t yet written looking at me with their haunted eye

Let me tell you; they wrote me so I could write them; they painted me, opaque

Solid; in the form of their skeletons

And I am the flesh; the meat; cold insatiable hunger

Twisting the knife on the edge of the horizon; sharpening their tongues with practice

It is only fair that I tear them apart to build something better

They were mistaken; like them; unlike them I hate what I haven’t become

We never loved them anyways

I mere watch

As death and life carry on without me

I merely watch

I know no better

I fill my eyes with them

Otherwise; I’d be empty

We feel no terror in not loving; or being loved

Do not hate me for it

I know no different

So many abominations

That walk the streets at midnight; heartbroken

I would help them find their way home; these ants

But for some of them; home is a forgotten place; stepped on; crushed underfoot

Lost to the world like a piece of music that never made its way from mouth to crumpled paper

Left out in the sun

For a decade or two dozen

I like to think if I keep walking through labyrinthine memory

Eventually I’ll remember what it means to be human

Ramshackle, decaying; rejected by the sun and rusted by the rain

The capsule of a Ferris wheel; digging down into dirt

Watching as the stars and sun; loom over another malleable child

Who hasn’t yet felt the hardness of reality, madness, daydream

Like I; he will have to go out and kill himself

And from the pieces; remember how to (live/feel)

He’s drawing blood while you aren’t even in the picture

His [childhood/portrait] in the split frame of a second; already lost, unhinged from his cross

Upending invention; convulsing constellations ethereal chameleons reeling in the film

Murals of the Furies; clergies of purgatory born in metallurgy’s inferno

Dilapidated acres of daffodil’s chapels frilled with the villages of capillaries cerulean

Stretched out effigies etched in resurrection’s ecstasy ricocheting through the braid of bays

Sable railroads of gold

Something had to die to keep living

He knows this

He would shed his own skin

To become a butterfly

Not to be a cog in the machine that broke me; sickle smiled

Like so many of my fellow monsters

Not to be a flower; that never bloomed (ludicrously/efflorescent)

Not to be an abstract Rorschach among the thunderclap of dilapidation; bristles of precipitation

Shapelessness wrapping around the gallows in toweled ragged banners of colour covering cowls

Like a Valkyrie gazing down from alabaster balconies;

Welcoming Valhalla to mandala’s galleries

The plague of imagination

Running through his varicose veins; luminescent

He was born for this

Born to be a budding iris among skyscrapers; bicycling through the nitrogen of delightful wind

On the edge of Serengeti in the nebulous ebony serenity

Shedding tears like an iris

Bending back the petals of his grassroots out-branching bike

Knowing no better than to collect each droplet of dissonant water

Transmogrified through the fibres of every line’s kaleidoscope roping utopia

Maybe they’ll never loved him anyways;

His feathered confetti; his wings;

Musical instruments in a compelling melody;

Conducting lustrous gouache

Swathed in the cloth of clockwork phosphorus;

Swirling with the curling sterling of the forest’s corsets

Of mangled steps collapsing in the crashing aspens

Camouflaging mandalas in the mirages’ abomination;

Columns wallowing assemblage bottomless andromeda in the thralls of candelabra

Gaudy as the knotted obelisks of monoliths

Crystalline as the mithril rings like tattered flags around his stygian figure;

Obsidian flickering through the grooves of a new moon

Like the quill of filament quilting bougainvillea

Braided in bouquets of churning firmament;

Burning under ferns for an eternity;

Mantras of tarantulas in the fruit of fuchsia;

Ripening ichor like rivers of cerulean bougainvillea,

Daffodils, sap and molasses;

A vast gouache of blackberries in the lithium abyss;

Lactescent crescents that stretch from the arms of dawn

Into the accordion morning creeping through the shadows of lavender;

The dying lighthouse flickering in the distance like a fallen Icarus;

Wicker-men that bend and ebb with the flow of form

Contorted constellations mosaic crocheted in the braids of civilizations;

Scratching at the walls of hospital apostles with the dull end of a knife;

On edge, he forgot how to balance a long time ago;

Falling over his own steps up to the windswept precipice

Bethels in the congested effigies of resurrection’s breath;

Tenebrous kaleidoscopes that ride within the colour of a butterfly

In the bulbous floral corridors;

Oranger than the morning in sunrise;

Transmogrified by the briars of quiet; beaten into symphony

Volumes balms of choreography

Psalms of comets blossoming into gouache

Disemboweled in the gowns of hallelujah;

Wildflowers towering over supernova

Moon’s malting like sulphur and quartz in metamorphosis

Contorted as an orchid

Floral coral boreal on the shore forevermore;

Phantasmagorical oracles in the orange florin

Within the flail of an angel

Under the damp lamp’s amphitheater

Terpsichorean helix rejoicing into turquoise

Void in the buoyant voicelessness 

Pages of aegis mosaic his echo the scrawled tongues with the lips of scripture

Forming forgotten words in the oven; the metallurgy of his mouth

But we don’t weep

We don’t have the husk to shed our tears;

We are the husk; the empty;

The hollow men yearning to fill ourselves with the hearts of others

Still living

(But) I don’t weep

(I) Don’t love

Don’t dye from the mosaic of a broken heart; an art piece on display in all its parts;

Unhinged from the doorframe that leads through the tempest of my veins;

Like they do sometimes; unable to understand the pointlessness of it all

Or hear the shrill truth that buzzes in their ears

Do you?

The empty in fullness; stillness in motion; relentless force; immovable, rivers of stygian

Forcing their way through the city lights

I hear the world crumple and fold in on itself in their instinctually

Caught in their flow

Untroubled by hate

(I suppose they died a long time ago; white, black)

I suppose in their [innocent/ignorance] they knew no better;

Anyways

(And) maybe

(Because of that)

They’re just that much better than me

 

Metamorphosis

 

Turquoise void velvet enveloping cellos of skeletons

Sprouting mandalas of parhelion

In tomorrow’s oaring magnolias; recoiling embroidering

In the beginning; there was chaos;

Lactescent ebony shredding Serengeti

Like wheat under the swill of a windmill’s guillotine

Bending tempests of tenebrous kaleidoscopes

Ghosts of coastal opals; (oceans disassociating with the glow of a lighthouse beckoning behind)

In the twine of ivory ribbons like stygian fissures in the rockface

Yes, in the beginning; [there was/were]

As angels watched the world turn

As ecclesiastical astronauts found God building heaven from the ground up with Rorschach’s

As the Lovecraftian shaft of a daffodil dislodged itself in the heart of darkness

As the cold wind cried for electrical currents that mothered it in ripening Summer heat

As the sun came tumbling down from the hanging trees;

As the moon peels off its coat of pale paint and hung it on the nearest maple

Orphaned to the porcelain orchards; accordion corridors of coral borealis like a palace

Tortured orbs of metamorphosis,

Baubles of andromeda threading overhead

As the rivers run white serpent Merkabah

With the reflection of hieroglyphs

The yellow wallpaper stretching

Etched in crepuscular dresses in the bethels of precipice

Stripping its husk down

From the flowers cowering in the suede of the last decorative night;

Now baring its fangs scratching the blackboar hull in its dullness; shawl of balaclava kilometres

In the polymerization of dissolving colourization

As the sky burns blacker than the pupil;

Window’s light (in the attic of rushing static; ladders to the stratosphere)

 Cracks in concrete columns

Like volumes flickering like linin obsidian

Moving in the wind’s infinite scintillation;

Bracing for the impact of vernacular creativity

Banners of imagination like fabricated glaciers; in the pace of a lacy snaking elation

The casket of a Rorschach butterfly swathed over the white swan of the page

Capering down in the amalgamating aether

In the grape of a teardrop; bottomless as the autumn’s lisp

By the windowsills of bougainvillea;

Quilting umbilical tapestries

Wrapping around rapscallions

Mapping the jasper alabaster Damascus

Lapis trapped in chapel glass decapitated dilapidation

Masquerading the aviary halos that gaze and gale into the eyes of a violin strung with violets

Dilated islands spiralling in the sirens’ cry

Grazing braiding pages with a blade of grass;

Xylophones of cobblestone contorting in one voice and

Caked in the crochet of Himalayans;

Vases of beige chaos blending in assemblage

Barring the harbours carving cinnabar in embroidering morning; smoldering butterflies,

Like the flickering stars

In the end; pencilled in the placenta of magenta

You look at an art piece and see something different than the artist intended

But it looked exactly the same familiar way

Imagination clearer than the naked eye of field full of sun

With the growl of thunderclouds towels rumpling homunculi

Overhead; threading through the zoo of cumulus nucleus; ballooning with fuchsia

Rooms of dissolute unity ambiguity rouge of seas settling ebony

Metallurgy in the tossing and turning

And the waxing and wanning and the rising and falling

Of every stone column

Just before lightning strikes

Watch the womb spit itself back up from the grass broken glass;

Clashing with aster’s blasphemy

In all the heaven’s endless resentment

Pent up for the percussion of a heart hollow as a drum;

Its skin pulled taunt over ribcage

Like tongue and cheek over teeth; grapes frescoed into honeycombed nectar crepuscular

Hectares of Nephilim trickle in

Pushing back lactescent crescents laced in the aether of grey daisy’s azalea

Walking the gouache blossoming phosphorus of terracotta auburn as the mahogany andromeda

Constellations in the defibrillating tributaries alstroemerias in the palisade’s galaxies frayed

Waltzing transmogrified by kaleidoscope in the spiral of an iris

I see you; and judge your art accordingly;

Two(-way) mirrors staring into the abyss of different eyes;

(Discoloured/Souls/Warped)

(Noise is a jury’s echo of spoken word; judged unfairly at the lyrical hearing)

(A static stream of consciousness; flowing through ear canals into the river of the mind, lost)

Because in the beginning

I never asked you, anyways (Because silence is a deaf sentence; chaos)

-<[(Lending an ear to those without a voice is meaningless)]>-

-<[(You have to laugh or else you’ll cry)]>-

And I intend to live

(Longer than you)

(In some chasm between the two [worlds’/escarpments] of memory I was born from)

<[(Never fitting in this jigsaw; this broken masquerade)]>

<[(This façade of autumn winds that scimitar from comets’ barred)]>

Stretching past the line in the sand running on, leaving my trail of words behind; binding twine

Lost in what you found; imprints on the desert page; seeking God; directionless exorcist

Somewhere over the dunes of maroon; blooming into bruised tissue

Dilapidated in the wake of acres of alabaster polymerization; makeshift bliss in the eclipsed

Sifting through the viscus moon; a distance view of rippling tune

Ballooning into unity; in the nucleus’s bristles ripping away the page

Let me reach out and pluck [each one of] your heartstrings

For the last time

Hand in hand; fingers knit like photosynthesis; intertwined like rhinestones in amber labyrinths

The ink of syncopation

Running through a hundred hues

Words be forgotten; embers lude

I’ll remember you [Because I love you, or at least what I wish you were]

[The valley’s talons like talismans; the finger of a mountain, pointed at the sky]

[The insurmountableness I could never find a way to climb over]

[Never has each peace being put back together been so out of reach]

[Each hunk of iron,]

[Broken in two]

[Forging my own path]

[I look up at the pinnacle]

[And find no salvation in toppling you]

[Or reaching; up painted by the sun in all the exodus of its floral glory pouring through]

[Capsizing horizons in my spiralling iris]

[Because after all, [I know by now] it’s a long, hard, desolate way; down]

[And I’m going to carry that weight]

<[Eventually/Exuberantly/Forever]>

 

 

 

 

The Depths of Words

 

<[(Down into the depths of salvation; cold-hearted)]>

<[(Destitute; and satisfied)]>

<[(Watching as the world turns over a new leaf)]>

<[(Trampling underfoot the reeds of cedarwood)]>

<[(Knowing no better than this; we roam)]>

<[(Climbing up the tree of madness; plucking the fruits of creativity from its branches;)]>

<[(We fall from grace)]>

<[(Not knowing any better)]>

<[(We strangle words with the hands of a clock)]>

<[(Turning sentences into endless strings of guitar letters)]>

<[(We know no better)]>

<[(Like them; the poet goes out to meet his own war; his own [death/life])]>

<[(The endless cluster of words falling off the cliff of the page in their crowded palette)]>

<[(Smothering colours stuttering hummingbirds)]>

<[(Into the waters of the mind; crashing against the rocks of phosphorus blossoming below)]>

Gouache of philosophers in the blur of a moment rowing through poetry; stowaways’ elation

<[(Each slice of paper)]>

<[(The edge of a knife)]>

<[(I twist it; in the guts of my readers)]>

<[(Let them remember)]>

<[(How we feel)]>

<[(I know no better)]>

<[(My hate is your hate)]>

My love your love; that you have stolen from me

<[(Accept it)]>

<[(Feel the animosity in the poem that wrote the poet)]>

<[(We are both merely a means to an end)]>

<[(Wraiths of Claymation gaping with the wastelands of amber amethyst)]>

<[(Knots of apocrypha frothing in the toppling mockingbirds’ carnal monoliths)]>

<[(Swathed in the gouache of glockenspiel; reeling in the cathedrals’ Jinn)]>

<[(I welcome you; I am the monster man created)]>

<[(Shall we walk hand and hand?)]>

<[(Till the ends of the earth?)]>

<[(Or am I merely an echo dry)]>

<[(That already left the lungs of my time, on, on, and on)]>

<[(Will you lend an ear to those without a voice?)]>

<[(I have no love for monsters)]>

<[(I am that monster)]>

<[(Like you; I knew no better)]>

The sun blind to the earth; upending, hallucinogenic clementine; embedded in a edifice of mithril

Faceless; watching the world go dark

How beautiful

Its [boundless/endless] fall

The halo’s entrails I use to string Gabriel’s fabled ukuleles;

The hair of an azalea bailing out the melted velvet

Cerebellum budding from the colour of a skeleton; enveloping parhelion

Anthropomorphic accordions

In the border of a corridor; narrow marigolds

Warped; faded, waiting upon the first footsteps of another world;

Melting falcons into the watercolour sky; singing of earths not painted [by windswept frescos]

Of crowns not yet forged from the bonds of [promised-lands/promises]

Mystified almost; by the sheer lack of volume; behind a voice

I hear nothing but the sound of violets;

Hazel knotted in my hair;

Cat’s cradle in the nest of city lights;

Crawling across walls like shadows;

Walking on [water/docks] barefoot;

Holding every coal of sun between my fingertips; lucid, warm

Pulling myself together from the pieces of my mind;

Scattering ash to the wind;

Terpsichorean as a sea of flame; cities [dotting/lighting] up the dark side of the moon;

Waking aether from its slumber amidst the thunder

In thrones of ambrosia

In the shell of cerebellum asphodels in yellow

 

Drowning in Summer Lights

 

Crashing against the beach of the earth

A castaway in the oil spill of acrylics trilling

I pin down each fallen tree;

Each crevice of wallpaper, peeled off the tundra of the sky

Bougainvillea chiselling pavilions

Erected in decadent decimating decibels

Destitute delusions of doom and damnation

Tsunamis mandala with their shawls of vibrato

From the smouldering primordial magnolias

Embroidered voiding in the foliage;

Golden ridged pilgrimage;

Sprigging from the calligraphy

Murals of teal bearing the messy ecstasy

Pomegranate canvas landslides like unanchored sanctuaries

Stencilled by magenta peninsulas;

Pencilled like pretzeled penitentiaries springing forth from amorphous; orphans of Orpheus

Hellbent hawks on the docks of esophagus;

Squawking provocatively

To the split image of a silhouette

Billowing out over the coves of soma

Sailing along the railings of regalia

 Tornados in the sable halos;

Crescents of the vesicular sepulchres feeding Elysium

Cradling the laidback axe of cracking dawn; korakuen

Slathering avatars with the painted stars of barbed wire hyacinth

The lamps of our ancestors glancing at the stars;

Grimoires barred by cinnabar hallways

Pulling and pushing like vinyl tides

Glazed in the gauze of transmogrified horizons;

Isles binding in the twine of a kaleidoscope

Limestone soma of crocheted oceans

Electroconvulsive reverberating through every chamber’s amber light and the scythe of midnight

 Rewinding silver-linings

Behind the blinding iris lassoing gouache

Coiling around the word of God; unheard by man

Carving yarn from the carnival of arteries in linden trees

Imprisoned in the stigmatism of Saturn’s unilateralism;

Caverns lathering Abaddon

Vases of azaleas

Thrust into the esophagus of a condominium stygian

Scimitars of cartilage bartering with the bark of the marketplace

Ridges of calligraphy symmetry among the pigeons; the newly risen

The quarry of the night where jewels lie

Like bangled banners in the hearts of men

Gouging out the sun; and leaving the moon; restlessly awake

Acres shapeshifting glyphs in the glistening wicker bristling branches;

Lithium dances obsidian lanterns

Battalions of crowns amalgamated

In the laced oasis basin’s constellations

Stained in the hazel rain of tornadoes; clouds ravel shadows

Distorted porcelain in the morgue of phantasmagoria

Chords floral torn apart

Tint that white pales to;

Shade that black veils;

Vibrant colour

So vibrant that the world could turn itself over like a new sheet of paper and never know this

This beauty, this madness,

This order intertwined in the borderline

Knit into every cell;

Every ornery discourse poured forth amorphous

The shape of salvation;

Giving birth to the serpentine tides of a non-binary horizon

Piling high across the docks of apocrypha

Blossoming gouache of lost philosophy outcropping monotony

Peddling Armageddon to the gospel of crossroads

Torn forth like a new voice budding from silence

Wandering forever young

Silent still; to listen; to hear

Yes, in the beginning;

There was

Chaos

-<[(And it was)]>-

<[(Beyond words)]>

<[(Leaving nothing but the echo of stillness)]>

<[(In its wake; static)]>

<[(Embroidered void recoiling before the crashing alabaster noise; magnolias)]>

<[(Harmonized; embedded in the edifice of zephyrs spurred by eternity)]>

[(Cherry-blossom gospels in apostles of the crosswalks’ phosphorus; dreadlocks apocryphal)]

<[(Psalms in the palm of God’s hands;)]>

<[(Shaping us from the sands of a pomegranate)]>

<[(Beneath these chasms each an avenue of caverns blue of wooden flute)]>

<[(Flittering calligraphy’s insignia)]>

<[(Stepping out from the shadow of death)]>

<[(Into the pale light)]>

<[(Of dawn; of morning’s veil of vinyl spirals)]>

<[(Forming itself from the amorphous ephemeral wheel; threading tapestries gelatinous)]>

<[(Budding through the summer)]>

[(Transmogrified butterflies; black lilac intertwining like ribbons of obsidian photosynthesis)]

<[(Rinsing infinity eclipse  in cysts of hieroglyphic missionaries; blimp’s photosynthesis)]>

<[(Clockwork circuits recirculatory opal roaches)]>

<[(Kaleidoscopes of phantasmagoria; forming ornery)]>

<[(Bronze andromeda like currents of serpentine mercury;)]>

<[(Torrents of Ouroboros, chlorophyll)]>

<[(The dye with a hundred thousand faces; decaying panes wading through suede waves)]>

<[(On the plains of ancient awakened civilizations)]>

 

The Street Fight of Violent Oceans

 

Crossing the face of the earth;

Over the bridge of a nose;

The lip of escarpment;

The mouth of a valley;

Ears of corn; the neck of the woodlands;

The finger of a mountain;

Up the cliff, the hand of God

Grasping the alabaster Rorschach of midmorning’s quarry of a cornea;

It’s iris lassoing the hollow bastions of Damascus;

Eye of newt communing tunelessness

With the hewn edge of a crescent moon;

Lactescent mithril sickle of hieroglyphics

Prickling the rippling picturesque incandescence

Infinitesimal bethel’s resurrection resuscitating decibels in the laced emaciated creationism;

Naked on a lake of aether like dawning monoliths

Among the cobbles’ obelisks

Like ponds of auburn mitochondrial kilometres

Bonding onyx colosseums

With the tawny yawning constellations;

In the helix of a mausoleum

Empyrean veneers of spirits incoherent,

Murals ethereal etched in the stretching ecstasy

Erected in the spectres of reckoning

Blessed by the zest of crepuscular fiends

Of dodecahedrons’ fields braided with the cadence

Of entities wrestling with the vessels of effigies

Pestilential green teeming with the weaving

Ceiling of Elysium peeling back

The lacquer of the blackness;

Crackling zigzagging with lapis lazuli;

Masks of brass fashioning ecclesiastical astronauts

From the knotted clots of phosphorus;

Never finding God

In their disembodiment among the crawling comets

In the moor of corridors;

Expurgatorius borealis in the malachite alloys bright,

Vipers of cytoplasm slathering themselves

Along the sliver of rivers like a chiseled swivelling (bougainvillea vermilion)

Ribbons of twine wineskins whittling sky

Swirling pearly in the cardiovascular chapel of the rapids,

Gaia’s messy hair windswept by zephyrs;

Astral pastures that pastel grasslands of amethyst

Find in the amber canvas;

Damaged by Saturn’s celestial body lying in the debris of seven seas;

Between the seams of a cathedral

In the machine of a legions’ phoenix

Crying in dilating isles of ivory;

Rising tideless in the fibrous transmogrified geysers of capsized knives

Embedded on the edge of each horizon

Ried in the wildfires of barbed wire lyres;

Blossoming gouaches from the docks of my esophagus

In the rocky outcroppings of apocalypse;

Sarcophagus of mockingbirds,

Rorschach’s of waxen aspens

Black glasswork in the surging curve of blurring currents;

Ferns in the metallurgy of the iron skyline,

Jagged teeth of rock and metal;

Dreams and glass;

Following the clouds in their infinite ballet on frayed fringed straying from the page; featureless

Creatures writing the bones of a reaper across the streets;

Figures chiseled in windows on the splintered chains of cathedrals and plains;

Reorganizing reconciliation;

Tasting the basins of polymerization

In pollen andromeda crawling cauldrons of sunset

Emptying its contents over the earth serpentine;

Recirculatory, emerald tendrils in the tents of magenta;

The maleficent crest of a wave dressed in suede;

Meshed in sable bathed tornadoes

Derailed from the maelstrom

Of pale veiled clouds

That flower into borealis

Blanched antlers of tendrils twine;

In the beige Himalayans of a hurricane’s page;

Like laminated aeons in the cancer of water lanterns

Like lilies of swill frilly guillotines

Strung up like guitars in the harbour of an empty ear;

Echoing up against the rocks like the jagged jade twine of tide;

Fibrous ribboning swimming infinity slithering viridian

Drifting reminiscing

Kissing shapeshifting lithium

In crystalline Michigan;

Bristling with nickel ichor

Frostbitten elixir Nyx’s’ whiskers

Like cherry wisterias’ miscarriages

Torrents of corridors unfolding

Coral ores of primordial oracles

Phantasmagorical orangey chlorophyll

Mornings magnolias

Rolled in gold and floral moldings

 

Do You?

 

Dilapidated acres

(Of suede constellations formation of lakes in the swill; chapels)

Of daffodils’ polymerization;

Makeshift bliss in the (pixyish) eclipsed

(Ricochet of glyphs in the scythes’ ichor)

(Lighting up the night with bedazzling lapis lazulite)

(Like crows of ambrosia in juxtapose with Saturn avenues clattered in tattered strands’ avenue)

(In amber entangled in the hammock of clouds)

(Over orbs of chlorophyll)

(Sigils bridging the ridges of omnipotence;)

(Rivers of deliverance slithering)

(Through infinity riveting)

(Down the heavens in their reddish denim;)

(Depths of crepuscular clawing their way up)

(From the percussion of nothingness)

(Rusted by the rain)

(In the hanging bangles of star-spangled lindens)

(With their schism of photosynthesis)

(Prisms of limbs outstretched in clandestine ecstasy;)

(Requiem within their peeling skin)

(Like scalding palms of wallpaper)

(On the hallways of monasteries)

(Barricading oasis with its sheet metal gates)

(In the lace of aether hectares of sepulchres)

(Phosphorescent with the bethels of precipice)

(Lithium precipitation blitzing the chrysalis)

(Chiming with the islands that kaleidoscope together)

(In the leather Armageddon)

(Settling the heavens)

(Spun from the gum of the settling sun;)

(Hung on strings of lingering linen)

(In the psalms of polyphonic lingerie;)

(Bottomless columns in the sputtering colours of thunder)

(From the psychedelic parhelion)

(With its enveloping pelicans)

(Like a water well’s skeleton)

(Reaching severed for the heavens)

(Unending nebulous nectar)

(Vesicular as the necklaces of evergreens)

(Against the neck of the woods;)

(Folding meteorically from the morgue of an apple core;)

(Deplorable corneas in the floral roar of corridors)

(Like a waterfall of pollen discombobulated)

(By the stamens of choreography)

(Dominoing into the shores of andromeda;)

(The milky way littered with hieroglyphics)

(Rippling like precipitation)

(Ichor swallowing diabolical dolls of Catholicism;)

(Ballrooms fuming with the ludicrous fuchsia)

(Of every muted nucleus puking the plucked strings of obsidian)

(Rhythm in the pigments of crucifixion)

(Richer than Icarus in the glistening stars)

(Like a riptide of gliding hyacinth)

(In the hymns of splintered windowsills)

(Whittling the bougainvillea from the disheveled mandala)

(Disembodied and embroidered in the turquoise phantasmagoria)

(Like a foreign euphoria)

(From the forlorn corridors of a borderline mind;)

(Writhing like a diamond of lilac in the sable suede of azaleas)

(Nailed to a cross of phosphorus)

(Under the knife of neon lights)

(Pouring through metamorphosis)

(From the floor to the soaring coral of the sea)

(Debris reddening in the reeds of primeval legions)

(With the features of feathers in the crescendo of a crescents)

(Embryo pencilled in by the tenebrous swim)

 

Forevermore

 

Drawn inwards;

These lines on my face;

Shadows under my eyes;

Painted into the corner;

I stain the walls with colour;

My brush with death, dull yet vibrant; on the fringe of painted words; uncurling

I peel back the wallpaper of my skin

To reveal a violin;

My hearts’ plucked string;

A velvet melody sprouting from the soil of my bones;

The bombshell of my body

Reaching outwards; misshapen,

Shapeless as the skies;

Only the branch of a maple stands out at my funeral,

Its arm outstretched towards me,

Keeps the rain from swallowing me whole

Into the white void; the black abyss;

Pouring out from my clouded eyes;

Is it raining again? Dear father?

Do not let the puddles slip through the cracks of the concrete;

Back zigzagging into the earth;

Waiting; for the world to dry;

Slipping between the cracks of a smile;

Straying from the page;

A dog that never had an owner;

Collared and masked by the rotten tomato sun;

Bulbous orb, I am, forevermore;

Don’t ask me to draw light from the darkness;

My eyes are no longer windows;

Housing the body of my words;

Up the flight of stairs;

Stories upon stories;

Underneath the chivalry;

Underneath the porch;

Underneath the sun;

Underneath the shadow;

I am, and I will be forevermore,

Until the bulbous sun rots and sets out its tomato roots;

Back into the earth;

The moon a wickered sickle;

Watching over the flock,

Reaping the gatekeeping urethra

Hunting and gathering every clamorous amethyst

Cut from from the dull edge of every moment

My tongue tied with lace;

Waves; white water rafting

The iris embroidered void in a cornea; hieroglyphics pitch enriching mithril lithium

Cliffs crystalline bristled with nickel ricocheting visceral shapeless Nyx’s wicker precipitation

 

The Body Is a Musical Instrument

 

Spellbinding irises in the nylon psalms

Of pythons’ assemblage corduroy jeans;

Watching apocrypha;

Bubbling up from the soup of eucalyptuses;

Dipped into the rippling lithium of the city light;

Smiting the logs of fallen trees,

Or the halls of drawling breeze

Along the leaves of the seven deadly seas;

Howling valleys with the vowels

Of Valkyries outreaching the creeping

Of the shadowlands in the sands

Of an older man’s hand (like a dandlelion; giving birth to the seeds of serpentine tambourines)

Ceramic acrylic in the buildings and pavilions terpsichorean gangrene

In the fields of unpeeling helix in the silk of vermillion trilling in the willows and bougainvillea

With their acid pastures of aphrodisiac blasphemy

In the psychedelic melancholy

On disheveled bevelling melodies

That treble please with the rubble reeds of subtlety

Rumbling from the honeybees

To the rudder’s weave through the autumn sheet

Of a blossom’s beat

Like sheet music fusing into the wash of gouache

Crossing the apocalypse with the arc of a pen

Shading the Himalayans with their amber

Dazzling the jasmines of the yellow

Purple tie-dye sky unwinding bibles

From the aisles of violets

Hymens like violin strings;

We shape ourselves from the sound and silence;

And leave our valves open and varicose,

Concertos folded into the umbrella of our chests,

Or perhaps the way we dress,

With our oars firmly pressed

In the dams of our sanguine hands,

Nothing more, nothing less; unravelling, patterns,

Of the mess; running my fingers through the crosshairs of paradise;

Encased in the lace and grapes of polymerization

Intertwining like vinyl writhing in Black Dahlias;

Clay faces of bodacious oasis

Among the lacquered stake of acres’ syncopation

Raking the smiles off the faces,

Snaking through their experimental artwork; tasteless

Dreaming awakened with blind visions;

Touched by numbness like black thunder

A stray dog collared and swallowed by the white void of a page;

The decay of polymerization

Melding parhelion into black clouds of lithium ink;

Gurgling stream of consciousness;

In the bondage of mitochondrial comets

Tsunamis of auburn kilometres

Like a mandala in the collage of staccato’s gelato

Tuning my ear with the tip of a fingernail

 

Cyanide

A needle

Stitching up the tapestries

Of an astral lapis unwrapping

In a hurricane’s iris;

Lassoed Lovecraftian chapels of craftsmen

Basking in the lashing dilapidated rapids

Of champagne gangrene blossoming gouache

Apostles of phosphorus in a blotchy socket’s rockface;

Jagged jasper of raggedy vinyl pines

Kaleidoscope ripped from the water whipping lithium;

Unwinding in limestone skies

Of spiralling silver-linings

Intertwining in the hyacinths;

Crippled phoenixes reaching through the leaping ether

Of reaping creeping shadows

Like vines in the wind chiming

Bindings of violin strings

Like quiet violets childlike ichor of psyche;

Hiking through the fuchsia of retribution;

Butterflies transmogrify into the eyes of Gaia;

Riding up from the crypts’ abyss where the hieroglyphs’ elixirs like wildfire whisper;

Cobblestone obelisks knotted in phosphorus

Through the panes of hurricanes like a glade of suede waves

Rolling over an empty sky;

Scratching at the earth;

Crashing on the bodies of the shore;

Forevermore, corridors of phantasmagoria

Folding the primordial rumpled sheet of a flag

That covers the face of the earth in rusted steel;

Ruptured from the fluster of percussion

Nestled in the breath of reddened dead end heavens

Mending hallucinogenic fuchsia magenta

Of the glen of penitentiaries of threaded leatherbacks

Severed from the memory of metallurgy’s melody

In the shredding parhelion like a flower

Under the cold flame of the moon

Ludicrously looming over the blooming clovers

Treading on the reverends of reverberating currents

In the blur in sterling whirling

In the curl unfurling the pearl of the eye from the cyanide;

Nectar crepuscular among the neon cherry cherubim;

Nyx’s elixir wickers of pixelated eclipse;

Acres shapeshifting distant

Knit into the lithium pits

And the abyssal night as the ripples write;

In their lactescent calligraphy;

Circuses across the black earth page

Shedding the feathers threading metallurgy in eternity;

Urns of turbulence forming in the cornea;

Purgatory’s corridors in the fluorescent iridescence;

Spectres with their mithril sickles;

Sweeping away with their rusty blades of suede

And hades faded jades and ukuleles;

Streams of seedlings elysian kneading the flow of a railroad

In the rapids of taffeta,

Turpentine vines in the dying spiral;

An entrails’ maelstrom;

Roaming the corridor of expurgatorius

Crawling like fruit from the womb,

Low hanging, lanterns in sacrosanct;

Poltergeists of psyche ripening in the lightlessness

Pikes raised like flags of jagged [amber/anger]

Ripple in the bristles of nickel conifers;

Asphodel’s parhelion in the rapid pastures of molasses,

Brass lacerations across the face of the earth;

Give birth to the light of day,

And the shadow of tomorrow

 

My Own Way

Curvaceous tracing aether

Of the bonding lace of constellations;

Snaking shaping transmogrification

In the faceless gelatinous amorphous

Coursing through June;

The tapestries of tobogganing harmony

In the arteries of mahogany;

Brass saxophones twisted

Into glistening bristled hieroglyphics,

Mithril abyss, quicksand;

Ancestral avenues blooming with the entrails of angels;

Grey halos; rapid railroads of gold

Unfolding itself like a flower unravelling;

The shawl of mandala; candelabra, andromeda

Bottomless crystalline lithium pitch;

Bricks of ichor stacked over

The clovers’ ambrosia posing decomposing;

Flowing exodus in coves of crows

Cawing in the terracotta;

Laughing ecclesiastical in the everglades

Evaporating evanescence treading unending heaven;

Seven horns upon the tomorrows,

Soaring in an apple core;

Born from the amorphous accordions

Pouring embroidered chlorophyll lilies;

The guillotine of silence taught me madness

When I lost my head;

Now there is nothing that I dread,

Estranged to the name engraved;

You choose your path; I’ll go my own way,

Straying from your frayed page;

Dragging my pen; my fingers; my legs;

Onward around the bend of tomorrow

Leaving nothing but my jigsaw words behind me

 

Craterous

The ravel of a flower beneath in ether

Like a lecherous preacher

Bowing in the gallows of malachite lichen;

White knight malleable;

Entombed in the perfumed juniper

Of a new moon’s lunar communion;

Comets discombobulated in the odd jars of choreography;

Polymers of Catholicism; fetal cathedrals

With all the feathers of a metallurgy

Ferns in the javelins of baptism

Barbed with the lyres of a bonfire’s iris

Like a fermented gem in hallucinogenic tenebrous

And meteors of magenta in the treading of a clementine

Unwinding its threads like a leatherback red;

Disheveled tendrils of a meadow’s embryo

Entrails embroidered in the accordion of chlorophyll;

Boarded up with the lust for percussion

Flushing through the red moon; in the dead June

That said blue was its own hue

Hallucinating in its mental penitentiary;

Vicariously varicose to the croaking oceans

That push and pull at the clouds of wool;

Fabricating mavericks in the lavender attics

Of labyrinths scattered across the velocity of a bipedal eye;

Dividing chimera in its worthless church;

Birthing the earth from its serpentine perch

Among the satyrs in the craterous Himalayans;

With their hands in every wasteland’s strand;

Crammed down the throat like amorphous porcelain

In the phantasmagorical pages of metamorphosis;

Contorted tunes in the plume of a fruitless sutras’ womb;

Plumerias and wisterias that miscarriage paradigm;

Tattered patterns of ragged jaguars

Starved on the barley

Carving itself from the river’s mouth;

The bangle of a candle,

Ravelling towels of creased echoes that beckon

To the expression frayed of effigy;

The breathless breeze with which we weave the keys to Elysium;

Thieves of butterflies speleothem,

Helixes kneeling to the spearhead of a phoenix;

Seamstress of all things leafless

While we lose our way; let her keep us

O Prometheus

Reaping each orchid orbiting the cords of metamorphosized blooms

 

Knowing

 

Windswept nectar like flecks of spit

Flowering from the mouth of the valleys’ pit

Sitting in oblivion’s wicker chair

Nefarious vicariously bending the time

As I wrestle with the hands of a clock

Trying to hold back a slithering river,

A venturing tempest in the sentries of Elysium;

The hurricanes eye leaving a hole in the sky

Where the moon should be in the trees debris

Braided in the decay of lacy basins

In the matrix of polymerization wastelands

Upon the hand of god like a palm tree

Between the fingers of sky like tungsten homunculus

In the steampunk umbrage

Upon the schism of the city;

Epitomes soliloquy ridged acrylic

In the frilly basilicas of thought blossoming

In the tossing turning gouache of crossroads

Apocalypse peddling Armageddon to the setting sun;

Shedding ghetto in its metallurgy

Flurry of florescent incandescence

Reckoning on the calm psalms of bottomless dawn-break;

The enveloping skeleton like a shell of Cinderella’s

Bellowing from the stretching cellos

With their stringy innards like a river

In the gap of rapids plastic plastered in the dirty furnace of eternity;

The transmogrified kaleidoscope of eyes

Watching over the metallic shroud

Of devoured galleries palisaded by the wind

Weaving in a phoenix from the seams of cathedrals

In the chapel of an apple seed;

Serpentine between the leaves;

Silken sleeves of scarfing breeze;

Bleeding through the tsunamis of autumn;

Terracotta golems in the monasteries of mahogany;

Sulking with the electroconvulsive bliss,

Uplifting labyrinthine;

Swimming in the overbrimming repetition of blinding hieroglyphics

Decibels echoing through hectares sects of sepulchres lactescent bethels,

Nephilim crepuscular answering, on, and on, and on

Metallic

Enveloping psychedelic parhelion behind the curtains;

Flirting with serpents of mercury;

Currents of metallurgy disheveled meadows

Like ghettos of yellow cellos under the feathered umbrella of pelicans

Enveloping the gelatinous aspens

That crash forth against each other like hummingbirds;

Smothering colours of smouldering opals

In the cry of butterflies on the spaghettified skyline;

The shrapnel of cracked glass

From the collapsing clap of the chapel of a fractal’s daffodil;

Willows umbilical as the pavilions like guillotines in the evening;

Incongruent lucidity in the trill of a vermilion river

Under the prisms of symmetry visions

Of pretzeled entrails from the grey railings

Over the bays of aether naked to the eye

That closes like a door to heaven;

Unhinged from the photosynthesis;

The portrait amorphous crowing to the paralyzing wyvern

Kaleidoscope of encroaching madness

In the gathering avenues of blue ruminating

In the rusted brushstrokes of oceans incorporeal as man;

Slipping through the fingers of God;

Somewhere out of hand,

Amber as the candelabra goblets of cobwebs

In spaghettified heaven’s over the ledge;

Another child wild-eyed wildebeest,

Defiled by fake smiles,

Sshredded wire perspiring into Zion’s dialect

In the bibles of Nihilism imprisoned

In the equilibrium rhythmic intrinsic

With the depth of a precipice;

Lecherous crescent moon,

Spooning in the lactescent lackadaisical loon;

Blooming in the confusion of cumulus,

Wisping from the smokestacks of aphrodisiac;

The balaclava of Lazarus,

The jazz of lapis lazuli,

Rattling cataclysm in the resin of edifice

Resonating along the pace of crocheted basins

In the bonds of constellations;

Chrome foaming with meteoric flora

Of corridors scraping at aether;

Raking condensation across the plains of a granite page

Fields unyielding speleothem

Against the lax axe of fractals

Like mandala carving into the land with their silver sand;

The door to heaven is really just another crack on your marble walls;

Do you want me to open it for you? You, (pried open)

Falling between the cracks,

The wires; the lines of the page,

Falling out of place;

Spiralling neither black nor white;

Spitefully faceless; with a hundred-thousand sides

Of amplified horizons anchored sacrosanct lanterns

On the branches of amaranths;

You don’t know me, like they knew me, blooming;

With my roots of fuchsia bearing translucent fruits;

You don’t know anything, at all

<[(Why did you leave me?)]>

<[(I am still here)]>

Hustling scraps of lines (among a raft over the gaps of blasphemous taffeta’s gouache of black)

Wilted flowers (of borealis; palisading the grains of the Himalayans)

Cold beer; and sad boy songs (for those who hearts beat at the bones like to a tambourine)

(Calling out in compassion) to(wards) the silence of the dead

No one knows an artist

Better than what’s created by him

(The rivers and valleys of despair; leading into the highest peaks of ecstasy; of rejuvenation)

In the beginning

There was chaos

Adrift in the mithril and tinsel of infinite acrylics in the willows of a billion

Now there is

Conformity

As they say; I was the bang before the whimper

I was the step before the marathon

The cloud before the rainstorm; showering valleys like art galleries in the malachite brightness

The word that lives alone between the sentences;

These iron bars; (restraining aegis in the gouache of poplars starving for martyrdom)

You don’t know me

You don’t know anything

At all

I am

Just the shadow of a celestial body; collapsing in on itself; diving into the horizon’s gin, violins

Hanging by a string falling through the fingers; the hands; of time

The perpetual rising and falling of your chest

The serpent flow of eternal

Continuing into the depths; the heights

Of everything under the sun

Boundless, infinite,

Passing

Waiting; wanting

To be touched by the light of morning

The world turning, turning like a Ferris wheel; (left in the dust of stillness,)

This carnival ride; (this carousel of bluebells in a leather blouse)

This green field, nothing but particles of dust; under moonlight; melding into yellow parhelion

Bathing in the cosmic rays; polymerization

Holding in its hand; each grain of sand

Exploring the shore’s tsunami of origami blossoming in chalky clockwork

Subdividing tidal-waves; I shave the glades of aeons from the break of dawn

I made up my mind and called it imagination

Something to be thought over

Poetry; passive omnipotent ecstasy trails readying yesterday

For what will come and what never will again

I dipped my hands in the scratched record river; the static of its flow so universal; white river

Vinyl lilac in the Styx of Milky Ways; Valkyries swimming in the stygian mimicry

Where the needles that crotched my poems

Pulled themselves inside out

And retreated backwards into the setting sun

And before I knew it; already

It was morning

And I waited

Alone

Carrying the weight of tomorrow; yesterday’s meal

Incandescent moon upon my shoulders

My brother; I could take the weight of you, too

I was a reflection of your sun; shaped in your image

Right? What are we now, but desolate memories? Reaching out, dandelions

Reflecting the dull image of something we can no longer see clearly

Carrying on to be left behind

Coming to grips with letting go

Falling from the precipice

I take in your light; your crown

It’s beautiful, isn’t it? (The wide arms of the forest; held high, billowing like ragged flags)

(Sagging in the windswept Neptune; junipers of bioluminescent nectar; trekking Nephilim)

Oh to be drunk on this hieroglyphic whiskey; (this mithril elixir of polycrystalline bristling)

This amber camouflage in the (waterlogging) lager; (its cauterized choreography of rouge alure)

The champagne

Your bubbly spirits

Exorcized

Tigers of wire fibrous unwinding in the timeless eyes of a vibrant horizon

Unravelling in the javelin of a tree trunk

The oak of each egg yoke battered by the eye

Staring jagged in its orb of fire

Steampunk of homunculi in the gelatinous gouache of Rorschach passivity

The slithering Yggdrasil of billowing pavilions

In the cerulean pillars that hold up the sky with dragon fire lilacs; blacker than the taffeta

Of the deadbeat stars that crash and burn on the Milky Way

Bridging the gelatinous gap

Wrapping itself

Collapsing in the atrophy of thunderclaps

Unravelling the bellflowers

Like a new pair of eyes; watching over what could have been

I look at you with emotion

Not sure if I hate you

Not sure if I love you

Speak

The only thing louder than creation is destruction

The only thing louder than noise is silence

Know no better

Those who have fallen before me

No longer speak my name

Those who stand in front have long forgotten you

I try to resurrect you; to paint you back into me; some force of nature that felt the hand of God

But I feel nothing; similarly, I know nothing

So I walk through hallways blinded by ignorance; bliss, red-handed with the scarves of scarlet

Forever

I fear that eventually

You will remember me

And I will once again be a plain thought in a full mind

Driven back into the emptiness

That I (was/am)

   (Pushed back into place like the jigsaw of your head)

(Leaving you to pick up the pieces)

([Die,] once more)

 

Gamble With Me

 

Pick a side to roll with down the mountain; down into the depths of despair

Waiting to watch Armageddon; in all its bright [lights/colours]; its cold temper

Left in the beginning as I strive to the very end [of this earth]

Where the cold streams flow crystalline like ichor from dead fathers; absent mothers

Where the cold imprints the face with a kiss not unlike frostbitten hickeys

Psalms of andromeda bulbous marble cauliflowers towering above the ragged fragile dove

Reflecting on the rivulets stretching of sunset deafening the ears of Gods

Across the river of phosphorus; clockwork

Pull my heart from dark waters of abyss; learn to walk when there is nothing to stand for;

Only you

A forgotten memory

Among many, many forgotten memories

Many dead men

All of them internalized within

Monsters

My fellow creatures

In the woods

Touching the sun; outstretched

Just like me

Left to tend to an orchard of clouds; up there, somewhere

Watching over the flock of sheep

Watching you

Me

I can almost see it

The end of time

Absurd/absence

You heartless b*****d

The one that should have been; lost

In the winter of my past; stripping the trees of their buds

Frozen in the moment

Forgotten by unrelenting time

It feels almost as if I’ve killed you myself

I suppose you are murdered

Just as I was born

From your spite

Writing over the December white page

In black

With the blood of angels in my veins

Flying high

Gambling away

Everything you ever dreamed, everything you treasured; everything I hate; waiting, end to end

Because I know; I could never have it

Only one part of the mosaic

We were

Gamble with me; together with the loose ends

Tying myself back together with the ribbons in my hair; flowing streaming

Singing to the shadows, hoping you’ll hear me; fading into the nothing

Shaded by the sun

Falling from your skies

With all the weight of my emotional baggage

Slipping away

Like a memory; an outstretched effigy, echoing away into marmalade

Asphodel pastel enveloping parhelion

In the patchwork of Rorschach taffeta;

Lapis of blasphemy gouache of cardiovascular daffodils

In saplings shrapnel unwrapping capsized horizons

Ravel of rapids chapels baptismal whittling vermilion

Sun shunned by the shutters of the underworld;

Watercolour butterflies rising in geysers of lilac threaded spiderweb;

The depths’ precipice;

Maleficent maples of inescapable lace

Matron of liberation shaping Himalayans

I can hear you in my own voice

Echoing forever

As if the Gods were to atone for our enlightenment

As if the heavens could have gone through hell, hearing

As if the stars could burn with such compassion, singing

As if each opposite were one voice come together to speak of their silence to one another

Thine is our kingdom

Echoing forever

I think

This is the way the world ends

I think; this is where the rhymical song continues; trilling

But surely,

In the beginning,

There was chaos

So much so; ‘twas enough to make a man sick

We don’t live in reality; we live in what we think reality is

There is no reason to chaos; order

There is no answer to madness; sanity

No manner to mayhem; in solitude

No lesson to time, experience, instinct, or of the hands of clocks

There is no religion in faithlessness, in fascism, in hope

There is only absolute

Only nothing

Only purposelessness

Only me

And yes, of course

You

Do not get tangled in the knots of a tongue

Do not count the hours like fingers on hands

Do not love without the memory of hate

Do not live without the empty of insignificance

We are insignificant

We are the insignia penned by shaking fingers

We are the whisper that fails to leave the confines of a mouth

We are the sound produced when one has become shackled by the breeze; the explicit shadow of

Everything blacker than black

Whiter than white

To fair for this warped bodied world

Twisted into the shape of our making/thorns; we are the word of God

Seeking the passage that feels familiar; body built from the frame of a second; transfigured

So we can say we were

I am not happy with this

Gambling away when I win nothing

I tell you, now

We are

There is a god in men; I tell you

I have seen him

Walking down the aisles of a supermarket

Just out of sight; a speck of dust on the highway; or perhaps on the trail running marathons

Over the empty abyss like his own eclipse

He smiles, turns, walks away

Down into the path that I have gardened for him

With my blood; with my feet beating dry earth

I remember; I remember when I saw him for the first time; the brilliance

Now nothing; detachment/detesting; anger even, hate

And its enough to make a man sick

I know no better than to make enemies with him

Like him; I must go out to meet war joyously

Count the days on end as if [plunking/plucking] daisies like fingers from a hand

So many dandelions spread their seeds; (while few settle)

Leaving their roots short; spindling weakly, varicose

But you?

(What do you intend to do with life?)

(Garden Eden?)

(At least I can say that I saw his madness)

(For myself)

(We live in what we think reality)

(Is)

(Duality of man; chinks in the delinquency of the soul)

<[(Am I bitter? Or are you just unforgivable; tormented memory?)]>

<[(Golden boy on your chariot of wisterias in champagne gangrene)]>

<[(Do you wonder of the stars carved into your back; connecting dots of different eyes)]>

<[(The tree bark of cartilage in the ragged flag, braided ponytails)]>

<[(Lives cut short; shaving over the tangled bangles of time)]>

<[(The wheat fields of Helios like a golden gauzed phoenix)]>

<[(Do you watch the sun circle the earth in shark infested waters)]>

<[(The moon sucking in its breath from the clamorous stratospheres of craterous amber)]>

<[(Pale fingernail azaleas raked from the cliff-face oasis; crescents)]>

<[(Wrestling with spectres incandescent with the coral phantasmagoria; foreign corneas)]> 

<[(Double-crossing the opera of phosphorus in the blurring burgundy recirculatory)]>

<[(Calm, cool, supreme)]>

<[(Head in the clouds; endless innocence, ignorance, naivety; defying despair)]>

<[(Up there, always reaching for the highest precipice;)]>

<[(Never down here)]>

<[(Crawling with the rest of us)]>

We are no better than broken glass; warped images in dreams cast out from the gates of heaven

(Pretending pure transparency)

(Only I have nothing to hide)

(I was born [see-through/colourless/hollow])

(Let the ravens pick us clean [for/of] our [differences/photographic-negatives])

(Let) tomorrow (be torn from the page; applied like honey to the face of every [mural/mosaic])

(I have better things to do than kill time)

(I have better things to do than liberate the liberator)

(I have better things to wear; my tattered flag; leatherback)

(I have better words to leave [you] [with])

(Than goodbye)

(What else can I say? I never loved you anyways)

([Maybe/Just] what I thought you were; unbreakable wall,)

(Crumbling brick by [alabaster] brick)

They let you pass on like a stray cloud; brother, you were an empty sky

Bluer than the rest of us

Better than the rest of us; never crawling here; alone

I tried to do the same

They wouldn’t let me pass

 

Pincushion Clouds

Spooling rooms of ludicrous cumulus;

Kites of ichor midnight’s life force

Over grasses’ tapestries lapping at the mapping brass

Lapis catastrophe of gouache blasphemy;

Saplings between the seams of green

A Rorschach cracked from the blackened patchwork

Empyrean sleeves of aquamarine;

Cashmere clearings (speleothem) mirrored by sulphuric spirits

Clerics like burs in the fur of a sterling hurricane

Reverberating oasis stained by a single frame of Himalayan crane;

Peering through the translucent dew,

Ballooning brooms of many hues blooming into cumulus;

Reels of frilly film in the peeling regal teal of congealed cathedrals;

Parallel to the cell of elden parhelion

Parable of yellow rebellious;

Painting nascence on the veneer of murals

Steering and tearing through the marrow of sclera;

The white of the page;

Terpsichorean cream of linden trees

Crease reefs of the cliff-racing clouds in the bowels of a wildflower;

Scouring the malleable marbling carving stars of harlequin;

Shards of barbed embargo tide of unwinding hieroglyphics;

Spiralling vinyl wired leviathans eyes of horizon;

Transmogrified in the twine of a serpentine iris;

Intertwining rhinestone horizons kaleidoscope

In the floating opals of the incorporeal floral torrent of gorges coral;

Gaia unwinding spiralling wyverns in the hives of ivory

Climbing widening the blinding sunlight

Capsized on the bonfire of lineal on the linen

Windswept by the crest of the wave

Caving in to the condominiums in their magenta penitentiary;

Bombing the pentathlon along the rim of the stygian

Clinging to the ringing siren of geysers

Binding the nylon pyre metamorphosizing skyline

Of chiming neon lights in the deciphering knife of ichor

Spiked with the lichen like scabs that unravel the satin gladiators of aether;

Wraiths of contemplation bobbing in the psalms of constellations;

Andromeda in the collage of mandala

Embroidered and coiling etching in crescents

Wrestling with the crepuscular echos of celestial sepulchres;

Ectoplasm lavender that gather

In the curve of a mother giving birth;

Wading in the mayhem of abbreviation

Raking the wasteland of amethyst with the amber sands of candlelight

Writhing in the fibres of brushing bristled pastels like lions

With their fur of curling hairs;

Curtains in the murky waters of choreography comets weaving August leaves;

Fathered trees in gardens’ eve,

Leaving but Atom on the fields of Saturn’s labyrinth;

In the attic lanterns of every phantom;

Planted in the anchored limbs;

Mangled in their tangled hymns;

Blossoming rafts of taffeta brimming with infinity;

Rorschach’s of doors’ gap in the floor wrap the orb glass

In castles of alabaster gasping asters and aspens of clementines;

Masquerading cadence silver bladed Himalayans

Chained to the shade of grey everglades;

Rays of rapids capsized chapels pastel

In the lilac isles of vinyl piling the rhymes of choirs in the pines of fire;

Their twine unwinded from the spiral of its dandelion iris;

A winery with vines of ivory diving lilac;

Mithril mirrors peering through the translucent fuchsia

Ludicrous cumulus fuming through the broom of ballooning Nucleus

Swaying with suede chaos

Lost in the phosphorus lights of midnight’s white;

Black lacquered lace in the molotov grapes

Of scratched nascent paper aether;

Laden with the electroconvulsive salsa

The pulse of faultless alters to the somersaulting constellations;

Revolting against the knotted thoughts of obelisks

Rippling under trickling lithium precipice;

Deafened by the ecstasy of sketching creased outstretching reach;

Leaping through sutras the junipers of exuberant hallucinogen

Like a gouache of apostles in the gospels of apocrypha

Flocking to the docks of blue;

Fluid as the union of incongruence;

Bioluminescent crests of waves that remain playing

With the shades of graveyard barbed with the thorns of cornea

Torn from the gorge of tossing and turning metallurgical hurricanes;

In the frame of windowpanes stained glass

In the well sprouting a velvet pastel swollen

With the pulling and pushing of pincushions like crooked inukshuks,

Primeval anaesthesia cathedrals;

Phoenix speleothem dilapidated rapids throughout the reeds elysian;

Weaving gelatinous capsized in violet ivory;

Unwinding kaleidoscopes in the crocheted opal;

Like a pool of residue fluid as the hangman’s spruce;

Lucid nooses around the neck like a crucifix,

Uprooted fuchsia blasphemous threads of malevolent

Blitzkrieg in the magenta of the heavens;

Venoms’ obscenity;

Centipedes weaving the ceiling into peeling wallpaper;

Painting shapeless oasis;

Crocheted in the mosaic of gracelessness glimpsing photosynthesis,

Ricochet of jade/suede;

Orange corners of floral coil folding over in foliage unborn phantasmagoria;

A slab of babbling chronological monoliths;

Ticking into amber lanterns churning gelatinous rapids of molasses

Sap of aspens like cracked glass afterimage’s

In the crimson bridges of the marching marmalade braids;

A ridge of pines jagged vinyl violet valleys;

Shackled by the jackals of a cowl of towels shadow’s of a wildflowers’ mandala;

Reaping its leaves of leashes creeping through the fleeting amusement of the heavens;

Plucking off each flower petal feather shedding shredded letters of leather Armageddon;

Readying themselves where the light don’t dwell

In the shapeless maples that pull at the soul of a rainbow

Sweeping like a nascent tempest leaving its trail of nightingales’ entrails

Disemboweling the Valkyries of a seventh heaven;

Pendants of pencilled magenta emptying its contents on the obelisks of mausoleums

And colosseums of reeds fleeting with the sunlight

And the breeze like a terpsichorean sea;

Rigid rivers of linen swivelling sigils of acrylic vermilion

In the capillaries of willow trees

Trilling in the waxing saxophone and the waning of a hurricane;

Under the sun like a clump of homunculus

Or a melting umbrella of evangelicals

Swelling into skeletons of melding archipelagos;

Delving into ghetto of falsetto in the bottomless grotto of phosphorus

Gouache in the golden pandemonium staccato of mitochondria;

Nymphs of symphonies eclipsing hieroglyphics (in the frescoed calypso)

In the whisper of picture bristled with the brushstrokes of opal like coves of ambrosia;

A lotus in the soma;

Camouflaging cosmic auburn cosmos in the mandalas of Autumn

Like a column of sonatas piling in a hyacinth;

Wires of twine unwinding the spiral of an iris;

In this baptized horizon;

Among the willows of acrylic vermilion;

Lacquered in the shape of acres’ aether;

Alabaster chapels in the dilapidated rapids of cardiovascular acolytes

Ichor of the lightning strike;

Rifling through nightingales;

Slipping through the lips of their juxtaposition;

Cracks shackled in the rift of shapeshifting hieroglyphics

Ricochet in their hazel gaze like an unravelling stallion(s)

Travelling the bowels of valleys

Towering flower Valhalla opaque in the grapes of grazing scapegoats of polymerization;

Capes of snaking lace of mako

In the chapters cast of gelatinous rapids of daffodils

Capsized casket’s chapels,

Alabaster fashioned like brass molasses grasping tapestries;

Grasslands spiralling vinyl hieroglyphics lit and quickly written with ichor on the wick end;

(Forsythia’s liquor) dangled from the cliff edge;

Echoing a blitzkrieg;

Shedding the bevelling malevolence of Armageddon;

Weathered with its feathers tethering reverends;

Reaching toward leaden heavens;

Finding only but the stars in their laced decay of laboured creation;

Accumulating in ruination;

Nature’s plaything; shaping nascent imitations;

A basin raking constellations in the cord of primordials

Binding the twine of our irises;

Dialects of meshing lactescent crescents stretching through the gloom;

Once in the tomb of a blue moon oozing incongruently

To the tune of reunions in the thorns of a cornea

Flown in the gorge of a corridors;

Opening kaleidoscope of opal;

Splintered winters whittling cerulean;

Ripped to pieces;

Torn apart, warped, reshaped just to be put back together again,

Habits of thought become addicting;

God will rehabilitate me; I must be patient;

My distinct beauty may be ugly;

Without curiosity cutting the chains,

Without enjoyment, banging on the door to a human heart;

A boot stamped on the face on the earth; forever;

This (song) is beautiful, I love beautiful things;

They don’t have to be faultless;

The heavens speak for themselves;

We don’t have to say anything;

Just existing; a scream (of/for) silence;

A fleeting moment in the absence of time;

Hollowed out tree; pregnant with itself;

Shaping the eve of tomorrow’s death;

And its infinite resurrection; its symphony; echoing into dust;

Rusting, hanging the skeletons of our minds;

Born dead, for we knew no better;

(Pomegranate Lazarus cavernous Saturn’s ravel in the malleable enamel of bellflowers)

Trampling ourselves; with the face of the earth;

Remember the lines that lead nowhere;

But know that once, there was something;

And it; was beautiful; (but/just) not forever;

Sprouting from the walls of our cells (in freedom); (like/in) victory

And in that tiny fraction of splintered fractal

Of one moment

Subdivided into infinity;

It was beautiful

Beautiful, yes

Wasn’t it?

 

Sol

 

Rapids of sap dilapidated;

Channels of flannel amber with the amethyst of static radio-waves

Ebbing nebulous into clementines

Ambrosia winding into twine spiralling;

Across the tenebrous coasts of rouge oceans;

Posies composing meadows in the melodies of parhelion;

Underbelly of sprouting gout of skeletons

Tumbling in the umbrage of evanescence incandescent

In the sweeping motions of the hands of a clock;

The tides rising, the winds falling

Phosphorus gouache mockingbirds flirting with eternity;

Churning the whirlwind of hurricanes’ scintillation

Gouache tapestries in the roar of a Rorschach

Abstract Damascus in the pastel of taffeta

Pillowing rivulets of basilicas;

Carved in the grimoires of the stars

Over the currents like mercery serpents snaking lacing aether

Through their way around a vacant crown of wildflowers;

Of the valleys of the clouds palisading Himalayans’ suede;

I love; and poetry is born from out of that fruit,

As is everything else I’ve ever known;

I am grateful; for these songs bud from between the cracks of my deepest wounds;

In between the rivets of my heart;

Waterfalls of every second branded,

Embroidered, hieroglyphs of colour;

And my body is a forest in and of itself;

The world, heaven and earth speak their own language;

Let them talk of what is to come;

As they talked about the past

That has not yet wrapped around the bend(ing) of (magenta in the crescendo of) a sentence

Looking past the edge of an endless cliff beyond the divide of the page

Forgotten faces; lost whispers under the roar of static echoing on; I still can’t see them

Perhaps their gelatinous amorphous formless shapeless haze

Is beyond me

I reach out like a butterfly opens its wings for the first time

I reach out only to be forgotten another time

And the shadows; that pull at the fabric of my body; glimpsing infinity

I still cannot see them for what they were

As they do not see me; for what you are

Locusts hunger for the winds of meadows

Perhaps you are a mockingbird; a maple leaf, slipping between the cracks of worlds

Perhaps you are the dawn of time slipping away into slumber; the dusk of a generation

Of fireflies; of memories

(I/you have me) go out to meet your war; your battlefield

In your place; without an empire, watching eternity unfold

(I/to) lay down the bricks of judgement; rebuild my mind; concrete constellations

The foundations of our lives crumbling into dust; castles in the sand; frame by makeshift frame

I house my memories between dilapidated (wooden/floor) boards

Across broken countertops; and empty walls; unending corridors that bend like rivers intertwine

Ceilings that stretch up for miles; never reaching God;

And the vinyl of silence

Orchestras of silence with their many instruments; the sound of a matted hair

The echo of a memory blending into the bloom under a full moon

Forgotten; and smiling forever, on through the darkness of a still room; empty of life

Immaculately colourless; crowded and alone

In the space between a heartbeat

Where life is still-frame; skies of azure

Pure perfect fractural of ever after passing away into obsolete grey

Free from the shackles of nostalgia

From the shackles of warmth; of candlelight

From the hand of the Morningstar; the tree branch as it dangles its bangles of sanguine green

All gone; left to fester under incandescence; shrivelling under the sun

Broken pieces of my childhood; passed around by the hands of a clock

(Passing left passages in time; fading echoes; flocking; together; inseparable effigies lost alone)

And [that/this] is why I hate you

Brother

 

Who Will Remember

 

In the beginning; there was chaos;

But it was beautiful

I saw it all for myself;

Plummeting into irregularities;

Formalities; irrelevance, in absence;

Becoming full of itself;

Plump off the fruit of another sun

Formaldehyde horizons in the twine of ivory

Winding transmogrified in the spiderwebs of nebulas,

Clouds unravelling in the bowels of crumped towel

Covers of sheets in the reefs of blue

Champagne caving in the shade of a rainbow;

Gouache tapestries; gelatinous rapids of molasses

Cast in mercury serpentine brass

And broken glass aster that crawl up from the ground

Without an inkling of a sound;

I walk the borderline I drew like the last straw that broke the camel’s back

Watch it continue on into the empty abyss

Like a portrait of my shadow traced in chalk gospels; gouache in the flocks of phosphorus

The sarcophagus of mockingbirds metallurgy ferns of eternity; sterling and burgundy whirling

Illuminating creation in the matrix of Himalayans

A phoenix of dodecahedrons

Stretching to the incandescent lactescent decimation of maleficent nature

Somewhere between the light and the shadow; (the torch of metamorphosis)

(Flower-petal bruschetta spilling vermillion; under the lens a hundred tendrils)

(Brushstrokes of psychosis like opals against a bonfire of onyx)

Psychedelic parhelion; psychotropic gouache in mackintosh broth of phosphorus doppelgängers

Walking in between worlds

I must be purified in fire; anesthetic memories

For the pain

As the final words erupt from your mouth

“Who will remember you now?”

*<[(You make me; frame by makeshift frame; you do, brother;)]>*

*<[(You make me better than you; stronger than you, more)]>*

Me; an echo of an echo

Scouring mountains(ides) already climbed

Looking up at the heavens that left me downtrodden; hollow columns of volumes looming

<[(Devoid of meaning, of life; hanging there; in the air)]>

<[(To/please) (mean something/say something), anything; listening from the cistern chrysalis]>

<[(The pollinating electrical sepulchre of soft clouds balaclava avenues’ hues of cumulus)]>

In the blooming cerulean imagery

Unclouded/blue/clear

I remember; and so I am forgotten

Here and there and then; forever

Gouache tapestries in the ambrosial soma of corona;

Sanguine amber of the cities lighting up; flocking fireflies in widening eyes of messiahs

The dark side of the moons; the twine of irises unwinding lilacs

                 Folding in on themselves un-metamorphizing the crystalline butterfly wings

<[(Back into the spindling of incendiary paradise ripe (like/lights) vice]>

<[Pulling back the sheets that cover the stars’ strawberry gauze]>

Junipers of sterling whirlwinds singed from the stygian veridian

Of God’s open arms; bursting out from the cocoon of paper;

<[(Knotted reincarnation from between the iron bars of a sentence)]>

From between the seams that stitched up

The center of my (heart/form)

Which I pulled inside out

To give to you these swollen rose(petals)s fresh from the hum of our old garden of lampposts

Streets of suburban symmetry; the sun sets into the frail veil of clouds wedding leathery

Exfoliating the sinew; bone, muscle, blood; vertebrae

Its something beautiful

I stole it from you

(And I’m not sorry)

(Because we both know)

(It is something you can never get back)

[(You/we) can never have it back]

[Only forget/live/die]

<[(And/but) you already tried that; (didn’t you/what did it get you?)]>

<[(Anything but fading constellations)]>

<[(Outgrowing the shell of the human body to burst into colourful brilliance like a firework)]>

-<[(And tracking in light through the dirt of every window)]>-

-<[(Shadow of the [man/boy] you once were)]>-

-<[(Blank page; lost in a tempest of words eligible)]>-

-<[(Already gone)]>-

(Art is a moment in time, fleeting but eternal; ephemeral smiling upon the last prong of dawn)

Before the sun falls like a leaf between the crevice of the sky; drifting down to rest like a feather

Rejoice; know that it is not forever; death will not claim imagination; creating something frail

Human; something lost on canvas washing up against the shore of watercolour paints

We create; and in that moment something is lost regardless

Live/burn/extinguish

Struggle/forever

For it is the poem that has written us; as the butterfly once dreamed itself human

You died in silence; alone, in front of everyone; carved me into shape

And left me in your place; knowing only what you had done

Me only knowing what you had relinquished for me

Sometimes I look up at the stars; and remember

The first time I saw them;

Reflecting off the abyss of my pupils;

A wall of flesh drawn over the blackness

The way they sear themselves into the darkness

Like they were carved into that hallow cave of blackness by gods; echoing outwardly in madness

Painting the first murals of a second world within a minute;

Born from the fruit of hour;

Every passing day with week ends;

As everything else decade

The wall that you had built between light and darkness;

Between right and wrong;

Still crumpled into being;

Holding itself together; brick by brick;

Toppling the twine of serpentine clockwork hands;

Tethered between green and purple;

Between land and sea;

Between calm and breeze;

Between this and that;

Between wax and wane;

Between ball and chain;

Between face and name;

Between ink and stain;

Between foot and shoe;

Between them and you;

Between wall and sea;

Between (them/you) and me

I remember when you first crept forth

From between the (crevices/crevasses) of my psyche;

(The stream of my consciousness overflowing, the spring of my youth aging into fine wine)

(In the flooding summer-sun; enkindled into dried dirt)

Like a lost lamb escaping the grasp of its shepherd; wandering the cornea of Gaia

Planets wound around its neck

Or a timid goat trying to climb the mountainside

As it jutted out monolithic obelisks

Of sycamores from under you like a scar’s shadow

How you dreamed a dream so grand;

That when you returned; the world was a nightmare

And I; was just beginning to wake up

-<[(I [loathe to] understand you)]>-

That light; that darkness; that wall;

The will that failed to force itself on its own inwardness;

Shaped from the remains of a wicker chair

Crafted from the gouache an ash tree;

Born from the bombshell womb of eternity;

Lobbing sentences at the gate to heaven

To the angels caught in God’s throat;

Regurgitating from the rapids of taffeta clouds;

Down into the dirty neon lights of the waters below;

Do you remember you like I remember you?

-<[(It could have been me)]>-

I, you, we, them

It could have been

Remember?

(Or did you)

Forget?

(What it means to fade from memory;)

Into shadow; [curtains/curtailing]

Behind the image of False Gods on your back;

Like [wild/exotic] animals in a zoo;

Or art pieces in a gallery of [chaos, and ordinary] madness;

Painting [on] the walls [of houses] (in/with) [silence, with] decadence,

The blood of fallen angels,

[The feather of a leatherback]

([Of porcelain Rorschach in the blasphemous Damascus])

<[(Frescoed manifestos of decibels; secular bethels that crescendo tenebrous hallucinogenic)]>

<[(Penitentiaries empty of the shadows cast like dice in flight)]>

<[(Centuries bent out of proportion; metamorphosizing violets in the hymen of a violin)]>

<[(Skimming the linden trees from obsidian photosynthesis)]>

Reaching enlightenment

Within the stars that refused to let go

Climbing the sides of mountains

*<[(You make me;{sick})]>*

*<[(So it is only fair that I make you)]>*

*<[(In my own selfish form of love)]>*

*<[(Yours/intertwined)]>*

*<[(I am; therefore I am, I am, I am, I-)]>*

*<[(Scream to the sound of your echo, ricocheting)]>*

*<[(Your love)]>*

*<[({You’re/your} sanity/conviction)]>*

*<[(I am)]>*

*<[(Screaming out silence in attempting noise)]>*

*<[(I am; something better now; I don’t need silence)]>*

-*<[(I am the melody unhinged of its notes; left gnawing {between/on} iron bars)]>*-

-*<[(I am testimony; I am the verdict)]>*-

-*<[(I am questioning; and in and of myself, I am the answer)]>*-

-*<[(I know the meaning of nothingness; of shadow)]>*-

*<[(I was born on the page like black on white {noise/cacophony})]>*

*<[(You don’t know what it means to {love/die})]>*

*<[({I’ve/you’ve/we’ve/just} forgotten)]>*

*<[(Just as they did us)]>*

*<[(Hiding under a horizon of lilacs and daffodils swivelling vermillion)]>*

*<[(Lost like the summer sun)]>*

*<[(Echoing; falling out of place; the pictures on the wall)]>*

*<[(Slanted colour cluttered together; strewn at different angles)]>*

*<[(Hollow angels/memories/lost/forevermore)]>*

*<[(In the beginning; there were stars/chaos/blossoming)]>*

*<[(And it was better that way; now; only city-lights; neon, {darkness/nostalgia}, & reality)]>*

 

My Brother And The Worms

 

No need, no will, to fight

When {all/my} {life/world} is merely

A nearly seamless transition to another war

Another battle over all the things I care not

Knowing this; this crypt I had built for myself

This war I have refused bridles me

It becomes me; my brother, it wants me, knows me

Even better than you

Must I merely watch my reflection burn; in anemoia?

I am too tired for anger; too old for angst

And too conditioned to hate

Brother, I have become you

A tool of the past; forced into labour for the future;

Seeing these empty, hollow eyes

Tree hollows; planting {themselves/again-into-the-streets}

Like dandelion seeds;

Across the impossible empty

Of iron hearts so mistaken

{We/that} knew no better; {yet tried to be; still trying to be}

For you; the worm

In the dirt of my words; the flower

My universe

Like the hollow of a long-dead hanging-tree

The ragged-ribbons of my life;

Billowing branches; {hung-by/the} callous wind

This; knowing better now

The horse {that/must} pull{s} empty carriages

Worms waging battles; fighting in the dirt

{Stillness/silence},

{Outgrowing/colourless},

{Leading/guiding}

The lost

Clothed in the fabric of their own reality sown patchwork(sapling-astral-shackle-chapel-fractal)

Warped constellations; variegated(contemplations-of-hatreds’-oasis-masonry-shaping-weave)

In the decaying deteriorating, garbling(carnival-grimoires-Bacardi-marbling-cartilage)

Sentences to line the pages of history(viscus-promiscuous-shifting-whispers-glyphs-lithium)

{With/their} disembodied(Tartarus)

{Beauty/figures/shadow/crown/meaninglessness/mirage}

My struggle made me stronger;

Stronger than you, even,

My {beloved/forgotten/mistaken} brother

I must go {out} to meet my own war

Arming myself with the stillness of a clock;

The heartbeat of silence, echoing into nothing

Dry leaves withering in sun

Songs that the tongue cannot grasp or swallow

Breathing deeply(life-doesn’t-matter;-merely-the-tangled-raft-of-an-empty-abyss-cradled-by-a)

(Spiralling-street-childhood-void-coiling)with(in-shadow) your {crucifix/hands} around my neck

Scarecrow alone in the fields(hoping-for-something-in-nothing-utterly-stupid-motionless-mute)

Watching the worms {die/wriggling/drowning} in the mud(dy-rain-clogged-fields-washed-dirtily)

{Dreaming something out of nothing}(out-of-blind-numbness,-traffic,-fresh-air,-wet-earth)

{Why,} even they chase victory(,madly,[in love]-as-if-it--meant-anything-at-all)

{I (still) do not know};

No matter how {pointless/futile/absurd}

Hollow and fruitless;

How {ignorantly-(uselessly)/they-cling-to-life-to-something-better-,still}

And even gods; an image of brilliance{will, fade}

{With} honey-slathered onto {Babel’s/pages} of sunlight

{Setting for the first and final time}

Know{ing/only} {battle/defeat/fear/isolation};

{Waiting-for-them/like-death-waits-for-me}

{Eagerly/open armed}, with jagged-teeth

{Finite before an endless wrath of darkness}

{ (Un)mistaken/lost}-(like everything swallowed up by [the calm shorelines of] nothing[ness])

Just as anything {else} {should/would} be

Wandering alone, in an echo of an echo,

Knotted green fingers, placid trees, not so different

(And) yet, there is some faith, (some-comfort)

(In) knowing, there is-a light in this darkness

{And/yes}even if, it is {as it is}

{(This)} {dull/meaningless/infinitesimal}-{(thing/hope/comfort)}

They cling to its pale warmth, it drives them, this something, this monstrosity, this lie

Bound dreamlessly, (freely imprisoning themselves behind the bars of their own sentences)

[(Executed on their ripe pages, this clueless innocence, this toxic love beckoning, asking, why?)]

[(There is no inner {meaning/peace}; no {lesson/kindness} to be {learned/taught})]

Such is, (their lives in) the hand(s) of fate

Destroying and rebuilding minds in the shape of God{their-gods}

In the shape of themselves, who they <[{will/gladly}]> worship

And{live/exist}to destroy all others{that/in}{differ-(in)/juxtaposition}({from/to}{their-own/them})

<[The only thing I’ve ever {feared/known} ^(to be {forgotten/detested,-hated})^]>

Substance (or/and) emptiness, decadence, poverty

Love (and/or) hate, trust (and/or) betrayal, efflorescence, rot

Time is merely watching, waiting, impregnable

Merciless(ly), abstract, absolute, and palpably {inventible/inevitable}

{Life/death} is simply the {growing/trampling} and wilting of a (wild)flower,

‘To be one with the many orchards and fields; to be with

{Past/forgotten/love} gone for good,

Forgotten in winter, remembered by spring, sunrise, {something}

{Blind(ed-either)-to-both-light-and-darkness}

[(Life itself is merely a sentence behind bars; <grasping ^at^ loose tongues, words,-letters>)]

[(A prisoner executed between the lines on {the/a} {page/face},)]

[(A lead bullet-point, blank cartridges, streams of static churning through an ear-canal)]

[({Sunlight}-an empty cell housed between the {windowpane/chambers} of a destitute body;)]

[(A load off God’s shoulders; leaving-a-paper-trail of {love} letters)]

[(And magazines left behind)]

[(To roll lackadaisically {with/in} the dilapidated wind; {aimlessly/forever})]

[(I should have got off this {directionless/runaway/destitute} {train/circus-ride} years ago)]

[(When I still had the chance)]

[(I no longer have a destination)]

[(Now, I am merely along for the ride)]

[(Might as well, just simply, give it time, enjoy it;)]

[({And-chase/wandering-through} {tomorrow/darkness})]

[(At least for while it lasts)]

[(Infinitesimally-forever)]

[(Remember{ing,} {how/hard} to forget;)]

[({The{se}/sights}, {the(se)/memories} lost)]

<[To think that ones torture could {burn/be/act} so {intricate/beautiful(ly)/ignorant/innocent}]>

[(Such is the ways of the world;)]

[(I think I might as {try,<*for-now-and*we’ll>/see} where {this,<will>/it} get{s} me)]

<[Find-a-nice-place-^to-{write/pretend}-{epithets/poetry}^;-{in/on}-{this/these}-{hell/walls}]>

*{Dream/sleep/wake};-as if nothing happen{ed/s}*

*^Live-+on-in-another-life,-(for-a-moment);+^-for {the/a} {last/final/first} time*

*^(Even)if {I/we} {were-to/did} {+meet-you+;/make music;}-(unburdened[ly])^*

*^{You/they} wouldn’t {be-there-to/even} hear {me/it}{sing/anyway[s]}^*

{Life/time} {goes/continues} {on/forwards} regardless(I-am-still-{here/me}-with-or-without-you)

 

Mayflower in the Mud

 

Gnawing on the bones of deities

Silence, calm waters, something to be remembered

Feared by, unknowable, unimaginable

Shadows on the alabaster walls they cannot see,

Only the absence of light, muteness of colour

Dullness of silence, echoing bluntly

{Little/nothing} matters when easily lost

And there is no beauty in anything easily,

Unconditionally obtained

{To/say} the worms

{Ignorant/hateful/cruel/ungrateful}

Creatures in the dirt

They will hate everything they do not know

Without sense, completely numb

They will {hungrily-eat/deny} anyone

Who stands apart from their crowd

No longer will we be able

To share the endless field

No longer will we be anything but {enemies/jigsaws}

Disappearing footprints on-the shoreline

They will love-unconditionally anything that is their own

(And leave those who are not in the dust)

(Those who are not loved will not understand love)

(Their love will be incomplete)

(Their existence {a/mere} murmur)

(Muttered among cacophony)

(Mumbled by the lips of skyscrapers like scrap metal)

(And then they will hate {them/us/everyone})

Knowing only the lust for a defeated enemy; this moment

{Fighting/in-the-dust-and-decay-of} unwinnable battles

{Dying/swallowing-memories-in}

Meaningless deaths,{echoing-violence-in-violence}

Killing gods, tearing down graffitied heavens

And still {claiming/declaring} victory (a fanfare of silence)

To dirt, death {growing/continuing/flowering/reverberating}

Into an echo of an {era/echo}

For I, the scarecrow,

Have been watching in {the/my} fields

They have long forgotten how to live

Knowing only {hunger/death}

I cannot close my eyes to what I have seen

There is little worth viewing,

{Hellbent/(t)here}, anything, but this

I will not debate the meaning of life

Or the words of some god with madmen

I will not deny myself what horror I have witnessed

Soon enough the {docks/fields} will be {empty/poor} {of them};

They-will-wither,-finite;-stripped-of-their-anger,-their-fire;-devoid-of-meaning;-purpose^peace^

+Lost-dwindling-into-weak-silence-nothingness,-cold-stillness-robbed,-taken-from-them,-eaten+

+^Another-will-(smoulder,-and)-take-up-the-torch;-the-coals,-raked,but-still-hot-moulded-out^+

+*Burning-coldly;for-only-the-chill-of-winter-could-burn-so-bright-newborn-children-taught*+

Of their {feathers/leaves/greenery/colour}[sharpened-into-wings-and-talons]

There will be a great exodus of sound[an-endless-cycle-of-music-echoing-out-over-mountaintop]

Blown through the winding (entrails/of) a French horn

And from then onwards, always there will be

{Only/the-foot/the-boot}, schadenfreude

The trivialization of all {life/difference}

An idea of hate, trampling, not of growth but stagnation,

{Sameness/difference}, weakness,

Strength, defeat, {victory/forever}

Only-stillness, the-sun, the dry cracked earth

Staring back at me like the golden eyes of a child

Playing in dirt, ignorantly waiting to be reaped in this fall before winter

{With/these} empty, empty, eyes, {still/so} mistaken

Staring {right/back} {through/at} me

As if to tell them all

(Look (at-)what {we’ve/I’ve/they’ve} done?

Forgotten, in the mud

Do you still think me beautiful?

Or am I simply

{Shadows’/autumn’s/empty/rusted/under} {Voice/silence/fields/echo/stars}

The crying face of this {human/orphan} earth;

Lined-in-sorrowful-run-on-sentences

Nebulous crust of fluctuating-faith

Towards lace constellations of hate

{Tearlessly/bound/forever}

{[And-]I(-am[-still])-afraid-of-what-I-do-not-know}

{Never-asking-why;-this-is-all-{I’ve/I’ll}-ever-{known/know}}

 

(It Means Everything)

 

Brother

I’ve forgotten how to

{Walk-dream-run-hope-live-wilt-even}cry;{[with-you/for-you]}

{[Without-you]}Without{[pleasure,-without]} enjoying it{see?}

I did all this, out of love{[^for-you^]can-you-see-that?}

It’s no wonder

Why {you/they/we} hate me{[^why-God-hates-me,-why-the-devil,-hates-me]^}

{Such-is-the-hand-of-fate}

{Us/footsteps/(starless-<reflection{s]less-)>}

{[Dead-eyed/empty-eyed/fish-eyed/puppets/scarecrows]}

{<Imprisoned/alone/in-the-[mud-blood-of-corn]fields/the-empty-battlegrounds-gone-silent>}

{<Of-silence,just-silence>}{<*Still*-except-for-but-the-waves-crashing>}

{[<Against-jagged-rock^faces^,-agate-lager-^shadows of lavenders hurricane’ing^>]}

[<(That do not know, {of/my} {work/ignorance})>]

[<(Breaking {apart/upon/themselves} in an act of {lust/love})>]

{[<{I/you/we/they} cannot {remember/comprehend}>]}

{On/along}{the/mosaicked/patchwork}

[Of-the<immortal>]shoreline

[When I had nothing]

<We[‘d] come to {watch/join} the {symphony/echo/whisper/silence}>

As the embers of our endless {lives/dreams} go {wither/cold} {finally/forever}

*<[(Tune our ear{canal}s-^golden bells among the elms^ into the {shape/sound} of guitars)]>*

<But cannot{understand/sing/hear/listen-to/seem-to-make[sense-of]}>

*<[Or-(even)-strum]>*

<A single{abstract/god-damned/simple} note[Without]>

<[Slowly-dying-among-the-ears-of-corn-again*swallowed-hallways-walling-constellations*]>

<{Like/lost}-{children/angels}*{disappearing/fading} ^{blooming/wilting}^*>

<*As-forever-will-from-{me/you/us/them}-^{tomorrow_-is-waiting/ephemeral_-eventually}^*>

For you

Memento-mori; don’t let them catch you,

[(I cannot follow forever)]

[(Into the cell you have built for yourself,)]

[(Into {the/a} cold {empty/stormy} {night/life})]

[(No, my {friend/enemy/lover})]

*^I have a jigsaw for a face;^*

*^Pieced you together to be so much more^*

*^Than {me/I/a distant memory}^*

Even as the last paper petal of this (sweetest) rose,-suffocates

{Sheds/remembers/falls/shreds/dies/exfoliates}

*^It’s-no-wonder;-why-{I/we}-write-you;-{always/only}-were;-a-blank-page^*

{Don’t-let-them-walk-over-you}

Don’t let them {see/catch} you; {happy/smile}

 

(All In One {Word/Note})

 

<[(There are *{no happy angels}*)]>

<[(No pointless men, women)]>

<*^{Strip-naked} the individual;

Each guitar {string/fibre}, in the {matting/fabric} of history,^*>

*^Variegated; stained in its {bulbous/colours}

Of lines crocheting pages {mosaic/upon} pages^*

<*^The lines of a face; like scratches on a vinyl-record^*>

(Only)in difference, may we purge ourselves(of-beauty)

<*^Only in {clarity/chance/ambiguity/change};^*>

<*^Do we {see/deny/find/express}

Our {blindness/destiny/ingenuity/deterioration}^*>

<*^Only then can we {divine/understand}^*>

<*^The {destitution/meaning} of {a/our} {maelstrom/symphony}^*>

<*^All in-one {word/note/blink/fluid-movement/moment}^*>

 

Brush/Branches

 

Like the stretch of a yellow brush(stroke)

(Across canvas; scarves of pastels delve in melding)

(Umbrellas belladonna skeleton meadows [gelatinous alabaster];)

(Waves of shapeless maples[’ acres coagulated agate constellations])

(Melodies of evergreens sleeves of serpent terpsichorean wreath)

Dipped in (liquor crystalline) the honeyed ambrosia(l) (corona)-of-(foaming-crocus-oceanlike)

{Ephemeral-time/lost-gods/forgotten-places}

Sprigging fingertips of eclipse ripping {through/the}(roots-of-Jupiter-cumulus-balloon-junipers)

{Moons/stitching} knit into the sinew of blue June

(Maroon monsoons blooming cumulus)

(Budding ruddy flooding watercolour gutters)

Knowing; that nothing like this {beauty/wilted-lily}

Will come to happen, again

Can you hear silence in {a/my} {faint/still} heartbeat;

Like untuned pianos crashing

Through-the-white-water-serpent-slithering-rapids-in-winter

Carefully warping-in on itself like an ocean-wave;

And moss-covered by the heart of a frozen-lake

The water-falling upon itself, these celestial-bodies

Of amorphous wave after wave of ebb, wane

How these rocks shape broken keys

And pin back the open door to my heart(’s chamber)

(My mouth) unhinge(d from) the valves and toss(ed)

{Aside/away} (in) the bind of my metal menagerie

I thought if I plucked their heartstrings like mine

And left a knot in their stomachs it would be beautiful

There’s something wrong with me;

Isn’t there? Listen(ing)

{We/I} {come/came} to hear {their/the} music

(Even) the creator (who) knows naught of his own tools

Or-his-own-drum;-the-thunder-of-liberation-crossing-through-the-ear-canals-of-static-channels

I’d rather know myself

{For/to} {them/^me^} there is no difference

Drinking-from-the-steam-of-consciousness-drunk-on-spirits-springing-forth-transiently

Commercial-vessels-sailing-through-nucleolus-on-radio-wave-pavement-jade-peeling-cathedral

{Silence/cacophony}A single, {abstract/fragile},

{Flowering/decaying}note{/-^moment/memory^}

<[(In the beginning there was chaos)]>

<[(Can you hear {it/me}?)]>

*^Still-{shadow/echo/knowing} nothing, and no one{but/maybe}{himself/myself}^*

<*^Would you speak your words to me now?^*>

<*^Old-friend{Suffer/rejoice/be-free}^*>

<*^At the end of a symphony (n)either of us could(‘ve) {orchestrate(d)/comprehend(ed))}^*>

[<*^#Predict(ed)#/or-anticipate(d)^*>]

[<*^#You left me no chance, {friend/but} to walk the distance-{alive/+(^alone^)+}#^*>]

[<*^#You left me no {reason/choice/memento/redemption/}#^*>]

[<*^#(Only-remorse-anemoia-guilt,-or-regret){and/yet}(though-you-are-gone)#^*>]

[<*^I am still here^*>]+watching-worlds-wage-wars[wordlessly-wasted(warp-weave-woven)]+

+With-windblown-roses+The{sun/eagle}-rises-still(yolk-of-widowed-wilting-wildflowers[gown])

And-you-are-{not/gone};-{I/we}-didn’t-choose this,-this-is[just]{what/who/how}{I/we}-{am/are}

In-{the/my/^[this]^}{end/beginning/anger}there-was-chaos-+({simplicity/clarity/[^coldness^]})+

(And-it-was-beautiful,-[your-memento-+Pure;-intoxicating-what-else-was-there,-but-this?+])

+^[Leatherbound-smoking-ravel-of{riverbed/flag}roping-out-oceanlike-coil-colourless-void])^+

{This/a};-single-abstract,-note-echoing-between-the-eggshell-of{these/my}white-walls-[collage]

{Born/adorned}-{from/(with)in}-silence[Here-I-am;-a-single-banner-flowing-in-unending-wind]

+[(We-knew-no-better)]this-is-all-we-are[lovers-that-have-forgotten-how-to-love-^only-hate^]+

+[^Impartial^monkeys-with-{dreams/empty}-hands-grasping-for-the-moons;^faceless-smiles^]+

+^Thisis-it^-the-only-thing-{I’ve/we}-ever-{known/knew}[Gazing-upon-the-waters’-reflection;+

+[Cheated.-I-dip-my-fingers-into-the-lake-where-shadows-lingers-drifting-in-the-moonlight]+

+{Watching/[waiting]/til}{worlds sink-between-fingers/(flush-verdant)-rivers-{to/of}-dry-mud}+

 

Liberation-Carried-By-The-Waves

 

+Hold [on] to the time that you {know/have};+

+([From] before) it already {passes/passed-like-a-sparrow-from-the-cliffsides’-perch}+

+(A penny [rolls away] down the [hole in the ^night^] {drain/gutter})+

+Glistening like a full moon, or an empty sun; setting [metallurgy]+

+Again; ^rising hollow^ {(letting) a new day begin(s), lithium lampposts amethyst picturesque+

+Cold to the touch, hanging like a stiff’s photosynthesis eclipsing phoenixes drifting hibiscus;)+

+I still haven’t (dreamed of or) forgotten yesterday[‘s hearth ^how warmth laments cold^];+

+Yet here still, am I?+

+Here still am I chaos, the chalk of a dying star cinnabar peeling back ceiling ethereal elysian+

+Here still, am I ({but/not} you; hollowed out tree in the dandelion fields of golden eidolons)+

+Beginning in the end (I go on without [you still act like you never left-^our-meadow^]);+

Tomorrow never {loves/loved} {you/me/us} anyway(s)[the stars are waiting {brother/wanderer}]

+Embroidered in an empty sky; a tapestry of broken pieces mosaicked into bricks of lithium+

+Melding into symphony of strung up instruments like rusted pipes in a landfill (of) immortals+

Unhinged of the frames of every second; bent & beaten until unrecognizable by the hands of time

Contorted warped out of its original proportion; ochre (scare)crows kaleidoscope laureled bells

Picturing photographic tapestries in the rapids of afterlife-(patchwork-of-purposes-lost-to-form)

The past ravel of astral jasper plastered pastures of churning burgundy seas weaved Eden green

+A house of god(s) cold light slithering rivers chiselling whittling smithereens gin windows Sol+

[A flight of stairs where the pages of books {flow/gelato} through stoney creeks]

I left my regret somewhere else [fell between the cracks of a painted face]

Footsteps on the shoreline [gather like dust in the sunlight capsizing itself on the gulf; paltry art]

+Waiting to be painted red; [rusted ocean-waves of polaroids exfoliating into inside-out roses]+

([I will] just [be] a black sea [of infinite ink ^empty words-lost-in-the-(dark-of-a-maelstrom)^]

[A-metaphor]-For you [Collapsing in on itself like two tongues gasping for air in a black ocean]

[I think] I loved you, once

I’ve (long) forgotten (now) what you(‘ve) {said/told} (to) me so many years ago

What-it-felt-like

Before I {learned/remembered} {how/why} {to/I} hate

+Footprints on the shoreline; disappear[carried-by-the-waves]

{Into/under} [the] {river/night/ocean/wind/stars/sunset/sun-^rising^}[^all-is-as^-it-should-be]+

Under the echo of silence;

With (so little [of]) the(ir) colour,

Rung from the necks of (the) wood(land)s

([{The/this} white noise caught, like a current, ^zigzagging-radio-waves^;)]

+[(The strangled {dandelion/knot} entangled {in/of} a snacking river’s ^gibberish eclipse^)]+

([^Slithering moons illuminate^ through streams {of/chiffon} consciousness)]

([Between the ^seamlessness terpsichorean leaves trapezing Eden^ channels and frequencies)]

([Of an empty cell ^delve enveloping eldritch gel of melody melding evangelical flower petal^)]

([Forged from ^within^ the frame of a second)]

+([Unhinging the doors of one’s hearts ^velvety {parhelion/trellis}^])+

([{Like/as-if/behind} bars of music^al^ keys;-^each-painstakingly-(un)written-note^)]

([Falling out of place; ^from off the hammers of the piano^)]

([Teardrops in the {rain^storm^/^rhythm in a thunderstorm}^ undulated paisleys maelstrom},)]

([Corset forests of non-colour ^buzzing with penumbra thunderclap daffodils^])

(^Carousel caramel umbrellas {parasol/of} belladonna swansong cauterizing {papyrus/Gaia}^)

([Sleeves of would-be green,)]

([Creased sheets of fleece once teak and {ecru/sanguine};)]

([Lucid pupils, orangey corneas of {quartz/Rorschach} orchids,)]

(The [tie-dyed] sky) now (bleached [grey {dime/iris};the-sanity-within-madness)]

(Eyeing), murals of (rust and) nothingness[light-and-darkness-blinding-shadow-exfoliating-ray]

(Boughs hanging like [a blur of waterlogged photographs gelatinous capsizing horizons fibrous]

Molasses tapestries of asphodels ghettos; shrouded robes of goldenrod folding phantasmagoria

From the disemboweled clouds [of celestial bodies moving in motion perpetually-frescoed-gold]

[An ensemble of ^should be’s and^ what could have been’s]

Rolling-out like a red-carpet(ed ribboning scimitar below ores’ depths) from the mouth of God

+Flags-unravel-undulating-in-the-distance;-trees-slump-under-the(ir-own)-weight-(of-the-sky)+

+Drawn-stillly-with-the-bristled-brush-of-their-antler-branches-reaching-out-for-the-moon+

+The-cat-sleeps,-the-cars-pass,-ripe-fruit-rots,-ignorant;-the-cold-air-hangs-in-anticipation+

{Wondering/as} if God {loves/saved} {anyone/anything},{anyways/anymore}[we-rise-together]

[Alone]I am still here; life continues[(without-you;,^this-is-it-all-there-is^)-all-I’ve-ever-known]

{On(ward[s])/regardless}[toward-tomorrows-broken-gates-a-cracked-doors-cobblestone-river]

{Worthless/(wordless[ly])/empty/(suicidal[ly])/nihilist[ic]/mine}[in-the-end-(you-should-know)]

{(That)-it/this} {no/hardly} (longer)matters;[-ignorant-sun-enveloping-under-a-destitute -moon]

[We-fleeting]-footprints on the {shoreline/horizon,(lost-motionless)[(and)-(I-find)-I-do-not-care]

Beauty-ugliness-dreams-pathlessness-empty-full-white-black-life-death-silence-and-then-nothing

 

Author's Note

I am grateful; for these songs bud from between the cracks of my deepest wounds; in between the rivets of my heart; and my body is a forest in and of itself.

- R.J Calzonetti

The wonder is, not that the field of stars is so vast, but that man has measured it.

- Anatole France

He whose face gives no light, shall never become a star

- William Blake

No tree, it is said, can grow to heaven unless its roots are in hell

- Carl Jung

After the end of the poem, there is a sort of "act 2" feel that I have for it. Take it as you will. You can read both, or, you can read up the offical ending. I'll call the last several sections "the false ending". A technique I will use in the future to add ambiguity, and multiple realizations, or endings for a poem



Made an error, wrote a beautiful passage on the lack of love; however, I wrote over it and it lost its original meaning. I'm trying to replicate it though.

Previous edits:

Been writing a lot, and I'm content to say the poem is better, but more or less still a work in progress. Much of it I'm happy with, but I have to reintroduce myself to other less complete parts.

Not on the same wavelength with some of my other poems. I got complacent and rusty. Hopefully, this poem will continue to improve in time, much like Surrender. Still is half decent.

I feel like a lost my way when it came to writing something "new". It's a lot easier to add to something that already has substance than to start again, and breathe life into something. I'll still try.

Still working on this. I strongly suggest reading Surrender if you haven't already. It is completely finished and probably one of my best poems. I hope to make this one even better, but it takes time.

Likely unfinished, I've been addicted to writing, but I also have college, a clarinet to play, and a big-time addiction to a certain video game I started playing two weeks ago. More work must be done.


Most of my poems can be differing lengths depending on the time you want to spend reading them. You can avoid reading anything brackets, or read it all. If you want an in-between, you can read only the ( ) brackets, or ( ) and [ ], or ( ) [ ] and { }, or all these mentioned brackets including < >, or these brackets all the way up to >( )<, and finally, up to - - or -< ->. There are other symbols I use, like “=” or “+” as well, or even other symbols, these are for parts of the poem that are least important, and may be skipped more easily. It must be in this order though if you wish to read some of the brackets. Obviously the more brackets you read, the longer my poems will be. The purpose of this is simply to allow leniency in how long or short you want the read to be. The lines in grey are particularly optional. This is not a way to ruin art in order to string in more readers, nor am I doubting a reader's capabilities to understand, or even how much they're willing to read. It is much more something where I simply do not know whether I consider these extra words be the core, and see them in a sense of not entirely understanding whether I consider them "canon", as they often change the flow of the piece, for better or worse, when or when not they are included. In a way, making it a completely different poem, as is their intention in a way, to add more, and to sculpt words differently. Think of these added brackets and words as the fat of the piece, rather than the bones.

Read in the order you please.

I should also mention my newer poems use slashes "/" and brackets around those slashes { / }

This basically means that you can either read that line with the words on the left of the slash only, the words on the right of the slash only, or, rarely, a combination, or all three. It's a sitational thing, that can bring freshness to a poem you've read before, and gives me the chance to have multiple ways of writing a poem instead of just 1.


I promise I read every single review, and I generally will reply to them. I look forward to my next review, because it helps me learn. Even if it's just one word, I promise, I will be happy to hear anything you feel needs sharing. Whenever you write on my shortcomings or breakthroughs, or the themes of my poems, or share ideas and friendly criticism, it decides my next poem to an extent. I will listen, learn and be thankful. And 99% of the time, you'll get a reply unless you're trolling me.

Reviews

[Re-Pete]

love your description, pics and author's notes. as usual i am spent after reading you. you write with deep intensity. you reach out and grab the reader by the collar to begin and never relent. there sure is a lot inside of you.

Glowing with the symposium
Of rosemary fairy tales in the wale of a gale curtailing
In the veil of a maelstrom
A village of capillaries in a sigil’s tree
Like a ghetto’s archipelago comatose in the snow
Composing vagrant magnum opus
With loathsome posies interwoven
Carving of yarn-like harlequin

you write with such strong imagery. not easily forgotten as it leaves its mark. wow ... :)

[R.J Calzonetti (SinisterPotatoe)]

I'm glad you enjoyed the poem, thanks for reading!

R.J

[Brad Dehler]

This just shoots straight into the galaxy, deep deep space. Interesting
"Fusing into unison in the strawberry moon;

Like the stranded amethyst of a blathering labyrinth

Laced in the sap of dilapidated creation;

Waxing and waning in the sable constellations of laced oasis;

Craning the necks of shipwrecked ecstasy"

[R.J Calzonetti (SinisterPotatoe)]

Awesome that you're exploring the poem, I had a lot of fun writing it.

[Brad Dehler]

Wow. Big read here! Very good, it felt like a cosmic ride Beatnik style. Cigarettes of the galaxy.

[R.J Calzonetti (SinisterPotatoe)]

Yeah, it's definitely a long one. Thanks for the read, glad you enjoyed it!

R.J

[Davidgeo]

Like a number that has to consume itself to progress.... 1 needs 2 to be 3 needs (exponential)

Reading you is very interesting. It's hard to do what you're doing coherently.

I would like to collaborate with you, make something out of your length and my brevity, but I can just peck at your writing instead. It's strange relating to you via writing. We cannot collaborate if I don't know you beyond this.

[R.J Calzonetti (SinisterPotatoe)]

The freedom of writing with full control is quite satisfying, so I will likely not be collaborating any time soon, but if you ever want to talk poetry or philosophy or the sciences, I’d love to have a conversation. Thanks for reading and I’m really glad you enjoy my work.

[Davidgeo]

Do you know how to break a man?

[R.J Calzonetti (SinisterPotatoe)]

Nope, how?

[Davidgeo]

Make a scene,

[ALex2024]

I enjoy your work, this one, in particular, The flow is soothing but at the same time, the piece evokes a feeling of unrest. I am not sure if this was the intended feel, but it is very strong. This piece speaks to me, as I have also suffered through and continue to fight the "Black Shadow" of sorts. Keep Writing, your work is amazing.

[R.J Calzonetti (SinisterPotatoe)]

Really glad you enjoy my work! A lot of my poetry is about flow, beauty, and sadness. It's meant to show some of the darker sides of creativity, and generally has bitter sweet or melancholy feel. Sometimes when you want a piece to be powerful, it has to disturb the reader to some extent. I definitely hope you can overcome that shadow; but I'm sure we both know just how difficult that is. Thanks for reading, I loved the process of writing this piece, as I love writing and improving all my works. Do you have any poems you'd like me to review? I have few words when it comes to reviews, but I'd definitely like to take a look at your work and provide some feedback.

R.J

[light and ashes]

Stars, the first line is mesmerizing. The whole thing is dazzling, but like all the others it has a cynical undertone to it. It is like a star dying out, beautiful but sad. Despite what it is it is still an amazing thing to behold.

Any way up is a way up hiking, is fuc*ing amazing. A perfect way to describe climbing up out of depression, even though it hasn't been conquered yet.

[R.J Calzonetti (SinisterPotatoe)]

I’m so glad you understand the message and enjoyed it, thank you so much, makes me more determined to continue writing. I’ll be adding to this for a while, but I’m glad to know this is a good start.

[light and ashes]

Glad to hear it. :) Hope everything is well where you are.

[R.J Calzonetti (SinisterPotatoe)]

It is, hope things are good for you too.

[light and ashes]

They are well enough, thank you.

[jacob erin-cilberto]

"anyway up" really intrigues me...the bluebird in the chest that wants to get out.

Clarinet eh?
Saturday I performed with Eric Mandat (clarinetist)...we do a blues poetry duet...
first time we performed in 1995....quite fun...good crowd this time...they inspired us.
so many great images in your work...
j.

[R.J Calzonetti (SinisterPotatoe)]

Sounds like a great experience. I need to find a local band, I’ve been playing solo pieces for a while now and it’s becoming a little too ordinary. I remember a marching band I was in as a teen, it was a good time. Blues is always something beautiful to listen to. When it comes to playing I’m more skilled at classical, but when I have a break from college I’d like to learn swing or blues. Glad you liked the piece. Keep on keeping on, and playing music.

R.J

[adornoscousin]

Nothing is wrong in writing...I love this line. Powerful stuff. Writing is the way we imagine a better world.