January 23, 2007

echoed rubs

spiraled staircases
leading up to hope's
reverberating
thud
the spitshined steps
frequented
by marauding
sprites
hell bent
on tearing down
soul-less barriers,
them in themselves
whipped and shredded
beyond a mother's
reprieve

and this journey
is for what?
why do we aspire
to that which is
attainable by
the lowest minion
here on god's planned
escape?

wouldn't it be prudent
to race to the
nearest hierophant,
tell our tales
of woe and disgust
again and begun
till reddened ears
fall silent
and turned heads
spurn?

and who here gives
a damn
about a fellow
traveler's
dumbfoundment?
would you run
to discord
and lolling,
opiated
baboons
intent on
self constructive
manias?

no....
every echoed
rub
is a thorn
in the side
of quarked
indifference

why deny
the damage done
when twining
intercepts
release?

torched veils

the horizon,
exiled
and contingent
lush
belligerent
and static,
what is it
you hunt for
while strafing
it's
ambience?

to the left,
hedonistic
wraithes
gather round
corpses
clad in
in mental armor,
the shellaced anguish
crushing

to the right,
wells of soulish
hunger
from whence a
howling
clambering
and clawing din
for immigrant's
affinity
can be heard

before you,
absurd
beasts
of burdonsome
demeanor,
thrashing
and gnawing
at life's
torched veils

and from whence
you came?
elemental scavengers
gather and romp
on your shadow's
berm,
barking to
one another
for affinity
and comedy,
your psuedo soul's
journey
buttoned and spent

the choice....
never an easy one
....is to decide
whether
to progress down
lanes oiled with
promise
and requital,
or to rummage
in place
for useless
compulsions
overloaded
with
emotion's
dross

adopt
a tedious furor
crave
stimulated somnolence
never move an inch
and you will soar
the ether's
vestibule

matted affection

aberrations flutter
along unclad lanes
of ego's course
warping
sliding
lunging
for affection's
grapple

the child without
harkens
to the man
within

"play with me,
daze me
with your
inaptitude for
mundaneness"
it croons....

the man,
hesitates
and bluffs
not knowing
whence the
phantom's urge
dawns

matted and salvaged
pleasures
aggrieved
and wasted
the colors bleed,
blend and intervene
from worlds
gone off their
axles' twist

are you dreaming
when you
walk through halls of
softened perceptions,
the billowing
swathes
of consciousness'
realms
pushing
nudging
wanting to intrude?

oh, the madness
it beckons
oh, the thrill
it teases
oh, the escape
it suggests

rivers splash
across the spirit's
horizon,
wet, exquisite and
liquous feelings
slide down
the mind's throat
replenishing
joy and
excess

"there there now devoidee,
you are emended,
charge off into
alternate repetitions
and savage
your heart's
appetite"

flood waters

what's that old saying?
water under the bridge....

it's supposed to mean
what's in the past
is past
no problem
don't worry
it's gone, over,
forgotten....

but have you ever
looked under a bridge?
I mean, have you ever
taken the time
to jump over that railing,
slide down the embankment,
crawl under and around
those cement pillars?

debris, flotsam,
logs, refrigerators,
dead animals....
....shit

now you tell me,
how is that water
supposed to flow freely again
with all that crap
blocking it's path?

whoever wrote that adage
....never experienced a flood

waeccan

teth observes aleph

examining the grey

the hermitess regards the juggler
scrutinizing the misanthrope

the beguilar marks the ascetic
eyeing sanctum regnum

the eremite notes the shaman's
farcical pastimes

the archimage gazes at the pillarist
poking at absurdity

the shepherd's crook
passes over
those who preen at reflections

are you amused?
I am......
and the show goes on
......entertain us, tools