amor nervosa

poets never know the extent to which they effect the world
they are butterfly wings on an open sea
oblivious to tsunamis

as it goes - we are all poets
crawling, hiding, changing, flying
waiting for the day when death proves us wrong

he dabbled with the finer points
felt-tip pens and black ink ribbons
he tore the earth apart in search of words
and what he found was a desperate need
to simply love those very things
he sought to capture in written verse

coffee cakes now decorate the inside of her mind
maple butter leaves
gingerbread acorns
hot vanilla lattes
all vices for an invalid and yet
when she brings herself around
she wets the appetite of my humility

humanity does that to me
gets me off and turns me on
reminds me I'm nothing but
a fierce and wonderful number
on the abacus of life

[i need to make this abacist my wife]

the born-agains will think me something awful
but I will satisfy their peculiar lust for prophecy
become to them their Antichrist
solidify the truth of lies
that what we speak on earth
will be true in heaven
because when it comes down to it
the Holy Spirit is just another name for
Hope Deferred
both of which make my heart sick
and God can suck my prick
if He thinks I'll fast in flames
quietly in the night
instead
I'll share my plight and scream into the secret place
while every face is turned upon the Lamb
I'll be the burning man
who keeps the saints awake
for Christ's sake
I'm finished with this myth.



The feminine boys will swallow love like Ipecac
inducing what they deem to be inspiration
vomiting their ideology on the world
fooling the masculine girls
into thinking they are unique
but that's what they think
girls are clever creatures in the end
and see through vain attempts to act like men
the funny thing is
they seem to adore kids
and if desperate enough, will take us in
continue the nurturing process
that our mothers failed to complete
unraveling our belly buttons
to create proverbial umbilical cords
made from the scraps of
oblivious concern
or
the notion we will change
and thus a shallow relationship is created
from the seed of 'eventuality'
so the funnier thing is
both hers and his
inability to admit
shit happens
and sometimes its fun to play in it

The fatherless will become whores with hardened hearts
never trusting men
but then
they never trust themselves
they will tamper with habitual sin
and enter in to vicious cycles
of dependency
rendering their free will useless
to enlist in the listless army
of passive-aggressive tendencies
these are the ones to be cautious of
falling hook, line and sinker
for anything even resembling
a chance to love or be loved
they will sink into the ink
of the octopus
these wayward fish
who think they must counter the flow
but barely learn to swim
on their own accord
silly little fishies
the beak of the squid
will swallow you whole

he tinkered with the duller points
keyboard strokes and left button clicks
he tore the earth apart in search of what
he deemed to be a perfect reason to live:
a reason to live
and what he found was a desperate excuse
to exist within the confines of
comfort and casual conversation
the wealthy make acquisitions
the poor make mergers
he never knew an extremist he liked
he never met a moderate he respected
and it hit him square between the eyes
we create the meaning and essence
of our lives

We are, We realize, We become, and We define

the lines inside her palm
curve outward to the sea
i float inside her longevity
she is the starling passerine I desire
perched lightly on her enigmatic branch
colorful and full of song
and here I have been chasing swans all along!
i love she loves her father
and love him just as well
for fathers can shape the sound of a woman's bell
and hers is too soon divine
but not rung soon enough
in the tower of my mind

I can never destroy my ego
but i will take down the principalities of elitism in my life
pride has many minions at it's side
jealousy
bitterness
boasting
and I...
I will defecate on those that equip themselves with these attributes
I will refuse service to many
and have compassion on the few
I will choose to ignore the spectacle that has been made of mercy
grace - freely given - to draw the eyes of the ignorant
I wont be fooled by impostors
by acknowledging my own pretense
I will have enough sense to discern the 6th realm
and every dimension that follows
The hollow space between my dreams and vision
will have incisions made along it's spine
to allow the gases of procrastination to
dissipate into the sky
And I...I will fight those that rise against me
to find that peace is only present
when the violent are at rest
The best is yet to come.

poets never know the extent to which they effect the world
they are caterpillars in the garden
oblivious to their insignificance

as it goes - we are all poets
in a world that needs more than words

and the birds of our desire will be our end.