Rendition of deficiency ..

>> Wednesday, September 30, 2009

Do you smell sweet-sick flesh out here, moths and lust?
skeletons hanging like scarecrows, their jaws framed into grin,
outlines of hazy dreams, a shadow, a pulpit,
a ragged tree and endless miles of self-churned mud

this is my world, my poetry, sporadic murmurs of "fuck"
strewn without heat, drowned by wave after wave of
swelling phrases, enjoining, parsing, rushing, flooding
language is bottomless, dark pool out of which

I rake spectral cinders of my thought, a blank mote in blank
muteness, grappling at nothingness I had aimed high,
addiction that had come with wanting to serve poetry,
then wanting poetry to serve me when a flurry of volcanic words

spewed out from my fingers, rage of crapulent antipathy
surmounted and my keyboard rattled, when it snowed outside,
the sight of letters dancing on the monitor was better
than a shot of whiskey, restoring my blood to pump again

you chew these discourses with angry lethargy dear reader ?
lurch past something you ought not see, this lengthy poem
makes no scrap of a difference, you plunge no further under its spell,
before exchanging even a word here we've reached the stalemate

publicness has eroded my intensity, you snare library mold,
words everyone else has forgotten, my biggest flaw?
absence of a living spark, so I’d become fire, as fire,
my only wish was to flame, to deplete, to develop,

dazed and burning I’d blackened my soul, thrown my notebooks,
vocabulary and keys that abandoned me in presence of desolation,
the fire laughed and devoured, it reminded me of
something nighttime; subterranean and clandestinely crude

a room full of shadows, more unfortunate than that lurid first failure,
from which appears no escape, this knot in stomach, I’d known before,
somewhere and somehow I’d failed there I have failed here,
in my own territory I stand defeated; Defeat is a habit too.



>> Thursday, September 24, 2009

Paltry squalls of rain spatter on panes
warming under the coverlet I switch off lights
hunger fighting exhaustion, both in combat
with the images of Y’s body
the combination of Y and X
has placed tremor in my heart,
where love postulates fearlessness
I know Y isn’t like X,
and that X is now loyal to someone else
all men aren’t like the men
I knew in high school,
college university work or net,
however their presence remains alive,
full of potential for illusions and betrayal
“Expectation” pushes at our backs
like deflection forcing us away
until it prods us into limbo
that perhaps is the only explanation
for what happened to X and me,
just as it may have happened to A and B,
the same will happen to Y and me,
inseparable as we may seem
destined to diverge from this union
it’s the law of motion, science of separation
we remain lonely in proportion, while
seeking refuge in wineglasses, kisses, shadows
letting all our notions of permanence
and posterity wait for the future
as rain whips the window-glass,

nodding; thus I fall asleep.


the delicious blur..

>> Friday, September 18, 2009

through milky rain
of moonlit night
glaucous glimmers
from your eye pupil
enigma like
gliding drowsily
crushing yet intangible
settling tenderly
on moldering hearts
spread in their
damask chastity
a hint of rococo
within roseate tinge
every trace of gray
ruddy streaks
on my pallid cheeks
the blush of
passionate kiss
when words cease
music scarcely begins
your half-closed eyes
look into mine
and life becomes
a delicious blur ..



>> Tuesday, September 1, 2009

The supreme solace is in suffering and the sole sapience is existence. When you forget to live and long to exist you’ve found your hell, which is more intoxicating than a potion of absinthe. Life keeps inventing something that would eventually lead to death, a long way to freedom. You do not fathom it in its arrogance and its pathos but you keep on trying. In this manner creation lures you again, with enrapturing hopes for the future which shall never come, and lulls you into dreams of more than mortal ecstasy, so while you listen to life’s siren strain, you sigh ..

Nebulous time, moments between
sleeping and waking engulfed me,
for a split second I was born again
as a graceful gazelle, a humongous
leap could alter present time, and
another better season could follow,
then the second past and I was me,
trapped in life, a time which,
goes on and on …

Reality this morning corresponded uncannily to a nighttime dream that I frequently had. The universe seemed contained of these moments in this room and the room was filled with music. I watched as my body began to quake and I saw my head snap back and my eyes roll in their sockets. My body froze and wriggled as if in a death-dance. The muffled half silence took on an underwater blur. Sounds lost their origin. It told me in some odd way that soon the pain would be cut in half. Why could I not make the first leap from my place out there and plunge deeper… ..

when time appears to loose it’s motion
when mind and body seem to drift apart
a rippled serenity, an eternal melody
free of our masquerade, our own lies,
reveling sublime joys which fears nothing
wishes naught, resents none, and
sinks deeper, into a delicious stupor…

There was an elusive figure dancing just in and out of sight. Certainly it was there, enjoying every minute of distress. I savored it too, not only to discover the strength and weakness of my own being but because it tied me to the only feeling that remained in the small world. Escape was the only thought, I didn’t want to be touched by any other notion. And then .. sunlight penetrated through the window .. clear warm sky crossed with broad swaths of illumination and a gibbous moon fading at the horizon, which gave enough luster for me to gradually gain a sense of the space I was in, although I lay just beyond tapestry safely silhouetted in the darkness, and life seemed miles away from there…


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