Monday, October 27, 2008

fall/rise

Two: in the mind
and
one: in the body


ready for reaction always restrained and this is the lever that unclasps the remaining fret set hard against the body waiting for the empty strains heaving desperately beneath the all too stoic flesh fresh and burnt broken and betrayed waiting and waiting and waking early in the evening to the blinking sighing relief of wonder that here falls in the sky the sun that makes promises in the night fulfilled by day but this is no guarantee and refuses to sell patience to waiters and runners
[one candle light held rapid tight]

a love for the permanent and faith in the destruction

that… one
two
three

...leads to four but never always never for sure never never never and still.
yet still.
forever don’t bow to this relief don’t hang on this relief don’t wait for this relief to render unto freedom the lies of chastity unpeel the sheath and hope for nothing there is nothing in this suspense but suspense and it delivers upon delivery
>lips hang aware glistening saliva running silver in the streetlights glare reaching towards eternity desperately grasping the slivering seconds building towers out of time this journey is inevitable and this quest is impossible and this quest was never embarked upon until it finds itself resolved<
snap judgment holds virtue responsible for terrible crimes once perpetrated by the involuntary reflexes of candid tales now listen
/when the tree fell and the child shook and the wind stood silent in awe and the crisp cold lingered guilty in the light the answer came from solitude that the keeper of solitude is death\
creeping further from the edges into the centre {it has no sense of itself it has no concern for the ruins that topple over eons} and lacerate the ranges lines spread master seeks violence covered and cracked and each step is recorded in the great ledger that contains one single word repeated over and over and each page stained in ink is soon erased and filled again with that syllable clanging deeply beneath the echoes
what reward is there for the predictable consequence what kind words lead softly into the ears of the repetitive hammering nails of the forgotten hopes coping sadly with the dreams once loved and once esteemed above all in these ears that love and love and love and long for the settling winds calming the scars massaging the broken muscles strained by pulling against themselves
{not one thousand years not one segment of time relieves this patient dream this longing denial} {this hopeful disease}
not the whispering angels not the falling snow not scraping sheets of fire destroying the universe in a single instant and freeeeeze this well known longing into eternal fear and long for pause and long pause and stop for not one moment this crass machine destroys the weight and creates the mass that builds roses and thorns straps horns on statues and grasps stores of raptures for the
pounding hope for the grounding rope bound tightly to the wrist wasted instantly on creation drawn infinitely from duration this is the hopeless rush of fawning screams tie this down tie this down and rip and tear and devour this dream that one time it exists "just one time exist!" where nothing ever came from nothing and into everything.
and.
gone.

Friday, September 12, 2008

anarchival funnel

sent, there was a fearsome thought in the mind that rots the babel as in the one of antiquity and not the one of sound proof mystery and history and not in the same senses fences and then to go back and deltreeeeee all this nonsense about finance and the trance that held uop the opening lines to all those holy rites that baegan with this is and should and always will and though they never could but hope and faith the verb and now im eating words like garbage tossed from an airliner and the finer things of strife that found the copious delerium wasting in the boundaries of reams of dust tasting of tailored guns throwing spit away like it means nothing to nothing and its difficult to imagine anything other than all of these facts and good intentions that lead to hope and hopeless and hopelessness and then find an answer wothout revealing the question because it seems like that is the major part of the game and fame is underrateeed when it begs for sport to be its aim and cant fly beyond its own tepid dreams crying for the histpry of its own revelation wishing that there would be some sense of futility but always revealing the absolute value that should be denied but rubs it genetals in your face until youre forced to hold uop the dollar bills and feel ashamed for giving in to the speculation that you have invented that seems so reasonable when you are desperately affraid and then ypou choke youself on the vines that are left unattended atop your wig and they bind you up in their truths and falsehood s and these are all you can level at your hopes and they tangle in a fighting mess this is the carnage of will and destruction of thought from whence thought arises and flourishes and drives itself to the bridge and over and plunges headlong into the stream and floats into the ocean and accross the water and over the edge of the horizon and into the universe that is limited by the faculty of imagination abused and unhappy and pleased in itself for the villification of its own tyrsanny upon itself and says all those who oppose say aye and it shouts in response nay and nay and a hindred times nay and still pass and the motion passes and these are the obstacles portrayed by the arrays of arts and arters who eliminate the subject of their crass banalities through their splendid desires and rot and rot and rot and rot and rot and rot and rot and

and and and and and and and and and and and and and and and and and and and and and and

rambling on like mispent youth will count as five more and then payment is due upon request which sound far more obtuse than is intended and offended by the feel and fear and steeeering towards lost whores enveloped within the counfonded grounds of scandals and sandals and jjjjjeeeeessssstttting and infested like worms liking the sides of wounds cast against the terrible backs of mortal soldiers wrapped in chains made of vines and vines made of chains wrap the walls of childhood homes and this is the last word written on the suject and object found lying beneatht the crass mountains ruined by the hand of young farmers eating nought but fish and fools and jesterclowns and kunts and fucks and that will not or will never or wont or wont ever leave the entering count until there are no numbers and some days reward other caused and that and that and that and that andthat RATS and clowns and dogs and pussycats hold hope for the last second of the last second of any time counted and resumed by the next and followed by the rest one by one by one by one by one holding hands in a chain made of vines and fines that cannot be paid or even made into valuable resoursec bought and sold at dark markets each looking deeply into the eyes of the ther and seeing no feeling and seeing vo feeling the same depth that left the womb of their forgotten hearts and landed securely in a pit of vacuosu nothing sucking nothing into nothing leaving nothing and this is the final tally matked and scratched into the box that once held the abacus and now holds the receipt made paable to bearer palpable and desirable to numbers themselves wishing and dreaming weach to be higher selfish for their own gain is the gain of others and this fream will only continue to eight or the four or the five or the other and together and these unite to delight the fanciful nightmares of tone and sound and these the ashes that form the tinder to burn the ashes to form the forest to gropw high and i=high and higher and mighty that reach that reach is pathetic rend these down and begin with ash that stays as ash to end just to end this senselessss reach and grasp and lift towards

towards:

and dead and things left unsaid for those who care and fair well in adventurous gain and propagate rumours and illusions running to fantasy and withering chance of left out of the game this time i was left out of the day and it ran to night and we fought for pennies and scraps and threw them to the hogs and the fog of scores upon scores upon floors roofed by thatched roses cascading down onto the dirt and dirt and dirt and dirt and slop foul like the loosest clasp on a whores chest broken and sold and bought and lent used over until it has no owner to be spoken of and token of love once admired by lesser folk stoke the fire that rose from ashes once made sacraficial and official but never traditional which would concecrate the ideas long since renewed and rewritten and frost bitten strewn and cared for by pigs wallowing in bgold mined from hearts and picked from cold strands of thoughts shining from the moon last night and the night before and until eternity begins and sometime before but with a beginning and without end or beginning and stop stop stiop stop spit wretch discover flem unsavoured and regaurd its use and simplicity and trade it for carnage that stops and flows and goes round in and round out this is the brain of all that culminated and gathered and last and last and lasted

follows follows follows hollows gallows shallow flow flow flow flow flow low low

between the most bewildering structures of commitment and the most simple of all erections detected by smouldering thoughts left haphazardly in the well of lampoonery and illusion come all at once the vague realizations only perceived by the most knowing of redundant individuals chewing on long grass smiling sweetly at the clouds passing by the river at some speeds uncertain by judgement or mesurment or leisure casting fever on those who choose most happily to rend garments at wakes and make mistakes at guessing the name of the recently diseased and the grieved and those they grieve and those that once hoped or even dreamed most elegantly and these the most futile and the most happy and the least ignorant of the pleasant rampant fits of age caressing the knives stroking gently against their hearts scratching and peeling and now come now scream now bewilder the many teams waiting to prey on your delight fight fight dont and this is exactly the form of measurment taken against these once beloved dreams longingly scatched on pads in sleep in light in light of events never having taken place where once will this lie only at the feet of ants returning from defeat and bitter for the cruel and ghastly lament that festers in hearth of broken domes crashing down aroiund kings an fools and crown crushed neatly beneath and this is exactly the machine that happens to rake from the desolation all the glistening parts once so fawned upon and now disgarded and now reorder to something more splendind and moe horrific and yet desired more by those who threw them aside and less by those who once desired so longingly to hold in their scarred hands these tokens of happy lies and now those treasures are nothing to any but those who no longer desire to be desired thrown into fires and no more required to present a dance on heads of sins and grin from east to west and clearly the rest bow at the filth on display and dismay is cast beuatifully over the whole disgusting scene like snow on plague ridden towns now frown now wait now
and then and such

Thursday, September 4, 2008

Treading

walking. walking with a slow. stop. statements such as these promote illicit rhymes dangling delcately from edges of (crimes, times, lines, signs, fines, tynes, ed gein's) lines. tell them this tell them that this is the last word that floats aimlessly towards the piles of grimey literature and philosophy oozing with chagrin dead and soaked in death praying up to themselves laughing down in return (un-suitable fore consumption take this to the disoposal roar roar clang clang) and never learn these awful fears standing in testament to their own self admiration/deprication DEFFICATION (//salutation) merily merrily verily this is true eventually eventually (remember the time last tuesday when all our dreams were true when all the seemingly confounding strains creeping in the corners of our dreams had pulled back to reveal clean stretches of silent surf (scuttling across scores of virrrulent disease)and we smiled these smiles that still) remain as scars as shadows as memories engraved on heads in piles of forgotten scrolls and lunatics regard with regard to the last word that fell tumbling tumbling merrrrilllyy merriillyy gently over the edge of the horizon screaming these words so foul to their creator to themselves this ends the reverence. make peace these horrors land firmly on your brow make peace these worries weigh heavy in your hands make peace these horrors tear gently at your chest no rest and the rest is the same and the same