grief's gravity

grace filled passion playing, soft tones, so silk-like, youthful hair, notes racing up and down like my finger on your back, endless transmissions we sometimes tune in with or tune out of.

it is a round, rich sound, echoing as you thump and listen, excited rhythmic, but mononuclear, attacking silent sitters, laid-back beatless boys.

poles in rows, planted stakes, planned designs in watery mud patties, already fallen. eye lensed, cleansed, and ready to rise up, champions of grief's gravity.

The I Lie

river speaker, iced water, like diamond drills down, soft bedded stones, stinging tongues, constant needing, feeding baby chicks, selfish softened, spoken to comfort need for me, the I Lie.

your banquet, high and piled with meals of Love, offerings, ritualized by dillusionistic demons, angels, jesters counted, burnt matches tossed, forgotten, never-objects, dust mites of thought these humans. You Slaves.

chained beings seek freedoms, running in railroads, steaming forward, steel power, light at the end is only Truth. stepping on, always moving, blazing, blinding, being.

stolen boys

blood mud mixed up child, mouth stitched with tissue letters, lit easily, flaming vocabulary, floating embered pieces like october outside, soon a frozen ground, dead earth.

these cold tissues, a restaurant plate presented for an inflated fee, like Facebook posts, positioned to stir kindred connections, "look at me!  look at me!  look at me!  I AM!"

Ginsberg almost told the Truth when truth needed to be told.  now it doesn't exist, melted snow, flaking about, twisted about, pretty boys, guilty boys, wearing skirts and painted nails.  child likened.  stolen boys.

wishing ghosts

posts, wooden wishing ghosts,
marked etchings, fibrous scars bleeding into reincarnation, stages full of proper rages, entitled to mortgaged dreams based on dissolving tissued fantasy islands.

sitting in 1980's bay windows, brass magenta glassed wall to wall screaming wars, babies booming, "lies lying liers!"

holocaustic fears leveled cities of children.

beast

bellied by beasts, scratching, drooling, hairy piles signaling tawny delights.  alphabetical molecular like ladders to read things translated as real things.

flashing blue yellow, pointed light, vivid, shockingly-intense, hot fire light, scalding purity of light, over rainbow power filled rays of light, white white blue-white light.

from one center, centered, in the middle of the universe, all matter gravitates with a gravity, regrettable consciousness, sick and vomiting pages written as truth, absurdly.

Dream, fantasies, and dillusions

Fortress keepers, parcelled pieces, seeking and heaping story-filled stacks, fully fictitious.

Shrouded lines, crossed rails, yellow and black x's, blurring by.  Horizon filled peaks stream rugged beats echoing promises of expansive gold, wealthy cloud forming synchronizities.

Dreams of the me.
Fantasies of the you.
Dillusions of the I.