Posted by alightinflesh, Mar 9 2010, 03:00 AM
Closure
When time is spent
for all things worth
a sidelong glance,
Measure of solemnity.
Sometimes the wait loses its ultimate coil
I've got greif for a life undone.
Effort is not appeasement.
Measure-the broken cup.
Chalice of the ultimate-beloved
caved in on rounds past half-dozen.
Brother-killer's sorry stare a path forgotten.
Once the edge between
legwork and imaginings
takes a blast from a
one unturned by measure's
lock.
It is silent here-
The rescue an ultimate happiness
or,
a petty virtue.
Kindness the last stance
of deliverance.
Closure
Posted by alightinflesh, Mar 1 2010, 06:11 PM
Shattered glass does not hinder her
she cleans up decisively rapid.
As rocks are to stone
She is the heart of obsidian.
A weapon for some,
A blessing for others.
Somehow, everything grew in her presence.
As though an amulet of grace
Made her mind a fitting gift
for demons and angels alike.
Posted by alightinflesh, Jan 16 2010, 03:24 PM
Spoon
whether it is
or whether it might
the true religion
begins inside
a deathtrap
or a mindgame
all the same triviality
unmasked.
I'm curious,
indefinitely curious
whether man surpasses its limit
to make amongst the godhead
a solemn vow
a way beyond
Much was wasted
thoroughly wasted.
Teeter-totter princess
like a doll emblem
of majesty
'Cause no one
understands a crow
to date.
Least a man with
half a finger
explains his folly.
Spoon
Posted by alightinflesh, Dec 21 2009, 04:09 PM
1998 Mates
Committed to a tribe.
A set of pacifists begotten.
Riding the wave of insanity as though it were a dream.
Unconcerned with all threats to person,
Asking for nothing in return,
Taking when necessary, and taking hard when necessary.
It’s not a trivial cause,
It is the ultimate.
We represent the holiness within.
We are the chosen and begot.
Some might call us merciless,
Because getting things done is no flower child.
Our one demand was solidarity of purpose.
Attempt to cross the system, as defined, and you are owned.
We execute our own if they stand to oppose law.
We stop at nothing until objective is achieved.
A mafia? Of sorts, yes.
An enlightened oligarchy? Yes, absolutely.
We believe in the goodness within,
And, that the goodness within might be reflected as the goodness without.
Posted by alightinflesh, Nov 29 2009, 11:05 PM
You ask such vast existential questions I'm starting to wonder if maybe you are me
and the me that is you is the one captured inside a glass dome made to meet herself
in the form of a lover a thousand times before the hourglass turns again with the
snow falling always around her. Because the me that is you is the one who has
captured the you that is me in the dome. Although, the land outside the dome is
consumed by widget-sized trolls who expel petroleum fumes from their nostrils and
grind their teeth incessantly. So, although you might wish you had never found your
way into this crazy mess being inside a dome doomed to play out the same scenario of
meeting yourself endlessly, it is not nearly as crooked and terrible a path as being
out here with these godforsaken creatures.
Posted by alightinflesh, Oct 20 2009, 10:11 PM
RIDDLE OF PIGEONS
I thought up a riddle...
It goes, You have twelve carrier pigeons. You bought them at the five and dime for 10 cents a piece except for the lame one, which was 5 cents a piece-they had a big stack of cages for lame pigeons that spiraled all the way to the vaulted ceiling.
Anyway,
They were just wee pigeons to start out with. You kept them in the cellar because your cellar is both unflattering and stupenduous. You had killed a cadre of coarse-haired rats until they were all dead. You know, out with the old...all that. I'm convinced the rats are still IN the cellar in spirit-form because rats never really die they just change form. Maybe the rats are actually the pigeons which have not died yet.
Anyway,
The pigeons grew and grew until they were no longer dead rats at all. They were just pigeons. You took the pidgeons out to the castle window. Which is not a TYPICAL castle window because You live in a tenement building which actually has one window and one door and a very solid roof made of crab shells and detritus. Unnecessarily, You actually placed these objects on the roof to ward off aliens which are entirely accustumed to falling off roofs at very strange angles. Which makes them a liability owing to the fact they are little understood and, in fact, a bit disoriented.
Anyway,
Using the one window in your 17th century-ish tenement building you build a smart grass fire in the middle of the living room or, "THE ONLY ROOM" as You repeat to yourself IN YOUR HEAD ceaselessly because having one door feels like a punishment which is, instead, the wish of a crazed architect. You haven't met the architect directly.
Anyway,
Basically, the cylindrically wrapped slight pigeon-note reads thusly, "I need more biscuits." And that's it. That's the sum-total of the note. Caputt. Finuto. Done. Totally finished.
Anyway,
You watch them fly free via the one window in your tenement building.
The riddle QUESTION is: How many pidgeons return?
Posted by alightinflesh, Oct 20 2009, 04:46 PM
I have written odes and billowing 3-masted sailing ships for my love. She is dandy. She is swell. She makes ribs on the barbeque with zero sensibility toward BBQ sauce. She sews my ripped jacket when it becomes torn. She makes tuna on toast with capers because she knows I like capers the best.
I wonder why she is so sad after all the hub-bub ended. Maybe...because she knows I am yet still sad like her.
I wonder where she's absconded to.
She's a fish out of water, breathing gills flap and subside with a click. I pour tetra-cycline on her eyeball and she screams and I extinguish her life. When her spirit-form appears; I give her acts of contrition to dispel ugly weapons and ravaging beasts. I put her spirit-form in a drawer and lock it with a strangely-shaped key. She escapes and eats my soul. I then eat her soul and we are happy, thereafter.
Posted by alightinflesh, Oct 20 2009, 04:40 PM
Hurling myself toward a distant rumble.
Again, and again.
The stout tree is ridden with pale fruit-Like a flower with no stem,
All things crumbling.
Learning the vacancy of thought
As it is assimilated and taught
To the vessel-keepers
Who are royalty dually earned.
The night is long,
Keening already in measured phrases of song.
Listening to this tunefullness, I am naked.
So long, It has been so long
Since I rose unshrouded.
The night is wasted
by feather-keepers
sharing secrets dimensionless.
She asked my name?
The universe is good.
It is made of separate parts
Which, in attempting to coalesce
Bind and crack too.
The yearning for wholeness
Is an art. Not unlike a stroll
With no destination but center.
As is waiting for the furnace
to ignite by letting in a bit of air.
What masks the quiet glow
Of a lamp put out on the porch?
Posted by alightinflesh, Oct 20 2009, 12:55 PM
I always seem to feel you in the shadow of a brighter sun.
Your life bouncy and granular
As though you'd forgotten to breath.
In the breathless intoxication of spinning
In sequences nine by nine
Measure to measure.
The collapsing gates of hope
Choking the only thought that counts
In this one vast universe.
Where tired crows
still dance grotesquely
allotted their still moments of grace.
Take for example the silly thoughtless bird
Which glows an orange shade,
Who disregards the mechanisms of faith
by invoking uncounted fears-
Snubbing the candle flame
with brittleness unleashed.
As a burden of control
Seeks release in ceaseless exercises
Of decision-making.
My sound earns favor
With the telephone handlers
Who smooth out the rocks and divots
Inside my head.
And take all they need,
Sorting error from accuracy,
To unmask my perfect voice.
One too tired
to rise a-light-in-flesh
Completely overcome with
The godlessness of falling short
a distance along the separateness of being.
When, wholeheartedly:
My hero is gone.
Posted by alightinflesh, Oct 20 2009, 01:54 AM
Eclipse
Oh, indefinite swan-dive of emotion,
Clattering on the streets below,
Swept up with the distilller,
By axe made into night
The circumference of which is entirely unknown.
Although, the circumference of distant satellites
is always known with impeccable grace.
Plot a course in 2 dimensions
And travel to five
None of which are grasped
Except in the sweetness of a kiss
Shedding the reciprocity dillema
I accrue wealth in the form of experiences overreaching.
Making a wizened heart palpated
In intricate rhythm to revitalize
The spaciousness of it, which
is embedded in a grape.
Whose taste we all know.
The way of future peace
always breaks the silence
to interpose a piece of granite
massive and ponderous.
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