Beyond Orchestration

enveloped by new
processes,
surroundings,
stimuli various
and tempered
by attempted
erudition,
examination,
contemplation,
and random
cusps of effort,
i avow,
only to myself,
to remain
unconcerned
in the face of
nebulous
information,
predatory people,
air-conditioned faces,
deceptive alliances,
foreboding infestations
of miserable attitudes,
and whatever else
i could use to deter
myself from a position
taken, and those to come.

not being very difficult
to imagine aeration, i do,
aware of nishmat hayyim
insofar as it pervades
wholes other than itself,
true to principles espoused
by every peoples of the world,
regardless their positions,
or the many that will come.

Grounded by Growing Close

as the vacation comes to a close,
the rested mind, grown weary of itself,
bristles in anticipation of nearby onslaught
of measurements, dictations, magnified drums
battering synthetic rhythms into the heart of day.

been a long time coming;
this pause has been long enough!

let the bestial forces
swing their heft
against wild offerings,
in form all caustic,
in formation all mellow,
like breezes in seasons
proportioned by a rod.

excitement heightens during this reaffirmation of beginning's and ending's tender cleave.

We Do Debase One Another by Our Dying Communication

mucking about in forced vile relations,
lends the head to dire contemplations,
prismatically arranged by central stress expanding outward and beyond comfort,
like driving nails through polished moons.

in an arena bled of choice
people become victims
of caprices malevolent,
charged with indisputable anger,
the style of which befits maudlin usurpers.

no surprise then, audience and participants alike are overjoyed by the smooth flaying.

The Lunacy of Priests & Poets

curious benedictions
issued from circuitous lips
mention wonders allowable
though routinely indefinable
as if
in utterance was weight,
in action, inconceivable,
bespeaking a complexity
masterful in its ravel,
obtuse in its yolked meaning.

a surfeit of prayer
denies reality
a plausible scope,
condemning tongues
and blithering writers
to an active circle of hell,
verve and lethargy confused,
and what is done is truthfully nothing.

Tracking Progress and Shoring Beams

driven by the shaving of inherited slate,
redefinition consumes,
though it ought not at the cost of constancy,
creating a life haphazard and nebulous, too clean
for development to grip, let alone flower divine.

to burn is simple,
to kiln takes strength,
forcing fire to shape
ends long beloved
by the tender stroke of belief.

coupling dreams with waking desires
begs a patience and a calm and then a yearn,
the last to fuel the beauty of the derived culmination.

Reversing Alienation's Reign

hiding the reality of a self's history and inclinations is not so hard,
from those bespoke of as within the membrane of the heart,
strangers admired from a back alley of a shady soul,
and foes upon whom all that deftly registers is an illusory nightmare.

my enemies,
my passersby,
my friends,
kept at a distance believed invested in immaculacy,
though truthfully born of a definitive derangement
concerning ascension and its corollary requirements:

lust for honesty
stamina unblemished
an agreement with seasons
poignant prowess
and other ingredients for wings

uncloaking is a painful process not without demeaning strides,
the first of which stretches limbs past awkward, into dark,
where you imbibe alone from the well of your own distancing craft.

Monotonous Ruin

3:30am bright lights
pounding doors
and
po-town po-po
demanding egress
of battered tenant,
silent at truth's early moment,
tearing like a teething frail babe.

battles avoiding resolve
like
"fuck you" "fuck you" "no fuck you"
remind me of nights
before my present self
when knuckles knew best
how to shut traps;
indignant bitches and royal assholes,
or so parental parlance painted budding youth.

praise whatever luck
has joined my neighbors
but given them no son
to damage and deplore
with their monotonous ruin.

Neither Firefight Nor Storm

precious in divided morning,
seeding plans
whose growth complies with light.

not fallen but awake
to mythic streams
of quickened states,
all harboring equilibrium.

victuals on fire
consumed,
a righteous face
drawn without haste.

holiness abounds between breath's cyclic sounds.

Wrapped for No Good Reason

traipsing moralists will tell you
masturbation is a secret art,
to be denied the surface of speech
afforded more paralyzing forms of fought.

they are the bottom wankers,
appeasing dreadnaught fears
with toiling waves of
ludicrous cupidity for witless wiles.

shame knows those who entertain
pleasures as morose, untouchable.

virility is satiated
not its opposite,
which would impose
a draught across freedom's steady hand,
whose whispered tug is groomed ecstasy.

An Ambitious Coven of Seeking Sensualists

swelling interest in sorcery amid late night gatherings
plumes ponderous when i am next to suspended darlings of the newborn afterlife,
uncertain of their tastes but fully aware of their power
over the likes of i, unwed pretender magician, twiddling cocktails of impeachable quiet.

second to none save the onslaught of the sun
is every glaze-eyed protuberance
befuddling its way into stylish stranger pants,
where destiny or boredom or unconsciousness await!

always anti-glib on display,
always demanding upon procurement,
the rewards of the unzippered and full-fleshed
are dubious to be sure, lest rites are placed by solid hands,
schooled in the mimicry of amazement, devotion, fearless affection,
those arts known to the very young and the very sadistically wry.

Allaying a Plague of Jitters

as recombinant thrives due to its reorganization
tests of temperature are
tautly laid before its newly elder form,
demanding answers both participatory and exclusive,
as means to parameters opposed to their own solidity.

how long and the what of each test are unseen
until born naked at the moment of sight,
instilling either paranoia or preparedness,
each an image of the other, not reversed but ingrown.

such are the pleasantries sumptuously presented forthwith.

Keeping Pace with Death

sniveling toward a torpid abyss
are miscreants unlabeled,
crawling in avoidance of prosecution.

from outrageous grace to exemplary nothingness,
a march contemptuous of its impetus,
timed to belie the near perfect bleakness of its thought.

draped in albumen of faceless derangement,
every step carries the promise of an immediate end.

Strangling Hell for the Promise of the Divine

assiduously built by nervous untrained hands
are monoliths most difficult to deconstruct,
their mitered slabs wistfully reflecting knuckles shorn
of a skin blazoned at birth with emblems mapping fate.

it is an ego,
raised by fear.

plotting its defeat sequesters an avalanche of nuance,
previously unknown, untouched, unimaginable before
the bundle of worried chaos cringing in its throne,
directing a mind through nefariousness absurdly found.

but it can be done;
strengthen members of the mind,
abandon qualms which raise the blood,
suffer an absence predestined and wise,
make of emptiness a diamond ring to wed the fire
born of rebirth's cylindrical step through its mirrored self.

How Does it Come to This?

how i understand separation
is through a divorce disgusting
in its application, persistence,
and perversion of a relationship
which ought to be sacrosanct,
but has been wildly trampled by
a disease of personality
indestructible by virtue of its fragility.

do i make sense?

estranged from you i prefer death,
however backwards it may seem.

How Birth is Unaware of Time

continuous priming simply recognizes the volume of activity
quietly ushered through that eschewal of mandatory aging
which vibrates in tandem with a universal unheard hum.

learning to meditate implies neither simplicity nor security;
crazed are the struggles bringing mindfulness to power
within a system obscured from itself, wading in rippling dark.

the soul is forever nascent, lording over nothing as it sways.

Unemployment Blues

a wait which burdens the allocated expanse of time
imperils the store of patience's wealth,
kept in a center where one should not think to weep,
but where tears come like pain to a burning slave.

randomly an idiot strikes at colors too plain to be gold,
wasting an energy that could rival the more serious gods.

it is packaged in light
it is born of insane
it is scripted by confines
it is decorated with shame
it is locked in a tantrum
it is shaped by its veil
it is skewered for sport
it is driven to rage
it is sandwiched between giants
it is covered with the frail
it is a throb in the nut
it is a quake in the brain
it is airborne and invisible
it is the feeling of the fail.

Suicide Primate Thrust

personal mementos can
denigrate and destroy
rather than
enliven or invigorate
an otherwise immaculate landscape.

but hang your photos where you will,
i ramble while bullets assail my brain.

In a Position Best Defined by Its Irregularities

in a detail unscuffed by human hands,
a pinnacle polished to illumination
for no sight other than the prepared spirit.

it may demur cosmopolitan proceedings,
but a luxury lives within its marvelous texture,
its lesson-teeming song and survival melody.

the passion of challenging purity aims to claw
essential threads from the base explosion
of experience as it dawdles and electrifies desire.

Time Behind the Now

descendent permutations of an invested ideal
pave the road toward paralysis unmatchable,
wherein nobility fields a foiling divine in fall,
height serving to define above-below ambitions.

grasping an absolute only to grace the mundane
is a grim known to every feverishly tuned buddha,
fat on fruit of dawning light, starved by dusked sky
of age and
memory and
forgetfulness.

remedy, remedy,
place your heat in this violent circumference,
assured that ascendancy is the arrow of delight
drawn by this meditation on time behind the now.

Beautiful Flare

the uneasy distillation of change
confuses and stunts
a mind eager to find its future.

at last,
holding patience close,
its truths revealed
through a fear magnificent,
a thought of loss stopping the heart.

by slowing down
so that i might understand
you, i, our inflamed art,
i choose breath undivided,
the better to love your tiny face.

Outside in Brilliance

blooming day drench,
earth springs fire,
pliant vibrant streams.

Positioning to Maximize Minimal Intake

apprehension and rejection
of an avowed inhibitor,
a beginning best to sustain,
if approach to valiant fulfillment
is one-fourth the tessera of vision.

minor rations seed leaner leaves,
tautly aware of winding columns
whose deposits are echoes toward the sun.

i have been in that place which doubles my blood.
it is a hall absent of walls, where time bounces out.

Easy Goes the Livelong Day

schedules colliding against a veteran opposition of sporadicism
are found bloody and unelectric on spoiled grounds,
the sky overhead speaking decrees irreducible in text or volume.

sutured senses tend a flex which gleams but refuses to sweat,
its pulse its only pleasure during longtime nights of blinding tension
wherein dreams become fruitless jokes,
and a crippling laugh defeats sleep with its unmasked righteousness.

disease free from diagnosis ruminates on possible outcomes
of its endless progression in a filterless darkness,
all things encountered subsumed, abused, milked, destroyed.

The Dissipation of a Former Self

taking stock of what's been earned,
returning empty handed, unbemused,
knowing how this empty came to pass.

indirection by inattention,
a dimmed state of breadth
wherein accomplishments fail,
a weakened heed staining all
those stupid dreams of youth.

so forward is the color of a true love's hair,
to be built by awareness, plot, and stroke.

a future head stares back from the mirror world, annihilating mercurial pasts.

By Chance Did Grow the Olden Folk

a frenetic posture adopting a false sense of stillness
seen through windows blurred by epochs elongated
past the point of their useful distinction, appears true,
though once inspected with close shaved eye
youth is revealed for what at its worst it can be:
a pretension desperate to enigmatically engage
universal principles cleansed of the filth elders engrave
upon the many reeds and clouds and stones deserving
attention automatically ascribed to all deistical grounds.

the unholiness of a false stance is the first step to holiness.

dances embrace constellations in the same manner as skins,
points plotted flung freely along bended arm, sloping thigh,
progression of decided feet from empty creek to fallen tower;
that the body sings at all brings us a glimmer toward Salome.

Timidity Must Die

impulsion may be a sad guiding force,
if it is not corralled by maps
invested with a patience belligerent in form.

accepting this
is chore horrible,
base with ugly line.

remembering unimportance, the worst can bravely grow.

Asking a Nature to Obliterate Its Boundaries

peculiar regularities summarize unconscious intentions so well
that proposing opposite realities illuminates naught but a feeling
for cleverly absurd admissions of an ancient guilt immune to prosperity.

though constant they ramble without conscious adherence to a succinct goal,
making them prey to all of reason's deplorable methods of extracting intuition from the heart.

impulsive pleasure reaps the chaos it sows, often in forms of a burning beyond its tensile understanding.

Ceaseless Revolution of an Unfixed Axis

admitting to a myriad of espoused superficialities,
the prisoner awakes humbled, if s/he awakes at all.

searching for virtue,
absent of foundation,
feels like blunder
more than task,
yet belief begs forth
footsteps in a relative dark,
where nothing is known
but pain's beseeching of light.

maze wandering fire
burns between temples alive,
yearning for new construction by self-laid plans.

awakening is not privy to romance; it is as real as pipes garnishing the dawn.

Awareness

the stars speak the truth about me, and I am a prisoner of their light.

The Curiousity of Ticking Bombs

do random occurrences of fortune plague your mind
as anomalies which ought be counterbalanced by
regulated instances of shame and elemental loss,
procuring (for a hint of sanity) a bridge to tide the rift
allowed to expand between sunlight and boredom?

metered means condone extrapolations of behavior
identified as corrosive and sinister,
capable of denuding silver of its blood-fabled flesh,
a feat becoming of desired attrition, misguided from its start.

criminality encased by innocence,
a common problem among a common populace.

A Cup of Tea and Nothing in the Bank

an exceptional poverty seen through extensive eyes
becomes all crimson in in worth, all mellifluous as brier.

cup filled by warmed honey
drains strain from day,
coaxing senses to ease
leagues from piled tension
and memories of midday sun,
oft an anvil on a back bent strange.

complex pleasures do not demand enormous quantity,
contemplation of what makes them appreciable will suffice.

Submerged by Their Numbers

exemption from cancerous collisions is not a possibility for throngs
idly passing time while past grows into proportions denied the future,
though few seem to halt their lazing eyes from drifting into sorry dreams.

alabaster breathes no luster,
employed to blind the sky
it fails miserably, deserved.

slow caucasians of wrong ambition strike falsest notes
in daytimes groomed to their purpose by foreperception coarse,
the kind required for kingdoms to hide behind statehoods, raging laugh.

Self Seeking Self

prone to certain anxieties
i drift from habituation to
habituation,
without realizing patternings of processes.

so much force behind motions so minute,
it's easy to assume that something is pained,
though in reality i enjoy these games;
i've begun to prime myself in anticipation of their takeover.

what may appear violent to one can be salvation for another,
take a glance at wars pre-twentieth century for a taste of real mayhem.
since then its been molehill to mountain,
in the absence of a larger recipient of psychic energy,
a soulless examination of behavior has discounted the beauty of repetition.

a brief survey of the attitudinal difference between farmers and city dwellers will confirm my theory.

Mr. Mirror (A Fragment)

an image blazoned onto air,
backdrop
a gulf of light,
beckons dreams' divinatory power.

i see him raise a tantric hand toward heaven's jowls,
pruning forms exceeding the form,
distilling mirrors blent of lightning and a sound fire,
so my vision of him will be redolent with smoking screams.

the mind is all
that can move.
this transfixion
is an eliminate,
an illumination,
and an aligned moment with my counterpoised self.

i see his minutiae age until his eyes grin with power,
flesh brushing earth clean of silence,
measuring a distance known by kosmos' trail,
molding my dance with him into a style born for maddened ends.

Underdeveloped, Not Overturned

near cacophonous irregularities
thumbs shiftily fidget their intentions,
bending in on dreamless slum.

a weighted martyr sinks before the community.

weekends whimper on,
strength slaves the streets,
as wisdom be silent norm,
all hush, reliquary for junk
gets de-formed by users sick
and breast-fed crippling fear.

postscript

suits flash their folds before the community,
passing bucks where suits their holds,
clockwork sways the pendulum of black & white.

Adopting a Response

fright at the forefront
combating superficies
a child sighs sublimity

By Definition, Brutality is Coarse and Operates Without Learning

were it merely the invasion of a heart
we had to concern ourselves with,
time would pass easily
along development's erratic strait.

but we examine a layered crime,
engaged on disparate fronts
in the task of holistic annihilation.

preparatory care
in the service of destruction
is a consummately ornate ritual,
aware of its end
as a deliberate martyr of their fate.

but so rare is a crime so clean;
often the actor is one of us, confused
as to task and the burden impinged,
their attack more like flail
than the precise machinations of an assassin.

under the force of such discordant harms,
defense becomes a stranded nightmare,
fearing its distance from the waking balm.

batterings like these yearn for a sharper blade.

Legitimate Manifestations of Coordinated Prayer

allowing nothing to strike aghast or draw the impossible as real
a specific erudtion must be cultivated,
at the expense of charging idiocy intent on crippling inner suns.

many an enchantress will croon of doubt,
forcing hands to exhibit a loyal posture
embracing supplication of surrounding quietism.

victory delineated by its tracelessness
is a proper stance amidst world's deliciously catastrophic storm.

The Mysteries of Complexion

agreed upon
unspoken,
our yearned lean
toward silent trust
and satisfaction
for the body's want.

strings convene us,
reasons unaware;
sonic congestion,
and we become one
on the promise of a stare.

it may have been
a split second mirror,
though by its share
we knew one another
longer than a day's debate
with night's increasing sky.

as parallels we thrive
beside currents bemused
by our efforts of love,
deep and shallow,
both a fragrance unsolved.

agreed upon
unspoken,
our yearned lean
toward silent trust
and satisfaction
for the body's want.

I Am Not Meant to Be Other Than I Am

when intentions of a deliberately constructed monolith run amok
perception's breadth must be reassessed to provide unequivocal results
pertaining to capabilities, ambition, and basic justification of sought ideal
as grand beacon for pursuit of selflessness as incumbent reality.

a monolith needs be grounded if reflection at predetermined height is to be gained.

how does a structure fall to pieces?
ambivalence and fear may capsize the freight
or
weakness and misdirection may paralyze and reduce the operating whole,
either possibility forcing a diminution difficult to rebuild, confidence lowered to groan.

an ideal lost can place the i
past redemption,
breaking vanity's cloaked hold on decision.

reformation of materials which will assuage material needs
begins with a benevolent absence of desire for anything other than focused consideration
of relationships' infinite originality in manner, content, expression, and omnipotent effluxion.

Hardened Skin

and they seem to feel concern
as they pass by with
eyes trained upon a distance
opposite to your own,
which if in form and substance
resembles your vision,
is nothing.

streets lined with metal
can sap the heart of love,
destroying our primal practice of extension.

Glimpse of Us

amplification of a widening space long hewn by circumstance
will deafen one while enthralling another,
each conjuring images of themselves they cannot witness,
creating a crave all the stronger by its incapacity to be sated.

though twain are a heart in throb,
two here defy the chance to be one,
sadly drenched in a spate of schism.

Pens and Keys' Unity is Hidden but Alive

a detachment feared
incites fluid acts of
self-abasement,
-immolation,
-deprecation,
and -control,
in the last resort,
understanding its role.

gaining verse in balance,
focus and blur demand what
but the equilibrium we preach.

absent fears by pushing face toward islands distant,
their shores a dream until kissed by blind intrepid lips.

Perpetually Poised in the Throes of Exercise

endurance as product of deliberate concentration
is littered with hitches preventative and progressive,
each a detail in want of scrupulous attention,
charging the religious heart with streams of eager flame.

anticipatory shaving simultaneously permits stoicism and fluidity,
adoptions wrongly construed as opposites by those erect at battlefield.

our ephemerality, sidestepped by irreducible bandits, weeps at our efforts
to contain and abstract the placid lunacy we've been given to explore
through senses prone to a style of senselessness usefully unraveling
emblems sewn to our disproportionate chest; overgrowth as ignorant's feat.

head down in unconstructed space never nears sinking, its purpose to ascend.

Past Echo of World's Collapse

an entrance soaked in fear
denudes the morning of its
possibilities and focus on ascending unencumbered by clouds made mistless.

better to empty the bowels and pace backwards through mind's darkened state,
in hopes of revealing a shirred piece of nighttime's holistic cloak.

once break and day have been imbibed,
tasks of form ought occupy the silt of earth as it sways toward a horizon unproven,
a string of hue for poets to whine about.

filled with pressured curl and spacious mirth, an exit may be nobly made,
its presence a testament to its absence and in reverse, the same.

Alive Until The End

rigor does not equal intelligence
nor are positions equivalent to sex,
it is a failure to believe otherwise.

a mansion of perception may defy serious efforts to apprehend its depth;
a manner of training for its myriad initiates, many bewildered, few precise.

from wind to soil,
nothing to sun,
attention paid is repaid tenfold,
skies in cloud or cobalt light.

Can't Stop the Bum Rush

as epoch of quiet becomes replaced by one of extreme cacophony,
only the sick will survive,
positioned as they are by affairs of dissonance.

running from intensity's intentional cavalcade
toward a long dead austerity
will found no reward save a broken nose.

acceptance of the present onslaught is the only reasonable decision.

Lines of Thought Reduced to Maze

a patient breath embalms the splayed rush
before distortion has a chance to fragment
entireties hurled awhorl in contrast and faith
of whole, division, and the pursuit of woven fire.

the seldom quake between scintillant ponds
is one doorway spoken by a breathing earth.

wine behind each eye
feathers an open tongue,
riddles, our words make
of what would be common,
influence has the upper hand.

meditation by an unstoppable human force,
draws laughter from the wells of this beast,
his character antiseptic,
perceiving himself the diseased.

A Rumination on Killing

taking life
by naked hand
comes to mind,
not deed,
as often as
sun is seen.

pretend this is not you,
alone
against the day's talons.

crimson in one light,
heinous in another,
sublimity is subjective.

murder
on the edges of a shrug,
swirls around my semblance
indifferent to the end.

pretend you are not this,
a one
mote of my arm's desire.

Transposition Impossible, Defeat Imminent

sledgehammers reveal themselves in flight through demanding fog,
piercing by means improbable a veil born of spacial dissonance,
inaptly regarded as a battle unworthy of close contemplation.

by such taking for granted are friends castrated, cauterized.

early on, eyes must be directed wide and attentive to the depth their field allows,
not discouraged from expansive ogling or penetrating glances at whatever provides
information, never mind its disputable nature,
an arena better left to politically minded incoherent indigenizers,
those imbecilic actors for whom no idiocy is too small to enact.

forgetting the world requires an effortlessness known only to its smartest inhabitants.