Poetry

underneath

Secret of Life

I woke up today reading
the Secret of Life
the stairway was the same
but the streets, oh the streets
they were building blocks of awe
molecular lumps alive with the wind
processes in motion
          like trees in a storm
every face was a map
charting the layers of the universe
scenes changed as propelled by engines of time
orchestration by a slow chaos
everything interconnected by invisible spokes
         why o why
must days like these
come to an end
tomorrow I must wake up
and open the first pages of
the Gates of Unknowing.

 

Modern Poetry

poets should keep quiet

who needs words
paper trojans!
inky farts!
infectious buzz!
belligerent blindfolded data!
classicist’s hard on!
bimbo parenthetical!
tomboy aphorism!
divorce schism-stamp!
bubbler vituperation!
unconscious monologue!
irrelevant ode!

 

what more is there to tell
when reality is full of cracks
ready for my mind-bending penetration!

 

it is in your cleavage
golden mother substance
that I surrender
as a drowning pinpoint
awaiting the thump
at the bottom
of the
rootless
age.

 

 

Modern Poetry

weirdo nail clipper

I’m biting off nails
spitting out tails
wagging at the dog
to wring out the fog
my emotion a sort of doppelganger
adrenaline in my poems when anger
is fire of the beast
I’m drinking out of your breast
like sex in the hands of God
isn’t it a century too goddamn odd
when things have no set end
and we’re always mixing a blend
of the most undrinkable guesses
my guess is that we’re like cocktail dresses
ready to be taken off
and then the real fun goes on
the oblique shadow of the skyscraper
waiting for sun to guide the dance
what a waste of wastepaper
this was my chance
to be
me
eating pieces of myself
while the day annihilates itself.

keeping track

Time Thoughts
Jet stream of time
squirting months
momentarily too late
to do anything
that will save the moment

history has me by the skin
I am all biodegradable
compost for the unknown

developing
appetite for the instant
that will last for centuries

the idiot
as I am
seeing time
as a machine
industrialized for more

there is fluidity
in this duration
that spreads like a flood
over the coastlines
of my
isolated sojourn.

 

Modern Poetry

drunk of us

drunk admiral bridge

Too many steps too drunk
an outsider
infatuated
with the outside decadence
a 30-day-old poet
taming his extinction
grasping for existence
breathing the sidewalks
as an addiction
calling street life
the pulp of everything
right here
civilization as a theory
the grid of rebellion
on this Rorschach
while the chanting epochs
intoxicate us
with their
darkness
in the streets
in the steps
of drunken
us.

Nihilistic poetry

second place

second place poet

learn meanings
asphyxia
coated roughness
in tender existence
panic so beautiful
you call it
god

learn the noise
behind the word
lurking behind
a search
so silent
you call it
drums

learn abyss
a fall
inevitably soft
dismemberment
asunder
you call it
peace

learn meaning
holding the concept
explosions
ready to kill
the unity of thought
you should call it
jackpot!

 

 

nihilistc poetry

A view of happiness

Child Happiness

Happiness
is the fly
on the tip of my nose
that with the slightest
twitch
flies away

 

Happiness
is my beard
made of many individual
studs
always shaggy
thus never uniform

 

Happiness
is rebound love
a one-night stand
after I met Joy
before I knew Grace

 

Happiness
is my tongue
quiet and sparing
but drooling
for the divine

 

Happiness
is happiness
a rare antique
from my childhood’s
sleep.

 

 
Modern Poetry