…by
truths this sun, by lives our gun, at psychiatry like adolescence: our freaked
mothers, our fragile fathers, looking into dynasties: this bad soul, this good
soul, this in-between blackness: this quadroon, this burgundy ton, alive and
damn near deceased: those terrific eyes, that long neck, our dinner with
mushrooms: this fabulous life, this fabulous contradiction, this fabulous kiss:
at Love lying, at aunty too reserved, at Lords speaking with laities: this
tragic curse, this fabulous curse, as built something dying: this raving man,
this rant and ruckus, those sickly psychotic doctors: this trust fire, if but
to live, while taken with such disregard: our courage raging, our brains as
diamonds, our images burning: this well disgraced, this face with beauty, this
body its language: to form logic, to rebuke logic, if but a second this
heartless ass existence: thereto, this gorgeous African, this sexual Latin, or
this pensive European: as Austria gunning, to hit life, with a coin filled with
rhinestones: this money frenzy, those electric guitars, at ankles yanking away
chains: those blood/blue damages, this field of alimonies, or this sexy Asian
lawyer: to fret his brains, while pimps push puzzles, this deep contempt: at
Sufi magnets, this air dervish, our Muslims winning: to die with Love, these
heavy eyes, our gardener on vacation: to prune this rose, to grip this feeling,
to wipe eyes, type, and remember errors: if but to relive, if but to revive, if
but that runaway self: as much has died, and much has resurrected, plus, this
man old with years: to dance with venom, this anger thing, if but to resist
this dying thing….
I
casual us, I die in us, I live through us: as never this love, as never this
inclination, while slipping into liquor: this gunning fever, this heated
mentality, to realize bull-crap: but Love was sexy, and Love was aggressive,
and Love looked upon with essence disdain: this fool with memories, to live in
islands, while mania was afraid: this heavenly curse, this irruption in time,
where stress is deeper than oceans: our dreads testifying, our hairdressers
screaming, our business women happy to engage: at millennia damages, at tents
and huts, at guts and ruins: to evolve with passion, to climb through Asia, to
arrive through Africa.
…watery
eyes, wailing lungs, floors and pounding: this small frame, this lovely person,
while too hurt to hug daughters: our brains, Son, our guts, Son, filmed and
delivered: if but with hell, if but this demon, as God was Satan’s Father: to
go so deeply, to weep with Jesus, while evolved a bit beyond normal: to imagine
repentance, this casual affair, mostly for humans: (our terrified hearts, our terrified logic, where it felt good to imagine:
this gymnastic maniac, those poles with essence, this ring with remission: as
Love dies, as Love revives, as Love sacrifices): this cozy death, while
left alone, where he visits if but by demands…. …in truth, it was very nice, but inferno
is raging: to want this soul, while needing to leave this soul, where our souls
are so cold: this freezer mentality, this warm pomegranate, or peaches speaking
at idiosyncrasies—while death was lovely, and death wrote prose, and death
evaluated poetry: those cinema eyes, this daughter’s intestines, this person so
destined: if but to fly, peering into gentility, while brains gush into
skies…. …our hurts at motion, our
drills falling short, our workouts spacing into torments: this mother love,
this father grain, our stepfathers losing appreciation: if but for sanity, if
but for secrets, a soul forced to eat humility: at sullen collars, as destined
for passion, at slumber wrestling dreams: yanking this necktie, adorning this
teardrop, at something deeper than kitsch: so freaking numb, falling to floors,
and gripping carpet: thitherto, this reborn monster, fueled by hatred, but
loving through compassion: such contradiction, such rabid paradox, while
nibbling droplets of terror….
