Monday, February 11, 2019

Hut Binoculars


I rearrange time; I redeem facts; at voyage afore our tribunal: our days at longing, our cries forbidden, plus, such heinous retribution: at brains peeping, at miracles winking, while swans sit in anticipation: such anxiety, to sense something at deaths, to encourage with silence: our curses, our women, while many were raised religiously: to break free, to become rebellious, or so lost for grounds are dropping: this long falling, those green vines, at terror and satisfaction: such medicine, such brown eyes, such adorned personality: our honey with lime, our pomegranates with ferocious, our lives so indebted: this angry soul, this lively soul, our Hebrew encyclopedia: if but for courses, if but for survival, if but by courage: to song this existence, to adore a mirage, to cut with silence: this loud ass room, those loud ass mirrors, where swans appear speaking in Arabic: or German travesties, or Egyptian membrance, while everyone is seeking Europe:—so emphatic, looking to sense whys, or so elated seated in stillness: those wonders at birth, to become this chasing pathway, or vestibules revolving but doors: our manic miles, our midwife miracles, at manmade menticide: those strides through traffic, this wave as southern, our passion as undergrowth.

…we need electricity, we seam into resistance, if but to ache remembrance: this shaky soul, those trenchant caves, our deep rehearsals: to chat by guts, to illicit a response, while afraid to lose: our banished hearts, our cleaving intelligence, our days searching out candles: this flickering reed, those trickling mindcaves, this penchant for miracles: as alive your core, those few lines, to invest in loving us: this sore in brains, for mother is reeling, while at needs for adoration: to put mother first, to sense this deep rejection, to attempt to redeem that rift: this silent anguish, this silent countenance, nay, this raging, disharmonized countenance: to dig relentlessly, at something that took years, while a minor-adult wars against forty years: this embedded reality, this indebted reality, while one loses access to growing accordingly: but yours is gentle, and yours is relaxed, where adults are guarding your inheritance: (this scratchy flesh, this behaving daughter, to invest everything in one that has lived her life: to be without, to do it humbly, while harboring a few feelings): with time racing, with guts waning, to become a perfect, obedient, non-resistant observer: our lives floating, our minds pushy, our souls revolting….

…those teal petals, with life and courage, at tears and joy—to disappear, with passion chasing, as soldiers addressed for battle: this core with money, to have newness, while one is in dire straits: as remodeled, fleeing insanity, at miracles and feeling with pride: those tall tales, this taller soul-gate, while listening to something ten years from now: as nothing to teach, a daughter looking at mother, as both possess those similar angers….

I rewind sensitivities—as one encouraged by high roads, but irritation seems to overwhelm: this blind ass committee, to believe pure nonsense, as something returning yearly: this crazed man, this abusive man, this other as odd and abnormal: but damn I say, and damn I cry, while every person was wrong in some way: our perfect mirrors, our cheating souls, But they never knew: if but this life, to receive falderal—with such relishing reception: but this is love, as never confrontational, as fully obedient: those consequences, this life without, those kids needing submission: this excellent parenting, this challenge to exist, while one person is happy: this retribution, this crying sky-fever, those remarkable lies.

PS.

    The strength to withstand the winds; a spell as it effects/affects some creature. A sudden moment filled with absolute certainty, so wro...