…audible
softness, our minds nesting, our bodies aloof to nightmares: as cursed
children, better adults, this region of knee bends: to possess something
perfect, to re-camera a feeling, while reminiscing upon a smile: those deep
pieces, this island of puzzles, so stacked, so insidious, so cinema: at
negligence, at cures, or someone too difficult for reason: such colorful hatred, such systematic remorse, while too
sold for freedom: our interior remotes, our off-buttons,
while realizing it gets heavy: so many losing, so many needing to win, or so much
hanging in its balance: but life was parks, even beaches, plus, secret ecstasy:
to perish suddenly, our mirrors rejecting us,
our dark purple secret upon display: to need privacy, to ask souls die quietly,
while moving into warfare: this outcast, this theologian, rereading something
absurd: those trips, Love, looking at innocence, Love, while removed from
deeper pleats, Love: this colorful movie, this anti-human instinct, where one
suggests pure insanity: as lost to regrets, so fair a winner, so constricted,
such a funeral worker: at beige feelings, to ask about dictators, to churn a
soul while feeling justified: such demanding deceit, such bold redemption, as
if one has graduated….
…so
lost in it, so rebuked by it, such a deep scar—as gifted with this, while a
deficit with that, this intricate unreality: to beg Jesus, to ignore leviathan,
while realizing that hands are meant for destruction: we magnify behavior, so
hurt nearly destroyed, while fortifying unsaid behavior: a few words with
tears, a naked body, while back to normal: to know justice, to lose children,
where parents are so proud: this lifestyle, as removing sentiments, where every
encounter is chess: to sing softness, but a joke to some, while poetry, but a
myth to some: those love novels, thrusting souls, where it feels good to relive
fiction: so apt with rain, so decided about promiscuity, as life becomes a
number of trysts: indeed, needing a child, some unsuspecting, passionate,
playful hero: something forgiving, someone enlove with children, so silent,
even passive, where bug-lights are passed over: those tales about fire, this
hope for adult intervention, where leviathan has educated innocence: it doesn’t
happen; it‘s against its instruction; where gentle souls expect gentility: but
earth is refuted, while spirit is rejected, where children watch, attract
through osmosis, while becoming mini-machines….
…we
sense muddy water, at feelings churning, while evidence, plus, witnesses, speak
a private language: everyone is innocent; our world doesn’t understand; or such
and such never could have known: needing panacea, or rich elixir, or something
alchemic: reliving loses, fretting daughters, looking too deeply to reap
harvests: asking for accountability, this faithful repellent, while deemed a stranger:
this colorful mechanic, this reaching tether, so unrestricted where pain
apologizes: those clear windows, this bucket of wood, plus, inevitability: to
listen to rain, to scoop a puddle of tears, where music seems to lengthen
agony: this fair exchange, this fairer losing, while un-cursed strewing
something softer….
…it’s
ever your mind, so stalwart, so prone to facts: maybe those latter years,
sensing inconsistencies, while afforded a particular lifestyle: maybe at
religion, maybe a poem strikes a nerve, or maybe it boils over: but now is
unsettled, our oatmeal is lumpy, our skies are cloudy: such nebulous hearts,
such opaque desire, at something losing confidentiality: those seeping flutes,
those organ pianos, while listening closer to silence: those unstated auras, or
a mood leaking, while negotiating a particular approach: or hearing gripes, a
sentence trickling its hallway, while running through mental vestibules….
