Sunday, November 10, 2019

Honeysuckle Ghostly Ghetto Aroma


such dynamic senses re-reasoning concerning love while true passion is not attached; this tremendous gift unto self and the beloved while human nature is quite knitted; this living and flying this mount this suffering in cages and angst those portals this life; rethreaded in memories looking through an hourglass so charged so ready and so guilty; for passion was tender petals and existence was given to man while resistance was given to suffering; this tug this pull where reality is askew and diamonds are melting while captivity starts in brains—this heavy wilderness this coat with glitter or a need for something arising over-there; such by quality or such by lips uttering receptivity where action is often scrutinized—those few feelings or so spread into parts where such is losing its receptivity.

such durian fruit such expensive taste where it was angels calling to adore something so aloof; it drove senses it abolished our ghettoes it became metals and glory or tides and oceans; to possess nothing but imagination to grip invisibility at angles and churns pulled and tucked into corners; such fuchsia roaring this gate breaking freedom this old apartment those ghosts—to die in turmoil to arise in pictures while something contagious was ingested; our battling wheat our weeds amidst our harvests while I really need that you tarry for a moment; minds destroyed or re-bent while winds are suffocating and rain is mangled; those goblin insanities so close an edge where forests and wildness are pleading softer seasons; such whale bones at such whale births or too early to convict our spirits.

it was dungeon bliss such eloquent dissonance where the beloved was such ghetto aroma; radical endearment such soothing and familiar candor where a man was freed from gates and fences and released into unfamiliar women; so torn asunder so stripped or skies at something a man exaggerates to live; those precise clouds as they follow deserts such smoke and fire and mountainous Voice; to drizzle something protruding from brains while I heard it so clearly; our psychosomatic evaluations or seconds it was so loud while one is partly around; such fortunate passions such outwitting of society or first to scribble history; those rapturous eyes this bodily chemistry where I must in order to adore the beloved.  

it is also us in this play where our author in reciting from this forbidden book; such mindful living this fullness by existence to run and leap and dance and distinguish; those clever inquiries this clever person as too clever to thoroughly engross; as so close we envelope and topple but too so far we reach and feel endless; while adored for selfhood or reexamined through personhood to imagine enjoying our lives without ownerships; to settle this soul where one is afraid of losing or needing a captivating guarantee; to beg by foreverness or plead evermore while so engrained it becomes impossible to flee; those subtle contracts this rationalizing machine while so accustomed they sing or cause a bit of rain.

in waves our scruples at this land of Mysterium those underachieving gated rules; this gamut of fleeing from Rome to Egypt or soft upon a hawthorn flower—restored or patched together awakened in a heart’s murmur so furious and free and so uninformed; from South Central to South Bay those eyes watching those brains computing; our loving realism so prone to particular touches so secluded so uneven where it isn’t so romantic some days; but furious rejuvenation and closing our Pandoras Box in arms so dividing and ever so concrete.  

All are Braving the Future

    If I may tell it, sore disquieted, greeting memories. Such soul-iniquity, grinding through havens, begging those last three dimensions. ...