Thursday, June 11, 2020

There’s Something To Hatred

I flurry into majesty or hurry into silence so much a man’s fire: the cassock the biretta the wafer! so accursed in you a man despised by you while it feels like fever: such total innocence, as never an infraction—but pure holiness: never a lie, never a crossed river, such paragon passion or pledges. the sound or stupidity, so fitted in man’s guts, while parents are sure understanding. to mar flesh or mangle innocence while one might hate people; to move forward as mere deductibles such dental mechanics while asserting such purity: the conspicuous mistakes those furious actors at something no one understood: the brooks sheer disgusted the family listening again where no one knows the best in you. the grass blowing the bad men dying while certainly left with a precious gift. such a brand-name accessory or something so trivial while men have a hard time feeling clean: such distrust so devastated where it becomes fleshly disagreements. such porcelain pink pains, where others are laughing, while it’s difficult or tainted: the last cigarette the craving confusion so fused such fuss where a black man’s anguish means, so breathe; but earth to gut the fury of mere souls as to need an account for churning rashes. so much bellicose behavior. or so radically free from error. while people eat dung for ethics. so sensual into heaven those blues a soul where a man blazes into jazz: such brimming deserts such rich desolation as to have never done rightness by one person! the ostracized poet, so afflicted by goodness, where one should be proud to feel your wrath. such by Babylon, or cretins, or saturnine unfortunate pollution!  

I’d Save The Reader Years

    The beat becomes sickness. A long crucible—a drilling ecstasy. I was losing focus, feeling forbidden, if to self, if to mirrors. So curs...