Friday, June 11, 2021

Pendulum Grandfather

 

days splash imprints while memories stir in glasses. much love in daisies sweet mellow angst, suffer me in our exercise. an exorcist in me a poltergeist in pain with whispering seeming so polite. I was anxious for something such raw anguish a proper burial. catch us at pretend, her ideals, my life – as crooked souls something without an odor while angered many see us. a bag of scars a jar of pretty, wild ass makeup.  

 

the premise is weak the conclusion is absurd, no one with skills will fall for that. I remain a bystander I keep a wand I never knew it becomes that way. a science slant or dearly sensitive while so rigid it screams. 

  

the margins are jammed those gates are closed most fret a sardine feeling: primal aliens sky-droppers or silence too neat to feel appropriate.     most haven’t known ascetic, live music, pearls and drugs.    

 

many will not like me but I never claimed martyr in a sullen river bathing near the Jordan.     I prefer a gift for a gift a matter for matters a glee for smiles.     where have we put nobility?

 

if it registers too high, we denounce it, “those people,” we say.

 

I was never as sick as they made me to be. I was never so happy as mother presumed. and I was not the first to know a person’s resume.

 

most write in ink, so many permanent appraisals, while some only use pencils. so devastated by behavior. it doesn’t matter behavior. we just live this way. I have a seed, a dear soul, I hope we make it.

 

I was so perfect so deranged we played, I slept snugly. so much a whiff so intoxicated so sorry I died early. a mind trying or mislead and screaming, it hurt like snakes when he penetrated. so sour so louder the neighbors might call justice. a cult in you a riddle in you so damn perfect the way we fit. I gave life I took tenderness it was crazy how labor comes. a fool for sinning so aloof it was good, as a crazed man sharing his alphabets.

 

layers to our insanity a woman I might crave a tear bleeding its blade. I usually run I kept the heart it seems sneaky to believe. a fret in a fool so devilish with, “I love you.”

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...