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The sounds of my restless throat are unceasing. I wonder if anyone else can hear my heart pounding? Is it me or the floor shaking? Man, I really wanted just to love you endlessly. This is not a satisfying conclusion. An uneven buzz like the buzzing in my head. The sound of my angry stomach. Soft whispers far behind me. Comfort comes and goes like sound. This room is a womb, or a tomb, carrying buried energy that won’t stop thrumming. I want to be heard. Hear me! I want to penetrate this quiet room with an ecstatic yawp or an agonized howl. listen Listen LiStEn LISTEN
-a human need, a burning desire, a hopeless endeavor. You don’t hear a single word I say. This is fruitless. This is agony. This is so fucking human.
The Heart of the Matter
The clock is blinking 8:08 and a distant scream is tickling the backs of our necks. It creeps in- this is the end. This is the first stirring of breath. Come now, this is how and what and why you would, come now, this is-
wow
thisissofuckinggood.
To Do (immediately):
Read everything ever written! Leave poetry on bathroom stalls. Chew thoughts with gusto. Stay up all night playing. Kiss all of your friends. Try everything at least once. Say “I love you” when you do. Climb more trees? Relish in the sound of your own laughter. Always say something new. Fuck and make love often. Celebrate the first day of spring and taste cold water. Breathe in and let go.
Record your dreams. Draw them! Draw for the sheer beauty of creation. Color in your life. Be unforgettable. Forget everything that came before this moment. Start now, act immediately. Proclaim your sovereignty over yourself. Let no one keep you from the ecstatic center of all being. Declare your body your own and feel the weight of your steps. Surround everything with music and sing along. Make up your own songs! Listen like you’re the one speaking. You are the one speaking. We are one worn, wheezing being begging to be set free.
You are free, to do as I- Unplug your television. Wrestle, banter, be silly, be happy. Act decisively. Challenge people’s view of reality. Drive with the windows down and the music up loud and roaring and soon you’ll be soaring if they told you life was boring they were utterly wrong.
you said Is
there anything which
is dead or alive more beautiful
than my body,to have in your fingers
(trembling ever so little)?
Looking into
your eyes Nothing,i said,except the
air of spring smelling of never and forever.
….and through the lattice which moved as
if a hand is touched by a
hand(which
moved as though
fingers touch a girl’s
breast,
lightly)
Do you believe in always,the wind
said to the rain
I am too busy with
my flowers to believe,the rain answered
-e.e. cummings
RHYME SCHEMES YOUR MIND SCREAMS
FROM ALL THESE BLIND THEMES
BURSTING AT THE SEAMS,
WHILE THE WORLD TEEMS
WHILE SHE LEANS
IN THE STREAMS
WHILE SHE FIENDS
GOOD SOY BEANS
WHILE SHE CLEANS
FOR THE QUEENS
AND IT STEAMS
AND IT DREAMS
Hey you. You’re a rather charming illusion.
Why, thank you. How does your garden grow?
In the strangest of places!
Oh my.
May every single love become you, may the doom undie
while you drink and get hiiiiiigh
he holds me, he heals me
while the sun comes up,
feels like ecstasy
in my cup.
the Be abyss is never missed,
though it should be,
let’s be. let’s be free
(i like
to be kissed)
come now this is how
and what and why you would,
cum now this is wow
thisissofuckinggood
The art of losing isn’t hard to master;
so many things seemed filled with the intent
to be lost that their loss is no disaster.
Lose something every day. Accept the fluster
of lost door keys, the hour badly spent.
The art of losing isn’t hard to master.
Then practice losing farther, losing faster:
places, and names, and where it was you meant
to travel. None of these will bring disaster.
I lost my mother’s watch. And look! my last, or
next-to-last, of three loved houses went.
The art of losing isn’t hard to master.
I lost two cities, lovely ones. And, vaster,
some realms i owned, two rivers, a continent.
I miss them, but it wasn’t a disaster.
-Even losing you (the joking voice, a gesture
I love) I shan’t have lied. It’s evident
the art of losing’s not too hard to master
though it may look like (Write it!) like disaster
-Elizabeth Bishop, One Art
Sonnet the Hedgehog
Rhyme schemes your mind screams from all these blind themes
bursting at the seams, while the world spins bright
as snow and light
as air, there’s nothing there
to keep you sane, just the blood in your veins,
just these fettered dreams, just the day at dawn,
greeting me with a breeze and a long yawn.
It opens and closes, you loved me well,
but away I go from this perennial hell.
Here’s to the stars, the ocean, the trees,
here’s to learning never to say please,
being hot for life, stepping on its heels
and standing still while everything reels-
and when it all comes crashing down on me
know there is nothing that is like to be.
……………………Can I… tonight? What? Again? No. Wait! Maybe. I said…
But your
face
looked so
peaceful
in your
sleep.
……………………It’s not, I’m scratching my ankles endlessly in my dreams.
………….(the sun is safe
………….behind the giant ogres
………….all around us)
What
smells
like
opium?
……………………That’s the cat. Little Green Eyes.
…………..(meow)
Oh my
she’s
eaten
all the
strawberries.
……………………You weren’t meant to keep them.
I just
……………………No. Can’t you hear anything?
I just hope
she enjoys them
……………………The clouds are rolling in again.
Oh God,
this is
so
fucking
beautiful.
your perfervid nature! damn it!
perfervid, syn. fervid, fervent, intense, vehement, impassioned, fierce, ardent, violent, heightened, enhanced
Just when you think you’re acting the most spontaneously, you’re acting the most predictably.
soften the knees
and grip the earth
to rapture! to felicity!
to eccentricity!
to purity and honesty!
to now, to me
to how i must be.
time flies. time dies.
lucid and
perennial
.
“Just slap a wig on an ox why don’t you?”
“She’s either deaf or has down syndrome.”
-Andrew Fucking Flint, on Nico
For a soul, for something true,
for something I have spent my whole life trying
to find, it had been found, it is being
found, my door stands open,
we laugh and drink til dawn,
until the pain is gone.
i keep strange hours.
here’s to the heart of the matter, to opening and upward.
the steady rise, the beautiful journey back to begin,
the song you can’t get out of your head.
in the darkness small thoughts fester and foster
here’s to fortitude, to the beatitudes!
your attitude, your joy and your peace,
the now that tastes like tulips,
the soft and the gentle,
the lovely abyss.
be more say more hear more songs in the breeze
write furiously, be crazed with ecstatic complacency!
this is a hearty hello,
this is the softest pillow
be gentle with yourself
find the love in the trees
learn how not to say please
let go, be free
this was meant for me to
be more!
write sonnets at dawn
you create the world you live in you craft the self
you choose how not to think
and how to believe
it may not always be so;and i say
that if your lips,which i have loved,should touch
another’s,and your dear strong fingers clutch
his heart,as mine in time not far away;
if on another’s face your sweet hair lay
in such a silence as i know,or such
great writhing words as,uttering overmuch,
stand helplessly before the spirit at bay;
if this should be,i say if this should be-
you of my heart,send me a little word;
that i may go unto him,and take his hands,
saying,Accept all happiness from me.
Then shall i turn my face,and hear one bird
sing terribly afar in the lost lands.
-e.e. cummings
Love is a dangerous angel.
You cannot cage the wind, you must
become it.
Day greets me brightly every night, as
I extricate you from my sight,
like bones from the skin,
you were so far in-
I will not be tender,
I will rip you out,
scatter my bones,
leave them to the dogs.
My heart beats pure pain,
I drop the love from my eyes.
The frigid wind extinguishes all glowing.
I will match you each
of my foolish hopes for each
of your careless lies.
I will rip you out.
I will not have mercy.
And I will not make the same mistake twice.
or if your wish be to close me,i and
my life will shut very beautifully, suddenly,
as when the heart of this flower imagines
the snow carefully everywhere descending;
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