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this fiction of mine laboured tightly in the skull of memories and mysteries worked to the wheel by furies who deal the willing thread in...

Wednesday, May 11, 2011

lookin' out of the side window from the 'no name bar'

this unquenchable evil learns me few and many ways
to transgress and expiate hence
penance remains a sham in spite of having been paid
-for instance take a number-
once i awoke and got on with my business
when a sudden discomfort grew in my middle
disrupting a wholesome routine and forced me
to lean back for a few years to consider
a series of inevitable perhaps necessary mishaps
which in turn seized me unexpectedly with alarm
because what had been established was disrupted
not by need it was a change in haste and greed
of ego’s game plan and it kept on growing
avidly in fashion until it burst a vortex
precisely where things arise
and without further cause or trace of will
i found myself oblivious in a shambles
ruin of a place swamped by the flood
i ran up a flight of decrepit stairs to a trembling floor
where i laid and tried to rest
and as i looked at the sky
through the great gap on the walls opened to the fire
i saw in a flaring epiphany a score of disasters
cross the limits of my citadel of psych
viciously coerce me at the gut's level
i tried to order my things but i'm held hostage
having let myself drawn absently
to this mess caging me with the rabble of the earth
so alone and with a promise echoing tall _in short
that every man shall sit under his own three undisturbed
provided he forsakes his own being and puts to death
whatever nature is rooted in earth
_giving it all away to cosmic hells_  flesh blood
smiles delivered as well
all of which in turn i reject  -meanwhile-
i still hear the river flow long and see the sky
lit crimson by man and then i fix holes
that every parched throat may lie well in the sand

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