Escaping from the dilemma of my source
And if that should be entitled to anything important
while I sit and unwind and divorce myself from
standing trial all the time
Just to be the word
And be in charge.
Spoken and soaked up
And where the under-cord resides
Sopping it up, rising and falling
When I used to sit quietly,
I’d remember some moments
Long forgotten character-in-motion
Unrestrained yet resisting the same
And assuming that those trees would remain
When I was renamed and cast out, Cast upon a generation upon Mother Earth …Forsaken and misunderstood, Lashing out and frothing at the mouth.That begged for its nipple.
GODDAMNED PSYCHOTIC FUCKS!
Forget that whole story that your momma made up
.Drink me up in all of your fornications – I forgot that I am a celebration.That once gave birth to inclinations
That Hamlet had something to spread about.
Shambles and charades, plays and Christmas trees
Writing in the winter and longing for warmth in those Letters to: “keep in touch” …
My father once told me a story that he loved so much.It was all about himself and his dealings.I was always attending.Looking up a the ceiling,And pretending To be content in his network What was his net worth? Special forces and his looking beyond Those images that kept him from his leisure time to vent His time since spent I wonder about those old dreads And if it means anything To be made by someone.
Co-creating and existing, preexisting and mincing words,Worlds and I wish on shooting stars at night. Observing and lamenting Giving thanks, relenting …Anguished, disguised, laughing But just serious enough to do or die –
My remains … a few fractures Those X-ray technicians learn my cavitiesWhile escaping into their laboratories of Self hatred, lust, and those vipers they’re all bidding for.