Early to bed and early to rise make a man healthy, wealthy,
and, “make me do what?” ask questions, be wise, like,
“Why am I awake at such an early hour?” While friends
slumber Sunday morning away to avoid the provocation
that such an hour on a workweedending day provokated
that evening before with the inner series game Pacers
with fast food, with friendishes, with liquor, with beer coozy buddies.
Static annihilists stock motion simulate to
live TV of actual local import! When spirit matters
most, be alive! There ain’t no sleep for the spiritually
disturbed, though you may lie abed, tossing and turning.
Active community members sound off, turn lights off, and are out and about,
deaf and blind to homebodies who horde action against
adventure, who wear stoic masks against philosophy!
and, “make me do what?” ask questions, be wise, like,
“Why am I awake at such an early hour?” While friends
slumber Sunday morning away to avoid the provocation
that such an hour on a workweedending day provokated
that evening before with the inner series game Pacers
with fast food, with friendishes, with liquor, with beer coozy buddies.
Static annihilists stock motion simulate to
live TV of actual local import! When spirit matters
most, be alive! There ain’t no sleep for the spiritually
disturbed, though you may lie abed, tossing and turning.
Active community members sound off, turn lights off, and are out and about,
deaf and blind to homebodies who horde action against
adventure, who wear stoic masks against philosophy!
The staid reactionary, passive to insult, fails to ignite the
human parasite. <Thrilling germ tattoodler, last strawed proboscis
camel gymnosperm needle stack, with fear of mosquitoes.
Palm Sunday slap in the face, late April snowfall.>
I am the drunken unfaithful, lost all I thought I
knew I held dear, snatched from my heart staring at my
eyelids. Inland, islands lose that fresh salt feel and
that new sense appeal becomes a stranding nuisance and
an extended condition of derisive benefit.
All of a sudden, my beloved potent possessions are rent from
my hands with this lasting impression yet held in foreboding
fear for forgetfulness, in knowledge of mistaken memories
planted by the sewer of deceit, the reaper of forgeries.
How far am I destined to stray from a perfect deviation
before recollection and before burning
lost alone along one of life’s stray tangents?
I have that despairingly lost feeling of fated angst
again, I have returned to debauch women misled,
to take advantage of seemingly opportune situations!
Poikilothermic lust for homeothermic heat waves,
a narcotic spelunker plunges as deep as the main vein
will allow his willing vain member to plunge into her,
already divided within, alone together. A belligerent tool
defined against popular opposition, screwing
to the mires, driving empty pavement cut and tiredly
lapping luxury’s lap with wrought iron slag.
My impious impropriety is
nothing to brag about, double for shame, hard wisdom.
My impious thoughts are never unknown, though
I would prefer them not to be at all.
My conscience will not allow my willing action to
proceed, lest I go mad inside, lest peace destabilize.
Bless my drunken depravity with evenhandedness,
nay, correct my guidance prematurely,
before the fruition of every desirable event, vindicate!
The weight upon the fulcrum that balances
action against inaction with celestial precision
paradoxically asserts the truth, that there
is no inaction, only a stubborn refusal to act
a choice that is essentially asinine.
I’m in the mood for a violenthuman parasite. <Thrilling germ tattoodler, last strawed proboscis
camel gymnosperm needle stack, with fear of mosquitoes.
Palm Sunday slap in the face, late April snowfall.>
I am the drunken unfaithful, lost all I thought I
knew I held dear, snatched from my heart staring at my
eyelids. Inland, islands lose that fresh salt feel and
that new sense appeal becomes a stranding nuisance and
an extended condition of derisive benefit.
All of a sudden, my beloved potent possessions are rent from
my hands with this lasting impression yet held in foreboding
fear for forgetfulness, in knowledge of mistaken memories
planted by the sewer of deceit, the reaper of forgeries.
How far am I destined to stray from a perfect deviation
before recollection and before burning
lost alone along one of life’s stray tangents?
I have that despairingly lost feeling of fated angst
again, I have returned to debauch women misled,
to take advantage of seemingly opportune situations!
Poikilothermic lust for homeothermic heat waves,
a narcotic spelunker plunges as deep as the main vein
will allow his willing vain member to plunge into her,
already divided within, alone together. A belligerent tool
defined against popular opposition, screwing
to the mires, driving empty pavement cut and tiredly
lapping luxury’s lap with wrought iron slag.
My impious impropriety is
nothing to brag about, double for shame, hard wisdom.
My impious thoughts are never unknown, though
I would prefer them not to be at all.
My conscience will not allow my willing action to
proceed, lest I go mad inside, lest peace destabilize.
Bless my drunken depravity with evenhandedness,
nay, correct my guidance prematurely,
before the fruition of every desirable event, vindicate!
The weight upon the fulcrum that balances
action against inaction with celestial precision
paradoxically asserts the truth, that there
is no inaction, only a stubborn refusal to act
a choice that is essentially asinine.
upheaval in my current mood, full of violent upheavals.
I struggle to put something into the air, I struggle
to breathe. It feels like I ingested a medicine ball and I am
stuck with a pit in my stomach and with my mind’s
swirling thought focused on the imaginary offensive substrate
like an undulating black hole consuming my heaving
chest from the inside, eating at me, eroding parts
from this sacred place that I used to call home
however briefly, and yet I cleave to her, however twain.
The man who places faith in spirit superior to faith
in flesh may find a multitude of spirits occupying
a multitude of selves adjacent to each other, in
the same room, multiplying. What an orgy!
Serpentine simians all groaning
sibilantly together, together, Ooing and Ahhing while
ejaculating together, together, “Oo!” and ”Ah!” with
Prince Prospero as Red Death rages outside.
My swirling interior creates a creative measure that manifests itself as
an arrhythmic beat. Doctors scrutinize
medical manifestoes to deduce
my issues of heart; my condition murmurs plaints.
Oh wicked flesh, my candle ignited, burn me at both
ends! Prolonged anticipation rewards and wanting not
the stress of wanting. Heaven, if it exists, ((in hope,
it does) eternally) awaits, hopefully not forever, forever.
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