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The Tropes of Poetry

Dedicated to
the genocide
of 'lost':

Waiting for it to get started
oh it got started anyway
nevermind.

Black typography
like meat around a bone;
but
there is no bone. Really.

So…

“Waiting for it to get started.
Oh, it got started anyway.
Nevermind.”
“Waiting, for it to get started.
Oh it got started, anyway
nevermind.”
“Waiting for it to get started
oh it got started anyway
nevermind.”
“Waiting for it to get started
oh it got started anyway
nevermind.”

Mimeioigraphe

Falls to pieces
trepaning air,
prior to falling:
ecx-static.

Circulabrant motion
it breaks teeth,
muscle and jaw,
thermofaxes them
to the end of the world.

No fancy business
but puncture, pressure,
acutepressure,
nimbling fingers,
flattening nails.

Blood Theme

Blood themed
seduction scene:
trapdoor, tape, measurine.
Afterward, go down Palmer Court
shambling.

Erase or Rewind

Existe_

Everest

[ ]

is everywhere.


North [ ] West [ ] south [ ] East [ ]


Tarnished perma-opal,
multi transparent reveverberation,
frost icy blast,


A ravine:
23,320
12,000 3,000
980.
5,300 17,100 13,800
[26]

Detritus:
maCh / log / om / nu


Everest,
from outer space:
[ ]

Useless Beauty

Futile, Inutile
tampered as you gaze:
because, you gaze.

Completely; integrated.
Compellingly; touchable.
Semper at your disposal;
.recombinable.

Redyelloqpurplenorange
amaranth chlorine – treated,
sated by technicolor,
and a bone.

The Country of Peaceful Death

Scarring sunlight gleams and bulging
acrid grapes, sweating marrow,
sheen ungodly and profusely
in the country of peaceful death.

My new motor-powered hearse
covers the distance, hillside town
to smokestacks - powdery red.
An uncanny, potent aroma of combustion,
yet the green outside ages in dirt.

Since times of old the cypress
enjoyed the company of youths
once their mothers could no more:
he now stretches up like a flesh beacon
at Three Corners, grasping a milestone.

The Right Notes

As the funeral carriage
grinds to a halt,
gnarled by constraints
every bone shatters:
miserable fall of bodies
toward granite beds,
asperities of lower
piano strings, straws
pulled at random.

All previously held truisms collate,
held together by sheen vapours a
opaline white substance, transmuted
humus of old age, runs profusely
all the way down, into every crevice.

Ionosfere

Sunchimed.

Not as in nature,
but rather, vertical:
vertically disabled,
vertically crushed.

Unwillingly
experiencing different flight,
as described in
the many voices in polvo
pullulating our stairways.

From daze to daze,
comes your turn to experience
the crushing pressure
pullulating your stairways.

Planes

Duvet

Eyes wide open when
skulls and crossbone clad
you, barely filled hoody, dream
of Hinterland factory smoke:
rather, reap all pleasures of illness,
head tucked under your duvet
like a cosy caped Palermitan monk,
fitting shroud for birthing a new self,
some other day.

Acute, intruding, rush
power lines obstruct view,
fiery they scorch a somewhere
you never knew you had,
curdle your brain at brow's height.
If that fever runs higher
(thirty-eight degrees or more),
if Sunday's thoughts freefall
(thirty-eight feet or higher):
eyes wide open, skulls
and crossbone clad monk.

Born

White
is new pink,

soon
to be

The Cræture that Swallows

John and Allison:
Apollo and Dyonisus -
Mæt and Greed.

Into the World,
outwith? handfuls of sludge.

You
establish a
Sextant;
to establish a
System?

Rewrite

Today,
instead of poems,
I ran and chewed a bite
off a philosopher's carcass.
Moist.

Sixteen Year Old Revenant

Ricket,
living in spite.
So strained are your crosses,
there is a strangely fine line
in you.

Datura

Stretches
uncalled, unloved
by them shiver hedges;
her sadist, sordid flowering
unfazed.

Double Prognosis

The self,
What does it hate - the self.
If within or without
the human machine, none can say.

The ultimate aim is
perception of self - perception
of self comes
in three distinct flavours:
conscience,
consciousness,
the curious sensation akin to bitterness at the corner of a tired, teary eye a few minutes before waking up to an array of industrial sunlight affectionately cursing your sickly forehead.

I heard you were writhing
and thrashing around, like
the decapitated vermin does, in
soaked sheets a few nights
ago – left a fingernail on the
stainless steel rail as the nurse,
circumspect, took hold of
your breast – so, why not
show me the same regard?

We are there for each other.
A new shiny cross on my back,
fresh breeze down your throat.

Cunning Heartshaped Translucent Ivyleaf

Callo(w)us
experiment in
Mass Appeal, writing
with an edge,

moving aside
arms and legs,
still sprawled
a christening Crimsoness(ence).

Referee
of the effort
I put in,
handy for
scraping clean the
bathtub shoulder.

Single Wor(l)d Essay

Jeri(atri)cho walls co(straint)me down,
impe(jo)rative to
comply(cate simple lives).

Tempor(t)al matters
prod(uce) me to
move for(East)ward

Shojo(jo) of a
stran(Al)ge(ri) Japanese
extra(di)ction,
She(ltering) holds
grasp(e)s

As if I(ntention) was
not the(reason to be the)re,
Sur(plus)realism at its b(as)est.