Friday, October 31, 2014

October: various poems, epitaphs, and apologies

Laudly do these claims doth emit,
though nothing more than paper spit...
Loudly do I remind thee often
no rest I'll find 'til pauper's coffin

I know, now,
that there exists no cage to burden me,
no clipper's clippers may touch my soul,
here I am flinging hands about miserably

Two words: blue eyes, never loved.


Bitter churning tongue and nail
the cap'tal dome; upset, a grail.
Obama stole from me my youth,
and wrapped my guts 'round velvet spoons.

butter, but, her
boilin' burning
one more chair to no one there,
offered towards a churly churning
one spoke trench
disposed midair

pair o' shits,
dismaimed in number
angels 'pon such silken clouds
hand in hand the towers fell then,
all past borne present aloud

Slipping faces crane towards feeling,
something blonde to laugh alive,
forgetting that such final feelings
oft to lend a laugh to die

For all things end 'pon brutal summit
and all things die 'pon flowers fair.
Be fair to him who'll quench your numbered
pains thrust towards a heart unpaired

for it is he and he alone
who may yet be your saving stone
for he who loves you left alone
finds naught within which to atone

a fault nor fracture nary sees,
he who smells only the flowers
bending branch on brutal tree,
not the hate of waning hour

ice crack towards a sprinkling fall,
and still they grin and stand aside you.
I would not share a mask at all
If I never were to rot inside you

She slips in shit and lands in gold,
and triumphant sez, "Look what I'm worth!"
You fool, you've only married stone
and asked a cactus for your worth.


Even at my most doveful lows and quietudes am I so consumed with an anger,
with vicissitudes
with venom and with teeth
grinding mailboxes and murdering mailmen

Cool as a cucumber do I slide
along the weekenders
Weekend drunks shouting into their palms
Weak brutes, brutish
and so I ain't takin my boots off tonight

I find myself deadfully
Let her screw up

To splay upon a lathe
the pen rendered sick with plastic tips
toxin radiante from radiator gaskets
and hatching grasslets
shimmering shimmering steam
when my words mean nothing
but my stare it all

The way my eyelids dance
across the air
speaking these tongues,
foreign tongues
of guilt? 

"Epitaph" (10/19/14)

Andrew T Dietz
was drunk when he slipped.
Shaving in the shower,
his own throat did he slit.

Andrew T Dietz
was drunk, so they wrote.
Shaving in the shower,
slipped and slit his own throat.


*living the definition of self, definition-of-self dictating who-you-are, choices-you-make, who-you-become and are forced-to-be

Don't Worry-
I am a vampire
drinking guilt only!
relax relax
I drink gouts,
I do what I want.


I don't want to kill myself, John.
John, I don't want to kill myself.

Lofty Jew-breezes,
the same recycled words,
I build nothing upon nothing,
I listen to Campbell but
can only imagine myself the hero.
And how foolish!
how unhealthy is this!
For what will I learn?
Challenge, challenge,

I lay blushed and nude
with soft cock
and weeping arms,
for only you to see.
An elephant I am!
a mammoth, a cyclops!
For these secrets we curdle
and sour our smiles.


Assemblies of God girls
with their fat asses,
Me with drunken blood
and sharp-toothed smile,
a mercenary mouth
and time to kill.


My blood sounds, heartbeat
pushing stone waves
upon heavy ears, each
a wave a wane
the ants go marching in.
A psychedelic holocaust
did I once subject
my brain to,
such unfair pairings
and gleanings
and knowledge sought
without deserve.
So here I lie I lay
and lie
and feel atomic waves
of blood against
my stony eardrums
and I excuse myself;
"Excuse me."


Public exposure
I hope you got a good look at my dick
Because you'll probably never see it again
-the Smiths


No comments: