HEAVEN AND HELL
Poets are the recorders of the nature's of the beast and the map guides thru the complex imaginations of the human consciousness.
NONE OF YOU CAN FATHOM THE HEAVENS I"VE SEEN AND THE HELLS I"VE KNOWN
Poetry...tantilizing poetry that gave me my breath and now keeps me alive. Seduction into...a war of words...a written display of violence so eloquent on these rotten city streets I loathe and love with more than my life energy has to give...and I collapse in Upper Englewood where all the nightmares began....
Walking into Hell with shadows following...crawling out on my belly thru caves of dripping cold burning rock melting above me in Inferno of souls............Heaven never looked so bright, so close; grasping me by the throat and taunting my tears and hopes of joy (companion) and throwing me back into the fire to try again...
DEATH IS MORE OF AN OPTION THAN EVER!
Arms bruised from war against myself, lungs charred, brain boiled, heart struggling to keep up, feet aching from the never-ending walks of birds and upon wings of feathers and metal--I remember being young, blades of grass growing and golden in the red sunset of indian summer night. Distraught is the gaze from my eyes and I can't bear to look! Oh sweet April and your showers so chilled and vicious, remove me from this Place...this place of Chaos in my mind, in my head so terrible....howling taunts of loneliness in psychedelic prayer pranksters over night. Paranoia soldiers and an unfindable path to the unknown....we are not knowable creatures...we are not kind or helpful...we remain beasts...no more no less...blessed be the way into insanity...
A disturbance rising me from ashen beds of cloth and air, a sound of early morning cars of no one at all but I still can't help but fear this place has become too dangerous for a wasted poet of the strange....NONE OF YOU HAVE ANY IDEA! I am truly terrified of tomorrow but desperation for that Heaven wakens me from sleep again...and again...and again....
And I remember the brothers that died a long time ago in the shooting galleries of the stars...where psychosis is the only God to know...
I have 2 peices of barbed-wire strung around my neck on a strand of Hemp...a gift from the poetess of southern slums to remember her by...bringing me light when no one cares and no one reads this ever but me until we go out with a quiet whimper...
I don't want forgiveness....I don't want you!........I recieve boredom and misery like children I am to raise...Misery for the thought of what would've happened had I not held on to him for those years...boredom for what did happen when the funeral was over....nothing....whole lot of nothing for the scavengers of the corpses of damned Angels falling into my head from mushroom towers burning my poems so the smoke can choke the lot of them and give them new names and new brains...a revolution is brewing, and that I am forbidden from memory............
This is yet another poem for Alexandra (my muse) and how she will inevitably discard me for the simple fact that She is Love--and I am Hate....
Fuck petty redemptions cause its all going down the crapper....and I'm the only one that cares anyway..........................am I not mean enough to be loved? To what bloody exit do I owe this toast and feast of the kings men that follows trying for more meat from my bones? But I've got nothing left until the next rising of words in my Hells and my Heavens...Sleep well Alexandra in your world of paintings and photo's...as I will lie here reading my special poem aloud for the silence to hear...in my misery and in my boredom....
Poets are the recorders of the nature's of the beast and the map guides thru the complex imaginations of the human consciousness.
NONE OF YOU CAN FATHOM THE HEAVENS I"VE SEEN AND THE HELLS I"VE KNOWN
Poetry...tantilizing poetry that gave me my breath and now keeps me alive. Seduction into...a war of words...a written display of violence so eloquent on these rotten city streets I loathe and love with more than my life energy has to give...and I collapse in Upper Englewood where all the nightmares began....
Walking into Hell with shadows following...crawling out on my belly thru caves of dripping cold burning rock melting above me in Inferno of souls............Heaven never looked so bright, so close; grasping me by the throat and taunting my tears and hopes of joy (companion) and throwing me back into the fire to try again...
DEATH IS MORE OF AN OPTION THAN EVER!
Arms bruised from war against myself, lungs charred, brain boiled, heart struggling to keep up, feet aching from the never-ending walks of birds and upon wings of feathers and metal--I remember being young, blades of grass growing and golden in the red sunset of indian summer night. Distraught is the gaze from my eyes and I can't bear to look! Oh sweet April and your showers so chilled and vicious, remove me from this Place...this place of Chaos in my mind, in my head so terrible....howling taunts of loneliness in psychedelic prayer pranksters over night. Paranoia soldiers and an unfindable path to the unknown....we are not knowable creatures...we are not kind or helpful...we remain beasts...no more no less...blessed be the way into insanity...
A disturbance rising me from ashen beds of cloth and air, a sound of early morning cars of no one at all but I still can't help but fear this place has become too dangerous for a wasted poet of the strange....NONE OF YOU HAVE ANY IDEA! I am truly terrified of tomorrow but desperation for that Heaven wakens me from sleep again...and again...and again....
And I remember the brothers that died a long time ago in the shooting galleries of the stars...where psychosis is the only God to know...
I have 2 peices of barbed-wire strung around my neck on a strand of Hemp...a gift from the poetess of southern slums to remember her by...bringing me light when no one cares and no one reads this ever but me until we go out with a quiet whimper...
I don't want forgiveness....I don't want you!........I recieve boredom and misery like children I am to raise...Misery for the thought of what would've happened had I not held on to him for those years...boredom for what did happen when the funeral was over....nothing....whole lot of nothing for the scavengers of the corpses of damned Angels falling into my head from mushroom towers burning my poems so the smoke can choke the lot of them and give them new names and new brains...a revolution is brewing, and that I am forbidden from memory............
This is yet another poem for Alexandra (my muse) and how she will inevitably discard me for the simple fact that She is Love--and I am Hate....
Fuck petty redemptions cause its all going down the crapper....and I'm the only one that cares anyway..........................am I not mean enough to be loved? To what bloody exit do I owe this toast and feast of the kings men that follows trying for more meat from my bones? But I've got nothing left until the next rising of words in my Hells and my Heavens...Sleep well Alexandra in your world of paintings and photo's...as I will lie here reading my special poem aloud for the silence to hear...in my misery and in my boredom....
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