ANOTHER ILLEGAL POEM
run red lights
.........with intellectuals
disbelieve street signs
& science
hide your feathers from God
& scream upon waking
'the truth is wrong
the truth bit me'
complain about the truth
like it's a shadow
that obscures what you try to read
-drive too fast
-shine too bright
alter speed signs with your loneliness
respect the law
only where it dances too close to love
dance badly against injustice
step on the toes of evil
& sing off-key
to set the world off-kilter
start a fire
with the things you dislike
& throw your lies onto it
& throw your love onto the pyre
& boast proudly
to the others in yr dream
that the rising phoenix
is your salvation
your lover
misuse the ashes of your stupidity
& song lyrics from the radio
that make you cry
but always remember
that the propaganda of tears
can be dis-proven by your smile
denounce all authority in earshot
but nurse your crush on power
exerted in darkened rooms
be still in the late night
& listen to the symphony of the machines
that do your bidding
& whistle the tune of your slavery
knowing the bonds that hold you
are lies, feedback, self-deception,
back-handed compliments, & lust
teeth gritting lust
& pretend your self-desire is yelling fire
in a crowded theatre
lock all the doors
& become the fire
that consumes everyone
who came to see you
perform
-
the Propaganda of Death’s Cartography
what do you do when you kill yrself on another failed treasure hunt
& then wake up in yr own bed
The same nothingness rubbing up against you like the cheap whore of every morning
The bullet, the blade, the poisoned cup,
Or coffee strong enough to cure a speed freak
The quandary of daily ablutions
The daydreams on the cloudy days Like a morning show of salvation
Interrupted by the intellectual commercial
Where the atheist preaches a morality Of nothingness
& you cannot drag yr finger in an unflowing water
& I believe in a nothingness that is not the negative space of being
But can seep into you with an invasiveness that we sometimes call evil
I hear the echo of choirs in the dark caves of man’s endeavors
My own father’s voice beautiful amongst the believers
nonetheless
I accept into me the abyss that I have stared into for so long
like a welcomed rape
& am nightblinded to the concerns of the many who seem to take no notice
& I swear I can hear God giggle at my clumsy stumble
Like the threat of an angel’s fall
Minus the intent
This is the morning of my belief
As the day lengthens into an eternal summer
& I create the night by denying my self-confidence
& scatter and position my sins
To blot out & absorb the light
So that my shadow might shine
But in the quiet small moments
When I glory in the exaltations of my being
I can hear God laughing at us
As we fumble with our cobbled together maps
Trying to find our way in the mirrored reflections of His light
Under the giant disco ball of our knowledge
& the universal ubiquity of the sensation of sinking or swimming
May simply be that we are all floating
In the rivers of the tears of God’s laughter
But hey, don’t believe me, I often don’t
But as you’re swimming along
If you see me clinging to the shore
Swim over
We’ll help one another to the bank & build a fire from our philosophies
With the irregular driftwood of truths that we have collected
We’ll dance around the fire & chant the findings of our interrogations
Of the shitty maps we’ve acquired, Scientific and otherwise
And when our chants intersect
Through melody or beat or thematic Subjugations
We’ll call them the songs of chance coherence
And score them in the sand & pray the river don’t rise
Or intellectualize the inconsistency of a risen river
(for those bitten hardest by the beasts of disbelief)
Who encroach our campground in the cold darkness
when our fire banks low
& who attacked assaulted & raped us
As we floated down the river
But gather together yr philosophies & unwieldy puzzle pieces of truth
To throw on the fire that we share & feed the fire
with the Propaganda of Death’s Cartography
To battle the darkness that none of us can deny
we’ll feed each other the bounty of the forest
& get drunk on its intoxicants
We'll make suicide pacts while tending one anothers wounds
& Dismantle the disco ball of knowledge
& each carry a piece of mirror
To enjoy the distractions of narcissism
Argue about where the light comes from
& the source of the river
We'll enact blood rituals just to prove a point
& each do our best to protect one another from the darkness
But for me
I beg that you not dissuade me
From trying to believe
That as what I experience behind the wall of sleep
So also will my experience continue
Under the shroud of death
For if I am convinced that this encampment
On the edge of the wilderness is all that there is…
I will swim to the center of the river
& give myself to its currents
-
THE SUBSTITUTE FOR LOVE
i've tried heroin
it works
wonderfully
as long as i'm happy
being the center of the universe
but that's not my place
& i want nothing more
than the spot
where i feel perfect
& i know that place
is
in yr arms
& this all feels like
another
failed
treasure hunt
i use alcohol for fuel
& the memory of yr unkissed lips
for a map
& smoke crack at each dead end
of course
me & my friends
snort a little powder
along the way
& these substitutions
are a false warmth
because i am freezing
without yr love
i worship false idols
& still shiver
but i would willingly give up
my wandering
& the chemicals of being lost
if you would but grasp
my hand
& place yr tender lips
on my fevered brow
& say
You are Home
run red lights
.........with intellectuals
disbelieve street signs
& science
hide your feathers from God
& scream upon waking
'the truth is wrong
the truth bit me'
complain about the truth
like it's a shadow
that obscures what you try to read
-drive too fast
-shine too bright
alter speed signs with your loneliness
respect the law
only where it dances too close to love
dance badly against injustice
step on the toes of evil
& sing off-key
to set the world off-kilter
start a fire
with the things you dislike
& throw your lies onto it
& throw your love onto the pyre
& boast proudly
to the others in yr dream
that the rising phoenix
is your salvation
your lover
misuse the ashes of your stupidity
& song lyrics from the radio
that make you cry
but always remember
that the propaganda of tears
can be dis-proven by your smile
denounce all authority in earshot
but nurse your crush on power
exerted in darkened rooms
be still in the late night
& listen to the symphony of the machines
that do your bidding
& whistle the tune of your slavery
knowing the bonds that hold you
are lies, feedback, self-deception,
back-handed compliments, & lust
teeth gritting lust
& pretend your self-desire is yelling fire
in a crowded theatre
lock all the doors
& become the fire
that consumes everyone
who came to see you
perform
-
the Propaganda of Death’s Cartography
what do you do when you kill yrself on another failed treasure hunt
& then wake up in yr own bed
The same nothingness rubbing up against you like the cheap whore of every morning
The bullet, the blade, the poisoned cup,
Or coffee strong enough to cure a speed freak
The quandary of daily ablutions
The daydreams on the cloudy days Like a morning show of salvation
Interrupted by the intellectual commercial
Where the atheist preaches a morality Of nothingness
& you cannot drag yr finger in an unflowing water
& I believe in a nothingness that is not the negative space of being
But can seep into you with an invasiveness that we sometimes call evil
I hear the echo of choirs in the dark caves of man’s endeavors
My own father’s voice beautiful amongst the believers
nonetheless
I accept into me the abyss that I have stared into for so long
like a welcomed rape
& am nightblinded to the concerns of the many who seem to take no notice
& I swear I can hear God giggle at my clumsy stumble
Like the threat of an angel’s fall
Minus the intent
This is the morning of my belief
As the day lengthens into an eternal summer
& I create the night by denying my self-confidence
& scatter and position my sins
To blot out & absorb the light
So that my shadow might shine
But in the quiet small moments
When I glory in the exaltations of my being
I can hear God laughing at us
As we fumble with our cobbled together maps
Trying to find our way in the mirrored reflections of His light
Under the giant disco ball of our knowledge
& the universal ubiquity of the sensation of sinking or swimming
May simply be that we are all floating
In the rivers of the tears of God’s laughter
But hey, don’t believe me, I often don’t
But as you’re swimming along
If you see me clinging to the shore
Swim over
We’ll help one another to the bank & build a fire from our philosophies
With the irregular driftwood of truths that we have collected
We’ll dance around the fire & chant the findings of our interrogations
Of the shitty maps we’ve acquired, Scientific and otherwise
And when our chants intersect
Through melody or beat or thematic Subjugations
We’ll call them the songs of chance coherence
And score them in the sand & pray the river don’t rise
Or intellectualize the inconsistency of a risen river
(for those bitten hardest by the beasts of disbelief)
Who encroach our campground in the cold darkness
when our fire banks low
& who attacked assaulted & raped us
As we floated down the river
But gather together yr philosophies & unwieldy puzzle pieces of truth
To throw on the fire that we share & feed the fire
with the Propaganda of Death’s Cartography
To battle the darkness that none of us can deny
we’ll feed each other the bounty of the forest
& get drunk on its intoxicants
We'll make suicide pacts while tending one anothers wounds
& Dismantle the disco ball of knowledge
& each carry a piece of mirror
To enjoy the distractions of narcissism
Argue about where the light comes from
& the source of the river
We'll enact blood rituals just to prove a point
& each do our best to protect one another from the darkness
But for me
I beg that you not dissuade me
From trying to believe
That as what I experience behind the wall of sleep
So also will my experience continue
Under the shroud of death
For if I am convinced that this encampment
On the edge of the wilderness is all that there is…
I will swim to the center of the river
& give myself to its currents
-
THE SUBSTITUTE FOR LOVE
i've tried heroin
it works
wonderfully
as long as i'm happy
being the center of the universe
but that's not my place
& i want nothing more
than the spot
where i feel perfect
& i know that place
is
in yr arms
& this all feels like
another
failed
treasure hunt
i use alcohol for fuel
& the memory of yr unkissed lips
for a map
& smoke crack at each dead end
of course
me & my friends
snort a little powder
along the way
& these substitutions
are a false warmth
because i am freezing
without yr love
i worship false idols
& still shiver
but i would willingly give up
my wandering
& the chemicals of being lost
if you would but grasp
my hand
& place yr tender lips
on my fevered brow
& say
You are Home
