Saturday, 11 December 2010

about fixed form and the lounge

the sound amplified by the
sound of my dying frequent friends
sequentially dying friends of
subsequent things that end in
super-ceded thought of dreams

snake skinned tambourines
dictionary poets with eyes the size of wings
could concieve the fashion
but terrified of things
that sleep away the rainy days
and bring us to our knees

what are these things these stupid things
that take away our dreams

these jabberwocky, made up monsters
face eternal screams

these fixtures in the walls of carvings
made of brick and sex and starving
fueled with liquor, soda, frosting
caked with sweetness, sad, and roasting
kicking it with teachers, teaching



fade away you tired things
you ghosts of what that could have been
you mock me with your cheerfull grin
you take me through the phases

I try to pass but stop some how
my mind is teatherd to the crowd
and murmmurs with this silent. loud.
and cracks with stifled laughter

the room the room the sacred room
protected by 3 gold dubloons
could open up the sun and moon
and steady nihilistic crazes

face yourselves and prey good health
on those who share this wordy wealth
and thank you, for you share yourself
and that's what we're all after



the barriers of minds are breaking
talking, speaking, cracking, quaking
falling into sleepers wakened
and by 7:30 these seats are taken

we angels covered in the dirt of the world
breathing underground and sing

through wood and ground and jazz and stairs
our pen and paper bring

from passing through it seems
I saw between these things
we are steel, we are flynt
god given and sent
believed the walls for their scent
but we never relent

smaerd fo thguoht dedec-repus
ni dne taht sgniht tneuqesbus
fo sdneirf gniyd yllaitneuqes
sdneirf tneuqerf gniyd ym fo dnuos
nht yb deifilpma dnuos eht

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