Thursday 16 July 2009

മോര്‍ bull

tingle wrangled flip off a repeating sound,kick it in
denial holds back ...
cry's person? who cries.
tingled cant see swelling in my chest for voiceness less than
this life ever
empty now. a sneaky ant climbing up my leg.
patterns monotone a meaning shared for what who?
late as it is. say those sounds that i laugh inside and freely react to.
laughter together til fingers braided. answers me.
a sneaky thought hugs me and stresses my spine. my lines lie in half. my own.
emotive cold razor.
well...i used to get into church. so i cant really shake the martyr's better than facing challenges,simply say you're better. based on some over elaborated vague moral principle verbal masturbatory well partially read regurgitations of non-sequitors that sound good enough at the time.
or deny them with tears or anger or deluded mind altered stupors.
smile like an old 50's show's hair parted child. her wife.
sleep in a muddy crooked sideways gagging nightmare.
and wake up rotten. dried robot. unmotivated and not even able to be jaded.
a hug might help.
or giving something to somebody when they dont expect or deserve.


  1. This comment has been removed by the author.

  2. i know. im tough to'd think copying a poem wld be easier than copying a painting...but now you see what happens when you try to follow the big JD. yours has significant gaps...but is pretty consistant about them. so that's good. it shows one the subtleties that arent as evident,but obviously strongly felt prior to their missing.

  3. shit mang,
    i'm so ashamed that i deleted
    th damn thing,
    not only was i copying you,
    but from this Bruce Andrews piece, "coldest"
    ,but my shit only came out
    alf-assed, so i decided to
    erase th archive & spare any
    future readers th shock
    of my awe-full & error.

    i ain't writ nuthin' wortha
    hounddog in hell since
    i dunno when,
    i gotta get my shit together.

    these damn clocks ain't gonna
    tell time forever


  4. but . if they dont keep time forever..what happens when we live forever...will it matter?

    when is writing?



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