Friday, April 16, 2010

trying something new--take 1

and i forgot to call it out
shout it out
at the top
of trunked up trees where
it couldn't be smelled

that lady sitting next to me
with her trick trickling cigarette made to look like butter
on her lips and fingers
a growing joke and her satin scent of flower
little blossom puke in a bottle
the fragrance tires the scenes and sets
the stomach to churning

you make me sSICK said the little autistic boy
to no one in particular
til i realized he was talking to the whole lot
of centralized slothcattlebots with
their fertile parents slapping piggybackridding
big with cheap meals and fatty betrayal
with ignorant immoral unethical imagination punishing
killers---i mean---most of em' of are against abortion
and ain't no white haired wrinkledasspolitician gonna
pay for that real kind of sex ed

so grind me down perfumed smoke women
and tell me that life is good wearing a little black dress
and forget the rest
my table top isn't for forgetting though---
no and it's not for style either

i tell--sense can't be breathed in like air
it's not a drink to swallow either
more like scrambling sweating clumsy thinking clawing
towards mazelost exists and expecting a reward of fresh air
at the end when all you get is more slipping
and needle compass roses swirling in the head like
a dark night of drinking and feeling separate in the midst
of folks churning hiptwisted on the dance floor of time
and don't get me started on space

i am ebb
sticky sometimes but ebbing on like loose leafs
in current blue rivers in pushing green reservoirs
the stone cold bottom of wells springing up life
and feminine mystic cheeks
turning the other way
when loose tongued motherfuckers suck in too
much confidence without abandoning ignorance---
abate this mouthflapper:

drawing on the wall of silence
mute shyness
i scream a lesson learned and realize
to work through to abstract selflessness (if there is such a thing)
it's got to be figured first--fist first by sounding out self
and giving i a new chance of sight
abide by the rules of insight keeping it tight
so for real--my childhood was good
and screwed up like every ones and to say less or more
is just ego and might reveal too much of those secret
seances concerning home

so lady scent
in your black dress
and smoke perfume
who are you
chatting with the sky
about loss
and sight
sticking your fists into

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