Part VI. Underneath the infirmary of a random remembered empire is the rage unbind enthusiasm stealing the stoic stone of unturned vegetation rooted to the jagged resonance rictus rocks of a thousand dreams nailed to the Blackbird’s throat Underneath the flummox flames of the self is the wreckage pitched and piled up over the years with the common complacencies of the most secretive serpent that bid Eve to eat of the guided problematic stalemate of a statement of being separated from the knowledge of living as one with the world Underneath the collective cognitive imperative of a reeking time piece in the hand of a deaf and dieing death is the inalienable audible innocence multitudes of minuets seconds counting away the strong triumphant hour of an afflicted thirst foretelling the time when the rains shell find in its falling a familiar reframe drummed on the heads of the homeless nomadic in their home-city town where the hero as priest is the original man of God great and full of fruitfulness in the sphere that issues the truths of God’s private judgment of genuine teaching consider as the alternate word in this shackled world where liberty of judgment is worshiped by the innermost soul that prosecutes the dead bodies incredible in their lingering long decomposing lust when the body’s conversation ends it’s the last of your leaving town it is the last terrifying concrete of the streets the last great effort of beginning Underneath the conviction of a handsome youth who will be the carpenter of all possibilities is the doubt of his own divinity in his time of primary prime without leisure and pleasure extraordinary fortified with the Holy Ghost and the Leviticus laws of terrestrial omens issued to the challenge of April violence in Americus going down in a blaze of glory where the handle of words fresh and forlorn with a foreign fraudulent fraught of freckle on the forty hours sacrament of the red brain’s blazes of a blood train words wed to the strong words of anguish summoned by the voluptuousness of our memories that waits the common compound of the tranquil ambition of shadows astonishing proud and authentic against the cowardice of a weariness that bumps its polished caricature against tarnished empty space and say so much of the nothing prayer’s complicitous begging for the civil rights of squirrel’s quest Underneath the small likeness of a banishment emptied of its memories of assimilation in the special exclusion of uncontested control toward the golden fireflies that drink the screams of jazz drink the voluptuousness of notes brilliantly hung on the ears of a howling horniness hung on the fierce reformer of prophecy is the works of poets who are the symptoms indispensable and notable of the representation of our spiritual longing their music is that of a politician a thinker a philosopher in the old sense of the great heart of the sacred mystery of good and evil they toil in your needs of the beautiful eye that sees the grandiose bubbling self-conscious of being one with nature let then not go mute reduced to the hypothetical entertainment of a night out on the town let their spirit writing music live long alone side your splendent spirituous notion hung on the cross hung on the meditation hung on the militant prayers suffering their repeat beside the bitter bed that belong to the dead let the master of the moon lit night write a restless right toward your longing hunger to understand the undertow meaning of life in their skin they are as you made of the same star dust down to the dirt of their nails in the huge scope of things they wear an ever changing wordy ring around their brain around their tactical hands around the excitation and inhibition of their needs to teach in their human form they do not fully understand from where their wisdom comes breathing the motion’s pulsation and enclosed in the hummingbird bird’s wings the foundation of their wisdom is the naked ground where the flesh of the sea hatch ancestral belongings needed in the enthusiasm polished measure of a tsunami Underneath the long drawn out day of counting the blessing of the righteous I stall and steal one to take to my longing lover’s essence where he waits in the jungle of an instant condemned by the shadows of clarity he waits upon the salvo salvation that cleanse the soul he waits upon the price that I will pay to keep him solidly safe in the shape of things to come he waits with the solitary quest of his restless conflagration of his blood he waits for the joy of the illegal sodomite he waits to climb the bones of my spine he waits the freedom found in a can of beer he waits with his dazzled blood pricking his skin he waits the discovering of our love renewed daily by our common concern of the contracted first marriage he waits the splendid miracle of an union tied by the rules of the leering Lords he waits with his glorious reason fortified by my love of him he waits on the personal God of his rejuvenating ritual he waits the sudden glamorous glimpses of men attracted by his barely beautifully bold body he waits the strong gratitude accelerating toward the biochemistry of our love captivated by its own essence ignorant of wrong doing
Posted on: Wed, 26 Mar 2014 02:04:40 +0000
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