Giberish: Untitled Collection of Poems (2005-2007)

 

 

 

 

Giberish: Untitled Collection of Poems created 2005 to 2007

12:23am Saturday, Jul 14, 2007

okay, to be honest some of these i rather regret, while others i think turned out very well...lately i’ve been kind of poemed out, so most of these were written in late 2005, early 2006.

so, for good or bad, heres the last batch of poems.



Dead Living

Somewhere the dead are still grieving for the living,
Behind a forest of televisions, cell phones
,
pcs, x-boxes
And radios,
i-pods doing an i-pod shuffle,
and
Vacant eyes,
sit tombs long lost
Dried black ink, the color of old blood
And here a cough, a laugh, a lilt
Booming in the gloom
Of naked humans shivering,
Warmed only by lanterns
Glowing with a post-apocalyptic
Light. They sigh sonorously
A chorus of longing, drawing
Thick painful breathes
Longing for a future,
A vitality, known
Only by the dead.






Music of the Moon

The whirligig of the grave
Stole my soul, ere it was
Saved. Them prancing
Fiends, hell bound friends,
Did my spirituality seek
To rend. With it they did
Replace, a haunting,
Keening, quiet place
Of solitude and slumber
To lead me forth, from our
Grave, to seek new sorrows
To dance about our hallow
Ground in the darkness
And the glitter of the
Red dusk.













Summer is dead
Buried beneath the very eye
Of Winter. The sun shines
Distraught and untaught,
Why doesn’t it know to simply
Halt. Halt. Halt.
Stop shinning.
Yet, it does. And there is a warm
Corus of air, singing about
My skin, shrilling and a thrilling
Through my numb brain.
My mind see’s only ice and hell.
My body feels the sun
Pulsating for all its worth
Far far above.







Bandwidth Barbarians

Control
All the barbarian children are running wild through the cyber cafes
Alt(ernative)
Making my space their space,
Sacking the city of the sexual predators
They hack into the system
& break Boolean bullies
Shrieking in the sinful circuits
Of a dead mother board
& everywhere, it all glows
Blue tube tomorrow
Or
Delete
Search the sea
The dolphins are drowning in acid
And the colors they glow
They know
G
O
O
G
L
I
N
G
recent news
Grimer then a fairy tale told
To crying children
And it’s a story about a modern
Cannibal, who just wanted
To know how humans tasted
And they show the image
I can remember the image
The image the image
I imagine no more, my mind
Caves in, buried beneath strawberry
Blonde hair, an innocent smile
And her glasses
They explain how when they found
It, the corpse, I mean, how
Her thighs were mostly devoured
And robot chicken is racing and clucking
And fry is frozen to awaken to love a Cyclops
And sumarai’s lead an innocent girl to Nagasaki
Before
The
Bomb
And it’s all the bomb
As if
The girls could change the guys, and they wouldn’t
Transform into desperate house wives like boo turning
Into kid boo, and somewhere, someone logs onto wikepedia
To look up hope, just to find out that some ass has deleted it.
And it’s a new age or it’s a new age and its not a new age
The bytes burn out. System failure.






Burn Out?

Here they are humping
Like loony libertarians
With the power of the moon
Beating back and
Forth through the night sky
Like a pendulum
Music blazing
They drink the dark life
Are the dark life
And they smile
Amidst a supernova
Of smoke so thick
It chokes their
Lungs, their youth,
Their beauty
And it cuts like
A manic blade
Crying at the twilight
To much fucking
Twilight
Yet, they are in
Motion, laughing
And
Alive
The sound
Burns on.




In the Right Dark Light

Where is my anima?
While you are away, I know the world is
Undead, so let’s burn it, turn it, make it
Go round, cuz there’s no light without
The blue of your eyes, no wind without
Your long black hair flowing, knowin’ and
A glowin’
My lance is rusty, this peace to long,
And I know, oh I know,
No no no!
My anima, my precious anima,
Is dead and gone
The world drifts by, a solon drip drop
Atop of naught and nothing, all
That remains save memories
Of my anima, my precious anima,
And the gift of her pain.
Pain that sings and shines
And thrives past the brutal
Beating of my wounded heart
Apart it tears and rends
And I sigh, savoring
The sound, that slick
Lustrous cacophony
Of her name
Anima.





Path to Providence

There is a path that surrounds the
Wandere’rs steps
Soil never touched, ground
Thick and old as
The world itself.
It windes about, out, in
And over, its length
Overflowing with forsaken
Leprechauns clutching clovers

This is a path that calls you by name
It knows you, it throws you
Forward and backwards
Away and towards home
Here dryads dance in drunken
Reverie wreathed by the glowing
Darkness of the woodlands.
And old dwarves tumble down
After nebulous nymphs
Singing a song, a song,
Of you.

It is an unknown song that coats this
Place, pulsating proudly from the throats
Of nymphs. It is a song of you and your
Travels.

You say you don’t believe in nymphs that
Sing songs of praise and platitude,
Unique songs of you?
Fear not, for they, oh, oh, oh,
They believe in you.

Albeit:

This is an old path
This is a new path
This is no path
It is yours.




Gaia Reaching

Fading suns call out to
One another beneath
a sky overflowing with ink
Birds chirp, taking wing to dark
Clouds. A sharp wind rises, and
I stare out at the world,
Knowing, it stares back
At me.





Clock Speed

My technology screams and bleeds:
Watching the world with blind
Electronic eyes, seeking out its
Own lies. My faces hangs hungry
Near liquid crystals crying in
Frustration. Here a beep, a flipping
Of charges blazing along silicon
Pathways--delta, gradients, a near
Existent demonstration. And futility
Beeps on, bleating in binary. My muscles
Moan in agitation, lamentation for action
Action action. To much traction, the
technology cries out
To me, asking for compaction.
And I sigh as
The disk drive breathes, my heart beats,
Humming in time to an over worked clock
My carpal tunnel wrists whirl and click click to the
Hour, white bleak bone groaning and dour
The keys grind down hard, lovers lusting in heat
And words explode from nothingness
From my mind to yours, across an information
Superhighway caught in gridlock traffic
And a world of starving philosophers. Somewhere
A screen saver shines upon dull eyes,
Eyeballs tumbling down in horror from the tower
Of Hanio, linked lists breaking down,
Network nodes only known as human beings,
Caring and clutching heavy apathy
Encrusted in blood and screams--my technology.




Sentences

Will Coulomb’s Law save me from this strife?
Will this point charge attract to me a wife?

Maybe if I am but a single lonely electron,
Sent to enter a quantum corral she will see

My wave dancing into the space between
And our electromagnetism will guide

She to me and I to her and then, only then,
All will be made clear?

And surely mega-lightning will explode
Above our clouds and the rain will

Be nothing beneath the sound of the
Crash? And maybe then the paradesence

Of our betrothal and the freedom it grants
Will shine shrilly with a post-ironic light?

And maybe this meme will survive in some
Meme pool, maybe memes make memories

And horror and hope and have a way
Of changing pale night to brighter play?
It’s
a
question
hanging here.







All Ships at Sea

They say silence sits best by the sea
With waves warbling over my pale
Heart, hurtling forward, over and over
A spray of H2O hits hard, and bonds
Break.

You started to say,"I will
See you," and then stopped,
Decision burned in your
Dark, brittle eyes. And

What more can one say, I mean,
At the end of time, as the universe
Wraps up, amid its super strings
And quasars and pulsars and
Eternal night and you and you and

You. How could you have done
This—to me? You give gifts
Of nothingness, safe beneath
A cross while I am hung by
Mine, left full of solitude

Berift of solace
Left with
Only the
Lapping of

Here comes the storm.

















Couplets

You asked me for a face,
And I looked without my eyes

Screaming by twilight it was still
The most beautiful smile

I think you laughed, trying to seem
Stern, and I fell

For its hard to have balance
When you are blind

What did we say? I think we
Opined about simplicity

Waxed normal, and talked
Chatted, in laconic luxury

Your brown hair bouncing
With the motion of your

Head, life shinning in your
Eyes. It was a face

A face that isn’t for me.
A beautiful face.

The weird walk.
Deaf, blind, and dumb

Longing for a face.
Your face.

A smile. To chart the
Stars by.

I wonder: Are you looking
For a face?

Too?







Mine Shaft A.KA. A Love Poem

Hey Woe, the red woods are aglow
Here we harp, hitting baby seals
Beaten raw red, sending forth the
Children of chance to die
A death for an anthem of oil and oh
Primarily presidents, walking blind
Without any precedent.

Past present, our cities are strong
Bastions for gangs and guns
Knowing a strong show of force
Wins the day. After day. After day.
Yet another day.

An empty treasury spits on
Empty minds, true tabula rosa
Raging at fate. A fickle fiend.

And you won’t say you love me.
The song flows on, so many
Discordant notes, that its hard
To hear your voice.

But what’s a voice anyways.
Who, really, can hear a voice,
Tumbling and bumbling and
Breaking and bawling and calling
Fallen down the long shaft of
The future.

Do you see a light?











breath

Tai chi glee
Try Chi tea
Its all me

see soul shine
sigh

guitars don’t lie

modulate your lives












Past Post Irony

It’s true
Cheney is dancing a disco in Salem square,
Fire lying in his eyes,
Leaping from one tortured non-believer
To the next
All around, old women chanting hex, hex
And America is aflame.
Some resounding shame, fair lady
Hilary strides forward bound
In a travesty of chastity
A digitized pontious pilot
Stabbing her lance again
And
Again
Into young hands, curled up
Carpal tunnel century
And they are swimming for
The shores
Swimming with the waves
For
America
a-mer-i-ca
amer-ica
a-merrrrrrrr-ica
fallen away, beneath
that water, tipping to
just totter towards
big brothers hands
holding pistols and
laughing out
bullets from dawn
till the sun
is a big ball of blood
broken and dripping
down down down
and they drowned to
the sound, of
an anthem




Affirmative Action

Your bones are blue
Breaking
For a bit of, "This is alright."
They tell, if we, I,
you, us, not them listen—
I mean really listen—
We, I, you, us, not them
Can hear the sound of
Woolly pates suffering, of
Centuries of redundant
Rape turning redundant,
redundant,
redundant
My blood is red?
Bleed me middle passage,
Make my crimson groan
Electric, hang my heart,
& make sure to use words.
Logos looking at logos a
?lone?
Oriental, spic, niger, hoe, oh
No! Is there no white men dying, anywhere?
After all this, are we
Still only in the
Middle passage?



















Poet of the Body, Poet of the Soul

See spirits shinning : this is
America. I see America, it’s
Soul huge: Halflings humping
The Ho Chi Men Trail,
Gandalf raising sword & staff
Towards Smog with Shock & Awe,
Smurfs dancing in the midst of a riot,
Snorks being torn from the ocean & made to
Fry beneath the hole in the ozone,
Seraphims singing in Abu Grave,
Godzilla weeping at the sight of the
Wounded world trade center, toppling
Down onto the future,
And I know Steve Rogers is out there,
Somewhere, Bin Ladin in one hand, shield
Held high in the other,
While elsewhere the Garfields of the world
Run amok, amok in the white
House. Tears are spilling like liquid
Laughter from the eyes of stars,
And I must ask,
Do you laugh at the
Soul of America?
Laugh not at the soul, see
Here is a body.



















Seppuku

Martial arts has gone metro
Sexual, it’s a need to be hyper
Textual, typing tangible tragedy
With hammer fists
and axe kicks
And axe body spray
They move into the katas
With surreal grace, kieing up
Before brushing their hair
And painting the town red
With smiles
They have many fans,
Raging and roaring
For blood and gore
And the art,
But they know that
The best art is about
What isn’t done, and not
What
Is
Now only if that dragged
Out drag queen,
The one in the two
White house,
Would learn that message,
And paint his picture with
Less red, always to
Much red, that crazy kid
Yet, they are yearning
And learning and grabbing
Shanni’s and going into
Haso-no-kami and kissing
The sun goodbye
And their Haran’s are
Glowing, because
They are wearing designer
Coats and hands are placed
Above their hearts
Bedecked with integlow watches
Weeping as Benkei bows
On out, into the seppuku
Sunset














Beyond Be

Black cats brother is dead
He hears haunted meows
Meandering from the darkness
Of day and moon madness, and this cat
Of midnight hisses and playfully
Bats the thin air,
Longing and pain running
Along his whiskers,
edging in his eyes,
and I know this cat:
in my last life I was this cat, and in
the life before I was his brother
and I am batting the air back,
from the other side.
And the other side is ethereal
In all its etymology


































Shahrazad’s Final Story

Finish. The end. Now seek to rend,
Ripping & ragging & saying
Hey, yea, I have a race,
Human. My people are vast,
We have multitudes and
Singletrons a plenty and more nor
Null.
Null. It’s a big word, a
Sound like an atom bomb
Breaking above a nursery, a
Sound unlike love, unlike
The tiny tick of clockworks
Grinding & binding & finding
Quantum corals pulsating
Within the heart of every
Single, last
Let go, sing low
&
soft as
the
sea
doth break
It’s midnight, & we have
Time & it’s just & just
& one




















Pigeon Hole Principle

Brought books
Molten lead
Facts fleeing
Into our
Heads like an
Amazon
River of
Children roar
For recess

And they yas
Yes they are
Calling for
A team to
Toe the line
Of life: made
Of dodgeball,
Kickball, horse
Anything round
And circling

It makes you
Think that its
All like that
You know, round
And then we
Heard the sound
And now it
Is all very

Frozen: faces, laughs
Dreams. Stuck. Off kilter
Its stagers amid daggers
Of disgust, the very
Nature and motion of
A lack of trust, thrusting
In and out with the hour
Paths, traces Zen
Gleaming in the dark
Of today
And I hear laughter
Yet, coursing over
Dharma stone, you
Bet, its carving out
Our lives, its to close
Now, and it cracks,
Like a whip,
Like silence
And a bell is ringing
Pinging for people
Little peepage growing
To come on in
And learn
Of life.









Cacophony

The monkey’s hand is cracking its knuckles
All the land spins about, screaming
This is day, lit by freedom burning
Bright, shrieking for help
And I am drowning now
In a sea of we
Wish upon the hand,
Eh gads,
Grab your torches,
Storm your dungeons
Slay your drgaons,
But never, ever,
Forget,
You
Are a
Dragon too
And the world is
Singing now
And the world
Is happy now
Silver hands are
Joining and turning
Grey whilst a stray
Cord of mourning
Mocks the day
And the monkey’s
Hand is your hand
Too
Throw it far
But there is a pull
And I hope that
I see your face
Before the end
And there’s
Your face, smiling
Down and damned
Eyes screaming
Democracy, hypocrisy
Our hands are naught now,
Save dust holding onto
Dust, a lack, for a wind
Is tugging it away.








Dialogue of Hurricane kicks


Textual, typing tangible tragedy
Sunset
Yet, they are yearning
With surreal grace, keing up
Now only if that dragged
Above their hearts

What

With hammer fists
And axe kicks

With smiles
They have many fans

Bedecked with integlow watches
And axe body spray
Martial arts has gone metro
And painting the town red
Raging and roaring

Is

Before brushing their hair

They move into the katas

For blood and gore

And the art
And their Haran’s are
Glowing, because

The best art is about

Haso-no-kami and kissing
Shanni’s and going into

Less red, always to
Sexual, it’s a need to be hyper

They move into the katas
Weeping as Benkei bows

Out drag queen,
On out, into the seppuku
They are wearing designer
Coats and hands are placed

White house,
Would learn that message
What isn’t done, and not

But they know that

And paint his picture with

The one in the two

The sun goodbye







In Tell igent Design

The bible humpers are in heat
Eyes glistening with good news
They belch the word
Rancid
And they read from the book
Eyes a glow and blood shot
The text lit by a thousand
Burning witches, the history
Of the prince of peace
Ringing a loud in the air
Like so much silly sword
Play
Its been 2 millennia
&
Its still lurking the murck
Of the divine human
Pull my finger, sing of the
Seraphim and whatever
you do, don’t, please don’t
do, that’s the queue, its
quick, its fast, and the red
sea is parting, ad the
people are at peace, and
there is no cancer of the
mind or soul, and and and
to many sentences run off.
I ask, will this one . . . y’know,
We’ll go flow into the mourning,
Turn the day, walk the way,
Chase chasers away,
Away! A movements towards twilights
Of poetic post ironic explosions















winter whirl

and everything is silent now
it’s the tip of the rip of reality
rending right beyond sight
aperions clasping hands with
out
the promise of a future
perfect
past past
the drip down drain of rain
and there is the sun





the alphabet poem

hi, the sifting sigh settles deep a top warm liquid metal
its true. the letter "L" is currently curled up and urinating all over
under the rest of the alphabet and somewhere a song is sung
unheard torn free falling and the lost letters are snug
in a bed of tears, a crown of thorns crackling like
a throng of children lemmings leaping so high












Dream Me Dread

So I’ve decided to sleep through your great war,
Through the great religious revival & the 2nd cumming,
Through you telling me I’m not good enough,
Through you telling me you don’t love me,
I’ve decided to sleep past the waking walk of the composite
Cult, past the hissing nod of the talking heads, past
Bill O’reilly swinging me left & right right right,
I’ve decided to sleep through doubt & politics,
I’ve decided to sleep past bliss & you.
I’ve decided to sleep past apathy
I beg, a second further, for I am tired








The Pieces Crack

Into the past
The pieces crack, wrapped in anger and angst
Bright Blue mood pieces of you,
Raging Red raping pieces of me
Bits of dust, lost smiles, forgotten
Eyes flowing over with red seas,
Dead seas, ripped apart and ageless
Ennui floats on by, past a tempest
Of jagged edges, stabbing forth
Into the future








Voice

Scratchy and tight
Tired, whispering wind,
My herald, sitting deep
Within, present now and
Then gone, silent and seeking
Its knows what I know, it
Presents an audible face
To a sonorous city seeking,
Here it lifts, and I climb
On the dull surface,
And, beneath the dust and
Grime, the words, it glistens,
And sings, into the dawn and dusk





The dead watch, faded
Light refracting, moon songs--bitter
Sweet, lost calls crying












Poetics

It’s just the gist,
twist twilight
&
waltz with Walt Whitman who
awakes a raver
beard banging break
dancing in the rain
of stars striking home,
here










Yours. No longer, I laugh
embracing damned sunfire
My fangs gleam, glow . . . gone.










Pink Eye

My third eye is color blind,
Never in the bind,
Its sight, a seer, sees the great
Spirit, tipping along above
The big crunch, when it all
Goes to the end
Goes to the end
Oh, it rends
And andromeda is coming
And andromeda is hungry
Our scientists are abusing
Their abacuses while
Drinking gin on the rocks
Of a black hole so strong
It goes rip, and the whole
Night, the whole universe,
Becomes one bad trip to
The farscape of a no nonsense
Zen, and god is whispering
The ghost prayer, and it
Tilts with the careening
Of the celestial spheres
Spinning and panicking and
Gaia is awake and alive
For but a moment,
And this has all taken more
Then a moment,
And, I guess, in the end,
There is a question,
Beyond the boundaries
Of this: were to from
And the great third eye
It blinks















There is a full moon shinning
And I know I won’t see you
Again—you, who stabbed
Laughter out of me
There is a full moon shinning
And I can’t see past the clouds
Of blonde hair and blue eyes
Mighty hips, and magic
Shagging days.
It isn’t light now, its night
See, the moon, it sees you.










The earth poem breathes
Cleaving to seeds
Leading to laughter
Death moments magic
Sing on, gentle sky
Sigh with me
And we can dance
With nothing
But words
Between
us








Cry

The Counting Crows are flying flight 114 to the celestial spheres
While the spaghetti monster opines the oni’s fate water
Trickles down an aliens face, and no, these are not tears
For only humans can cry
North of Nevada the klingon’s and Neal Cassidy kick
The dirt down the face of the world
As a thousand paper cranes brace their necks from
This very page, and break the fabric of reality
Crack the face of your mind
Smacking the source, the aparion of dreams
And god, in his existential wonder,
Is surely shaking his fists to the sky,
Lightning crackling all about,
"!It’s alive, it’s alive!"
And somewhere, an infant opens its eyes
And disturbs all our universes
























11/7

And some shall say that they are leaving america in masses,
And why shouldn’t we say that they can’t leave America,
That there never was an America—there was a place
For plastic people preaching true white rights
And that they made the world safe for men and women
Once more
That its safe for men and women to wed
Its safe for men to pour beer over their wives
Its safe for wives to scream blood at their husbands
Its safe, oh so safe, for the children to cower in the cold night
Wondering why, why, why
Safe for chairs and china to fly
And crash with young lives in a
Cacophony
Its safe because marriage is safe
Safe from queer hands,
Safe from men smiling at men
Safe from women smiling at women
Safe from love
Its safe to watch the passion of the Christ
Again, safe to shut off
The
Lights
Of
Your
Mind
But remember
You can’t leave
America

































Smile for Me


Oh, where is

Dance, blue girl,
Twirl the white wind,
Whirl till the cold
Cringes at your name.

the sun?

What was your name?
Something important,
Something to know,
Something on which
To grow.

Where are

Glowing lite maid,
Don’t cry your shame.

my

Sing softly dear,
And lets sleep
In this silent grove

hardies.

Lets break this cove
Of abysal ariels,
Fallen faries,
Plighted sprites

The wind weeps blue,
And you hang your
Head
above.