“and suddenly her hair in my hands
her body her open mouth
deep on the distant mountains.”
-Miltos Sachtouris
A Devastation is a Hobby
A devastation is a hobby: inclosed,
psychographic, transubstantiated into
inward pickle
by lottery tickets of course.Whatever demiurge I want I sing for
in Hawaiian goose.Dancing in personal tinge
of divine baths, the extract
of human heart—which, all blue and veins,
is uploaded fetishistically into space
by greedy fingers, awkward hands.Suchly mental arts again made white
in atom intensity
of boomlets that go
boom.
How to Watch a Poem
Sridala Swami, thethepoetry.com(This post was to begin with a quote that I remember as having been said by the filmmaker, Jean-Luc Godard: “You don’t read a film; you watch it”. While trying to chase down the quote, though, I found it had disappeared so effectively tha…
(Source: uutpoetry)
Washed in a world of forgotten axles
the trees still show the wind the same.
Is there anything left to fight for?
something spectacular is happening.
every other one made me want to get away stray to safe a loner headcase and headache after heartache after each mistake im at the stake with nothing left to fake nothing left to give you wouldn’t want to take it anyway and yet in these words I remain, maybe to reframe this empty shell to talk away the ache and pain, soften the focus n lessen the strain, but this place of words and anger aflame is tearing me down, driving me insane I reach out to you but it’s all in vain.
“Why must you be so nostalgic?” says the Bee to the Bear.
“Because, I would know where I was going.” Says the Bear.. while he walks in circles around the tree.
“Do you currently lack that information? You seem to know how to make your way around that tree.”
“I would know where I was going, because I’ve already been. I’ve been around this tree before, it will not surprise me.” The Bear stops for a rest.
“Did you know you would stop right then?”
“I have stopped many times before.” The Bear expresses with a blank emotion.
“Will you stop many more times today?” The curious Bee asks. Buzzing around the leaves.
“Ask me tomorrow.”
“How could you be sure what tomorrow will bring if you never arrive to it?”
“My, Little friend…” the Bear squints his eyes, looking up at the sky, he fights the rays to spot the Bee. “I am sure tomorrow will come, just as I am sure the past will not.” The Bear hangs his head for a nap, an in his sleepy state he whispers… “Today is today, yesterday is gone, and tomorrow hasn’t come. I yearn for the past, breathe for tomorrow, and dread the present.”
“Why is that?”
“Because, you were not here yesterday, you’ll probably be dead tomorrow, an you are currently pissing me off.”
basically.
i can’t believe how much my heart is melting.
(Source: frankiemccranky, via jamieleedoe)
