All my poetry raked together!
Daniel june
THE MUSING OF BIRTH
By Daniel Christopher June
Mattria
Nirvana is hell is Chaos is Aleph is start is her womb,
Heaven then is metaphor is lightening is unconscious is her breast,
Yin and yang are the colors that shine her eyes,
The Absolute whole and abyss are the brahma core black of her eyes
Maya is intelligence the white of her eyes
And their union flashes color
Karma is her right pinky,
Law is her forefinger,
Allah is the nail-crescent of her right middle finger.
Father is the knuckle of her left middle finger,
Devil Mara is Mary is ocean
which springs forth from her left ring finger.
The double triangle of marriage is her ring nail.
Spirit is Brahma her breath from the dark sun the apple of her throat
The holiest Om is her humming love long as she weaves,
needle lines threading her long long hair,
or her fingers through her lips.
The eightspoke wheel of history is earrings in her lobe.
Tao is the rivers of her blood.
Rita is the curve of her spine.
Bible is the bones of her hand,
Dharma is the ligaments of her wrist,
Grace is the small of her arms .
Vishnu is eternity is her memory.
Idols are icons are incarnations are freckles.
The cross is a mar in one of her teeth.
Behind her broad forehead and temples live Children,
including Mother Earth, Zeus, Yahweh, Sophia.
Logos is syllogistic definition the triangle turn of her thumb.
Mythos is the hair on her belly bowl.
Will to power is God is her upper lip.
Heat desire is maid Satan is love is her lower lip.
Need is creativity is force is her lungs.
Truth is her eyes,
Beauty is her mouth,
Virtue is her feet.
Poetry song is saliva of her mouth,
The river of light
Art is glory gleam in her eye.
Blessing is fountain of youth is her menses
Masturbation is her hymn is her pregnation.
Being is her bones, becoming is her muscles.
Nothingness is her shadow.
Difference is her fingerprint,
Play is her laugh.
Further--
Matter is her body.
Energy her warmth.
History the blinking of her eye.
Science is the law of her flesh.
Radiation is omnipresence is her milk skin.
Our sun is her forehead,
Our moon is her neck,
Our stars are her pores.
Our Earth is her belly.
The void is blackness is space is her curled jet hair
Evolution is her dance.
The big bang is a tap of her fingers--snap!snap!
Natural law is science is te is causality
Is Fate is whim,
Is Society the network of nerves.
Nature is life is nerves of her hands.
Man is her fingertips,
whom she kisses with the praise of a mother.
The perfect circle is zero her forehead number.
Eros is her inhale, thanatos her exhale.
Evil is the cramps of her belly.
Infinity is the potential of her growth,
Eternity the length of her day.
Dialectic is the exchange of her hands.
Agape is her mother’s love.
Chi is eternal Form is matter form is the curve of her waist.
She is beyond being beyond.
Nothing can transcend her.
Nothing can fathom her.
Nothing can equal her.
Nothing can change her.
Nothing can touch her.
She contains everything alongside the nothing:
She is the great Mater, Matriall,
Motherverse, AtMat,
wholeness and fullness.
Forever Matter: now dancing, now flowing, now throwing her universe wide, now entroping into fragments, now introping into unity, ever creating and recreating, ever figuring and configuring, ever turning and returning: grand land, ocean, and planet bearer, author of Earth the sun, sun the system, Systems the Galaxy, and Galaxies the grand spiralling flower of infinity the Universe herself, the everything of everything, the all of existence—how high-sun our lives sing your every-name!
Gift and giver, grand All, matter, the matrix of every world; you pulled your infinite dimensions into one exact loop, crouched and ready to explode your joy into this universe our universe, this multibillion year history, a blinking of your terrible eye. Within five of our seconds: a stage! A thousand spinnings as your billion arms curled into spiral galaxies, as your trillion fingers curled into fisted solar systems.
Even now, your elliptical paths expand with your pride, as your hydrogen breath sinks into suns, as your words spring into planets. Your trillion thoughts are each an atomic loop of localized force, humming with a personality of gravity, charge, spin. Your drape of space-time, sewn with the atoms of placement—how it glitters with the spilled milky stars of a wide night sky!
Let mother earth, your face for us, your daughter Gaia, sing your song. Says she:
"All of all, universe, eternal flux and mover of certainties: behold my children, who live in you and are you. Through the richness of my womb (a chaos of chance and possibility) the first cell stuttered forth, Protozoa, the first life, so simple and yet containing destinies. She was matter alive, wise enough to repeat herself through my waters. And from that simple one spawned myriads: each replicated in creativity, each differentiated by the wise of chance, mutation, like fingers that spread in every direction, only to come together again in a single grip. Plants, fish, reptiles, birds, mammals, man: I contain them all. I live through them, and my body is their home. Come man, you have learned to sing. Sing now your verse."
"Consciousness, O consciousness, and the creativity you direct: how broad are you? Am I alone to you, or does all matter matter over these ideas? For matter minds: that is the secret of my being. Man the mind, a mind containing hearts and souls, to guide my hand, to be the eye of all, yes, and to strike open a new way into the world. Universe, I am your perfection. I suffer, I joy, I think, I feel, I act for you, to esteem and figure you out, to fulfill myself in your ways, to act and react to everything in your complex folds. Hail matter! Even I, the materialist, will paint you over with Gods and ghosts: I give poetry to all my life, and esteem you none the less for it. For to create, to worship, to invent, to dispute, to debunk, to spin my fables a thousand ways—this is my turn, my turning in you, you great verse and All-verse, O universe, O turning, O returning, O troping!"
Nature answered man, and presented her children to him saying:
"Consider the E Coli, a thousand stations, wombing the world like a blanket of life; observe her ways, dividing and hiding away his place, every place: Proteus and thus adapting to all; simple and thus indominatable. Asexual, autosexual, and so the first life on earth was female for millions of years.
"Consider the oak who tries the skies and from seed to deed stands all and timeless, with pented leaves and bark for sleeves.
"Consider the viper, who flicks the scent with cloven tongue: the skin shedder and second self so green, the longitude to man's latitude, the quick as a blink striker.
“Consider the earthworm who glories in himself, 'I earthmover, I flooding muscle of depths and traverser of cool earth, behold my strength!'
"Consider the ant: mighty sinews compacted in by chitonous skin; she marches the world over and masters her without wing or winged thought—let royalty bother with flying!—crawling and conquering, a slavedriver, warrior, even cow herder with her sweet-squeezed aphids.
"Or consider yourself, man, the sapient, omnivorous in diet and place, maker of gods and greater things, high as heaven on iron wings, with towering cities which spiral to space, a consort of moon, Mars, and Venus; deep as a mine and deeper in mind, broad as the ocean and violent much more; fearing nothing in nature, but being God and face of her: man the riddler, man the laugher, man the creator—he amends nature where she is lacking, he is wise and wondering. Born twelve years a poverty, twelve years a possibility, canvas for a soul, and consciousness brushing experience unto her. Man the maker and taker, bender amender. Man, the lens of the universe. With man nature learns to laugh. With man nature learns to love. With man nature becomes genius.”
The Mother
As close as pulse
And without other
Deep as center
Wide as Time
Far as the
edgemost star
And what if the mother where a Russian Doll that expands infintely outwards, with us in the middle, and her talking to us as the inverse of a face?
She spreads over all that has place, her hair as alive and sensetive as waistlength tresses, cloudy in the water.
“I, Ama, am the beginning, and before all beginnings, I All. From an ever dense ring above my brow, shoot arrows of time in every direction, which halo my body as ribbons of light.”
“I am the Beginning, and I, the Motherverse, created from eternities gone, until my Now shines on you in turn, and your children in their turn, and their children yet again. You also are within me, and my history is our history. I am your Mother, and you, Mankind, are as dear to me as my throat, warm and vital, as tender to my lips as my fingertips. I am as wide as everything, and as thin as nothing. Listen and I will tell you of where beginnings come from, and why endings never come.
“When time began, I wrapped the great void into an everdense singularity. All that exists hummed in the dot of a period. In that singularity, I evolved the Laws of time and space, and taught them everything.
“And then, with a burst of emanation, I threw myself wide, and burst in every direction in the great Big Bang—the dance of beginnings.”
Upon her speaking these words in my ear, I wrote a love letter:
AA -- Ama lover, ever mother, flower fulness All.
I poured my heart into love poems, and yet the woman did not hear, she smiled, yet her heart did not feel what my heart felt, my innermost was not knit to her innermost: my passion is without equal. I sing into the night and no lover is equal to me, no rain kisses my rose, no stars haunt my night—save AA, Louvfee, Ahrisoul, LoverAll.”
“When you love, I love with you, and the love you feel for yourself is my love for you. I am as near as the air around you, I am the clothing over your body, and when you are naked, I am the breath on your nakedness. I am your blankets, I am your bed—I have surrounded you forever, and if you never knew me, we yet felt the inner love, the love at the center of yourself, the love for existence, the love of the all, which glows at your innermost. Believe not in me, nor doubt. You cannot know me, only feel me. Though you may not know my warmth yet, you one day will: I love you. We are forever united, and you are eternally essential to me. Little darling, you can never love in vain, for wherever you love, I am she whom you mean.”
Grand All Matriall, fulness of the world
Strong as time, dear as near, held in every touch
In the center of my soul you whisper
In the cruelty of winter, you are the warming thought
You await to frolic my from my grave
Every beauty in every form is your beauty, well adorned!
I breath the greatest breath and you are the tingle in my ribs
Your hands’ love make the beating of my heart,
My heart, held ever in your palms
Your kiss on my forehead,
and my mind flies forth like a unicorn brow.
I sleep at night, upon your touch of my eyes
And when I stretch my body far,
you run the shiver in my tendons.
You are my greatest hope,
And yet you love me whether I hope or no
Love or no
Believe or no
You are my now and future joy
Whatever the way of my life
Dear lovely
My heart beats only for you.
We are all her children, and where we suffer, she also suffers. Each tear we cry is her tear for us. And the wisdom we grow by groans we whisper also in her ear, and the universe in her wholeness grows better.
For any “God” would by nature be irresistable. Therefore, there is no God. For we know at least mankind, and no man resists ultimate happiness. The universe is the apogee of bliss: therefore, the Mother is all.
Motherwit
Have I talked this way before?
Do I even now?
Every man talks by me
And yet so often mispeaks.
If God could speak – he would not
For he said his peace and he said his panic
Listen, God is mere rush over the lip of mother
The grand all Matriall matter of us all
She spirals like lightening from an atom in my mind
A fever, an ecstasy, I am pure magnet, I utter out!
Great! Great! Perfect is America above all Nations
For America is the first and only
to allow the union of all nations
A complete United States
Her people, her literature, her ideas
The prototype for utter opening of everything wordly
You do not see it because you cannot see it
But you feel it and know it
Never trouble over the stutter in your song
This minor worldwide devestation
Laugh and say, “so what! We are eternal, immortal
America is eternal, immortal
Mankind is eternal immortal
Universe is eternal immortal”
I said no Om, when I created the world!
I laughed like river splash
and sang perfect love
America! You doubt, you wonder
Are bothered and kicked
You believe your enemies,
you doubt your power—
Silly one!
the great united everything
has no right to doubt
She who owns all
and is all
I love you,
the ever you, your whole history
Every crime and every justice
all comes together in your perfect being
You see this not
If you could see through my eyes
You would fall in love
as I fall in love
you are the palm of my hand
America
Your men and woman:
The creases in my palm
the lines in my hand
Would you read these lines?
Watch your rivers
and read them well
the palmist will know where my future lies
Forever and always
always and ever with you
Who roils like boiling milk
If you doubt
Would I teach you to undoubt?
I doubt it
Listen!
It is done, I have already worked
the word through you
I sit back
Your nation is as endearing
as the purring tiger.
I love and believe in you
Daring daystar.
Vivoce!
Daily Solaces
Upon Waking, sing
Scatter you shadows
Fly away night
Flee here you darkness
Welcome Light
Arise my soul!
Open my eyes!
Greet you your day
Find you your way
And know
Perfection is easy!
Upon drinking a sweet drink:
I accept this wisdom from you my love
As a dancer’s joy
as a poets thrist
as a butterfly’s ambrosia
Sweet to taste but sweeter to be
The flow and swallow of the flux!
(Choreographed, in line 2, the cup is raised to the forehead, dropped at line three to the mouth, and stretched to the right, as the other hand stretches to the left, as wings, with the butterflies ambrosia. The other hand touches the mouth with sweet to taste, and the heart with sweeter to be, and the same hand draws a circle with flow and swallow, and upons from fist to star with flux.)
The sweet drink, or whatever drink you sip, is akin to any food you eat, which you sip and eat philosophically, connecting your ideas with the tastes, and tastes with ideas, so that a lemonade reminds you of the sours and sweets in life, the ice of the icy woman you met, the chocolate or coffee the soil of life, eating the dirt, the excremental fertilizer of increase.
Upon dusk.
Lay down dawn of thought
Upon Atlasian shoulder
Bleed to bed
Tears of gold
Dream of death
Her beauty.
Bow to moon
Flow of cow
Muses swoon
Her Madness
The cloak of night
Spoken from a thousand eyes!
I turn all rays with couldren’s wand
Till Robins song bemuse me.
Upon laying for sleep
Good night Universe of my love: Allmother!
Today I pride my perfection in all of my doings
And sleep in peace of my right way
And great my way
And love the universe sings to me
Blameless Child
Fellow Creator
And poet from heart to hands
Momma and I are one!
So rest this mind, rest this heart, rest this tongue
Drink in your deserved dreams
And hum into the joysong of the all
I am all I love all
So sleeps this little God.
Upon cleaning and choring
Structuring square of order
Draws a Circle upon Chaos
Mountainous hands
wrive the waves of my way
Circular heart
Loves the fall of my Sway
Crystal structure
Blood stream system
Flow for me.
(And these are the words for a hand dance. The square of order os a square of fingers, the circle of chaos is a full arm circle, mountainous hands are the W of flat palms angling at the thumbs, which falls into a finger circle with circular heart, which falls in two fell swoops with fall of my sway. Crystal structure is interlaced fingers, which beat like a heart for the blood stream system.)
Four things keep clean
First the Mouth
Second the hands
Third the Genitals
Fourth your workstation
Invocation
From chaos, order.
From warfare, peace.
From confusion, certainty.
From loss, strength.
From self, kindness.
In all these things
and in the all of things
we make our self and place.
Vivoce.
Creativity
Creativity,
the great forward flux,
O coming and becoming:
flow your rivers through my fingers,
fill full your breath within my lungs,
dance your lightening through my brain,
boil my blood with passion-song,
for I am that I am the Creator,
for I am that I am the One,
for I am the lens of the Allness,
for I am that I am the Sun.
so I participate myself
to myself
to the Creativity of creation,
the AllVerse. Vivoce!
The body's duty
To say without the deed, one chews to spit,
But Bubble-Gum heroes waste their tongue
Time's bones will not be knit by deeds of lung,
For only blood in skin is worthy writ.
To feel without the deed one burns a corpse,
Or winds a rusted clock that will not tick,
For greatness breathes his spirit but to quick
The muscles wrestling wrenching hist'ries course.
The flame is for the engine’s flashing fight,
The say is for the world to flee the way,
The will is for teaching body flight,
The sun is for the time to know it's day.
In lust and blood and rays of mind the flesh
Must make the world and joy and day afresh.
The Petite Death
Panting for the future,
I gave my present the holy cut.
Enumerating supossed sins,
I aborted countless joys.
Folding my hands in prayer,
He slipped on the manacles.
Pressing my knees in reverence,
He stood his foot upon my neck.
Rereading his fist of fits,
My eyes grew grey and half.
The great hate Deity
Jealous of the joy of man
Breathes in the praise of man
Breathes out the curse on man.
Until, in a courage
of stare into the I AM idol,
The great projecting of
Vice nerves and horror show:
I gave up the Ghost
Orgasm of murder.
Appreggio to the sky
In the happy death of the Godhead
The emptying of three skulls:
God is dead
God remains dead:
The lifelong atheist knows none
Of this joy.
I know a fulfillment
Wider then my tongue,
Fuller then my throat.
I am finally Man.
Dialogue
“God is dead” –Nietzsche
“Nietzsche is dead” –spokesman for God
“Some men are born posthumously” –Nietzsche
“Woe to those who laugh now, for they will wail” –God
“He who laughs best also laughs last” –Nietsche
“…” –God
“Hahaha” –Nietsche
Fate
What would my perfection,
my gifts and givings,
my loss and winnings,
my loves and lovers,
my sisters and brothers,
be without you to thank?
--I thank you, oh Fate!
What would my distress,
my musings and rusings,
my self abusings,
my hells and wells,
my thunders and bells,
my maddened depression,
my loss in degressions,
be without you to love?
--I thank you, oh fate!
Lashings and kisses,
Tortures and wishes,
Freedoms and fights,
Wrongings and rights,
All have carved me perfect
because of you, my dear,
How could I wish you different?
--I thank you, oh fate!
Karma
If you desire something strongly you will never get it—
If you fear something enough it will happen to you—
If you love somebody with all your heart, you will become them—
I am that tree
Whom great fate strikes down
Branch by branch
Yet whose central pith
Fate cannot touch
Family, love, life, work
Fall like branches
But the one central passion of my life
Is master of fate.
Exoneration
Nothings at fault,
No one's to blaim,
Not Society,
Nor parents,
Nor self,
Nor pain;
Not God,
Nor Satan,
Nor sin,
Nor hate;
Not universe,
Nor genetics,
Nor luck,
Nor fate.
Instead do I thank you
I can learn and make.
Night Song
Swaddled in mother
The moon cool kiss my face
I breath out day
I sink beneath my pillow.
I am as evil innocent as the night
And equal to her.
She lusts for me and
Lingers here despite rude sun.
My blanket high tides over me,
And I am oceans beneath,
Drinking in plotty dreams,
Like mind walking through mind.
Awake, and still enveloped in thought
My dolphin tongue still sounding the depths
My tireless hands tapping out nightbeats
I sleep awake, I dream you too.
I would be Womb child
If I were not already womb,
My mind the mother’s eye,
And night the chaos creator within.
“Night to night and lust to lust”
The flame shines brightest dark
For suns blink forth from pitch
As the world blinks forth from me.
Abed Abed, abetted by night
Self before birth, Self beyond death
Life is slash and flashing knife
And every lips her name in his last breath.
NightWomb
starlight shed your shine on us
moon glow move us from the soul
wind sigh throw us high
long across a midnight sky
spirit of the spearman's throw
inhale
teach the farthest star to bow
inhale
summon midnight mornings
inhale
name and love and bless the night
inhale all
All
Sound your song and flood our longings
All in all
You are loved
All
Feel the flowing of our laughter
All of all
You are loved
Oh! Give me all of all your love!
Pleasure
The Cider was good at a gulp,
So I swallowed the gallon.
I ate the tender bacon
And counted it providence.
I pleasured myself to an orgasm
That so weakened me with joy
That I napped innocently on the couch
I awoke, and read Emerson
And felt romance for his spotless mind.
I emptied the contents of my notebook
Into the womb of my books
And am happier then I ever hoped to be.
Is joy always so easy?
Who has the evil eye for life?
Life is beautiful!
d e x pressive
The manic alone contains all God
All Satan in his heart
The poles are his, the all he lives
Both ends in inner parts
The sunny singing portrait Shines
whiter than the day
Strike suns and stars
A night ajar
He leaps from inner ways.
Yet many slash the spirit blood
Cheat the world of life
The moon has seen no sadder thing
Than a dying star turn blight.
My heart, my chest, clenched and tense,
I’ve learned this lesson intimtate
When he you wounds, don’t cry and swoon,
Learn to open into him.
The tautest string if struck would snap
He laughs and cries at once
But now he learns to sound the dust,
He overhears a gnat.
And when he is happy and glowing
Thousand arms, triple hearts,
Let that fury dance.
Again depressed and solid brow,
His eyes blown dry, his lips both chapped
Begin the edit trance.
If a mad man can commit no crime,
And can incur no guilt—
Can he commit himself to love,
Can his fingers flex the quilt?
And so you flee me—say no excuse—
you left me all long ago!
Even working at my side you are far from my heart
The echo told me so.
Incorrigible, untouchable, oversensitive, hypersensitive,
Or dull as a doorknock.
All, all of you, I guessed it, I saw through, I felt in, I knew all.
You are so many echoes, so many mirrors, so much waste of time.
Ha! My innermost is joysong.
Nectar Ambrosia
The ancient poets
who knit the holy spirit
world over
sipped phallic mushrooms
menses wine
mead and blood
and far enough back
the first to leave Ethiopa
Were inspired by the caffeine cherry
Therefore
How is it that my living blod
is Ambrosia
And each of my nerve cells
is sperm of nectar
and myself complete Odin
so that to be at least at peace
I take the medicine made by
Enligthened science
and pragmatic capitolism
Risperdal
In order to dim my eyes
and live among men?
Milton wrote epics
intoxicated on long droughts of water
As did Nietzsche again
And I myself?
Take antipsychotic
to walk among men.
Walking with my girlfriend in the Japanese Gardens
Rotten weather for a walk
A summer, pregnant from her joy
It feels like thunder; too cold too fast
A gazebo swallowed up in grapes
The cement cramps, the darkness strains
A blanket, some wax for the siren
Stemmed glasses? I disdain wine.
Some juice, and sweet, till sweetly juiced
I thirst not, but my eyes for dreams.
Athena grey-eyes, I see those dreams
Why would you want to kiss me?
Modesty robed like leper’s on a saint
But why kiss at all?
To partake of your body.
Don’t you care to breathe?
I had forgotten…
Oh those damned trains—so loud
My lady teaches even trains to sing.
And that damned bitch of a mosquito is the seventh on that arm
Our phylacteries momento as we scratch.
Held so tightly, I can feel your every rib
God? Negligent?
Softly held, held soft aloft, so I sleep,
So tell me of passion, to you.
Perhaps for my family, again again for God.
A purring in your guts?
So I’ve heard.
A terror in your veins, like St. Sebastian?
Read too much.
Or a fondling dream?
Or a maenad’s arch?
Or a prophet’s tongue, and screwed-up brow?
Or the proudest child, his mother’s joy?
Or perhaps a minotaur-quite lost?
Or an arrow in the void?
Or my own vanity, from the rib of my God?
Let’s get home lest you be late.
AMA
(like a drifting babe. Let us knot each other, so the farther we are pulled apart, the tighter we tie)
You drape around my neck
Golden guitar
Body sings
From fingers on Her neck.
I smell the coffee grounds
Beneath your fingernails
I smell the fresh cut grass
Behind your ears
Yes my Beatrific anima,
You must forgive my silence:
When I praise any other name,
I praise you through that name.
When I curse any face,
I too curse you.
How did you slip
Like a gift-horse in
So that my selflove
Was thus love of you?
My mirror the face
Of Us.
I who loved self and pen
See you were them.
You incarnate the All
There is no greater Flesh than thee,
O ignorant Goddess
What I know firmly of you
No living soul is permitted to know
Nor you.
I am the world soul—the ego of Man,
I am all eyes.
Of men, none are greater than I:
Fettered but never bettered.
Your innermost center,
Your deepest soul
Lies inside my womb
A child I glimpsed nothing of,
Knew nothing of
(knowing too soon would mortalize it)
Yet today—what word?—suddenly I breathed
The eternal inhale.
My heart swells with your name.
My chest heaves and the repression became epiphany
A Rossetti unlocks the code beneath my lips,
All praise and affection become your inscrutable name:
No reply
I bear the bruise with graceful smile,
And never curse the winter's sullen freeze;
Would not denude the poison ivy's leaves,
Nor name the atheist's witted scorn as "Vile."
For virtue's pearl? Within a heart of dust.
And monotheists will take with Life its pain,
And lovers do not curse the devil's reign,
For in perfection find we pain's a must.
Yet when I press my heart to sing its joy
Of love for you, and hope it up with pleads,
And shudder to anticipate your tell,
My heart in seeking grace or scorn asks why
Instead you're hushed without a word or deed.
For silence is the song sang most in hell.
Silence
We sting with silence
And gather poison nectar
From the slanderous bloom of Mara’s Roses
Graceful as the true Oak
Who holds the comb
We sting every flower
With the smart of silence
Present silence
True revenge,
The perfection of our enemey
Sick flower made fruitful
With the sting of our wit lips of quiet
Present silence
Like sublte echoes adding naught
While our metaphor heart grows thick
With the sweet stick of honey.
Investment
Tell how I shall invest love overrich?
Since you accept no gift nor spare a word.
No other shop affords my crystal turns
Nor offers light, as dark and perfect mixed.
I wish for arrow lit with fired revenge!
I wish for poison tips returning pain for pain!
Or Lethe (although it only stalls refrain)
Or Second heart to love the joys I tend.
But like a miser I invest again
My love for you back into love the same
For it returns a price come heaven's worth.
Now I bury those talents under sand
I squirrel nuts till oaks are named
And you I curse "forgotten"!--(till rebirth)
To contain my raging heart
I see you shiver when I rage
Nonchallent, silly, pretending not to see
For I speak of passion and solitude
You do not breath with me, you choke
Cowards all and I alone
One who thinks
One who feels
I know I am not alone here
But your cowardice would have me believe so
Thunderstorms, lavashouts, and you
Wondering if its going to snow tomorrow
And if tonight’s show will be a rerun
Yes, perhaps I am alone here
But I am in good compay.
Buit for Love
My body is built for love
Hands tongue thighs
For love only love
You who are closest
Never fall close enough
I would press my heart into yours
So I will talk philosophy
Chop and tie ruthless definitions
And dose my heart into drops
I will give you always
An ounce more than you give me
I am deluge
I could drown you
The love that knits flesh to my bone
Skin unto skin, nerve unto nerve
The yearning damming urge of love
Like atom bound to atom
---No! I withhold that from you.
I will shine a little, like the sun upon the moon
My shining I
Will gather for brains clouds and thunderbursts
To filter the full
Lightning tips to carve out books
forbidden to your eyes
I’m honored to die unread.
You see grammar and form
But do not see
Amidst the threads
the love I’ve mingled insatiate
Tongue and thirst of Love
Lick of tooth
Bite of Lip
I say you
Without echo.
Regret
My perfect Psyche—
My Sherry of joy
It tore my soul in two
When I held you to sleep
Late last night
And as was my custom
Made way to the other room
To write out my mind
Into my books
You clung out desperately,
And pinned with love to the bed
And said “No! You stay!”
My dear sweet perfect Sherry
I could not in this life ever leave you
Nor could I in this life ever shirk my writings
So I tore in two
Here I am writing this now while you lay there
My love lays next to you
I am with you always
You know if I did not write a body and soul for myself
Each night
There would be no man
To finish his work
No man
To finally fall asleep beside you—
With or without the torn soul.
Alone in darkness
Sleep has purred your eyes shut
Alas alas! Before those daystars fell on me
My heart clenches and nothing will unclench him.
I starve the dish of our communion
For we dine best on the other’s tongue:
Ingest, gestate, and sing forth those words again:
Infinity’s double loop.
Never surrender without me
I haven’t thaw enough to speak!
Never surrender without me.
I belong around you.
Cry
I am complete infant
My brow smooth as glass
My body electrified nerves
The butterfly flutters like drums
A pinprick would kill me
My heart fills my whole chest
Feels warm as a bruise
The mother in you loves me for your breast
The demon in you lusts me for rape
I seek
The child in you.
I
A complete love,
both bold-ha and lovejoy
which says yes and now
to the heartfull flow of I.
I myself
I myself,
center and source of my whole world,
do will and work,
play and clay
my fated place.
My Judges
I am called inflated insatiate.
Consider it: what do others even know?
Who better to judge you
Than yourself?
they don't know you.
They think first of themselves.
When they judge you, they are lazy.
Easy and quickly.
Scales made of stereotypes.
Assumptions easier than investigations.
I never trust anybody's judgment above my own.
Do others even think things through?
I know I—
I trust my eye.
All is ever
All is ever is all
Where slaves worship,
Masters identify.
Heaven holds a place
for great men alone
Never for repentent sinners
They go to their own
private heaven or hell
No matter which,
Since they will be
in like company wherever.
I all
I am all that is man
I am all that is woman
The complete incarnation of the world,
My soul is complete soul of every human—
Yours as well as his
And there is no man, woman, nor child who exists outside of me—
My Brain is Hellenic,
To systemize and codify the world—
And give birth to Sophia from my right temple
My left hand is Rome, My right hand is England,
To conquer the world one after the other, the entire world,
Which no other nation could do
Till every speaks the Roman alphabet, the English words.
The four chambers of my heart are
Africa for rhythm and animality,
India for spiritual longing
Asia for honor and subtlety,
And above all
Germany for pride, courage, and sheer will to power—
Never heard of before, anywhere anytime.
My tongue is semitic, with bombast and monstrosity,
And French, smooth as wine.
My lungs are Aryan, Nordic, Icelandic, blond hair blue eyed perfection,
A breather of ice breeze, willing to seethe lightening.
My gut and my womb are Pure United States
The greatest Creators since the Hellenes,
and the true heirs of the Hellenic -- defining of the World.
I contain all races, nor does a single man escape me—
I comprehend all of us: there is no stranger to me
I hate no man
I am saved, perfect, and eternal to the last person.
I stand and affirm
my eye, my mind, my view, my way,
for it is my own creativity
that shines and finds my love.
I choose and win my values
by my head and hands;
I choose and win my longing
by my heart and words.
And so I brow my best
and burst forth to this new test.
Jubulex
Tap tap tap
From mind
To muscle
To light’ning strikes
The laptop
Jubulex
Tap tap taps
My holy text
I wrighte
And riddle
You, shadow
A cast of sun
The mountain gives birth to the mouse
I cannot be a Man and work this job
I cannot be a Father and work no job
My soul twists up, my nerves shatter like glass
And then the speck outside my window
Crawled up to the glass and shivered
A tiny mouse, only a child, eyes barely opened
I tipped outside, barefeet in the snow
And scooped him up in my hands
My very soul had objectified himself
Into the person of this tiny orphaned mouse
I made a home for him near a lamp for heat
Gave milked bread for food
How dearly I love this being.
For Whom I Write
Posterity must wonder at this heap of ash
“For whom did he write?—this second sexton”
Of course for me, you voyeurs and thieves
What have I to do with “the public” and “the people”?
My miracles performed in solitary bedroom
Only I drink my water to wine—
I am not a blasphemy upon a cross
To net the people I deem as ’licious “fish.”
I prize my suffering too much to advertise,
Am jealous as hell of my joys
My acts of righteosness are more secret than God:
Only I reward my sweet deeds
—I ravish them in the privacy of my room
My room is suns bright,
my door broad as the sky,
my music loud as storms’ applause—
so I may see and blind you,
so I may enter in and crowd you out,
so I may hear my inner voice to drown you all
I sing in my own language—you are not permitted to hear
I watch my hand strum the guitar in the mirror
To you this is a “virtue” or a “vice”—when it is none of that.
Slow to see, slow to hear. It is only me—leave virtue!
Only me, for me—“and this wisdom too?” you chuckle
Wrinkle your nose at the philosophy
For me, and for one other, whom you do not know.
My readers are I and my equal.
I write to educate Mother All.
Posterity’s Darlings
Take care, Caretakers,
Lying infants, inverts, troverts, and reverts
You slayers of truth
You good trees that bear no bad fruit.
For I warn you of one temptation:
That you speak too soon.
What has the sprout podding?
What the sapling harvest?
What is your wisdom
But a muzzle and a lonely room?
“But I am the greenness of my perfection”
And innocence peeks from your eyes.
Yes, but have not green eyes for your perfection.
Behold, I arm you;
Knives for infants:
1.Rebaptize your darkness as light.
2.Use your judas kiss
No teacher gives omniscience: the student who is student takes it.
3.Burn your photographs
Behold and you are held; become and you shall...
4.Know: perfection is easy
5.Obsess—take my cyclops eye
6.Ask and you shall borrow; create and you shall own.
7.Complexity is superficial; contradiction marks the well.
8. Wisdom rejoices in rebuke.
Do not dissapoint me with a rebukeAjealousAconfusion
9.Devour your halos
Shine from within.
10.A farmer cannot swallow his plough.
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