Dirge for soul, mine, of, let go, (if you were to go somewhere else where would you go now?)
Tick tock. The imeme has no special place now, can feel somewhat as if the self matters only as show:::
But billy they say, you are really nice, always was, you look sad by comparison, and the trouble is, well,
You are really beside yourself.
This beside, your, self,is facade for the pathos: that there really is something else:
What is it? Do you know what it is do you? If I were to be able to sit down with someone, oh I don’t know anyone, and really talk it over, then go again transcendental, It may work.
But it is working can’t you tell:? It’s all smiling faces,(but sometime they hide the greed, the pain, the fear, the envy).
&smile they do and take it for real because you are your own measure and this heart squeeze will stop, and the poetry flow, and you into ages with it, into all the some bodies, some bodies,
And this is what god’s anguish is: it is this, this suffering god, inside, can be realized from the outside, and the squeeze is on, the bosom heaves,
And suddenly aspiration here, over it, the past plucked like a ripe fruit,
With all familiarity, and tomorrow yes, if you just can hold on to this today, the romance of this postmodern fable, this languid torrent of lament,
This angelic twilight of forgot, one blackbird, and some money a lot in gutter rain swept, the mirrored broke, the gaslight hovering, the whisper as your eyes,
Radiate outward, it’s gone now, but god thank you can’t ever loose this love, this heart’s beating hurriedly, this index finger over lips as if to caution
Against, the angst, the you will always as, be always was, it never strays even under duress of ignoble reticence, of fragrant still,
Even lost lost lost lost lost lost lost lost lost again lost-----------------------------do you remember when what,nonono, only her sweet debauchery, her cruelty, justine fades by comparison,
And sweaty what gives you the right to set yourself up as tragic hero.
Listen they bullfrogs at night never loose, never stop
Strange night though, very strange celine like, america as it were, celine said it best, and kafka too, america oh America, no place to hide,and. Streets despair, flowing with grime, summer in the city, pretty, tell me you need me, that you care even if I am a looser, lost, looser, between you and me,
Afternoon of a faun-gambler, you idiot you had to go and lose a small fortune, I feel better as I right it down, my ILP acquanintences will read it, and you won’t feel so alone, everybody must get stoned.
After all said and done, what can you, split seed, split milk, split, anchors away, millions of gallons of sperm get washed down every day, daily grind, and then?
Who will titillate at end? Who wait for you at god forsaken railroad station at the end of the world? Who? I will. I want to become as god, forget me, and love, so that I can see you there, steam coming through turbines at first slowly turning, and you eyes to bluish pane, your breath a wisp of grey, and if I can see you now, it is only because once we were meant.
Wrote this poem after loosing my whole paycheck in a damned casino, and now have to strive for ages and ages. Suits me well.
And the guy at staples didn’t help, nor the sailor at the gym,
A ffith of johnny walker down the drain, but gotta get better cause god is at end of rainbow better believe it. All admonishments and gnashing of teeth end there cause time heels wounds old become young, dashing, and understand what love is, and how different: from greed.