I will meet you
in the dark
less we be distracted
from the tactile operations
of souls
the feeling creatures that
we are, too often unwilling
to accept and grease mere
basic mechanics of self
thinking revelation a fantastic
outer light, and not those inner
clarities we are born with
illumination not by spectrum
degrees, but by dear assimilation
with the divine
Assimilation
(the Borg are among us)
It is not a request.
It is a fact.
If you do not…
chaos.
Were you really happier?
Were you really better off?
If you were, then why did you come?
Free?
Do you know what that is?
Have you ever felt it?
Have you ever had to sacrifice anything…
for anyone other than yourself?
You come here and you hate us.
You come here and try to make us, like you.
Why did you come?
Why did you not stay where you were happy?’
Why now, except by force, tell others that your way is better,
but yet, you run from your own lands.
Your dark rulers kill your families and those left behind,
yet you still love them, and worship what is given?
Cowards that can not face the truth.
Race, Creed, Color Religion, we all bleed.
J-ust
E-agerly
R-ead
R-ighteous
E-xpression
M-aking
Y-our
A-ptitude
R-each
C-omprehensive
A-ssimilation
Topic: Birthday of Jerremy M. Arca (April 24)
Form: Vertical Monocrostic
Misty morning dew
Puddles on the ground
It's quiet all around
Except for natures sounds
And I can't help feeling
A love for all creation
I can't help but feel
This awesome sensation
That we are all a part
Of one biological system
We are all as one with nature
And when we embrace this
Then life becomes more beautiful
And we feel more at ease
This is my thought and my belief
That we are here to assimilate
And not to decimate
The beauty and the wonder of this Earth
And all that its worth.
…obliterated night of the seven seasons
tickets and thickets and trains collide
into the cliché of licking tongues
wed to the bred moan of capitalism
(grinning gothic gremlin) smile of a nurse
before the coma saturates the elliptical
thought of the ghost mutes trepidation
(ride the crest of the adder’s riddle)
infested with scales of karma flaking
magic merging with the indifferent
Earth (and the sky implodes anxiety)
--a voice says crawl back to childhood—
innocence is an oblivious death-sentence
terminated without punctuation (again her)
approval is a mark of degeneration (descend
-ing) linked aphasia is the coded dance of night
…sour taste in the heart as the mouth spouts
…verbs of deeds painted like profanity
…I see her riding the obelisk of risk
…until the tendrils lie
shivered awake by mourning nothingness
thrown back within the iris of truth
drowning in the colors of reason…
It begins like "vater" on stone--
with a drop
with a drip
non-stop
that rubs the colors off your face.
It is free speech, fast cars, and French fries--
New York in the eyes of a village boy.
It's a rat race;
It's lazy tongues, lost souls and a longing for home
without a home to go back to.
It's losing the language of your ancestors,
forgetting the prayers of your parents' gods,
and dreaming vain dreams in a foreign tongue
until one day it gives way.
Your lips parched;
you ask for water with a rounded mouth.