Sea of a form of Love,
formed of chemical
offspring of the deep,
pairing event, triggered to emotional release or equivalency.
Pops up like a romantic mystery
of awakened beauty
sleep of miracle, ability
that has it's own kiss alarm and timing of
when it leaks,
or thinks, you need
a revisiting.
Stored as treasure, that
sings of entranced ledger,
paper,
ink,
key drawing of doors of your identity.
Plugged in reserve of lifeline cable of stores,
broadcasts UrHtz radio signalling
your soul's more more encore encore.
To rerun as a Premiere snapshot in movie of an
intrinsic shiver-dance
of links of a core programming.
Not by chance but design of emotions,
connections
to every single damned thing.
Reflects reflections mirror of mystery direction by necromancy- electrode- brewery as Frankenstein
muckery
in the making a living creature,
rune sealed Mummy,
of take that feeds.
("Untitled - The Eye of Jihad", 2019, original encaustic)
Love is Love - and other absurd truisms
“Love is love” is like “Follow your bliss”
a way to deflect the moral agency
and subsequent consequence of our desires
with vague equivalency.
It’s like all love and bliss is somehow equal,
which is absurd.
What if my bliss comes from destroying yours?
Or I love abducting, raping, slicing and dicing
then barbecuing
the infant you love…?
Where is the moral equivalence?
This is why the Golden Rule sounds great
up until you are up against a masochist.
And the world today is apparently filled with masochists.
But it’s all good…
At least it feels good,
to think we are all the same, all equal
in what we love and cherish.
The truth is we aren’t.
We may all be made of the same dust,
but that doesn’t make us equal.
Meanwhile the world turns,
a hit soap-opera
in its nth season
spinning relentlessly
a veritable Wall of Death
which in its shocking extreme
delivers some kind of perverse pleasure.
It may not be bliss,
or even what we love,
but it’s certainly captivating.
(11/1/23)
I think form in poetry
(in all sorts of writing)
is akin to math: without meaning
until we are talking the likes of
apples and oranges; buildings
and their elucidating inhabitants:
what goes into, and then comes
from our hearts – minds that dream...
The crux of any communication
is what is being said, how it is
being said~and whether the discourse
is perceived alive or sterile –
I do not want my works to have the
equivalency of genetically modified seed,
producing one crop, going no further than
one mouth; adding no reverberating
crunch to the ear of humanity~myself preferring
cremation to the dormancy of an embalmed grave....
The nature of things
The equivalency to one day compare
Changes with time and dreams
To only have us to one day dare
Humans replaceable by the thousands
We are not important as we foolishly think we are
We are human beings in the millions
Does it matter for time and experiences to have come so far?
The words of old to heed today
The modern will crush it on demand
The words of new is ‘okay’
Everything is all everybody ever want
I do not see how we have improved with time
I only see people wanting what they want
Those who cannot will always foolishly find
What contentment shall never be met when done
We change with time and change our dreams
Because everyday we can dare
That is now the natural order of things
An equivalency with no more the need to compare
inspiration are third person plural equivalency to me
-don't you see / honey bee, planting a tree to plant
the army to swarm the innocent house.
don't gotta worry about me i'll be as quiet as a mouse
,i said, & then promptly dropped the sun.