170918A
-----------
Language has been assaulted,
beaten violently,
until it has become mute.
A telltale trail of vowels,
trickling out
from broken consonants.
The paper white surface
serving to bandage together
scarcely recognizable parts of speech.
It leaves coagulated stains,
that darken into scars
fading across the body into text.
Crippled pleadings,
coming from the dark corners,
of torn away pages.
-----------------------
170918B
-----------
Stranded again,
in the middle of nowhere,
but it took a long time
to get there.
We thought we were
headed somewhere,
following the direction
given as a map.
Same blank walls,
standing in solid opposition
to anything more,
such as making an advance.
Lost your way again,
and absolutely no idea
where you were going,
in that heavy traffic.
Everything gets turned
around in a same old spin
of jump on
and keep going.
Try not to notice
who falls off,
as they are swept away,
from breaking the pace.
Thoughts bloating
the way beached whales bloat,
then explode
into a deluge of decay.
The corpse
being absolute abstraction,
denying all possible meanings
and imposing final equality.
Catch an eye,
only to hurl it back,
against the wall,
where it inflicts remembrance.
If there were any liberators
they have been overturned
by the relentless barrage
of pop propaganda.
------------------------
170918C
-----------
Imagining it would be easy,
to locate and connect,
with something special,
but all you get are warning indicators
that you are way off target.
Try to change your heading,
but the instruments conspire
to being of a different mind,
taking you
where you do not want to go.
You give up,
and crash again,
into wondering what blew you up
and brought you down,
to another crash landing site.
Something dies every time,
leaving you weeping
at the foot of the monument
to the confused fiction
that you have become.
The interest is not mutual,
and you are flying different flags,
when the triggers are pulled.
The idea is shot down,
in a mere fragment of communication.
You see it written
on the whites of their eyes.
A scrawl of contrary intent,
trying to avoid the scrutiny
of ever vigilant authorities.
Keep sifting the wreckage,
looking for answers,
as to how to get around
the embargo;
to run that blockade.
The sanctions bite deeper,
threatening demolition,
of the entire core.
Marshall music emanates
from church doors.
Seems there isn't a morsel
anywhere on the smorgasbord,
that would taste like freedom.
So you swallow and retch,
popularly dished out moments.
Feeling famished,
on an alien landscape.
Unappetizing carbon copies
of all the same estrangement;
as to nothing in common.
You try to shoot the shit
with familiars,
only to end up guilty
for all that pretending
that it is something magic.
Millennial clowns
crowd out from miniature cars,
having redefined substance,
into evanescent moments
of a deeper sarcasm.
------------------------
200918A
-----------
Preferring to consume your life,
they gnaw away at it,
having learned their manners
from insects and incisors,
in all the shades of vermin.
You awaken in the dark
questioning what might be left
of your face,
turning over a bad dream,
to go back to sleep again.
The iron mask
is only for day wear.
It makes you look stronger,
than reality ever is,
while among the rats.
Crawling on your belly,
trying to avoid sniper fire,
digging that hole,
that is made up to look the same
as all those other lives.
The footprints on your skin
leave unanswered questions
as to where you might have been,
and whom you were with,
for a fun time.
You have resisted
joining the resistance
for far too long,
because it means belonging
to something.
More strangers
to sort and categorize,
while you wait for a miracle
to enter the room,
with a cure for loneliness.
Best to stay away
and not get involved.
The wounds turn septic,
smelling worse than the stables
crowded with unclean beasts.
------------------------------------
031018A
-----------
It really does not matter,
whom I actually loved
or whom I happened to miss.
Those are only more blanks
being fired from the pistol.
The crowd of anonymous others
suddenly startled
by the shotgun of your name.
That was enough to end it
right there and then.
If the heart continues beating,
you know it has not been hit
all that very hard,
with a cease and desist order,
slabbing the corpse.
It is a cold world,
saturated with cold wars,
and we are its perpetual invalids
clutching our broken crutches
where everything has gone lame.
I put the love letters away,
where they will be taken out
with the other trash.
Their meanings were erased
before they were written.
We are censored communication,
forbidden from finding the meaning
by groping in the dark.
They imagined that protected us
from becoming touched.
It breaks through my defences,
as a bone weary moment
of recollecting
someone who almost was
something to me.
I am nothing to believe in,
so there is the official rub,
that rubbed it all out.
Another stray cat
run over by a funeral procession.
That is where the dream ends,
and the struggle begins again.
The facts that grind it all down
into purified insignificance
at an ever rising price.
Remembering you
is how I have to pay
for having wanted you
in an unguarded moment,
before the curtain fell.
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