Origins

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(Robert Rauschenberg, Overdrive)

 

They sent me off

with the lunatics.

 

The shattering laughter implied

I would be assigned a new identity

shortly.

 

Once they broke into

my dreams

I heard the bell

sound black.

 

There were already several inches

of rain.

 

Do not tell me

you don’t hear it.

Do not,

for one second,

lead me to that place you name

integrity

and then convince me

of silence,

then

help me, God I’m dying,

down here upon the shore,

I can’t think or feel anything

anymore.

That wasn’t supposed to be heard.

It wasn’t supposed to be know that

these were the words I prayed

even after I stopped praying.

 

There is nothing

where there once

were gallant and geological features

I could piece or stack,

or even chisel away at,

if that’s what I felt

I needed to do.

 

But now I am empty.

I am changed.

 

The gravel, the barbs,

the pooling rains

that settle within that space

drown in the yellow waves

of the sea.

 

 

 

 

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To Live

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Hieronymus Bosch

I will meet you

somewhere between the

theta waves

and this wounded refusal

to die.

 

But you have to be there,

truly be there

amidst the graves

and the killing laughter which

revels in your

every death.

 

The thefts,

and the burns

broadcast

a sudden madness,

your premeditated

deterioration.

 

Only when I washed up

on these brinks,

did I choke

on the tombs

of those killers.

 

The next storm

has already been planned.

 

I will be here

if you need me

with nothing left

to be taken.

 

OCD

 

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Be warned,

there is something

in the woods

unheard of,

guns loaded,

unborn.

 

Ritualistic death

among the

Ayahuasca.

 

I went there

to save you

from burning

and was

buried alive.

 

 

Growth

Linda Vachon. Tete De Caboche

Linda Vachon. Tete De Caboche

Whatever was left of me/ after the dream/ the night watch prowled/ wolves/ looting uninvited orgasms/ I am still/ one of the hunted

How could those/ so rank with sin/ with misery/ and hopelessness/ claim sainthood/ proffer a living, breathing/ judgement day/ guarding/ no/ this/ this was never about protection/ The disappearances/ crimes against humanity/ unspeakable/ new and improved/ methods of torture/ silenced poets and artists/ sickened the healers/ corrupted altruists and heroes/

The impossible became real/ we didn’t know where it was coming from/ sudden shooting pains/ dull aches/ we were being burned alive/ They called us schizophrenics/ they were stealing our country from us/ we had to find a way/ to defend ourselves/ we had to fight/ an invisible enemy/

These were acts of war/ unauthorized invasions/ turning us against ourselves/ against each other/ the final stop/ complete control/ enslavement/ they had such/ as sense of entitlement/ no boundaries/ ownership/ burning red/ they were stealing our country/ from us/ a burning red flat line/ our children would have to battle/ if we couldn’t overcome/ an enemy/ we could not yet locate/

It was never paranoia/ rather/ it was that we were/ fully aware/ of the capability of evil/

In the absence of choice/ lies enslavement/ violation/ both internal and external/ In the absence of choice/ there is a ravine/ of lost souls/ stolen selves/ and whatever is left/ on the other side/ of this makeshift reality/ is paraded through the streets/ what was once brilliance/ now a laughingstock/ by a torrid, mindless mob/ of witch hunters/ destroyers of dreams/ and potential/

All which was once held sacred/ now disposable/ to a frothing/ insatiable/ void/ of broken killers/

They are everywhere/ the Devil’s Herd/ the bringers of death/ holding/ what Aristotle named/ ‘The Immovable Movers’/ hostage in their own lives/ and make no mistake/ they will break you/ if it is the last thing/ they ever do/

For now/ all we have is our humanity/ that part of us/ that cannot ever be broken/ residing somewhere between/ freedom and struggle/ each/ our own compass/ metaphysical/ free to choose/ our own transcendence/ a destination

 

 

Harm’s Way

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Robert Rauschenberg Collage

They tore into the cities / invading and occupying homes / staked like territorial wounds / to the mass graves / of our ancestors / limitless access / the flames of power / fueled by delusion / take whatever is left / from the wood pile / and burn it / burn the rest /

A dangerous grief / foreshadowed / the ruins / of a shackled war zone / the potential of all that could become / buried beneath / hues of apathy and stone / careful now / with what is found / the weather is about to turn /

I would have kept their secrets / protected them as faithfully / or as often / as gold is stripped /from an original mind / they knew of / possibly saw / the exploitation/  all the blood / yet silent / for years possibly /

I was violated motherfuckers/  we all were / the word / no / was never a part of the equation / those who spoke out / against the crimes / were rumored to be insane / as if insane / was the worst thing to be / loons / some whispered / some whispered it louder than others / so we were never to be believed /

We are human beings / goddamit / people / freely accessed / stalked / to the blackest rooms / of our minds / I remember counting the ridges / on the cellar floor / in and out of consciousness/ mockingbird incantations circling / the barely audible / fire / of my dying mind / Even in my most liberated wastelands / there were never any questions / to refuse./