Dude . . .

if i could convince you
to consider but one candid concept
which, of course, you might suspect
concerns a most elicit topic
if your inclination
was to cringe and quickly run for cover
you would be correct
for you’ve accosted me unlike no other

with a cavalcade of quite conveniently
depicted diq piqs
clogging up my network
like a cable network choking Netflix

please don’t misconstrue my words
as puns or covert euphemisms
this is very serious
like when penis becomes penisn’t
calm down, i don’t mean the content
i declare that secondary
i can’t comprehend your cause
nor lack of couth it’s kind of scary

curbing your distinct affliction
by increasing increments
can’t quash your creative calling
and it’s in your best interest

i cannot afford to hear the lord groan
when i check my smartphone
nor have leering onlookers
keep winking as if something was known

dude, it’s just a diq
no need to show it to the world at random
put that shit away or else i’ll lop it off without abandon

Chaotic Pedantry

these, my thoughts
a plague of vague and divergent plagiarizations
indiscriminately pilfered in epic proliferation

culled and culminated
an insipidly loquacious clamor
pulling at the seams
of a precarious defenestrator

sonorous disquietude
of pointless quips methodical
poised with impropriety
imprudently parodical

pondering the response
spurred by unintended implication
posed from every angle
with fastidious consideration

formulating fears quickly forestalled
and then falsely inflected

internalized dialogues
disseminated and dissected

infiltrated by effusively
flourishing fantasies

in fluctuating malformations
of infernal lunacy

frantically then bantering
a bevy of inbound semantics
transmuting juxtapositions
chaotic thought pedantic

poring over every nuance
with a painstaking precision
lamentations
over lingering lexical aberrations

an incessant onslaught
of neurotic errings syntactical
cringing at the notion
of the permanence of erstwhile drivel

ever ready to unravel
by mere random incidence
so unwittingly interweaved
with arbitrary intermittence

why must it be so
that my mind never ceases inundating
every thought that fills my head
with copious neuroticisms

moored and then mechanically mulled over to such mundane measure

maladaptations of mind-numbing malefic discomfiture

omnipresently presaging
prominently ominous

a vomitous slew so profusely foul and insalubrious

besotting of verbosely vulgar surreptitious linguistics
repetitious literary folderal inefficacious

unrelentingly attending all obsessive inclinations
descending into grammatical quandaries sans hesitation

requisitely structured with laborious alliteration
assonance and consonance or else subjective condemnation

were that my implores could ever be expressed externally
surely they would lock me up then quickly throw away the key

cognitive calamity at this degree of grave affliction
begets one naught but a ticket to the mental institution

left bereft of any hope for one’s existential salvation
in an exile of the vilest form of human deprivation

i must then be heedful in revealing my indisposition
if you would excuse me from thus furthering this exposition

In Life

machinations
of the mind
maligned
by self-imposed design
the designated driver
of a maladaptive
disposition
dislocated sediment
intent on masochistic dreams
essential to the martyrdom
indoctrinated by a matriarch
of drastic sadist aspect
etched upon
wretched projections
usurped by alienation
parchment poisoned
by a plucked pen
paraphrasing false-inflections
pulse diminished
inquisitions
redress of aloof forsaking
rooftops shunned
by dawn’s awaken
caustic disclaim
trained on trauma
interred at the infirm
spun of silk
encased chrysalis
incrementum in reverso
verses of accursed squalor
umbral indigent
in freefall
following in footsteps
fading faster than
the self-effacing
imbrue of inebriation
seesawing with undulation
diametric poles
in flux
de facto devolution
folding inward
on the precipice
event horizon somnolent
a fate inferred
and self-fulfilled
through flustered blurs
of blighted pills
spilling the inner-light
and stirring dust to volant heights
in violent hues of tapered will
through eyes of silent dearth
and death as breath escaping
flights of fury
cilice of a soul
unfurling life
like crimson shed
in water
blissful skies of sought ensconcing
molded by the want of naught
but for the promise
of demise eternal
more than earned
in life

[image credit: Harry Clarke]

Relevant Rant

Will we ever see beyond the trees into the forest of illusions set before us by ourselves, or are we simply at a loss to bear this burden? Certainly, such implication complicates the inferences alluding to this state of indignation, which perpetuates the presence of my acute consternation. Do the constellations hold the key unlocking unknown doors to worlds beyond the chaos of existence? Is this counsel self-contained, a crux which cancels itself out, a crutch our conscience uses to ensconce us? Every question seems to touch the realm of truth secluded which eludes even those perspicacious erring on most prudent. Dedicated students of the mind have yet to find an explanation which defines our cosmic purpose. Exponentially, our ponderance compounds without exception, thereby instilling an exigence unduly excess. We have set the boundaries far beyond our wildest expectations to the point of courting disappointment. With our inclination to usurp our self-appointed power, surreptitiously supposing precedents unseen which seem to propagate our dreams so many silently believe. Bereaving us of freedoms rife with possibility which would inspire community instead of spurning hope for peace. Sapience and salience presumed part of our “sentience” are scarcely exercised or altogether compromised, despite the catastrophic impact of our calculated actions we continue on this fervid course of forced dissociation. Refusing to disseminate the knowledge which facilitates a self-sufficiency that would, in turn, sustain society without burning the bridges to the people in positions of imposed disparity based on factors beyond their person. The irony is so profane exceeding that which is insane in fact, it’s that which only fools would dare to claim not criminal. The truth of this reality that humankind just cannot see is every human stands to gain when selfish hands release the reins that led them to where we are now. Instead, with what we’ve stood to learn, so easily could we discern that only through consideration of each other, and each station intrinsic within our being, can we truly attain freedom. Kindness is not just a word, nor is it a notion absurd. It IS what all of us deserve. Without it, there is only hurt.

Pasting the Past Into the Present

a poem is but
a restive cluster
grasping
onto pages
with our frantic
fears conspicuously
calling out
for rescue

meticulously poring through
decrepit thoughts
of hoarded visions
kiss to tryst
to triste
in a blissful
dissolution
before sediment
comes nigh
where sighs undress
our destitute descries

calculated coalescence
pandering our pride’s
priviest imprints
curling chips of paint
exposing throes
of yesterdays

sacred cruxes
born before
our burgeoning bereavement
from whence all
embarking destined
for a distant hearken
poised to be
impartially presented
in pretentiously penned
appropriations
parsed
to pierce our peers
appetition
to sate this
untold inquisition