Max, or Not

a ghostly voice
placed me on hold

as i held its spectred hand

i listened
to its every word

payed heed
to its commands

as sediment is strewed
unheard

along the arid land

alone, i lay

’til long returns

this echo’s

vain remand

if we are to foster any semblance of humanity
we must stay vigilant in our acquaintance with reality
to understand that our accord
occurs by naught but random sequence
let us not succumb to privilege
thinking each his own Prometheus
others we may find distasteful
deem unsound of mind and moral
poised are we to prosecute them
moored upon the umbra horal
ere we grant our fear the fuel
to forge a conflagrative fury
diligence is due
lest misconstrual beget death sans jury
if we claim a civil station
constituting erudition
we cannot afford to be remiss
in our considerations
in relation to the chance
of circumstance in all induction
seeking to forgo the woes
intrinsic to systemic ruction
ergo, that we may avoid
egregious errs of devolution
it is most imperative
to deviate from persecution
dedicate proactively
time requisite for introspection
prior to compliance with the conviction of our perspective

typical is tuesday

tiptoeing through the testes tantrum

told we are nothing
more than superficial

sold to saturday

seems like only yesterday
our teeth were taxed
for monday morning

taken
with the trash
when thursday sang
its threnody

wednesday, wrought with acquiescence
sanctified by sunday’s dawn

slapped sans ceremony
for when friday fell

we all thanked god…

if ever seas
succumbed to stars

the tempest
would beset my heart

and all the erstwhile
effigy

would seize the dirge
of sol’s impart

like petals

sprung to plaintive flesh

each rung
ascending

needless words

pray let me savor
every breath

the bounty
of her breast

confers

wherefore lies heaven

not hymn
nor hurrah

ne’er up on high
nigh
nor an auric kasbah

no solace for souls
in a sold sanctuary

whilst ciliced dregs writhe
arbitrary redux

nix gates of impearl
by priestly permittance

and witless damnation
maimed morals of beasts

a world without savior

sans serif
sans self

awash with a wastrel-worn
wistful distress

where wishes and prayer
prey deaf ears
with deft fates

as the fortune of fools
finds no promised land yet

for their haven
lives fear

and fond heaven
knows death

a message to men
and their member’s compensing
pray ne’er be remiss
in thy diligence due

concerning the wrath
of its wanton dispensing
with nary acquist
of one semblance of truth

it seems that the war
in which all men partake of
is focused quite solely
on slaking oneself

to sate the feared fate
of inadequate function
in matters where coital
efficacy dwells

perhaps it’s an aspect
derived from devices
accustomed to thrusting
phantom paramours

decidedly lacking
the human connection
which would elicit
empathetic succor

in fact, so profuse
are the factors comprising
this vilest of vices
not wont to evolve

’tis such that it would take
a Proustian effort
to pen the impending
effusive nuance

the warranted emphasis
belies expression
one might say ineffable
such as it were

how much more apparent
can one thus profess this
than that which so painfully
i now confer

the scope of this issue
e’er renders me speechless
despite the intensity
of my resolve

methinks i shall have to
start beating men senseless
for then, at least one problem
will have been solved

incessantly inundated with an influx of frustrating idiotic arbitrary processes impossibly imposing on the nature of simplicity explicitly insidious inflicting toils unnecessary through dubious ceremony pandered as obligatory poisoning our psyche with such virulent devices bearing down on our subconscious mind and grinding down what fibrous weft we’ve left to e’er hold on to as we dangle from this dangerous ledge bereft of our humanity absconded by our primal fears and predisposed susceptibilities to words that would endear assaulting our most fragile sensibilities via machines produced to tie the noose around the essence of our hopes and dreams for nothing more than pacifying pompous pricks of argent aging staging through indoctrination
factious acquiescent waves of overwhelmed uneducated ignorant degenerated masses so demoralized they neither think nor act on the behalf of things that once held meaning their emotions relegated to the reliquary of our own squandered humanity as vanity prevails and empathy reduced to pithless pittance one can scarcely muster one last lingered outcry of good riddance!

i beg you
to not lick me

when such shame is yours
to bear

through the window
where self-inference
fixes solely on the sun

in mesmeric layers
culled
from the
miasma of the mind

do not lick me

for you surely see

that i have not
the time

nor the slightest inclination

as to mitigate
your bind

her semblance
in seconds

so tender
did rend

untold
as the interim

when time
swore unravel

and i
by my failing

found unwonted faith