Beyond the Grave

often
we obscure our words
for fear
of truths
only they hold

unable to bear
the letters
staring back
so stark and cold

still
we must express
our feelings
lest we tend
our spirit’s death

ink
like blood
begins congealing
with every
unspoken breath

none would choose
to bear such burden
from an ivory tower
of pain

shattered tears
shall heed no warden
each and every
one the same

so it is
through words
thus written
pittances
of what pervades

dormant tales
awaiting
to be spoken
from beyond
the grave

Find a Way

do or don’t
it doesn’t matter

all the world’s will
yet won’t

try your best
or give up trying

don’t deny
that both are
moot

should you stay
or should you go

you shouldn’t
have to ask
to know

that
every woman
every man
and every fate
is ever damned

for love
will find a way
it’s true
to court
the death of me
and you

Fucked

massive ball of chained steel
poised to impose its will upon me
perched beyond the nexus shadow
aimed to strike my solar plexus

on the flash of a doorstop dime
triggered by a thoughtless notion
it drops
piercing the air like a sonic flare
barreling down the arced pathway
faster than my thought can bear to answer its undoing

and in one searing soul-crush instant
it collides with my feeble world
shattering all preconceptions
every trenchant dissociation
dispersed into a worthless pile
of infantile abandon

til all that’s left behind
is the broken child
hiding from the hideous truth
writhing in a fetal coil of feces

the blunder was to not abort
now torn asunder
plunderous distortion

but none should be so fortunate
as fervid fiends must fuck fuck fuck

fuck without a second thought
fuck until the seed is shed
what breathes alone crawls from the bed

forethought flippantly forgone
in their putrid wake of ~amorous~ miasma
an afterthought as frivolous
as latent laughter
lost inside of lust’s pacification

forced to find its feral footing
in the aftermath of nurture’s negligent wrath
a product of an act so vile

fleeting as the morning fruit fly
feeding on the rotted flesh
besotted with the tainted milk
caked in honey layered filth

cast aside for pride’s comeuppance
supple skin begins to harden
lost and unattended in the garden
of dreams dissonant
deemed a tragic waste of space
fucked in every fucking way
that fucking can’t afford afflicting
upon a seeded egg defeated

shunned the freeing of the fetus

as long as everyone got fucked
then everything should be just fine

I DON’T THINK SO!

 

if we could state with fearless freedom
the truth that every woman knows
the cross that every woman bears
the pain that every woman suffers

it would still not yet suffice

the silence, violence, negligence
disparity, disquietude
the destitute condition
of a desperate society

destined to repeat the past
with exigence until at last
we will have set the final precedent

we will not go gentle into that good night
we will not stand aside
we will abide by what is right
and you will comply

no longer will you have your way
you’ve had your day for all of time

before, we roared, but none would listen
now we shall arise
accept no compromise
condemn the lies
convict the crimes
inflicted upon daughters
wives
sisters
mothers
friends
neighbors
strangers
ancestors
descendants

relentless
has been your assailing
tending to your biggest failing
rendering yourself invalid
by and of your own availing

eventually, you must understand
without women, there is not man

for we live on our mother’s earth
because our mothers gave us birth
there is no other savior, sir
existence is not heaven-sent

presently our plight has shown
what all women have ever known

that thirsty eyes and empty minds
bring idle hands to victimize
the innocent
the defenseless
without the fear
of consequence

the fallout
subsequently following
their lack of self-control
to sate their whim
they spend our souls?

I DON’T THINK SO!

now you must atone

Hidden Facets

There are many personas contained within each individual’s name which reveal themselves through, of all things, anagrams. Uncovering these hidden personas is an old pastime of mine. I now present to you the anagrams of Donald Trump and Hillary Clinton.  Feel free to interpret these as you wish…


  • doldrum pant
  • mud rod plant
  • odd rum plant
  • darn lump dot
  • torn dad lump
  • add torn lump
  • plum odd rant
  • lump and trod
  • odd lamp runt
  • mad porn lout
  • odd palm turn
  • torn lamp dud
  • damn plod rut
  • mad runt plod
  • darn mud plot
  • lard ton dump
  • land dump rot
  • old rant dump
  • dolt ran dump
  • rump and dolt
  • dump lord ant
  • lord damp nut
  • old damp runt
  • darn dump lot
  • darn dolt ump
  • dump lord tan
  • pot drum land
  • mud land port
  • odd lump rant
  • dun mold part
  • dun tarp mold
  • dun mold trap
  • dun malt drop
  • dun old tramp
  • dun dram plot
  • palm trod dun
  • lynch a trillion
  • nor a chilly lint
  • archly loin lint
  • i lynch oral lint
  • horny lilac lint
  • lint i call horny
  • lit crony in hall
  • an ill crony hilt
  • alt crony in hill
  • richly anon till
  • charity inn loll
  • trill in halcyon
  • chilly loin rant
  • no thrill in lacy
  • ill thorn in clay
  • holy rill cat inn
  • a rich nylon lilt
  • lint on rich ally
  • lay rich toll inn
  • all rich yon lint
  • rally on nil itch
  • i only rant chill
  • only a trill inch
  • ninth coil rally
  • con inlay thrill
  • i can roll thinly
  • ill lynch ration
  • loin lynch trail
  • i lynch in a troll
  • lynch all in riot
  • nil to lynch lair
  • lot in lynch lair
  • ill tinny choral
  • thy ill carol inn
  • thy ill thorny clan
  • hilly clan intro
  • i thrill clan yon

Sacred Trivialities

we ride
this boundless wave

from crest
to crash
in chaos
crushing shrieks
and drowning cries

echoes
in the undertow

through waters
of an unknown quest

sinuating circumstances
tend this surface tension
tenuously

as each action
scatters sentences
in capillary sequences
of curious inconsequence

where quantum rifts
soon shift to cosmic

drifting upon caustic wake

it is in that squallish whisper
when the hands of fate uplift us

sifting through our sins

in graceless cringing
and grimaced chagrin

gravity turns inverse

severing us
from our sanctimonious symbols
and sacred trivialities

we once revered
with fierce resolve
our lives revolved
provincially
with every round

all soon found
to have been
profundity’s antithesis

arriving at the genesis
of cyclical rebound

reborn and disavowed
in distant visions
of the now

Not Even Death

when everything
is gone
nothing matters

the only place
you still exist
is barely even tangible

but you don’t care
no one cares

not even death

and so it persists

The Last Pain

fading in
and out of shadows
faces
of bizarre contortion
glaring
as a stranger’s
features
reach into
this bed of famine

trapped within
these walls
without you

terror-stricken

anxious

reeling

haunted
by fates unforeseen

fleeing
from my own escape
on paper
pouring totured
thoughts

poring over
art
distraught
in attics
dimly lit
amid daunting stacks
bearing chronicles
so unfamiliar

taunting
with disparity
the stalking stares
cast cold as steel

the last pain
I am left to feel
is lost to numbness
pitted in this hole
that was my conscience

Shores of Implore

plastic melts
like sugared air
and time conforms
to nothing

songs persist
through voices shared
with context
ever shifting

if only
you could walk beside me
on these planes
of swallowed hope

placid seas
would then return us
sadly
this will never be

Stranded On the Precipice

death escaped
my hands

and left me

standing at the altar

the emptiness
received me
like a self-
inflicted wound

in a room
adorned with trinkets of trifle

faintly linking
my alter-ego
to this faux land

of vaulted heart
and vapid mind

where visions turn
away
afraid
to learn

of their inbound
inception

this blunderous aberration
has no station

nor foot
to find it steady

a cistern of depleted days
precedes each ghastly step
in protest

stranded
on the precipice
of a sempiternal impasse

surely they jest
upon questioning
assent to my depression

such pain belies
its own expression

and politesse yet stays
my tongue

To LIVE

To LIVE

is to have

the TRUTH
of one’s individual
PERSONAL
experience

perpetually

INVALIDATED

by the WORLD

around you

with special

EMPHASIS

on those
who ARE poised

to KNOW

YOU best

Pavlovian Lapdogs

petulant plebians pandering prose
spawned out of spite from depictions composed
of pithless and petty ploys poised to appease
a princess of poisonous pedantry peeved
with patrons plucked patiently tempered by pique
their person purloined spurred by spurious speech
supinely complying peremptorily
pliable pupils impaired by erred pleas
obsequious as pavlovian lapdogs
a precedent of appalling demagogue
imparting dispatch surreptitiously reaped
to pose such a perfect impression oblique
to passively present through public dispose
promotion of disreputable depose
to please their despot’s pathetic importunes
perilous plots born of perceived impugn
sparing none, for all are prone as her pawns
through solipsist eyes of contempt and despond

to know

Beautifully intriguing expression from my friend Miranda

voice of miranda

I don’t really know what I created, (not that I really have a style, yet) but it happened. So here it is.

i lay, on the brink
shook tongues with my past self

clawing at the collapse and fold,

i helped her out of her coat

‘well, aren’t you cold?’
why yes, she let, and let me find my death
in the reigns of frost, pages fill my chest
there are jewels in the snow,
did you know? did you know?
i lost myself on the way to my cabin
careless in the clutches of a mind gone rabid

i cast aside her shoes

‘oh, how you shiver –
your spine twists in my hands like a child with fever’
in the blackened night, you scrawl your dues
ink floods your dreams,
where are you? where are you?
i fought myself on the way to my cabin,
howling and bawling for…

View original post 107 more words

Poet’s Love Song #romantictuesday

Infinite beauty from my dear friend Christine Ray

Brave and Reckless

I have been thinking about the many way poets express love through words, how often we give our words to others like gifts and how rarely people speak words of love to us in our native tongue.  This is love poem to all the beautiful, brilliant poets who I am privileged to know.  I see you and you are beautiful.


I see you

Yes, you poet

You who lives

Behind the misty veil

Dwelling in the border

Between this world

And a hundred other

Shadow worlds

I see you

I see those ink-stained

Fingers

That hold your pen

Like a lover

That fly across the keyboard

In a torrent

Before stopping, hesitating

Waiting

For the flow of words to resume

I see the permanent rings

Countless cups of coffee

Have left on your writing table

The chip in your favorite mug

I see the frayed fabric

On your cuffs

Of…

View original post 181 more words

Just One More Thing…

Before I crash out, I wish to thank every person who has been so incredibly kind in taking their time to read any of my dubious writings and also those who provide me with your indispensable feedback. Regrettably, I have been remiss in my response time. While there may be various factors which contribute to this, none stand to excuse my lack of consideration in light of everyone’s kindness. The very next thing I’m committing to is catching up in my response to everyone’s comments. As always, I appreciate your consideration.

❤ Max

Let Your Soul Flow

 


Some dude I once knew told me it was imperative that I should convey the message that he loves every one of you and that he understands that each one of us is a human being each with our own infinite array of cosmically complex experiences that are not to be judged by any person, including oneself. Life is but an ever-changing series of briefly nuanced eras. Each one with its own uniquely distinct energy signature that we experience in vibrational frequencies existing only within that moment. Cherish these feelings, for the only time we may ever again be able to taste such moments is in the ethereal realm of our dreamscapes in the hypnagogic aftermath of a soporific sentience.

In spite of life’s discord and dissonance that might leave you feeling otherwise, the fact is you are loved and appreciated. We needn’t the crutch of frail words which might fail us. Our presence is one of effusive fluorescing that reaches the farthest filaments of reality.  it is impossible for any matter, be it living, non-living, corporeal, or non-corporeal to traverse this cryptic chaos without the interchange of energy on a scale most prolific.  Our actions, regardless of their magnitude, affect countless things.  Though one might have not yet been privy to such truths, the fact is that their essence is known, loved, and appreciated by potentially infinite instances of consciousness that span a contiguous flow.

The nature of existence is the ebb and flow of all things leading into balance. It is necessary for us to disengage at times so that we may grow and learn independently of others. The journey of understanding is one composed of many companions but the processing of its components can only take place within ourselves. Please take care not to mistreat yourself, nor others. We are here solely by infinitely random chance. These forms which we inhabit are frail and susceptible to all forces including those which we are unable to see or comprehend. Every second of our reality is unique unto itself, yet, is also synced to the eternal singularity of space and time.

Let us revel in the vibrations of loving energy that inhabit this realm of sempiternity. And let us not be swayed by the happenstance of this physical plane that seems so rife with unfathomable anguish and despair. Our cognizance is born of perceptual context. We cannot know beauty without knowing its suffering.  Vortical balancing is the eternal state of all things. We must allow for this truth lest we create an internal imbalance leading to the exacerbation of our own existential entropy.

Energy must be allowed to flow through all dimensions in its natural state of fluidity. When any form thereof is left to stagnate, it will manifest in toxic and harmful ways. Let it flow through you as is was meant to. Give and receive love freely but never attempt to harvest nor harbor it. Allow yourself the freedom of this cosmic coalescence. Love is the force that connects all things. This is why I can truly say that I love you and why you can know this to be true.


Let the universe flow through your soul as your soul flows through the universe.

❤ Max

Cautionary Tail

a boot was lodged in my caboose
the day i shook an apple loose
from high atop its lofty perch
where once it fell i thusly searched
but though i heard it hit the ground
it seemed that it could not be found
this apple had been such a prize
it quickly became of my eye
i knew i dare not let it fall
into a den where earthworms crawl
the sound it made seemed to suggest
it landed ‘neath a nearby nest
that housed a rather irate bird
which i had recently disturbed
and as i looked i heard it mocking
dousing me with many droppings
i resolved nary a wrath
would steer me from this apple’s path
perhaps it rolled away i thought
but soon a hole found my foot caught
which sent me lunging toward a bush
brimming with thorns which pierced my tush
i looked to see my boot was stuck
when from behind my head was struck
by many discontented squirrels
in shock i watched their fury unfurl
with such profusity ne’er seen
did acorns rain upon my dream
in spite of this, i forged ahead
and trampled through a flower bed
attended by a perturbed granny
swinging as to strike my fanny
with her rake with aim precise
assailing me not once but thrice
and when it seemed that all was calm
a beehive landed like a bomb
releasing plumes of raging bees
who did not seem to hear my pleas
they stung me until i ballooned
into a bulbous red buffoon
at which point one would think to quit
but this man never would submit
i then retraced my steps to see
my prized apple’s trajectory
which much to my shock and surprise
atop the tree did it reside
with one boot on i made the climb
to reach the limb where it did lie
but as i inched along its branch
i heard a creak ever most scant
as one might guess i tumbled down
and when my bottom touched the ground
it was then met by my lost boot
with such a force it breached my chute
and to this day it yet remains
as for the apple who can say
i beg thee take heed, hear my words
lest such a fate ever absurd
befall your precious buns of steel
when apples of aplomb appeal
apppear to be just out of reach
it might prove wise to leave them be