we are
lost
amid our own profundity
or
the inference thereof
at least
platitudes
of desperation
haunting like a dormant plea
just to close our eyes
and still yet see
is not enough
to sate
the all-consuming
fervor
to project
somehow
a vision
that might justify
the burden
of our disposition
frozen
existential fractals
giving way
in their descent
careening toward oblivion
with nothing more
than the solitude
of a solipsistic incarnation
trying
to live
trying not
to die
run
to the shadows
straight
into the sun
no star
within reach
can undo
the truth
an answer
lies somewhere
the question
unasked
[image credit: Ernest Henry Griset]
in truth
i am nothing
if not
for this
suffering
fleshed
of sighs
in nuanced
rebuttal
abjection
from sanity
lost
spectrums span
ceaselessly
i dare be sworn
to behold
the bane
of my dedition
i am
overtaken
by desolate space
once warmed
by the presence
of a comrade
now absent
surrendered
to emptiness
pray not
this
vacant eve
suicide
can swoon you
come the solstice moon’s
return
in spite of its obsequious attendance
on the fives and tens
some would even say
it was romantic
though i’m not inclined
to justify your prying
either way
airing such affairs
errs most uncouth
besides this documenting
circumstances
spare no time to tarry
only in the spongecake
of a soft and silky
skull-bound stockade
does a tolerance
evince
alas, these are but
ramblings
of a mordant
man-made mood
so pardon me
for pissing
on your balsamine
impatiens
[image credit: Frantisek Kobliha]
my latest poem on Sudden Denouement
i stepped into a diorama
walking through pellucid clouds
the air was tight
sky was shallow
voices, still, in static freefall
the light of day was overshadowed
jilted, lumbering eclipses
an atmosphere so stifling
like starfish lost in the sahara
fear had strung the leash that tethered me
to the abandoned mine
overhead were expectations
looming like the unseen eye
quietly, i moved below
like fetid water seeping
from a broken fridge at midnight
had i drawn their consciousness
my words would have become subverted
so it was, my tongue did stay
never would such thoughts again
beset my addled mind
returning to the ocean and the sand whence i arose
for i could not recall my name
every eve as death awaited
watching from a borrowed window
perched upon the impasse
of the broken wing of time
Max states: “I write about the things going on in my life. I…
View original post 45 more words
all that i desire to say
can be found lost in my expression
enshrouded by archaic airs
arbitrary to my intentions
are these conscious thoughts of truth
in conflict with my hidden layers
or is it pretense so aloof
driving rifts through solemn lair
this much i may never know
and such it is i must accept
that all i might forever show
should be not what my heart reflects
The universe has once again flourished in my consciousness. Knowledge of my own existence and that of the world around me becomes my reality. There are many things, infinite things for which i feel fear and unknowing. Life persists and time is imminent. I am helpless to anything other than surrender to its insistence.
In spite of the anguished plight of each individual’s existence, i feel the warm energy of assurance and comfort radiate throughout my entire being. An understanding that all that has been, all that will be, and all that is, shall be okay.
The singularity of time and truth looms above. Not as a harbinger of sorrow but as the sun, infusing all with its golden beams of love. Doting on each and every one of us with buzzing motes of life’s exquisite mystery. Anything within and beyond our comprehension may take place at any given moment.
Just as we are here so shall we be gone. As those that are gone are here, surrounding us with their love and granting us stay. Their existence continues in all realms. The love that permeates throughout the varied instances of our day speaks of this divine truth.
This understanding brings hope. The love we all share brings hope. Hope is the understanding that although we have no possible way of knowing what things may come, we refuse to let the fear of the unknown tarnish our weary hearts. For we know that things will be okay.
Knowing that regardless of the surreality of reality and all things contained therein will happen as they will. And this is okay.
Every moment we have ever experienced. Every treasured memory Every misplaced memento that wanders throughout our subconscious as the fuel that feeds the fire of our dreams. Every brief moment of perfect happiness that so fleetingly dashed across our life’s landscape. Every first beholding of love that was previously unknown to our conscious minds. All of these exist in this very moment.
When we gaze upon the open sky of umbrage we are overcome with a sense of wonder and awe. As we glance upon the very particles that compose our own existence in physical and ethereal form. The true essence of everything in every temporal tense of existence.
That truth is love.
[image credit: Chesley Bonestell]
my truth existed
somewhere
in her opaline eyes
a timeless visage
dangling moonbeams
from the edge of oblivion
muted by the dismal
desert sky
silently
she drove an erubescent arrow
through the sorrowed vales
of a wailing echo
which impaled my imperfect heart
i followed her flicker
’til the trail
led me to an apparition
which dissolved
into a parasol
sprawling with mesolite
then she vanished
into the night
[image credit: Kay Nielsen]
christians are coming to coddle your kittens
with puddles of prattle not subtle but maddened
it’s radical to be crepuscular bustling britches
of rustic vernacular vibrantly verdant
in volant tribunals attributable tunes of a triumphant
visual sadly convulsing combative collusion
as clear as a warm summer day in the attic
of possible dreams drenched in leather lotharios
lithely maneuvering ubermensch avenues
ever evincing the principle paramour
pandering products intended for troubadours
mending their troubles in bubble text laterals
flattering baberaham lincoln with attaboy
linking up lankershim lost in the valley
of spent evolution devolving erratically
severed endeavors of laughter erroneous
phony evangelists dialed on disaster
in spastic capacities spooning the man on the moon
most mendaciously ponce de lunacy what i just did there
is no time for sentiments soon we will all be returning
to sediment lend me your earphones i’ll listen
to artifice smartphones and stupid humanity
hailing the vapid evocative evil salvation
absolving to imbecilic plastic munitions
drastic in form as the new norm soon supersedes
what was once named reseda and the pleiades
soporific precedents poised to intercede
somnolescent comments culled from epiphanies
septic or epic it’s difficult to decide
hiding in harems devising a matricide
armed with a fist of fastidious folderal
calling all cataclysmic mystic masters fall
into abysmal miocene themed myopics
mastications lost in listless scene’s reverie
roving through needles of threaded complacency
boldly implying the impetus for our means
median modes start eroding erratically
seraphim hymns sodomizing with nascent speed
spurring sporadic combustible catalysts
paradigms prodding elusion emphatically
safe from the phallic delusions of malcontents
hell-bent on plentiful ploys of ecstatic sin
limp as a sunday morning on a pink flag
exorbitantly dressed in drag and then storming
in on monty pythonic pliable placators
practicing sparring with swords of scorn swelling
in hordes so hellaciously formed like a stream
of striations intrinsically born to be
all they can beat on the bratwurst next door
to the exodus exiting earth evermore swore the end of this
Max, or Not 
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