A Three Saint Actthe Four Man BandBy

8/3/2019 A Three Saint Actthe Four Man BandBy

1/14

Epic, Finished.

By: Kristoffer Paul Denoyer

A three saint act

the four man band

By: A thinker not much of a drinkerhad my fill before departure

tho last week I was called a stinker

a down-syndrome man, I slept in the kitchen

Had to be up early in the morn'in

Once having,

"no plans

no dates

No appointments with anybody"

Just

"Leisurely exploringSouls and Cities."

Fuck it all,

fuck being a dirty word

but oh so clean in the running mouth game

That's where poetry makes a play,

"Climbed K2 and napped

in purple haze by

lakes edge

intoxicating wilderness

starring deep into the glass

-gotta get my ass outta here-

something about the looking glass

pushed the limits,

dear LORD help these

benevolent spirits

A wink

A call

We're move'in on."

A passing glance

no whittling

Just preaching

no soap box either

just my

ivory

tower


2/14

peering

that goes on and on & ON

into the Midwestern kinsman of the sun

weary teary eyed travelers

pristine obscene "tea" drinkers

tho very willing jumping thru tea fieldsburning em' with bridges

with many past canaries

preying on the infinite

praying for the infinite

OH!

owning the finite!

yet...

Never stood so tall in the white chasm nothing

parchment void catechism

a loley speckled twilightmy russian bride had her way with me

finding the perfect cell,

leaving off the vast mass in time.

never too far from the door.

casting into nothing,

feeling a rhythm

a rhyme

this brisk chill through the spine

please, take a drink, a big swig if you will

hemmingway coursing thru pores

this moment injected in vaines!

will you understand this grand gesture

or shall it be gone, gone with the wind?

lingering bum sleeps

the dishes must be done

waiting on

and on

& ON

Rolling on & on

and ON

Promising one thing

& one thing alone

I will leave you some day,

I can't say when.

Twas a prophecy foretold and it's said,

one can speak in tongues


3/14

even hold each gift divinely given.

I wish for all my children

a gift of the prophet

whom never resounds as clanging gongs.

Read it in a fortune once found in a book

that was pieced together from cookies which came from the west... perhaps even the east,

it's a fine line from one to the next.

"I'm 25 and haven't a bastard child."

Rambln' on too much

long winded verses

IF the true words cum

they'll lay simple

No cheesy - sentimentality

sometimes I'm simple, but sentimental.

" Live fast, DIE young

Live slow, DIE old

either way

Hoping I lived."

as for THE PROPHECY FORETOLD

------------------------

I've moved on

and free! Free as a bird free

Free no underwears free

flop where I like commando free!

bottle of wine free

fresh joint twilight night free

wildly running morning hour riverbed dreaming freedom

st. francis mid summers dream mellow haze preaching to birds free

shallow as the stream maybe

my heart beats

this joy an ocean deep

Took the train to the cityscape

new hip couples, narratives included on the bumper

draped afghan wear, so trendy so different

makes no difference

NPR, equality now, make love not war

I made out just a moment ago

"Dude, megaladon that broad!"

physical bracelet buddhist beads, expensive watch.


4/14

do what we want, as we will

can't you tell?

a young flowering couple

handcuffed together

that's my stop!

regarding todaywhat I want isn't necessarily

what I need

what I need isn't what I'll be

who to blame

who to blame

"Recklessly young - Restlessly old"

When did the hour strike

when did the hands fold downwhere was it time settled so

where was I

where was I

this man in the mirror starring back at me

just me, only me

"restlessly old - recklessly young"

sharing comforts of despised comforts

embraced all strange and terrible uncomfortable things

so it goes, it's the devil I suppose

but it matters so much to me

-pondering these man-made constellations-

going to a party as a viewer

watching a movie with a projector

rarely an actor, just an instigator

ominous prospector

"for when I do nothing, nothing does."

When I try to run I fall

if I walk I go nowhere

when I drink, I'm never drunk

when I'm dunk, I never drank

if I blink, I've fallen asleep


5/14

if I've slept I had only blunk

I'm full when I've eaten

I haven't eaten in days

I go to see twilight tho it's mid-morning when I do

It's never evening anymore, night has passed memy holy script carved clean, the flask chalked full

this typewriter says more than I, not sure I've said

anything at all

blacked out there...

my lids open, I'm vision heavy

the mind is weary from the unseen dreams

I've seen too many nights

darkness prevailed, I lay orphanedwashed up on the land I've blown upon

my cohort pleads and pleads sanity

if he's my best I'm not far

So we sat out smoking

freezing

ceaselessly drinking

couldn't bare the inside

he couldn't bare your insides

it's six in the morn

still smoking

drinking coffee

couldn't bare yr thinking

need an eye opener

it's eight in the morn

pour out another

and this rolls on and on & O N

ceaselessly

on and ON

&on...

"Will you ever pass on?"

PFFT! My epitaph?

fuck that mess

be rest assured, it's full proof

he's a skeletal structural man


6/14

no meat,

Nor flesh

bounce to the next

couldn't careless

wait, I could

Go tell it on the provocative accounts of menwith sought holes between wholes

"get rid of your bone"

&

Go moan alone

on my behalf

I've my own mess

Not givn' in for less

Gettn' between her lines

isn't necessity from Birth.

Fuck, that mess

my epitaph?

disturb not such bones

-considering anything-

-I've lost everything-

yet, for eternity...

gained absolutely NOTHING

for all it's worth

be rest assured, "I'm happy."

In any sense of arbitrary

can't arbitrarily use arbitrary

such conceptions

sprung from existence

they had to be there

for the sake of yr own

In which more can linger on

with arbitrary cognition

Dammit! Did it again...

fruitless nerd,

I sold out

drove to west texas

passed thru Coloradah

Made it to Denver

traded snow for snow

Michigan was slow

Arkans-ass

Tex-ass


7/14

Nebraska-ass

Bring on the noise of corn-hole home.

cruisn' the back roads

fightn' Russian probes

briskly on the move,

pushed onward Alaska!I hope second hand smoke doesn't kill ya

yr droopn' old girl

Arlo's shirtless, sal's makin' a windowed mess

Doodln' while drivn'

turn'n bends and curls of curves of girls

nothin' new

comparisons are odious.

but what's happening now is in the clear

truly shared.

"Can't bear thoughts of mortality."

"I'll be lucky to make it even 4 years more."

"By chance or hands of yr own?"

"Who knows, if ones foolish enough."

"Boy is that us!"

Keep up those tunes...

Seems ages ago, lives ago

measures back. We played our songs of conf-angled mess.

Hours poured, souls turned confessions on consoled breasts.

Holy baptizing experience

"nothings a waste."

"It's all pointless, a masochists game."

"He's a nihilist."

epitome waiting for tombstone slates.

across the street from liquors exquisite hut, happy go lucky

sign depot, where all sign needs are met.

And we meet and met and yet are met once again

with brewed coffee lit smokes

those native american blend, a delight.

When Alaska broadened our view, she was new

grew complacent, what is it with us and revelations?

Now it's all askew!

dying tunes to others

perhaps all we knew


8/14

Forensic state, in lieu of past abuse.

such malice must be subjected as prosthetic abandonment

must be true.

friends have died on

they're dying all the timewhile my whores have left me

at 7th and desolation row

called my bluff

reading st. john of the cross

it wasn't enough

does this debauchery know no bounds?

No.

Now, twist no facts to suit theories

find theories to suit facts.

A grand schemesolving the questioned fall

life of st. christoffer reached

minus the ferry river crossing

wasn't tortured by demons

curiosity took care of that one

tying & tying

a plight to Thee, "have mercy on me"

thoughts stray, positive to negatively,

like that *snap*

my neck when the day came

burdensome thoughts weighted heavily.

Dear brother, comeback & maybe I'll come back too.

Glimpses & cracks here and there,

we can be whole too. Sure have missed you,

dear brother.

Don't call myself a poet,

I don't like most poets.

Irony, yes indeed.

what joy in writing poetry,

Love & hate entangled mess

structure structure structures

something about words in three's

at times, they , these poems

or prose, have no flow in thought

much like my thoughts

scuffled rowdy fights it seems


9/14

"While on the third day!"

on the 7th we rest

please have mercy on us, oh lord.

Confessions of a saint

"it's one thing I ain't"a pig testified on such whereabouts

no one would of thought

praying? who me?

nah mang.

back in the day

inhaling caffeine & nicotine

if any luck

it'll bring clarity.

still haven't seen a buck

so upped the antestockn' up the pot

of good kharma to counter act the other.

being clever

has been B A D for my health

Simply that

I hope to be only a G O O D man

and nothing else

"What's wrong with that?

No, pompous is not a goal.

I just wish to be good.

there's no good nor bad...

What about the conscience?

Well, in the matter of the conscience

the mass has no say

sure quoted Gandhi.

OH, what a deed you did

False-self corrupts absolutely

a true self can take a bit more energy, maybe.

never measured such things

they say truth can set you free.

Let freedom ring. Unlike the ring you wear

where you've strived for power.

the will to power in this hip culture

Missing the Dirty-D days

capital A-Americone dream making a buck, busting ass town

shinning glittering truthful by night lights


10/14

daylight never as fruitful

you've become the anti-hero, muh boy.

there was so much more instore.

Unceasingly praying

Constantly smokingonward down the road

(PAUSE)

In need of a drink,

how refreshing.

wishing to convey a story thru folk

never worked out.

A dylan, I am not.

tho, this seems to be working out.I write to get it down.

something on paper.

no lessons, just me and my story.

somtimes a bit of whiskey,

but no always.

not as much as you'd think, I write more sober anymore.

jotting such for myself and my brother.

(On with the SHOW.)

Reaching an all time low about a year ago.

those women & our lustful woes.

twice in a row!

what a bitch...

didn't last long. We met again.

what is it? A decade now?

Brother's in arms.

DIVINITY ALRIGHT

As the tides change

my constant friend always changing

keeping a lovely never boring constant.

Our shared choice of poisons.

until we pull a DEAN & SPLIT

wake up unpleasant

*snap*

break our backs or slip out the back.

An obvious choice.

"If a tree falls in the woods, does it make a sound?"


11/14

"OF course it does, if vibrations are simply sound waves in transfer, our brains alter."

"You missed the entirety of the question. One hand clapping."

"One man flapping! there's more than one answer to any given question. If I left you in

the woods would you keep talking?"

"This is absurd."

Absurdity, lovely & all I wish to know

the unknown

the penrose

ascend - Descend

My illusion

my illustration

Sisyphean nature

Am I a narcissistic?

NARCOTICS!

Won't touch on that one

seemed the only way to go.

dawn strikes at the bone

to the core of the soul

not concerned with the abyss anymore,

in any formmm... ow.

my liver pains me.

what poison shared.

blissful sleep never occurs

now, I sleep peaceful

fast forward in time

alive and well, big city blues

wind not dawn strikes deep down into the bones & bed of my soul.

A liar. Everyone knows it

History catches up in ways you'd never know

they sense it, management types. Bless em'.

Got no proof. Got no use.

departure inevitable

said it before

say it again.

It's me'rely a matter of time.

Have you heard what they say about limes?

wait, lemons. something about bad days and lemonade


12/14

I'd prefer limeade or a cocktail.

If being a good man doesn't work out

I might as well become a criminal or the very least a shut in.

Pull a Thoreau

never speak again.Just die with regret alone

trying & dying are synonymous for my vocabulary.

I must have been built in a lab...

So similar yet so different.

seeing all these working, happy "complacent" people

the pain kicks in. Realizing oh how I loathe only myself

Will I ever succeed in the world today?

Probably not.

Lifetime isn't near long enough.

if I'm reincarnated, I'd forget it all anyhow.Too much bad kharma if you believe in that.

my pillars crumbled long ago, what a mess

So depressed

Pulse moves with breezes

like the loosing child

father, I've done no good

cracking raging eternal flames

love or not, still lost

ought not fight it

for nought is all returned

my russian friend speaks,

"Fuck eet all."

All encompassing

liturgical copper eyed mystic

lysergic copper eyed misery

optimistic copper eyed dynasty

pessimistic copper eyed failure

burning forever in time

burnt past

present

&

future

Is there a point?

"Always keep your head toward the sunlight -

for shadows will always fall behind." Whit


13/14

Wish I could

Must be 2 suns

I got 2 shadows

or

I'm 2 people.

that damn moonlight

haunting midnight shadows

engraved burning visions

leaving deposits of copper.

Gentlemen, I have little respect for myself

but the most profound love in survival

Can't sit too long with folded arms

too much boredom. Madness prevailed often

trouble's not insight

can't brew-ha-ha any u p

Invent it. create it

nurture trouble and it'll blossom

oh, absurdity of absurdities!

been moaning and picking at my wounds

such crafty clever moans

perhaps why they'll keep dis-banning

tired of the grey blinding veil

no one hides as well as I

crazier than the crazies

drinking despite the liver

the poison going nowhere

excreting it where one can.

"a man of consciousness, can he have the faintest respect for even himself?"

echoing words

there's me and my shadows

the real me

the ghostly night moonlight me

an' the shadow cast in names sake me

my name will be the burden to end it.

I must be a narcissistic

"I'm horrible at keeping friends."

"Well," he spoke, "It's part of being crazy."


14/14

Where shall this son of man rest his weary head?

This sin ridden body

as the sun rises

my brothers

my sisters

shall we face in our sought directions

rays of light beaming down on new days

new mistakes

new loves and correct turns

as night falls

twilight glistens upon weary burdened souls

new lives

new days shall soon arise

shadows shall linger on

but right here & now is real and true

Dont worry for tomorrow

todays worries are enough

dont go gently into that light

dont dim into the night.

Let go

A Three Saint Actthe Four Man BandBy

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