Dust Grey Dust

8/7/2019 Dust Grey Dust

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Dust Grey Dust

A Collection of Poems

by

JC Moule

Copyright 2011 by JC Moule, All Rights Reserved


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salutation proclamation invitationpronunciation discrimination authorizationannihilation explanation strong foundationorganization synchronization cooperationfederation negotiation conversation

complication recreation habitation perforationinhalation configuration imitation appreciationexploitation indentation approximation clockrotation punctuation animation computationviolation investigation lamentation terminationoccupation representation procrastination drugfixation celebration accusation identificationhis damnation reputation syndication

information evaluation confirmationmagnification adaptation medicationtransportation navigation aviation the gasstation renovation automation civilizationadmiration visitation obligation expectationmoderation formulation demonstrationmiscalculation destination fire creation eyedilation intoxication imagination illustration

revelation inspiration association congregationcorporation colonization exclamation nosalvation communication situation radiationexamination gene mutation operation smalltemptation administration high inflation massstarvation mass migration miniaturizationdomination assassination delegation newsensation fascination education memorizationcolorization generation hallucinationdiscorporation observation take dictationvandalization what a nation congratulation onvacation meditation contemplation perspirationrealizationNo Relationno relation


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i remember a noiseit sounded like silencei havent heard it in years

the war in back yarda heart beats in the distance

a tear swells in my eyelaughing at myselfshouting at the restblood for no reasona picture on the shelf

we live in a great big placewhere metal turns to rust

and people turn to violencebut the general doesnt carethere is no one i can trust

the other humans pass me byi gladly let them gothere are no regrets in my heartkilling is in seasoni have dug this trench too low


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grey

in and out of stone cold wallsand listening to blackbird callsim wondering about the past

and am i wearing this white cast

broken mirror on the floorand i wont stop you heres the doorand if the penguins start to screamwill i wake up from this dream

introduction to the futureanimals they call them vultureburning green and drinking black

and am i glad that you are back

in a world of black and whiteand all we do is scream and fighti see you in the sky aboveyour floating, cooing like a dove

picture perfect bad receptionfootball player interception

fingernails along the chalkboardmaybe time i pull the ripcord

strangled on a purple shoelacecat always wins in a rat racepeople shouting at the moonso please dont worry theres still room

rusty knife in wildernessand big computer no accessits 12 o'clock and time for breakdown

big business soon will own this town


sun is violet moon is silveri am melting in decemberarcade game say i get five lives

i am sleeping on the knives and

stars and stripes are in my soupand you can clean the chicken coupand people running in my tvso i think im blue with envy

rabbits foot and luck comes easygrumpy dopey doc and sneezy

ear ring explodes orange and yellowmusics too loud now im mellow



6/115

whirl pool effectthe government must protecta voice without a thought

metal found already wroughtand darkness comes much quickerthe monitor starts to flickerlipstick still on your facefrozen tear you cant replacetrouble in the history booksthe leaders old cant look like crooksflashing lights in silhouetteincandescent teachers petthe director cant be wrongdont wait for me i'll be too long

scribbling on a black wallsquawkings are the bluebird calland in the end when it is doneo my god he has a gun.tears that fall upon the floorsilent flood drowns lions roarscreaming screaming (at myself)sorting memories on the shelf


7/115

clouded mind inside my skullits for me the bell will tollone thought soon will prevailone thought now will be my jail

love is lonely in a waysorrow feels pretty good todayshiny metal rusty beingwhy believe what i am seeing

the future looks like the pastthe present surely has to lastthe books i read tell how to livethe preacher says i have to give

why cant i just live alonei could pretend that im not homei have no word for an evil thoughti lost the life that i had bought

people stare at you youre gladi dont care (to make to you mad)silly mirror tells the truthpublic zombie voting booth

music asks me to rebeli dont want to go to hellheaven is the mouth of the beholdermarching marching (im no soldier)

id love to stop my evil waysid love to love forbidden daysid love to kiss a million kissesid love to live out all my wishes

i need to end my bitter streaki need to be a better sneaki need to end my world in vaini need to be in total pain


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Sagebrush

the weary ragged manfelt his feet move alongthe dry and dusty groundand the wind whisp'd a songhis eyes wandered the trailall the land up to the skywas filled with rocks and dirtand now he would know why

the august ball of fireslowly colored his pale facefrom white to brown to redwhile his mind started to chasehis dreams about the pasttomorrow was a mist

he knew he had to cryhis fingers formed a fist

another cricket says helloand a bird is flying therethese are his soul companionsas the wind grabs dirty hairnot short like it used to befather time has made it growbut he doesnt really carebecause no-one else will know.


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silhouetted tree i know is greenthe moment passed but is unseensky blue grey white yellow and redand forest smells, flowers weddarker now a blackened mass

vegetation, no colors passa small lonely lizard wanders byin the distance i hear owls cryfootfalls are only my owni know that i am not alonetonight for once i find it cheers mehere in the darkness now can i seethat i stand not in silencemusic plays beyond the fencegrasshoppers playing the fiddle

here i am solving my riddleand mother nature raised these welli wonder what and when she'll tellme what to do with myself and soulor will i rot away to coalsomehow i know that i will livein the forest i will not giveor take, just survive and growreap the garden ive yet to sow

no more people and their wordsjust the water and the birdssky purple blue and aqua marinei can believe what i have seenbut home is where my heart belongsaway from all of natures songsand paradise i dont deservebut for these friends i will preserveand in my heart that i have foundjust by walking on the ground

i keep a secret i should sharebut if i made them all awareit would be lost like i am nowthank you life now take a bow.


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green money comes from green treesgreen money kills these treesin more ways than two

and the green money i holdisnt really minebut i know its notthe person i owe it to's money eitherfor everyone is in deptand if everyone spendsmore than they makethan why get paid at allpoor cold facesjackson washington lincoln franklingreen eyes and no thoughts

great men and worthless green weavingsits sad but im happybecause i know its uselessandI don't care.


11/115

pen strokesall over the pagebut they mean something

or so they saybut are they more than inkcan humans really thinksuch any intelligentspecies of apeshould i be proudof the atomic bombor warsand the written languageour great accomplishmentthe great art form in which

we can make other people as sador ignorant as you are yourselfi see no accomplishments here


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the eagle was shotand is starting to fallbut there are otherswaiting belowi see lions tigers and bearsoh mywhat will we do nextif we includes mewell just have to seewhat might have to be

money isnt always freei dont careit does affect mebut i dont know that(or rather i do buti wont admit to it)so life goes on

and fades to deathwhilst the bear roams inthe street of a desolate cityof grey and blackwith fur coats and vodkaand wolves in a packbut slowly we falland faster we glideto the cold hard groundbut we make no sound.


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the future are gone(and beyond) too much believingis red in what peopleby humans say, the awfulestin books things, that creep

of matches in the nightthat burn the moonthe beans shines on thestalk gold that glittersour enemies like starsare evil from hollywoodand deadly vinesand just like tangle but show

my friends the wayare happy to my housejack and jill over hillsbut broken under daleand bruised and chipsfor their once of potatohollowed heads and mainly ofnow filled grease, lightning

with determined flashesignorance just like camerasis bliss,tearing capture meall our senses i can't escape

i can't relateto my relatives

gather and meetthe press

will destroyall, the missiles

burning downthe house

where i live inthe future.


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hush puppydo not cryand do not ask

there is a waryou wont hear aboutso i wont tell youabout the painand the greedhush puppydo not speakthey can hearand they controlour thoughtswe must think

as we are toldhush puppiesdo not carethey will careit is not your jobthey do it wellor so they sayso believe andhush puppy


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i see myself in your soft eyesscreaming with horror i departto yet another pair of eyes

where i see the same black heart


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of seashells and saltwater taffy he sangin a voice cracked

with ages forgot

but his voice carriedon and the song wasntlong but its onei've eternally sought


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The Cold That Lies Below

in a black cavernunderneath a lighta movement ceases

and a thought beginsand fills the cavewith all its feelingsthoughts words emotionlife begins againbefore 6 AMthe creature lurks belowmuch later than thishe has lurked abovebut grey and red clouds

banished his bodyand taking his soulto the wretched freezinglonelinessthat lies in wait belowthe influence has stayedin the wars and in the musicof the vile and burdenedpeople in the moon light

for a thought without a feelingand a mind with out a voicelies in dissolutionbacked by sheer confusionand the flicker fades and growsand the silent screams are louderbut he moves on making somethingof the rocks and mud and clayand the cave is no more emptythat the heads of those above

and the river still is flowingwithout the heat and lightsomehow in the brillianceof the smooth and shiningblackno one yet will seethere is no turning back


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sensory deceptionlooks so good at first inspectionnever quite is perfection

think i'll make that correction


22/115

Red China Bleeding

the few hold back the many

with tanks and guns and fearin the midst of dyinga student shed a tear

the people want the powerdemocracy for allin the midst of dyinga student standing tall

a soldier kills a soldierand another student dies

in the midst of dyingi see a soldiers eyes

they want to see a new dayan end to bitter sorrowin the midst of dyingwe find hope for tomorrow.


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all i wantis something goodto happen


24/115

comes a confident mancool calm collectedbut there is somethingabout his eyescold hard and wretched

sometimes i see them cinder redlike theres a fireburning his heartburning down his soulselling me somethingwords and deals and offersi dont know what it issomething easy, something fast

but i recognize his facei see scars he cant erasei know not what to doa grin of his falls on meand here i stand in the winddemon words sound comfortingas only his smoothness bringsvending evil to witches

making good men turn to the fireand vandalizing soulswe burn along his coalsstill his is a friendlywry smile frozen on his lipsso sweet im getting sickbut i still cant refusepapers come from hisblack trench coatin his hand a feather penfingers tremblingi clutch the page shakingmy hand moves alongthe dripping dotted line

i see the letters formingbut the color of the inkblack-red thick and stainingmy blood my name his pagein the cold hand of Satan

his grin now cruel and coldnot like it was beforenow to my face comes a smilethat i have seen on his facefor i have a purpose in lifealthough its not a saintly one

and i turn to see him walking

inward through the dirty streetas his head goes farther downand passes through the pavementi stop and still i starei can hear a hellish laughfrom the depths below

in the years that followed

i grew to know that alley wellit was the devils private gatewayto hell where i belongwe talked on many nightslies deceit and painand he was my friendbut soon the day arrivedi was old and small and quietand he whipped me as i walkedback to my beloved street templeand there i tripped and fellinto the Earth, the living wellI fell forever burning, severed.


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please dont touch the grassit was put there for yourenjoyment. And wipe your feet

before entering the barni can only take so much,before my mind collapsesand flies about the room, whichby the way, is not to exceedninety persons (not people- Igasped as i sprint to catch mybreath) for, had you more,more than ninety persons inthat particular room, youcould make all or less of

them spontaneously combust,so dont play with fire foryou might get burned and youwould never learn a damnthing. so dont chew yourgums in class or grow abeard when you are supposedto be taking a chemistrytest.


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white traces on a blackboardburning into my memorywhile im trying valiantly

to forget everythingmy name, my past, my painbut each scratch and screechgrinds my skullpushing and filling mewith education and other horrorsand i sit waitingpraying for the weekendso i can blissfully forget


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will i be therewhen the grapes falland turn to sweet black raisins

or will i be therestomping on them myselfwatching my feet turn redor will i be alonewhile they get drunkand vomitor will i be thereplanting another vineand urinating on the groundor will i be therein a cottage built for two

sipping on a gobletand laughing lovinglyor will i be therejumping trying to catchone in my mouthor will i be therenot at all butremembered in a mist


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swallow singing sweetlysing me a song of sorrowteach me to touch and

hold my heavy hand


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my head is down as i pass a treemy feet crumbling down a leafi raise my chin to look and see

all i can grasp is the thiefa silent squirrel passesto find a nut in grassesi watch him with a shallow teari can never have a life so fullall the things that i hold dearare built by a hand and a tool


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to have a candle blown out suddenlymakes us all grope for the truthand we trip over ourselves

we grip and hold everythingthat is close to usit takes a while to build the firebut we have to start againwith everything a little closer


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more than rest lessthe many .thoughts.the few ,words,

but [as in LIFE]few have the pOWER.many. have no voiceand i am .many.i search forfewand find lesswhere i need .many (more).all i NEED is restall i g e t is (...)


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shiftless silver shadowssilhouette the star struck skysands shifting in the starlight

the sea is shimmering and shiningand a sweet and simple smilesoftly and shyly and surelyshunned sheet on the sidewalkstartled stark and supplestreaks of steaming sweatscissors singing silentlystifling summers sorrow


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deafening bull shitbleeding from his tonguehe took the other way

he ended getting hungthe same as me or youhis eyes were ocean bluebut to his own idealshe never could be trueand now he lies in silencepretending to be godand on a cold wet tombstonehere lies a dreary sod


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brain like a sievefiltering everythingand we all have a

dirty mindthat gets clogged upand closed upIts time to changethe filter andtime to open upforget about the pastand remember nothingsmell the roses againfor the first timeand look at me

with the eyes ofan infantand maybe wecan be loversagain


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grasp my fingersin your fistand pull me tight

feel my strengthagainst your backbury your eyesagainst my collarbonecry cry cry crythe tears of the pastthe tears of the memorylet the water flowand rivers of reliefrun down my cheeksinto your golden hair

as time stopspain, sorrow, grief, depressionfalling from our eyes


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with the extra virginityof olive oil isaturate myself into the

heir and disappear like thetruth


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Beneath a gloomy skythere a girl with a tear in her eyeas she walks down the crowded street

just staring at the moving feet

somewhere theres a boy out therewho thinks that she doesnt carehe tries to recapture a momentbut the memory is haunting, violent

the see each other the next dayand they know theres too much to sayso she pretends that he isn't thereand he acts like he doesnt care

he tries to forget the fightand hopes that it'll turn out righthis heart is filled with sorrowbut he knows they will talk tomorrow

a few days later they're in love againfor together broken hearts can mendand thru this trial their love is strongerand happiness will last much longer


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I feel I am rippedclose, like the booksmy shelves are full

but only of musty, dormant dustmy drawers are alwaysopen,ing and shutting new ideas are like cancerI need to cut them outor they will spreadand capture my body andI need my bodyto eat and drink and tocopulate with strangers,I buy many things

and i read TV Guideand if my brain is closedthen it will stay dryfrom the showering concepts


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10+8It was raining 10 + 8a bright hospital

a dark chance of hopeand the tearsand the PrayersI'll never know

It is time, time I startMy own life is beginningAnd I must choose the DoorsI will exit from

In this, my quest

I will be alonebut I will findthe every (one,thing,place)and I will become.


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Everybody seems sOGra nd the YW a l k an D

Bab ble enDLessly abouTNo thing oRCon tr ac tSBind and tiEI see theMWanting anDWaiting foRA break buTThey n eveR

Look at the cloudS


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soldiers sweat drips silently and softlyit evaporates quickly in the waiting sandand the taste is salt

how did we get here, wondermenthow long must we stay, questioningthey are symbolic, they are numbersand the sides were never quite drawnbut a war over oil stained moneyis better than no war at all


43/115

our life comeslike a particleacceleration

flashing and banginglightning andthunder, if we arelouderand we arebrighterwe can liveforeverand if wedischargeourselves in the middle

of the junglewe can't be seema flash in a stormis forgotten in the crowd


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it is a silly thingto want the phone to ringbut i need to hear you

I won't believe its throughshould i feel you miss meIt cant be too tragicallydo you remember my faceor does time really eraseall the smiling memoriesdrifting in a solemn breezeYou were always my lifewe were dancing on a knifeand we knew we would fallbut i never cried at all

in the end all is doneall the pleasure all the fun


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drythe cotton in my mouthis dry

and my eyes areredbut my work isn'tand I am runninglateand I hope i had funlast night


46/115

with the unnerving ecstasy ofdeath and dyingcomes the final orgasmic

thrust of life butthe un of the iand the de composinglike nerves that areripped out

suddenlyand inconspicuous,lythoughts, like madscientists, invent anew manner of sadisticmalice masochistic

self-torture and sellit like elixir tocold and bitter masses


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prioritize itmemorize itexercise it

realize itplease recite itnow forget it


48/115

there are dots on the ceilingand I suppose I've seen thembefore but

there are many dots on my ceiling


49/115

procrastination, I should have written thisbefore,is crushing like a slow slab of quartz that

I can't see but I can feel.And still I don't move my lazy legs and handsAnd what punishment is there for thenothingman


50/115

WAR RAW WAR

it is a cycle

a need a greedto win to fightare we the moralmajority, with unlimitedpower and (ultimate)wisdom to decide weare right & they (alwaysthey) are wrong.How does the presidentsapproval rating vary withthe number of people

dead in the streets ofsome shit-holethird world country?Is Money cause enoughto destroy a countrya culture a peopleoily coins in thepockets of deadfaceless soldiersmake pathetic souvenirs


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it is the sortof day and a smileis pinned to my face

when I awake 6 inchesfrom your eyes Howcan I want, the worldis warm and thesmall patches of snoware silent and shrinkingAnd its too bad the leaveshave fallen, they wouldlove to have basked in yourrays, I guess its justsilly but I control more

than just the weather andI want to thank you forletting me bring thiswarmth to my life andthe how of today disappearsinto the white and bluefar above, reality.


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radio, radiothe video gameis siphoning my

intelligence andthe televisionis torturingmy life and timesI could escapebut the cheapbeer has stolen my energyand I never reallyhad any will powerI'd write morebut the eighties have

hopelessly destroyedmy attention span


53/115

The three animated faceson the bookshelfare quite dead, but

at least they are notdying, like my cellsare dying, and theyhave smiles, frozenon their plush heads


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speed is not safetybut it is securityif time is money

and money is sandin the giant hour,glass of life andhell, then speed ismore than advancementit is insurance itis power and greedis a powerfulpropeller thathurls us, like astock market

crash, into thehunt, into the nevertiring black hole ofuselessness and (finally)light


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575

holes in the ceiling

the expanding universea mouse is creeping

pennies for you thoughtsdrowning in the alcoholsmiling wishing well


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providing the colored signsordaining them as lawwe are not the invincible

everyone gets controlledrebellion is our useless right


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the gladiator wore spandexAnd the idiots in hats cheerjeanie sits and watches his pecks

while billy yells and drinks his beer

they are not hard to entertaingive them noise, muscle and some blood"I like a man who has no brain""gimme a chick wrestling in mud"

and so our gene pool is destroyedthe future, desolate and bleakpsychiatrists fall back on Freudthe drunk scholars tear stained cheek


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my heart has lit a candle, and the fire thatdances in your eyes is beautiful and pure,my heart has lit another candle, but in adifferent place, and my world is twice asbright, but will too many flames burn down my house?


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Do I want?to open?The Doors?

because I know thatI do not knowwhat I will findmyself;? reincarnated


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Oh you, deviousyou have been waitingplotting, planning, designing

your web, so verysilky silver so softoh you, oh youso very attractiveand I'm so far from homeI can not seethe beauty blinds meso here I sit and waitcemented to the foolishdetour, my heart and loinsoutvoted the rational head

oh you, devious yousitting smiling seemingvery innocent and yetmy eyes can now seeyour grin hides fangsand I want you closeralthough, I knowyou are very hungryOh devious, devious you


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I planted myselfright into the groundjust sprinkled some dirt

and watered around

and standing quite stillI felt some roots growI flowered and bloomedmy veins felt lifes flow

my hair turned to vinesI now just wore barksitting on my shoulderwas singing a lark

And o'er the years I'velearned wisdom and truthand scratched in my sidewas "Joey loves Ruth"

wind blows thru my leavesrain washes me cleanbut sometimes I'm sickbeing silent green


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as if the as ifwas it and (not it)we chanted in near

uni son(s, and) daughtersof poor goddessand Roman soldierswho? march (as if)to war two war too warwas the chant of the

trollthru reality and mytongue is heavy and coldbut the as if is march

ing the chant toobed


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its a trapped partial derivative floatingaimfully about my dormitory mind that issapping me and mine as I work and write

and slowly dis integrate intoa pile of 0's and 1's


64/115

The dapper penguin manwas all dressed up with nowhere to go once more

,and the iceberg moved onequarter of an inch closer toReno Nevada, where the topless dancers help the immoral,be themselves and a pleasureoozes a sublime atmosphere thatonly comes from places wherepeople are doing whatpeople want to dolike on the sunny beachesof Hawaii where the

Natives are no longerNatives they are puppetsfor the tourists togawk and laugh atto sell out and pay outwe live and die, obscurein ourselves.


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Ode to the beautiful Woman who never knew my name

it wasn't the sunset reflecting your eyesit wasn't the night or the pale sunrisethe power of love the power of joy

I'm playing sweet your playing coybut time can be magical, life can be funwe'll always have memories, after we're done


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Ode to Mr. Nothingman and his lovely wife

it's a hard knock life

when you're too lazyto answer the door


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Ode to The Green Priest

the sign said, people

on benches for saleand what the sign meantwas quite easy to tell

they were weary old peopleand some of them deadand Safeway was fullof the housewives in red

so my grandmother said,now honey we will get

this nice dead green onehe'll go with the carpet

so we lugged him on hometho' he's stiff as can beand set him up rightover by the TV


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T,rustis a variablewords actions emotions

amplifying andnegating

so its only !maybewhen I talk of

loveand its bitingwind of feeling


69/115

I wrote a letter too latebut the meaning was not in the dateall the love I once felt

I finally let the iceberg meltWhy can't I write reasonand form where its so easyto babble abstractly aboutthings I know nothing ofwhen I've studied for theseall year


70/115

To begin,is to have, finally,won the war

and to end is torest in peacebut the in betweencomes so easilyit insults anddepresses me whichmeans I must have finished.


71/115

The best fire is God thedestroyer and creator, buthe left the amoebas to

evolve for themselves andwe been bad or so theysay but as long as I'mnot burning I do not needto believe in the truth


72/115

the wine and the whineand the tie on my neckare stilling me and

subduing myactions but not myego, your necklace andearrings which must bestrangling and pokingbut we are beautifullyarrogant and stylishlybroke.


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duck, weave and Bob

Duck is ducking,weave is weavingand, well, Bob isBob,bobbobing alongbut Bob wants tobe somewhere elsealone, awayand no one knows

the differencebetween weave and duckas the sewer god smokeson his alterand we laugh at Balkiand gain understandingfrom our hair. The Anti-

Laugh Track is recording usand Weave (or is it duck?!)says, "They and THE Beast, thatsjust it" but the deviantsignore him and their cigarettesbut not not the cracks in thesidewalk as we stop andtry to forget, the roomthe door w/ the devil,the evil magic of Boband the fact we haven'tslept in a very long time.


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will you walk with methrough the autumn treesas the golden leaves float

silently down to the earthyou walked with me oncewhen the grass was newand nothing litteredthe virgin foliageBecause sometimes in thetwilight, alone, the soundof my solo footstepschills me throughmy winter bundlingBut I have faith

in you and in thesummer sun whichsets upon us now.


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Time, (is not)after time, (or)before time it

just..is.. and cannot be..isn't..andcan not be traced

non-spacial realitythe categorizerof movementthe reminder ofone's potentialto become, shall (Cowl)we say time-

less, and whendid time beginbefore or afterGod or istime just Godsway of bringingorder into Chaos.


77/115

The Book of Lifeform (erly) The BookOf Blood, tears or

Sweat sosweet

that i grimace

the pages are rippedboth from my headand Amazonia

the words filtered thru grey(that al)most matter

the binding is humansalt

ed lightly with

dry humor darklike my eyes


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EVEN

I gave you my sweat

You returned it withhappy tearsand now in theSoda Pop Aftermathall is good and all is goneeven the sweat even thetears even the worryeven the fears


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Walls of my Neighbors

I walk the citystreets in the voidbetween a thousand

beacons of electricityand I am dark andsilent but not fullof fear or pain

my shoes movemy eyes alertmy brain is one half awake

in front a womanwalking her bikebehind a manen route to thehappy bar

the unique car

pretty black/whitetoo brite red/bluebut not this timefor me

I glide on intoutter nothing and nearsilence

almost homeI hear voices, notwhispered but muffledwalls of my neighbors


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Collage

scissors scotch tape

magazine clippingsa world of its owngrowing, weeklybut strangelyand steadily fillingthe empty spaces inmy life but i amthere, somewherein the middle.


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and the beat goes onsoftly over the drone(s)and we are marching

to parts unknown


82/115

the door is stuckbut only on itselffutile, defeating yourself

stopped while in the midstof the only beginning


83/115

step into your fileclose and lock the casefor you are your creed

color, robot and racethe statisticians playgroundblasting the stereo typepretending all are differenthe doesn't know the fight


84/115

Is life a journeyor is death ormerely the same path

with differentmilestone?And in my travelsare the choicesmine or are thosefacades that look likethe path I never realize


85/115

can I be reasonablyangry?

can I be reasonably

happy?or am I completely ir rationalif I reason

correct and wellthen anger willbe a mistI will blow aw a yHappiness will,like a caterpillar's dreambecome contentment

and I will finallybe silent


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the goggles envelop meand now I can seewith a GOD's Eye View

yes, I can see thruinto heart and handthe wonder of the land


87/115

god just likesto thinkhe is all powerful

all knowingand all loving.


88/115

I don't mean to beambiguousI mean, to be,

invisible


89/115

Knowledge is theOriginal Sinit is the source

of evilignorance isneighboring cleanlinesson the whiter side of Godliness.


90/115

twenty flying fishjumped off the lakeinto orbit around

Venus and filled outtheir W-2 formswhile dance musicblared from sea shellsand sponges and theelvin olympics wereon CNN but nonecould find inner peace


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Ode to the Knight* "The Knights of Infinity are dancers..."

Kierkegaardof Faith-

Did God cry for you?You and your dreadful journeyYou and your heavy knifeOr did he laugh, when thelife was saved, did he laughat your cold sweatat the hot tearsat the irony at the paradoxAnd what will you tellyour Isaac, your only littleboy. For how can helove God, not thefather, but god themurderer, God thetaker of fortune.

And did you breakthe bread with

Isaac, knowing it wouldbe the last meal?And did your handsburn when touchedby the hand of GodHow long did it takebefore your bonesstopped twitching about?

But this line of questioningis as pointlessas your love is boundlessand your absurd patiencehas given you your prizethe only one you ever asked for.

of Infinite Regress-

I know that you dancealone with a facein your headand a hunch onyour back

you dance the onlydance you knowthe dance of infinityand you regret andyou ponder and youspit on yourselfand that burns morethe that of the others

But you will not changethe past, present or futureYou have lost the love

and you never had theabsurdity you so desperatelylonger for.

But I think thatyour dance is notover, in the dance hallpaved with goldand your words and ideasstill dance on the mindsof today's world

They dance the dance if Infinity.


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Listen to the hissof the skyring sing thing

in the grey above


93/115

like pounding a rockinto a visionits not a piece

of chocolate cake

on a bad day, vanillabut i digressas i have beenknow to do


94/115

what to do what to dostandstillno

move on, maybewell, noI am wholely confuseda career seems so farawaya life a passionand love?have I foundita little early

so I shall wanderand look aroundbut I know where myhome isand I know where myheart isbut I haveno cluesto my own true self.


95/115

it was differentif only to saythe least

not decadentor glossjust different

but,and there is alwaysa but

i can't even sayit was beautifulalthough it was

i can't say itwas something

i can't say anythingat all

butI can sayit was different


96/115

clippetty cloppettyand stopchomp chomp

and stopclippetty clippettyclop


97/115

today; It did not touch memall but Iin the screamedmovie anyway;silent the colorsI saw a both

black andwhite

were one;I could

not getover thetitle,nor can Irememberit; but itstruck me

as funny,tragic,lonely,likelighting;

and latera candledrips slowlyon my flesh.


98/115

who am i and yit is plaguing mebut ive no time

to thinkI should sleepand accept the comfortbut i am restlessi feel i am at thepoint, at the turningpointstill no directionluckily I have supportwhichever way I fall


99/115

leave your body and soul herewhile I go get a beerDo not fret and do not fear

I'm just going to disappearnowhereand everywhereanything and

all over again

try to sit still and not to pretendthat you dropped your only frienddo not squirm and do not bendwatch the salesman try to vendemptiness

and fulfillmenteverything and

all over again


100/115

- Generic1 -

slowly, over the mist-colored fog

rose the scythe and down againinto the substanceinto the amber waves of grain.

and I move on slowly, like waterdripping from the windmillinto the waiting tubbut where are the baleful-eyed bovine?the night is sterilegrey like cobwebsthe silence is comfortable

here, like an old sofa,not growing but becomingone with the night


101/115

a dream dieswhen fulfilledpossibility lies

the letter sealed


102/115

pain makes me(break;ing pointlaugh)

at our(selvesthe brinkin)(smirkingof self controlsilence)


103/115

- generic2 -

She sits on the granite

like a goddess waitingfor the first sunher shoulders softcushion my heavy headher face is strongit bears the burdenof two dreamseyes of glass and embersnot trying to knowpainfully, easily understandingthe clothes that protect her

from the piercing windseem to melt awayleaving her naked,a sculpture a symbolshe is stone her handsare raised to heavenI am snake never to standI lie forever at her feet.


104/115

end the

From ends to

means, we can'ttrickle downthe earththe giants arestepping on theants, the meansare killingbut the endsare richescan I buy heaven?can I sell

hell?


105/115

On and oN

The (drone)s

(on and on)working on theline(on and on)d d dr r ri o op p n

everyday

(on and on)


106/115

abandon everythingship ... everythingjump into the sea

we are lostbeing killed by our greeddying at the poleslying at the pollsignorance is powerthe sea is lovely brownjump jump jump upon the toppile on and other bodydo not cry or wonder whysee my eyes they do not lie


107/115

Does the Shadow?No.

Only?

is it obviousam i alone in myignorance


108/115

too many heartbeat stoo many footstepsawaytoo many teardrop s

and my love isconfusedfrustrated

I am in needof stabilityof a futurewith my hand in yours

it should be easy

to drop the partof my lifethat is you

and tryto begin again

but I would ratherlive with pain and hopethan let my heart die


109/115

two noosesentwined like loversresting frayed

waiting for the sunto burn itself deadthey and themwon't let me touch your handand without my subtle eyesI can only hear your heartbeat


110/115

where are the chestnutswhere is the fireall i see are tiny

flashing lightsand lite eggnog

where is the snowwhen are the sleigh ridesall i see are glossy

Norman Rockwell postcardsand plastic tinsel.

where is the evergreenwhere the pinecone wreath

all i see is frostedwire branches

and a lit-up Santa Claus

where is the brotherhoodwhere is the loveall i see are devious

greedy childrenand tired moms and dads


111/115

Confused and Depressedin 1991

single; not singlejust where do i standa ledgea precipice

or maybe just lying proneat a turn in the road

wanting; always wantingbut all i have is one pictureand too many memoriesa phone call

a letterand everywhere i gonameless beauties strolling

where am i goingwhat do i wantwho will be with me


112/115

there are tears in my eyebut the tears are not my ownthere is fear in my heart

but it doesn't bring my homegas fills the streetfrozen I am beatAnd all I want are explanationsAnd all the world to risebut i will not resistbut i will not eat lies


113/115

Mr. blue-and-silvertakes my handand drives me to his special place

but this is not the handsome lacelines break up the longwet person in front of meAnd mother comeswhen only a mother ora lover can truly sooth

A man of values andconvictionshe watches her son standcrying


114/115

random degeneracyleave your legacyat the door

near the rack


115/115

10oClock Fridaynight 1991

I hear the laughing

voices from outside andbelow. They are voices I couldjoin if only I wasn't so tiredAnd there are emotion-less facesin the TV room I know thiswithout looking. I haveshunned too much today butnot as much as I will shun tomorrowwhen the fun starts and Iwill have friends again.

Dust Grey Dust

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