WORDS!
APHORISMS,
THOUGHTS,
PHRASED

CURATE
AND SPAKE
FOR
SPIRIT'S NAME!

I give you
the fire of the soul
The blood of the earth
The dust of the aether
In the gasp of the known

A liquorious draught
That tickles the throat
Where providence sat
And closed heaven's door

HISTORICAL SPAT!
Spittle and drivel
The fleshy sacks grovel
While Satan
Clawed his nails
at the sand

Of souldom!
Cast amidst the stars
And Not moving very far

A *****
No more
And Gamorra absorbed
Before that perpetual want
of more

HERE, AND NOW!
the scent of battle on the wind
Sulfur and toxic gas
Humans behaving mad
Leeward of the path
Struggling and daft
Illiterate and crass
Fallow fleshy sacks

I am in love with it all!
A raving lunatic with
romantic comedic timing
And no taste for time
dining
But on the feast of the bone
And savored moment

I will be alone!
Except for you, poor soul
Who reads in these words
Your own fated toil

I miss you, I love you, from even beyond the pale
My words float in the clouds
And scrape the sentimental trails

Back home once again,
Maybe find my next trend
Or Hear HIS next sermon
And go tell a friend.

Mettle.

Mettle in the bohemian.
The magnum opus of self destruction.
Narrowing to the confines.
Mettle in thrownness.
Watching from above in 16mm.
Sliver of flower.
Grown from nothingness.
For nothingness.







Garrett Johnson.

“your children not to do what I have done”

long has this phrase from that old song,
to wit, to which,
we all knew it complete,
that phrase

and this one too,

teach them well their father’s hell will slowly go by


any parent,
knows instantly their secret experiences
validating these pregnant phrases to
unification,
combination and definition

our looking face down
on the children unafraid,
and
our looking back
at the mistakes we ourselves made,
that no one could have warned us of in advance

can we warn them well,
dare we tell,
make our lore their history,
make them
too careful and too afraid
not to repeat our mistakes,
but be not fearful to
make their own?

doubtful.

I am a young woman, and pappy says all parents have eyes in the back of their heads, and it still don’t help much

beware of those monsters
that lurk in the bottom of your head
if you give them more attention
it won’t be long until you’re dead

I’m waiting in line, wasting my time
for things that won’t come, though they are mine.
Pretend that I’m fine, should I draw a line?
Don’t wish to run, but I think I’m just done.

Feelings I can’t shake, they keep me awake,
the list has increased, how much more can I take?
With so much at stake, I try not to break,
I miss the sun, but I think I’m just done.

With tired eyes
I’ll still see it through.
Exasperated sighs
in breaths I drew.
I broke the ties,
but I’ve got some glue.
Searching the skies
and looking for you.

I’m waiting so long, maybe I’m wrong
I can’t walk away; my legs aren’t that strong.
Alone in a throng, I still try to prolong,
but it never begun, and I think I’m just done.

The flowing tears
should extinguish the flame,
but it’s been years
and it still burns the same.
Doe eyes sees the fears
and treats it like a game,
then it all disappears
am I to blame?

I’ll wait forever, I’m not too clever,
passing me by, but never say never.
I can not severe this painful endeavour,
I’m always the one but I think I’m just done.