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 Jan 2016 CK Eternity
mike dm
i guess poetry can be used
to inspire optimism
and make people feel good,

but i'm looking for the kind of poetry that
eats the air
from my lungs and
sifts my holes
with a fistful of dead flowers.
i never imagined i'd be a poet, not
even likened to frank o'hara's
reminiscent astonishment back
when he played in the school play-ground,
i never intended to be a poet,
although i did write ****** poetry
on the sly, in books, in between
exams and lectures, but i came to poetry
in all earnest when everything else was
impossible, and because of the virtues i had
amassed prior, it became a "drug addiction;"
to state my virtues that precipitated into
poetry i'd choose three at the most:
compulsiveness for a need of repetition
(day by day, a day without a poem
makes me sick, to think of such days
as if i never made a step, made a footprint,
peered into my shadow),
love of music as greater than any kind
of diet - like a wild animal in reverse,
indeed stressed by the need for the daily
breadcrumbs, but soothed by music to
the extent of a satiated gut;
finally? i loved thinking, i don't know why,
not the sort of thinking that might exploit
others or give you things... the sort of
thinking that made my company acceptably
bearable, my own, the sort of thinking
that doesn't deserve company, friendship,
but deserves itself, to be staged for others
as if on the command of its own fleetingness,
scarcity, and perhaps qualified to be
given the adjective identifier of fulfilment,
as once noted: what's the meaning of life?
live it. in revision? what's the meaning of life?
your self. i don't mind rejections and upheavals
sycophants and lost ideals... but i'll tell you
what i mind:*

on such a dreary day as this one,
where a wintry shadow lost torso head and toe,
and settled in the air like a diluted
smoke of a fire, with auburn scents and
cinnamon mingling with ashes,
while i picked up the sunday newspaper
for the style, news review, culture and
magazine sections (the best day to read a
newspaper) - i took to sitting in the park,
bench, alone, looking south across the bulging
depths of seen but never travelled to
distances of my clever myopia,
i smoked two cigarettes, and felt the london
gloom rise, rise rise rise, above all expectation,
only because i had sunshine in a bottle
for company from dutch bavaria.
for the ****** act, there's too much
tailoring and use of toiletries
for it to be as expected: spontaneous
and exciting; too many stereotypes;
it simply said: just wait for my mouth
to be a toilet-fresh minty winter for
the kiss before oral.*

oh, between the drunken me entertained
by the lack of movement among
static things, and promises of soberness
to be rewarded with the rewards of
television and listening to politico talk?
what would i choose... hmm... drunk
by the minute, ******* sanity!
or in comparative issues, anyone branded
a schizophrenic (who doesn't put
a baby into an oven and run out of the
house on the streets naked) is met
with an army, what i like to call "health experts",
every citizen becomes a doctor, enlightened,
ridiculous like a handful of lice -
they all gained a doctorate talking *******,
they're the plumbers for each surgeon required,
know all know how bunches of loosely stated
definitions of idiots (boney m in the background:
poo poo rhapsodic utility made us all tsar's last rasp):
wear a kimono! kimono worn, what now?
dance the polka! danced the polka, what now?
freeze the danube! i hate these people,
they're the laziest theorists, they have better theories
than the theorists who prescribe pills for
de-activation of some sort of behaviour,
and that's only one footprint outside the realm
of easy living: creases, pyjamas, slurred speech
slurps of tomato soup.
psychiatric terms are metaphorical for / in poetry:
as seen by the casual inference of depression
whenever the average citizen says he / she are sad:
psychiatric vocabulary exploits a communicative
simplicity by staging an enforced "eloquence,"
not that it is related to socrates attacking the act
of rhetoric by a question (mark), since
rhetoric doesn't believe in being questioned,
nor does it believe in the existence of the question mark,
to be put on the spot, to be stopped from the bull-charge:
just imagine utilising rhetorical conviction
when the pre-script failed you when interruption
and question was utilised? for rhetoric to fail
it takes a comma (,) to turn into a question mark (?),
deciphered as winded and worth a digression
when the speaker is interrupted (via the full-stop):
socratic rhetoric was based on a flux of question,
at the time when rhetoric was spoken and acted
upon without a single question: socratic rhetoric
was indeed a rhetoric of questioning.
to stuff our faces or to knit the same hat for the unseen gargoyle of our still life or better yet to give legs to the rugburn it takes to find a newborn’s nose
 Jan 2016 CK Eternity
nivek
Only one man in history claimed " a giant leap for Mankind"
while taking a small step for a Man
and I think he was the first poet to walk on the Moon.
( his day job was an astronaut )
And he left his boot prints in the Moon dust as witness to his first hand experience to his poetry.
It would be so sweet if it wasn't so bitter
It would really move if it didn't stand so still
It's going to take a lot of water, maybe a river
It'll take a lot of love until I've had my fill

Sometimes love's fire lifts us up
It burns so bright as we fill our cup
We touch so soft and slow beside the ancient well
It feels so good to be in love's spell
So we try to hold tight but love takes wings
And sometimes in our pain we do hurtful things

Love's strong suit held close to the chest
Says you got it made your hand is the best
So you can go big or you can stay home
You can hold your horses, you can hold the phone
In the end and you know it's true
You're going to slide right in there's nothing you can do

When you can't find love because
It's hidden hard in heart-red shades and blue-grey shadow
It feels like you don't remember how to live
You stumble around and forget your place
You wring your hands and you knit a face
You try and pretend it doesn't matter that's what you'll do
Who are you trying to kid who's fooling who
 Jan 2016 CK Eternity
Atypnoc
Mt
 Jan 2016 CK Eternity
Atypnoc
Mt
I'll watch the weight descend, and youre
Complicated I can't comprehend anymore
Why  I waited so long, thinking  who would  pretend
That they're  so strong they defend their sinking before
Their feet ever kiss the floor
Their feet ever kiss the floor
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