Violent Words for Beautiful People
ch. 3
*|MOVING PICTURES / ALL SO STILL|*
at first mind's eye polaroid you fragged me near trench sill dominating traffic / left airless / a shudder a childish man humble asunder on shaky knees / my mer de noms were so many until you caught my gaze and true focus of my winds was not necessary (you were sure to remind me of this as you stood tip toe on the tops of my kicks as you pressed your breath against the breadth of my lips) but I deemed a necessity / I deemed a single uplifting catastrophe reign to overturn inspire stars derail / enrapture comfort and confront me for bars last opus strange since four stanzas sounded clairvoyance in amongst the dark wood and brass / droplets sent crimson chaos theorying between the soft curls of hair / continuing the virtue / anti gravity hand held as analog poetry parted between the blades and dew brings coalescence reminiscent of new fronts approached strongly / the words ran like wine pooling imperfectly a cup astounds your navel jewelery and running... running... the many body parts yourboney hips could be construed as / canals / chunnels siphon the sweet between your whispers... quivering bottom lip whispers / sacred space silk folds and fragrant incenses / I dare not even speak for the next six and a half inches of sentence slips soft as farthest stars I know you keep deep / deep deep somewhere between flat stomach and the tail bones up turned cheek / when I touch you I smell you / when I hear you I taste you / when any single sense is engaged all of my senses experience with afractaling love that leaves me knowing what it is to be a part of the self similarity that I see all around me / to look into your eyes and know that we are the same thing / the same being / to know you know this also / I do not simply lose myself in your eyes / I lose everything in everything else / there is no vessel / there are noplaines no pains no vestiges to find round here / no trestles no dope no messages no hope no kinmanship no fear / no threads no kicks or caps no happenings not ever an "it is" never a single perhaps / no constraints no brains no blue skies no conflicts and no remains / to the best of me your windows are as a physical reminder that perfectly personifies what it is to find balance / I lose everything in everything else / and in doing so I gain what I can only iterate as infinity / the 40 in my bag that never empties / my body breaks down the alcohol immaculately in a last ditch attempt to penetrate the toned muscles thread by thread / a loss of definition all reasonable doubt removed within the space of parted lips and utterance met / what it is indictment? these parameters callvicinity no more accurately than a monk and his cloak equal obsidian deep connection / now ask me again and I will tell you what is intimate what is sacred I will tell you what is ZEN.
Tuesday, October 13, 2009
V.W.f.B.P. ch. 4
Violent Words for Beautiful People
ch. 4
*|INFERNO & THE MIST|*
there is something about the way I love you from a distance / the viscous resistance train tracks attack louder with ever step you take away from me / thickest from another’s mountain peaks out of focus pastel shades degrade massive cliff sides into whatever your subconscious provides / and on this soft morning (bird calls below you the sound of clouds scraping against and through one another above) that provision comes solemn as ape faces in the mist / drawn downwards towards the bottomed out trees like poachers exploding motion the slashing of forests beauty mark blemished empty spaces replaced them with cages old age passed by in solitude and lonely / a vantage point graceless even in the presence likened intelligence fortuitous / so tell me what is relative / the shrewdness of apes rejected the answers slingshot around the planet / the thick creases in their palms told them better choir songs were the ones written by deaf Africans in the after glow of the house fire / bare foot tired / a single dread lock perhaps one of them named it panic / if only the elders had any parables formed from derivatives of what we high rise grown see when the signal falls dead / when the equator experiences frost bites and snow storms we experience the static / it is only in the metro I find my partnership with you pragmatic / without the webs of spinal steel jungle and concrete encapsulate light dodged as to remind and not forget / our solitude is done for / clearly as the enigma's wet hard hand has practiced
ch. 4
*|INFERNO & THE MIST|*
there is something about the way I love you from a distance / the viscous resistance train tracks attack louder with ever step you take away from me / thickest from another’s mountain peaks out of focus pastel shades degrade massive cliff sides into whatever your subconscious provides / and on this soft morning (bird calls below you the sound of clouds scraping against and through one another above) that provision comes solemn as ape faces in the mist / drawn downwards towards the bottomed out trees like poachers exploding motion the slashing of forests beauty mark blemished empty spaces replaced them with cages old age passed by in solitude and lonely / a vantage point graceless even in the presence likened intelligence fortuitous / so tell me what is relative / the shrewdness of apes rejected the answers slingshot around the planet / the thick creases in their palms told them better choir songs were the ones written by deaf Africans in the after glow of the house fire / bare foot tired / a single dread lock perhaps one of them named it panic / if only the elders had any parables formed from derivatives of what we high rise grown see when the signal falls dead / when the equator experiences frost bites and snow storms we experience the static / it is only in the metro I find my partnership with you pragmatic / without the webs of spinal steel jungle and concrete encapsulate light dodged as to remind and not forget / our solitude is done for / clearly as the enigma's wet hard hand has practiced
V.W.f.B.P. ch. 5
Violent Words for Beautiful People
ch. 5
*|COPPER|*
I am conscious of the empty space forever above me still I find myself in the body chamber and am glad that in these days that means something different / that the single bulb that once resound simply echoed from the rooms of the basement / bounced from door to bar stool to gathered laundry in the corner to concrete wall to stair well to window pane and not at all back again / echoed from the flash of switches blown the breaker out into the black night / across the blue and cut a crescent in the atmosphere leaked out the light / girl we called that shit the moon 'til the day it found the ground
...
and I find that the serpents I let coil around me do a lot more than just change color with the bending of my mood from moment to moment / they slither through my nerves and tell me things from the inside / that most of the time seem to intense to begin to try and describe / and I am learning the difference between what I believe is wrong what is living in the shadows and the beauty of the unknown
ch. 5
*|COPPER|*
I am conscious of the empty space forever above me still I find myself in the body chamber and am glad that in these days that means something different / that the single bulb that once resound simply echoed from the rooms of the basement / bounced from door to bar stool to gathered laundry in the corner to concrete wall to stair well to window pane and not at all back again / echoed from the flash of switches blown the breaker out into the black night / across the blue and cut a crescent in the atmosphere leaked out the light / girl we called that shit the moon 'til the day it found the ground
...
and I find that the serpents I let coil around me do a lot more than just change color with the bending of my mood from moment to moment / they slither through my nerves and tell me things from the inside / that most of the time seem to intense to begin to try and describe / and I am learning the difference between what I believe is wrong what is living in the shadows and the beauty of the unknown
V.W.f.B.P. ch. 6
Violent Words for Beautiful People
ch. 6
*|I DID IT FOR YOU|*
as every page folds and tears / as every steam rose from paper coffee cups / mugs overturn / stains set in / the rain continues and the corners of brick buildings swivel in step with your streaming through the streets / every turn of my head / I open my mouth to call out to you a second too late nights still frame shot melancholic slates of my crescent moon hope for you / just one more time / just for four more minutes you said / but sugarbass I'm going to be late if I don't leave
please stay / we can make love all day long
I grasp your right hip shove my face into the crook of your neck breathe you in and spoon you as deep as I can
just for four more minutes
just
four
more minutes
ch. 6
*|I DID IT FOR YOU|*
as every page folds and tears / as every steam rose from paper coffee cups / mugs overturn / stains set in / the rain continues and the corners of brick buildings swivel in step with your streaming through the streets / every turn of my head / I open my mouth to call out to you a second too late nights still frame shot melancholic slates of my crescent moon hope for you / just one more time / just for four more minutes you said / but sugarbass I'm going to be late if I don't leave
please stay / we can make love all day long
I grasp your right hip shove my face into the crook of your neck breathe you in and spoon you as deep as I can
just for four more minutes
just
four
more minutes
V.W.f.B.P. ch. 7
Violent Words for Beautiful People
ch. 7
*|GALLOW OMEN|*
only the spiral
never the circle
I used to be the circle / the vinyl turning perfectly / I swear I would play that track like murder premeditated even when on other thoughts it never really goes away / it makes me listen ‘til the finish then rewinds itself to where it began only to linger on spinning on point / on yet another moment and on and on and on like linear time has been stolen / I mean on and on and on again endlessly / it would carry on in my head even as I left my bed with the first words and light of day I said / it was there in the background even as I thumbed my way through the papers searching for myrollies / ya know I burn 'em daily / took my place on the morning bus along side early rising yoga students those still lucid from the night before thetweakers and the bookies / their tucked away numbers spelt out the lyrics like closed captioning along the bottom of my sunglasses / there are some secrets that red ink and leather can never hide / I keep the candles in my eyes few and dim my vessel free of sin I glow spectacularly softly / breath as maiden as the voyage I guess I should have learned to swim something besides the doggy / my backstrokeshotty / my singing voice rapid as the breaking notes of knowing there are some songs that just never crest the waves / enough to touch the land before being pulled back out with the sand and the joint roaches sand bag this part of the coast enough to fish tie the cooler waters / ya know it is the spirits of our ancestors that guide land to wet toe side this is where I am meant to be / the revelry of the tide mixing with the fiery hues pages scorched to ash across the warmer waters / surely I have never seen a drop fresh as the whale slaughter since the last night I laid naked on the beach and cried in time with every tug of the moons gravity / my lone light nodding gently forever a perfect silence / flawless blether that lent my pulsing hearts mortality the mechanical simplicity of appreciating whatever sounds bled their way out of the speakers / or out away from the needle scratch yes the subtle noises hold my focus for my ears are feminine as the lace of audio / waiting in the wings if only to caress the echo off the curtains / sustained by a gender akin to skin spent spoken steady tone enough in length to resurrect passion's own vibrato
I am here for the quantum physics bred of sound
I am here for the soul’s geometry
I used to be the circle until the plain on which the third dimension found me
now I know I am the spiral how I know the coil how rhythms depth is fractaling
ch. 7
*|GALLOW OMEN|*
only the spiral
never the circle
I used to be the circle / the vinyl turning perfectly / I swear I would play that track like murder premeditated even when on other thoughts it never really goes away / it makes me listen ‘til the finish then rewinds itself to where it began only to linger on spinning on point / on yet another moment and on and on and on like linear time has been stolen / I mean on and on and on again endlessly / it would carry on in my head even as I left my bed with the first words and light of day I said / it was there in the background even as I thumbed my way through the papers searching for myrollies / ya know I burn 'em daily / took my place on the morning bus along side early rising yoga students those still lucid from the night before thetweakers and the bookies / their tucked away numbers spelt out the lyrics like closed captioning along the bottom of my sunglasses / there are some secrets that red ink and leather can never hide / I keep the candles in my eyes few and dim my vessel free of sin I glow spectacularly softly / breath as maiden as the voyage I guess I should have learned to swim something besides the doggy / my backstrokeshotty / my singing voice rapid as the breaking notes of knowing there are some songs that just never crest the waves / enough to touch the land before being pulled back out with the sand and the joint roaches sand bag this part of the coast enough to fish tie the cooler waters / ya know it is the spirits of our ancestors that guide land to wet toe side this is where I am meant to be / the revelry of the tide mixing with the fiery hues pages scorched to ash across the warmer waters / surely I have never seen a drop fresh as the whale slaughter since the last night I laid naked on the beach and cried in time with every tug of the moons gravity / my lone light nodding gently forever a perfect silence / flawless blether that lent my pulsing hearts mortality the mechanical simplicity of appreciating whatever sounds bled their way out of the speakers / or out away from the needle scratch yes the subtle noises hold my focus for my ears are feminine as the lace of audio / waiting in the wings if only to caress the echo off the curtains / sustained by a gender akin to skin spent spoken steady tone enough in length to resurrect passion's own vibrato
I am here for the quantum physics bred of sound
I am here for the soul’s geometry
I used to be the circle until the plain on which the third dimension found me
now I know I am the spiral how I know the coil how rhythms depth is fractaling
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