What lies on top of us destroys us all. – Johnny Cooper
Category Archives: Poetry
He is Just Some Guy
He is just some guy I’m assigning a whole bunch of pleasant properties to in order for me to hold out a little longer towards my visions which actually don’t exist at least not in the absolute states I relegate to them and everyone else but me can see right through them though idealistically he …
Delphis
You talk to him his eyes swivel like two chairs aimed at some movie playing the private showing room of his skull. You wonder if perhaps you have a speaking part but know you don’t so you say anything wild trying to snap him back. You say “elephant is a delicacy in the Congo” & …
It’s All Dark
It’s all dark Night has descended upon me forever. All I can hear are the wails and cries of lost souls—Lost souls like mine, and I am afraid of the dark. I’m drowning in a sea of confusion. I am helpless and hopeless. When I look outside I see night and inside only Hell. My …
Once I used to go out on the tracks
Once I used to go out on the tracks and camp with old Leroy build a fire with railroad ties howl at the world with a vengeance, of fire till trains went by we used to smoke our pot talk to friends of what was not it’s a hard world to be alive burning embers …
Three Theorems
THEOREM #3 To mollify taxonomy, the cube must be upright. Barrels filled with terror are overturned pouring Hades on the rug. Twining animals explode. Postcards visualizing experiments on context stain white blackbirds. Winter fireplaces are made of the bricks of RAPTURE. Unwritten, the afternoon disappears into stainless steel. Wordplay legislates like Shakespeare links vitality to …
To a Carnal Idol
Humbly yearning thoughts. Intruding and professing and object Praying to kindle prophetically, embrace with freshly basted lips To glide over with fingers sensitive To fleshly convergence An offering of unmitigated need. – T. Kooyoomjian
We Clean the Bones
We clean the bones We open the bodies bring out your dead We kill the little We kill the genius We kill the big We kill the ignorant We grow the flowers We stock the furnace – peter/paul [original samizdat]
The Face of Denial
To deny your drinking is to speak of it, is To defend its bloodshot eyes, and purpled nose, And puffy face. So the contradictions come down to Denial, To assertion of the will To drink; For he who has pain Has alcohol to pour And to deny such truth is to deny Your life, Especially …
Warning to Gentlemen
I looked through the muck of the man through the blood and the bones to find the poet inside then I took him out beautiful small pitiful fragile I examined him fully poked and pried and peaked until all dignity and pride were gone from him and perhpas through this observation and violation I shed …