deepundergroundpoetry.com
The Alchemist's Hands
Go we winterly, go we snow-blindly,
Thru the miles and the motions most benignly,
Sporting atop the head/ a sporty derby of some distance
/ preening treasonous gaunt of cheek and slickened skin Yes
yes Oh! - most definitely entirely certainly less human than is ordinary.
Alternating along the morphemes of my heart strings,
Fingers of more & more morphine, Be thee cognizant
or be thee cognate; still to look blindly
o'er the miles of paradise, veiled, and to weep;
still to look but not to see, in light or dark, how same the epitaph reads.
and what does it say dear Cousin dear ?
the language.
the language is death-wish catastrophic
& I strophe strophe strophe upon it,
& I ride her black lines winding freely
thru the flickering halogen veins of liberty
and from the damned depths I ransom thee this liberticide;
ah but not so much in words / as in feeling.
…
Down where I come from, Pally,
Come to and walk away from,
one stranger to another winding this place and that;
& you, I glimpsed momentarily amongst the rushes
and My Heart Leapt Up!
UP! UP ! it jumped so!
over the razor-wire schism of midnight
whose pale perversions we ride
straight out and away from the fading city,
her partitions tall and wide
left to crumble and fall vacantly behind
and my own hands left at last to
slam shut the darkened shutters of her eyes;
those that divide the witnesses and widen the divisions,
those which compile all the long and lonely compositions;
to embalm us in the emblems of our own deconstruction.
& My Heart again so Leapt!
\ Straight UP! UP ! it jumpt!
Off the Overpass, Pally!
With passions inflamed!
Unstable! &
Unusable
and Un-purgeable.
& So it came to follow
that I found there upon the too-near too-distant shore,
a fool's gold bizarre shining brightly, and by Jove, how I coveted!
Being very much needy and inarticulate;
being neither interested nor interesting.
being a real eccentric,
being a real goat fucking sucker
(go on, ask around)
Being very much whatever it was
that I was then as now.
So I goes up UP, attached to your breast O High Noon Sun,
a stranger in that place and this, to wander
the roundabout underbelly countryside, and to
catch in my mouth the drippings of her stalactite skyline;
here where the natives are thirty-three-thousand-thousand ball-pein hammers
covenanting upon the brain at all high & scarified hours.
Being to walk upside-down atop the underground
and cling with hooked hands, to the steepened buttressed twilight
and to mingle w/ the crooked mistresses of my crooked mind;
and to linger in chemical isolation/
until we came to realize, in that instant,
the absoluteness of our faults & failings
and took a minor moment to reflect & reckon
upon that which we had so cherished and so, wasted.
Friend!
Ah forgive a poor sod these notions, the tipsy grandstanding
of slanted tongues mine
slip sliding and falling frail before thee,
thee O Great Spiritual Cerberus, He that calls to us,
She of phantasmic smut & soot that paws the earth around us,
w/ gnarled hands of God the Mother, God the Father,
God the Son & the Daughter,
God the farther and farther,,,, (Still Ye a very resolute Chimera !)
ever so wide awake
t' hound us down the days and down the drains.
Well go on then
no one no one no one can be bothered no more
go on then
talking in circles/
I say be thy own harvest or
be your own tear streaked stagnation.
ah but what am I? simply here to play the fool,
juggling a cavalcade of sadness, lips blued
from sucking too long on the bitter berries that flourish
upon the vines of this false and phony inheritance.
skin stretched to screaming, a too-tight canvas of confusion,
cracked and bleeding my acidic pulps,
that is to say, splat, like rotted citrus,
face down upon your guttural ground
to fester & groan & ultimately be dissolved where we were felled.
- or to go adrift again, rudderless again,
on the same old same old undertow
of our self-aggrandized agonies,
smashed and lost, oi, amongst the lost and trashed
ever to chase the agon of the chaste world
and always to bleed wild and out of control.
...
say dear reader dear,
say are you hard?
Are you soft?
are you holding tight to the cause?
Are you too pure?
Are you as dreadfully dissipate as we?
Have you been blessed in suffering and do you know in what light the soul stands revealed?
Ye of solicitous ambitions, What would you have of me, hmm?
To be so noble as all that? ha.
Here at the end of the stripped and scorched world,
a minor nothing I, base bastard of the bastard blood,
never no modern man no,
but more like all of your pasts and futures
played backwards & all at once.
No, I'm thinking, git t' me a refund post haste.
The sooner unraveled the quicker to be mended
IRRESPECTIVE of THESE damnable SEASONS,
for I ask comrades, What compensation IS IT
that might speak loud enough
with God's own truncheon
Rammed bloody deep down the throat of life?
& What is one to make of a society that can no longer speak it's own language?
& What is a culture that no longer cares to culture itself, hmmm, if not already jettisoned by its own hands?
LOVE, if I am to be believed, must be maintained at the least,
or at least the DREAM OF LOVE
lest what then, is living, but an insidious spiderweb of incessant tortures?
No no,
LIGHT US CANDLES ALL AROUND!
And illuminate Love in excess!
Love for partner, Love for child, for parents, siblings, for friends, and loyal beasts of burden.
Love for man & women, so alike in love as to be near-indistinguishable when down to the heart of it,
I tell you, friend & it is true.
All thru the orchards of our days, we should be gathering Love by armfuls in extremity!
Impossibly Monstrous Love!
Love like great smitten Leviathans
sent to tremble the earth with tremors of pure devotion,
Beyond all metaphysics and emotion!
Let us go running as children again!
Deliriously through green forests of adoration,
Dizzy with spritely laughter! A billion-some happy Pans armored in amour! YES YES
YOU who might be spared the renaissance of our great depressions
if you would break down, Brethren, Sistren, these fine fortresses
of solitude,
and simply be thee so swooned!
LIGHT US, as I said, CANDLES ALL AROUND
AND CHOOSE THE LIFE BRIGHT WHITE AND INEXPRESSIBLE!
...
“Why bother O brother?”
Down in my ear, Mistah Keene, he's saying t' me just now,
“Why bother wee brother?
Are you, dirty little barbarian, petit monstre, not better suited for more menial undertakings?”
– To which I must concede,
even so even so
even so even so...
...Be hushed thou!
Be thee quite hushed
and bid a well mannered adieu
or taste maybe my Derringer
Because we is done and outs but good.
I am finding more and more
that all your charms are perjuries!
the swirling fiction of distant familial memories
Let us do no more this unseemly waltz
Trellised upon the gluttonies of this idiot idolatry
whilst all the while, the seams of life become
such stuttering wires beneath our feet
as to unbalance the holy fragile holy body
and divide the mind by odds or evens.
WHAT WE NEED is to reinvent our most brazen of tongues.
In these starved and rabid mouths,
Where we once might have learned to dearly talk like gentleman,
and queerly dance like savages,
to move unfettered within the maddened music
and stink of an honest sweat
and weave our silken threads one into the next
and tumble sleepily
in tangled phosphorescent webs
that they shall never begin to understand.
ADVENTURE & MISADVENTURE!
GENUINE BROTHERHOOD!
VERACIOUS VAGABONDRY!
Gather me my horsemen & Let us run
Until we stumble upon the intersection of all the senses! And be quick with it!
For Time, you see, is no ally, but the eternal and sleepless enemy of invention/
and these alchemies of deception, the doom and the redemption.
But where O Troubadour, where O terrible troubled Winds, O Muses Fair,
Where might i spy the Adonaïs of our lowly days?
- Lost perhaps amongst the matrix of the age.
Then bring out your dread, dears,
for we be cold dead contagious already.
/but just now I am thinking, that the venom
has begun to synchronize too quickly::::
further observations to fall away, wasted. Too late to realize
How hurriedly we go nowhere when going nova in the gutter.
Nothing for it then but to ride ride/
for the night, baby, she is a blind trapeze
and I stroke the rope with my little pen knife
and fall where she please.
...
Countrymen !
how I have with words endeavored
to turn these silent hours into something more;
w/ drink and deviance as my arms I have attempted
to find purchase upon subconscious walls of fire.
I have cornered the human experience in dark corridors
and tried with all my might to mount it from behind. I have
divided days & nights by angst & strife,
Frozen them all into sickles of ice
and bargained them against my bastard blood.
And for what?
My effete poet heart fills with dread,
trembles with shame and is sodden in doubt,
That I might strip it, rub it in filth & expose it to the cold, cruel eyes of the world
/Well more the coward am I
Than even I at first realized.
Didja Know Didja? Coulda been
Coulda Been a clever fool PERHAPS
for want of a few sense more.
---------See The Method is in the Rot and the Rot is The Method!
If only we were strong enough to swallow it whole!
---- - Dearest Keene, thank you and again
From here on
I shall take all my lunches naked
and never be on time again!
HA!
and so it moves
and so it moves,
Follow the money, or follow the honey, or Follow the soul;
they all lead to the end of the road ,
and HARK! cousins dear, i hear
it's all there in the sound
of standing up and falling down.
Until someday soon
whence out we go,
out we go
With a twist of the Alchemist’s hands
Out we go
thru the mouth
Thru the mouth
In cascading waves
of dazzling stardust
to turn and turn and turn again
& swing upon the ballasts
of the trillion-eternal horizon,
evermore to wear the evidence of the wide world
and always to dance wild and beautifully broken.
Published 5th Feb 2013
| Edited 9th Feb 2013
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5th Feb 2013 1:37pm
a
roiling roll a'flyin low over vast di'stances of heart's
contusion,profusion[s]
"...ballasts of trillion-eternal horizon...",
yesindeedy
roiling roll a'flyin low over vast di'stances of heart's
contusion,profusion[s]
"...ballasts of trillion-eternal horizon...",
yesindeedy
