Thursday, August 16, 2007

...kinda screwy...

i was there when i was there
saddens me
i’m not there at all

the sun had been more than brilliant
and the geniuses hopping mad
but that long ago
things get
kinda screwy
so don’t
hold me to
of this

someone applauding
and i remember liking that
but also being made

the times spent in that
so old
and kicking
stream like gold in my heart now
but who cares
if i don’t

all those people were dead
all these people are dead
all this person is dead

soon enough
by any

-arf 07

Tuesday, August 07, 2007

...sought after...

hard wind along the edge
spent heart beating
the sweat of a thousand thousand full speed steps
drowns the brow
and pools at the feet

the view from here
a tincture of rotten and the sublime
a fused
made up
sickened world
by insanity unbeknownst save now
a fought for
sought after
of eaten flesh
and sand run out
to sink

wring the hands
and cull the dread into the corner where dread is culled
know from standing here

but do not say

we are all paper demons
tearing in the gale

-arf 07

...fears of the age...

stand before us
hunt the last of our hopes
consult away the fears of the age
tally the cents
and make none of the good kind

spray paint the issues on the air in front of you
like small cover
from the truth

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sheer gall and trump and what kind of who would ever

we are scrutinized far more than
these harmful representations of


-arf 07

...daily planet poem...

sun god rises
city yawns
and little bells
like x-mas
ring and stretch
and trudge


-arf 07

...not loosed...

racing sublimely towards no hurt
the folly piling on the foisted import of the quickened moment
artificially made fast by the sullen hatred so softly laid inside the whole
like shard
shoved into the cortex
to disarm the screams
not loosed
or imagined

under flags and sales and ever shortening moments of collection plate horror
we glide

-arf 07


serpentine hold
squelching fortunes gone after dreams hardened by watch hand pass
hundreds of searchers in this line
hundreds of searchers in this line

clamor underneath the plate glass weight
the see through
way in which those who placed it
placed it
softly in the way of your growth

a maze of the highest order laid out with no discernable path
no airspace here
no overpass
no way in which to make short

claw for a seam
a rift
a tear
a golden apple filled with fire

like reticulated
the air goes out
hundreds of searchers in this line
hundreds of searchers in this line

-arf 07

...was a man...

flounder hot like lost beats waiting for the synapse signal to be buried six feet soon
someone salt the swan song to make it go down smooth
no traction here

kept in the dark by darkness kept
clear looks over the vista
that endless glare fluorescent flat

cold follows the wake of the dynamite heart
sheer is the floor as its feel belies your ghost
someone could be yelling for help
someone should be yelling for help

-arf 07

...a virtue...

gunner’s perch and it is wet all over outside
breath like heavy handed punches expel and contract in such a quiet way
he cannot tell that he his actively keeping them so

one can make a case for the oddest of things he thinks
like murder
or lunch

blackbirds like fools gather and peck at whatever it is that blackbirds peck at foolishly
he does not like them
though there is not much not to like
patience is the friend of killers
and rich men inside of young women
young women who peck

still life lived now for days
waiting for shot

when it comes it will be the one quick thing he has done in some time
and he will slink away
through the moist
and leave his thoughts
the blackbirds
and one dead rich man

-arf 07