« Sean Penn | Main | a quote from a realist »
May 02, 2005
The Ghosting Effect
Where does my shattered libido lie?
in with the drunken sultana?
That creature casts only corroded wishes and fishing nets
into those hellish pools of oblivion
and for her own amusement no less
I crouch down low, lean against my inner devices
mumble things to the plants
darkness takes shape, achieves residence
bright, tinny notes, ride along crisp waves
they emanate strength through composure
until they fall victim to the present
where upon, they vanish into the past
I, with a crooked ear, listen for the future
where are the gauntlets I have always heeded?
tools to catch the numerable fragments of thawed ice
as they fall from the broken ceiling of this world
bathe my soul in tears from god
absorb some of the guilt, for the testimonies I have given
where is the high hanging lamp to dry the vacant sidewalks?
shining like that grin that I could never recollect
just her reflection in a puddle within my mind
she is more of a personality with a personable effect
like that destination, to which I never arrive
there is no importance tagged on its ankle
for it is the imagineering that is the real journey
locations are just thoughtfully conceived backgrounds
like faces
eventually some day,
this moratorium on money will languish no more
and some shall finally begin to gather in my baggage
when the numbers grow strong enough
I shall deport them, off to take up new residence with various agents
allowing the pieces to fall into place
then, I shall take flight
across the entire flag, left to right
and over the sea on the other side
this time when I land, it will be on my feet
on foreign, yet, familiar soil
Spain
whatever you hold for me
hold no pretenses
the wonders I seek out will come from within
ridding me of the internal trappings vocation, that still lingers
I look to contract amnesia and start anew
ground zero
virgin to the earth and self
here,
I am just wasting away
contracting strange ideas
..sew that tear in the sky closed
that wide laceration.. caused by the cutting wind..
if only to keep the rain from breaching my altitude
or
to allow me to manifest the gifts I have been given
give me something to do
let me rebuke my flaws
grow vegetables
and cactus that form fuchsia buds
analyze the texture of sand
by placing some between my incisors and molars
grind my wisdoms away, into dust
this way I wouldn't bite my tongue as much
or speak so much
to say so little
Posted by Drexler at May 2, 2005 01:04 PM