Complicated
June 11, 2007 | 6:31 PM
The complexity of sensitivity is
inherently suitable to insecurity
perma-link | suffusions of delusion:
Lemon Zest
November 24, 2006 | 5:56 AM
Mashed I that fruit most zestful
most succulent?
Gnashed too, till pulp only frothed forth
until, ravaged, this lemon...
...emitted perfume most excellent
distinctive and sharp...
...now see this tree's offspring, dying
perhaps of my exertions
The killing stroke--my pleasure,
manipulation, my own.
These smells, these my hopes derived, an expectation
of expectoration, this lemon...
...dying of my attentions, releases so pulpy a life.
Such a sensation...
...fleshy, with that hint of cleanliness, asking am I yet next to G-d?
My manipulations, however so destructive,
gratifying
cannot be wrong...
perma-link | suffusions of delusion: (0)
The Sun has Returned
October 3, 2006 | 1:51 PM
These impossible hillocks are again blocking the monotone sea from my eyesight.
The curve defines the definition of something excessive, and the golden reeds soften the harsher nature of such croppings-out.
The sun burns the water in this air, as the ions thus released burn my nostrils and hair.
Balance has no frame here, San Rafael.
perma-link | suffusions of delusion:
Once Erupted, Tedium is all that Remains
August 23, 2006 | 9:58 AM
There's a crater where there once was a beating heart. What a clichee, no? I wonder at myself, so entirely hamstrung and for no good reason, unless perhaps the weight of an increasing experience bows me down to the servitude of the addict--an addiction to servitude to unreason.
perma-link | suffusions of delusion: (0)
Prosy Rosy Stinking Thinking
April 10, 2006 | 12:27 PM
at the millionth branching
of some tree evergrowing...never green
aquiver, full of arrows...cupid
tried to kill me with his only weapon
what grass will welcome me...falling
freely, accepting gravity
boy, my life is not for you
what would you, with this jew?
perma-link | suffusions of delusion: (0)
Ponderosa
March 21, 2006 | 5:27 PM
Sitting here, at Pine and Polk
watching, being folk
who passes me by...?Shape, in so familiar form
and new
walk this corner
and escape my viewChasing potted meat
from bus stop to stop
blondes, and their women
waiting, discussing, while eyeing
perma-link | suffusions of delusion: (0)
Adonai Hated Me
June 17, 2005 | 6:50 PM
there he lie, sprawled in the grass
completely at his easeI knew his gender immediately, indeed
masculinity was not lackinggolden, he, but of indiscernable race
a field of wheat--in september
the light hairs of his body, mimicked
the motion of wind through the wheatfield
so also the muscles of his torso
mimicked the hills under the loam, and soils
would liken wooded slopes to clefted chin to peak,
mountain rising in agonised pleasure over his embodied world,
thisand with a sigh he turned on to his belly, allowing
reflection on his nakedness, globes of his buttox
promising universal delight, each like some heavenly curving
of gravity drawing me--a wayward missle
into their relativity--the random aggressor who, finding stability,
penetrates it so naturally
and serene were his movements that I didn’t notice,
his gaze settling on me
the breeze, playing over his skin, had distracted me
light on water will create patterns distracting to
the eye and so the light on the water in his eyes had me
mesmerized
no sign of the wave did I mark my heart’s leap was no surprise, it’s failure
to burst was and so seeing now his furrowed
brow
the wave of anger washing over the objectified I pull the trigger
and scatter my fluids, about the churchyard
and what exactly was being worshipped
outside, not placed inside the church--at least accepted practices are, so.I sit, stand, and stretch in hell, for my purgatory
was filled with the infinte sight of his last gesturereviled for sordid, I, have that memory for now, for always
and memory is all I am, but only my own, and no other’s
but demon has no such figure, no wallowing mass
of fat, no glistening and piggy monstrosity he
for such a one can know desire, but that archon
is perfect and such perfection as is unaware of itselfinvested with imbecility, with idiocy, a vulgarity was
the spirit housed in this adonis, so pitched
was the lack of menace I mistake it for intention, as if to entrap
my caresunintentionally, insensibly the pain and ugliness
my own creation the hate is mine
reflected in adamant nothingness, crave and revile
its purity of impurity, it is unintent but for me the antithesis
of nothing in which I would invest everything,being nothing and therefore have nothing to create save the memory of nothing wherefrom I devised something
if I have lusted after nothing, then have I done something
or as dissolute, do I add nothing to the nothingness
if I am nothing without attaining somethinghow will I commend myself for achievement in attaining
something that only I value in that the object of my attainments
values nothing, I attain that which is worthless, biased
by my attainments, I am worthless and who will seek to obtain my values seeing
them based on lust, after nothingness
perma-link | suffusions of delusion: (0)
Saturnine Dispensations
July 1, 2004 | 6:42 AM
By the tides of Saturn's rings, I will betroth thee. I will pledge loyalty to you, undying and true; I will say myself to be, humanity.
Will you not look into my darkest places? Will you find something special in these spaces, some relic of the time when you were more than you are now...
...what will I gain from your knowing, what will you become, knowing what you were--once?
What willt thou accomplish, in the knowing that you scrape a miserable existence on a rubble-strewn rock, wasting your soul in hateful energies, divided and alone; separating your otherness and self by demarcations that should be celebrated? Else why was I saturnine, and you deem me rising--but not bacchanal, or must bacchus be shoved away for this modern hysteria you named for an instrument of execution?
And when the daylight dims, and the sun is in full view, I will turn, and turn, and turn, and say to you; I want you, I desire you, I require you. And I will turn, and turn, and turn, and display to you my underbelly, my weakness. I will show you what I have seen, and thou wilt make use thereof, freely.
Do this unto me, all that will be done to you, and unto me this thing, will be alike to what is done to you--the reliquary of your mindless pursuits will find repose in the insanity of my weight--the mass of my spirit will crush you before you compass it.
perma-link | suffusions of delusion: (0)
Gold Standards
May 26, 2004 | 12:44 PM
04.03.97 Washington, DC
A richer gold than that from capitulant's mouths. A smile promising more pain than endurance. Contend with ecstatic dearth which has given birth to mouths, wishing to complacently suckle on the bones not of my skeleton.
perma-link | suffusions of delusion: (0)
Adoring Nonsense
May 6, 2004 | 3:29 AM
indications are that the serial nature of this particular envoy is something our own defenses can readily react to in case of peach pie overload
perma-link | suffusions of delusion: (0)
Golden Sun and I
April 28, 2004 | 10:47 AM
golden sun creeping into this steely grey bay for the uncounted time I witness from my perch afloat the boat I fleetingly ride waves beneath me
perma-link | suffusions of delusion: (0)
This Pond, This.
April 19, 2004 | 7:13 AM
On this golden pond floating above, propelled an engine, submerged sealed, exposed and rusted--a saline crust
perma-link | suffusions of delusion: (0)
G-d's Living Painting, Not Dorian Grey
April 13, 2004 | 6:10 AM
I'm not certain of myself. These days find me enjoying a prosperity unwonted in terms of experience, and by sudden security, I am winded by the fortune granted. The context is California, and the context is more confusing than the out-of-context existence that is me.
Reference points are simple, beacons and lighthouses on foggy green hillsides, covered in lichen and million-dollar manses.
I find my place therein, and not in the lichens, strangely.
Who am I, sitting well above the city that suddenly sustains me, musing on economic power and americana, while the waves of water, of automobiles, of humanity, both wanted and not so wander about in purposeful abstraction.
perma-link | suffusions of delusion: (0)
Certain Metaphors for Illegal Mindsets
January 9, 2004 | 8:14 AM
A crystalline morning descends on our hamlet, and the magic of white powder renders these common lawns something special, a blanket of uncommon delicacy and uncanny warmth.
Insulated behind these bricks, an artist waxes melancholic for the days of youth, wandering deserted Munich streets and finding tucked-away cafe and corner tables. Sitting with pen and paper, lazily sketching the meaninglessness of life, the same artist remembers the days now a decade gone, sitting with pen and paper, and seeking meaning in the geometries of life.
perma-link | suffusions of delusion: (0)
Volubles and Syllables
September 5, 2003 | 4:01 AM
Summertime, 1994
Voluble and syllables,
the power of sound.
Emotions and feelings,
my senses surround.
But even as I feel,
even as I go on in life.
I surround myself
with sound.Impounded in voluble,
Confounded in life,
I give power to syllables, and
sounding my emotion,
sound though I be,I remain confounded
by my surroundings.
perma-link | suffusions of delusion: (4)
My Little Dog
September 5, 2003 | 3:58 AM
February 26, 1992, Lochhausen Bahnhof
Oh where, Oh where has my little dog gone?
Oh where, Oh where can he be?
Has he gone to Hell?
Does he ring church bells?
Oh where in the World is he?
Is he slinging keys?
Does he shoot the breeze?
With politicians trying to please...
...The man with the checkbook
Who likes to hook
Little girls who've been booked
for being under-age skeezers
Does he preach?
From poor fools leech?
With promises of grace,
Made with straight face
While laughing all the way to the bank,
What a skank.
perma-link | suffusions of delusion: (2)
Streetcar, Streetcar
September 5, 2003 | 3:56 AM
February 25, 1992, Am Sendlinger Tor Platz - Munich
Streetcar, streetcar come from far
Bringing the circus to town
Tall clowns and short ring leaders,
Princesses and trapeze artists
Elephants and tigers
Human in form
What!
One hasn't a ticket...
perma-link | suffusions of delusion: (0)
The End All, Be All.
September 5, 2003 | 3:54 AM
We cannot feel ourselves, forsake the animate
We can only see ourselves�buried under granite.
perma-link | suffusions of delusion: (0)
Mirror, Mirror et al
September 5, 2003 | 3:53 AM
February 25, 1992, Am Sendlinger Tor Platz - München
Mirror, Mirror on the wall
Who's the fairest of them all?
Is it the one with new rags?
The one with Vuitton bags?
Could it be the older one,
Perhaps its the younger?
Is it the well fed one,
Or the one with hunger?
Is it the one with witty replies?
Is it the one who wants to die?
perma-link | suffusions of delusion: (0)
A Man and A Tree
September 5, 2003 | 3:51 AM
Bremen, December 25, 1995
a tree, silently standing in an open wood
a wood, open only to a selection
a selection, open only in the wood
a wood, composed only of silent trees
a man, standing under a tree
under a tree, in an open wood
a man and a tree, silently standing
standing silently as the tree, the man
sways gently, the silent tree, stands still
still standing, the silent man views the tree
viewing the tree silently, the man stands still
silence still standing a man a tree a wood silence men
perma-link | suffusions of delusion: (0)
Muscles and Trees
September 5, 2003 | 3:40 AM
The park, in its geometry--could the flagstones be reasoned into a pattern, are the ozones and carbides of the passings-by a drug? Perfected and perverted sensuality. Or solace-accidentally lighted. incidentally visited. surrounded by sea, road. rail and air.
Masculine and dire, something deep-
welling waxing uncharted-
heaving exertion strength thrown forth-
wielded hammer-like, forceful wayward-
unleashed thrashing groan-
bounds broken seeing, add-magnetism polarize contact everything-
time act gain ignition-fused glow coal-
fire stoked masculinity.
perma-link | suffusions of delusion: (0)
7 Orgasms
September 5, 2003 | 3:29 AM
There was a woman I knew in Munich who, enjoying my particular company rather well, spent the whole night in a marathon sexual session with me. I, having given her 7 orgasms, was close to death, and passed from her flat in a hallucinatory state, which I wrote about as I walked to catch the train back to Garmisch-Partenkirchen.
"Gedankenlos" an old poster stares at me. Oriental faces, painted unbelievably. Smacking lips, disembodied hands holding a tub of pudding, a threat. Forcing biokost down my throat, I walk along a cemented slate and turn my thoughts to fate.Why am I fated the elend to see, and preview a horror, blended for me?
Supermarket wares, objectively represented; A row of old men, disconsolately staring at the public porcelain--to the death, a morbidity taught in churches...
...not prevented--a soul lost to youth, wasted on this earth. And I wallapazoo along this dirty avenue. Time-out at a cafe, stylish folk--I, do I not want to be a part? Telephone banks await my placing a call, but to say "fallow fields of thought colored by the dismal matte of a bygone harvest."
I walked along the foggy Muellerstrasse, with the bars I'd like to open, and the mouths I need--but my hamper hinders me, and well I performed the secret, performed the rites I desire, and desiring the rites--I kept a secret...now through the Sendlinger Tor, the bushes I did ignore, quickly now, almost a skip--watch that body-language, lest I slip. The Sendlinger Strasse, I walk the tracks--no streetcars this early, but still I check. Karlsplatz is all glitter and glamour, left long behind...four hours ago maybe it was lively, but now only am walking along the dead fountain--thinking of little, open to everything. I can see Hauptbahnhof now, and the first train of the morning, maybe on the way I will recuperate from my exertions.
perma-link | suffusions of delusion: (0)
Polemic
September 5, 2003 | 3:07 AM
The crowd advances along a velvet cordon, Ethiopians arrive in cabs to swell the tide, Indochinese royalty spit on the pavement, a cell-phone rings in a Persian's pocket eliciting no response, bulbs flash, welcoming the darkness back.Egregarious mirth in plethora, aesthetic source of aphoria, quiescent urge for trivia, enabled purge of etheria.
The vulgarity of the modem experience leads me to the rejection of anything symbolically associable with reality, and subsequently to purity.
I propose to speak of the joy in purely purposeless art, but in bringing joy the art loses its purposelessness, which purposed to nave no purpose.
There's a swamp of ignorance miring the mainstream.
perma-link | suffusions of delusion: (0)
Armeisen aus Eisen
September 4, 2003 | 6:50 AM
Werden wir eventuell armeisen aus eisen bauen?
Bauen braucht die Erde zu zereißen...
Die Erde entsteht aus auen tälern, bächern
wiesen, und bergen?
dazu ein wenig unangenehmlichkeiten
um die zu vermeiden, bauen wir...
wachsende menschen
...werden wir eventuell sein.
perma-link | suffusions of delusion: (0)
Consciousness Came Slowly Back to Her
September 3, 2003 | 11:40 AM
She realized that she was alone even before she felt cold. Her senses were sharpened by a rigid but dull pain that seemed to encompass her.
Her heightened emotional state allowed her only the realization that she was surrounded by a hard shell of stones. She found that she couldn't think of what she willed herself to. Instead her thoughts revolved around amore abstract feeling that the stones had become somewhat warmer. It was a comforting thought, almost.
In spite of herself she was not frightened by the fact that she had somehow fallen into an abnormal situation. As suddenly as the realization came to her, it was drowned by emotions assaulting her from all directions at once. Her main sensation was one of intense guilt. Yet where did this guilt come from? How had she arrived in this state? G iven no time to think, she found the rock had become so searingly hot that her skin might bum and flake off.
Fear, her only comfort in this grim situation would not come to her. She was utterly alone. In the instant that she felt alone she also felt herself as two separate people. The thought of her own presence was not as strong as the thought that someone was inside of her, screaming to be released.
A deep well inside her, not her own, was losing its strength--drained by an outer force. She had the uncanny perception that she was dying. Not dead, not scared, simply dying. She would fight! It was, after all not right that she should be deprived of life. She had never accomplished anything. She was as a hollow in the passage of time. She wouldn't quit yet. This newfound vigor was exhilarating.
Her awareness reached levels she hadn't thought possible. She could almost discern the fiendish form that was quenching the everlasting flame. The torture of the burning rocks sought to deny her any chance to save herself. Then she saw it. A small point of light from a great distance. Her intensified perceptions told her that the light was realization. It rut her. The force of truth was akin to something physical. It came into her mind that it was she alone who had denied herself life. She alone who had held herself from accomplishing anything.
She alone who had built the wall of brimstone around herself. And now she, naked and alone, had been shown her faults. From afar the idea of rebirth filled her with a new hope. Her first sensation was one of great hunger. A grasping, unrelenting hunger that might never be satisfied. All at once it changed to a feeling of contentedness. She felt the presence of the supreme being and knew it was with her. She was no longer alone.
perma-link | suffusions of delusion: (0)
The Comfort I Derive
September 2, 2003 | 2:09 AM
there is comfort, I derive
being, alive
a cold frost lands on the trees, and we
sitting together in a unified circle,
talking of silliness and times past
memories,
sharing these and each other
close to me, close to you
now solo, walking--conveyed on my own feet
trees give way to grey
edificial quality imbued in social houses
massive rocks, stacked
one upon the other, and inside, some are...similarly
see something different, feel alone--walk along
change of scene, similarly different, I
reach the tree again, and the frost descends
no circle of men now, it is cold,
but still alive
perma-link | suffusions of delusion: (0)
Admire Unto Death
September 2, 2003 | 2:05 AM
the fume of dead flowers, their noissomenessmy mind inhales of its pungence
sentience is born of their senescence
perma-link | suffusions of delusion: (0)
The Murky Tree
August 29, 2003 | 12:57 PM
I sat under the murky tree, and wished dearly for something to eat. Finding nothing, I was tempted to try the tree. Perhaps it would provide a murky meal for me.
Now and then I come across a really green blade of grass, but as neither that nor the blade of grass would provide sustenance to me, I will wait for the perfect food I may yet meet.
perma-link | suffusions of delusion: (0)
The Little Park
August 29, 2003 | 12:37 PM
these walls, so cold their stones do compass a vital heatnot only the growth of green things
not only the exhaust of the highway
not only the squealing iron rails
not only the engines of the giant ships
with their perishable yet consistent cargoes
not only the groaning factories
stinking of chocolate, beer, and coffeethese walls, now gleaming with reflected sodium light
meant to illuminate that highway
now these walls also flash intermittently
the occasional passing car throws a brief
glimmer into the woods compassed by these walls
the light illuminatesnot only the glistening tarmac raised so high above
not only the metal of the bridge over this ponderous river
not only the automobiles shuttling their blind occupants
not only the trees in this park
not only the lifeless bricks piled like corpses under the factories
not only the giant ships, passing inexorably on the glistening waves
not only the dull fume of pleasurable intoxication from the brewerythe light illuminates these walls
walls walled in by road, rail, and river
the rubble of factories, like ancient defenses
the walls exude naiveteso old, so small under the modern monstrous towers and box-girders
so insignificant under the roaster of half the worlds coffee
so insignificant under the brewer of half the worlds beer
so insignificant under the chocolatier to half the world
so close all the world, yet in these ancient defensesthe small park is enclosed in its own world entire
and beneath these walls men play a game
an uncertain and certainly hapless man
a mimicry of the world without
a childish game, played by the debauched and aged innocents
the small men who roast coffee, who brew beer, the chocolatierthey leave the great factories, debark the great ships, exit the great highway
they suffer themselves to diminish into this park
and become themselves the commodity
perma-link | suffusions of delusion: (0)
Old Punishments for Differences
August 29, 2003 | 12:35 PM
In the frosted valley I sat on the cold earth and let it scream with the torment of ancient men buried alive in the marsh.
perma-link | suffusions of delusion: (0)
Quai D'Orsay
August 29, 2003 | 12:34 PM
A feeling I had on the quai d'orsay since feeling came upon me, I march about, on this grey quay, since a feeling came upon me,I had feelings, while on the quai d'orsay,
since grey feelings came upon me,
I march about the quai d'orsayFeeling grey on the quai d'orsay
I came upon a feelingI came on the quai d'orsay
perma-link | suffusions of delusion: (0)
How Will I Find My Way to The German Forests?
August 29, 2003 | 12:19 PM
Patiently I searched them for their godsWandering thousand year old paths
I stumble into the clearing of an ancient grove
It's dark circle of pines and the round floor of their needles
God is standing in jeans and jacket
With hands in his pockets. He reveals himself
To me, and I drop to my knees in supplication
Accepting his body into mine
We perform the transmogrification rites most ancient
I leave my seed, an offering at his feet
And leave relieved of my burdens and comforted
Knowing that my deity provides succour to me in my need
perma-link | suffusions of delusion: (0)
Die Loisach
August 29, 2003 | 1:21 AM
March 14, 1991, Eschenlohe
Water: weaving the hairs of my thighs, charging the electricity in my testes, a heaving urge. Freezing my scrotum in icy hands, kneading it into a thick knot of massed intensity.
My penis seeks consolation behind its mauled foreskin. leaving a naked glans.
Shivering I step onto the prodding rocks, and stumble, shrunken in the wake of an intercity train.
perma-link | suffusions of delusion: (4)
Geaengstigte Vergangenheit
August 28, 2003 | 3:26 AM
Hamburg, February 24, 1996
the beauty of their bodies, isn't like the beauty of their mindsthe way they see me, view my beauty, is not akin to the viewing of my mind
beauty for you, as a part of them, isn't as true, as they to them
so pretend to see, what remained...unrecognizable
'cause I ain't givin' what you ain't got.
perma-link | suffusions of delusion: (0)
Summer Dresses
July 18, 2003 | 12:40 PM
What's is in the air this season? I look and see so many women looking good, white girls with butts, black girls with real hair; fine, soft curves everywhere. Bouncing breasts and nice legs abound. I am a happy man.
perma-link | suffusions of delusion: (0)
Haiku
June 5, 2003 | 8:41 AM
Enjoying the new art of Haiku brought to us by Halley...
Monumental City Vortex of all things human Pols, peeps, DCA
perma-link | suffusions of delusion: (0)
Web Words
April 11, 2003 | 8:45 AM
...because we require television to keep our children educated...
...knowledge is clutter...I am afraid that the saddest part of the whole thing is the loss of love. Was it not love that inspired its beginnings? The need to be able to, to be free to, to be, in love--irregardless of gender.
With success comes fragmenting; with opportunity, discrimination. Will we forget what it is to be men, not requiring that indiscreet and oversexed attitude
that American men employ for the reinforcement of their questioned selves, but true men, in a simplistic and straightforward approach to the vagaries of life?
perma-link | suffusions of delusion: (0)
The Curtain
April 11, 2003 | 8:27 AM
a curtain of delicacy
drawn randomly over a background of muddy,
rainy reality
the occasional drop
marks the fall of the jewel that once
defied gravity
but time did tell...
poisons were encountered
now they're integral, and in their scale
so miniscule
are invisible
sulphur, carbon, worse than these
are bound within the air we breathe,
are flowing
in our veins
perma-link | suffusions of delusion: (0)
A Cold Wintry Night, Bremen
March 12, 2003 | 9:52 AM
placid, like a winter-frozen pond my scalp draws eyes voracious views are my reward for lack of hair interesting, how populations are fond of well presented guise spacious pews in the house of the lord oh. do beware rancid thoughts are held as bond under hair, how nice... however can it be the word for which y'all care strands thin and long compete to raise their consciousness above y'alls do you also dare? as a scream is a sound so too silence and if you only would be so aware of the meaning of profound meaninglessness you might've fool'd me
perma-link | suffusions of delusion: (0)
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