[Marlo]
The uncaused cause of the first cause … paused
before seeking to secure quantum levels to endure
explosive ramifications of infinite creations
of highly formed tangible transportations
for intangible forms of energetic provocations
to seek possibilities beyond probabilities to be manifested peculiarities.
The pause, like a black hole, consumed all,
densely compacted tightly, slightly smaller than a speck
frozen, waiting, internally inspecting the inward flow
growing like a formless capacitor ready to blow.
I am Marlo, the voice of stark pronouncements
from the black encampment that cradles the speck.
I am the space upon which elements trace their race
as they soar to become more than a horde of fragmented isolates,
disjointed particles set in motion by IT’S explosion
eventually to dance and romance combinations and unions to embrace
complexity, diversity, immensity of form and uncertainty.
I transport intangibles
encased in tangible forms
adorned with nuanced physical traits
that enhance the fates’
improved chance to confuse and infuse
daily attempts to choose correctly
with doubts about one’s power
though resolved not to cower;
to steady the hand
when taking a righteous stand
to withstand offense
from pompous decree to feed
upon innocent’s beauty.
See here the pale face,
the wet sparkle of glazed eyes
wide open, but blind.
I know the cold clammy skin
punctured by harsh intrusion
that ripped through warm flesh
now bleeding steadily, calm,
shocked, disconnected.
Back to the Earth, eyes skyward
does place matter? or the time?
What particulars
must my voice convey to sway
your sustained interest?
Whose poor life lies powerless
here silent, flaccid and scared
raced in haste to cure
society’s small mishap
with screaming sirens
that part the roving masses
to cut, probe, extract and bed
with synthetic tubes
latched onto vital organs?
Whose bland, passive life?
Machined hemoglobin flows
tepid, filtered free of wastes
bathing each drone cell
with rich, fluid sustenance
from I.V. drip bags.
Where hides Life’s vitality,
mover of corporal hulks?
What has left this corpse?
The wound has been well sutured.
All is here, all lost.
Where begins this mundane end?
For what purpose my discourse?
Hear the sad rantings
of life gone horribly bad
and the claimed madness
of restrained freedom fighting
to regain self fulfillment.
See Kevin Jacobs
wage war to seek victories
from atrocities
believed to relieve his pain
through restrained mobility.
[Kevin]
Why, Judge, are you here
draped in white, without gavel,
nor court recorder?
Do you know Dante, Milton,
Virgil, Homer, or Camus?
Clerk of psychic swill,
pill monger of pressed potions,
vile syringe steward,
you’re my heinous albatross.
Unjust, you curse, uninjured.
Hell is bright white clean
protection from self demise,
State funded concern.
I am detained under writ
for my fits and assertions,
fine fascinations
for your cerebral pleasure
and treasured employ
of coy verbal cleverness,
feigned sorrow for others’ pain.
You must cut me loose,
Proctological Warden,
Assured Soul-Voyeur.
Compton reared unencumbered
incurs fierce retribution.
Summer’s colors bleed.
Fall’s the Gateway to Winter.
My curtain is drawn.
Now Sun yields more to Dark Night
over fields of muted browns
where squirrel morsels
rustle fallen leaves for fuel
to duel autumn’s chill.
Obsessed bucks look for fresh ruts
and dogs train to gain the scent.
Camouflaged Patience
with ancestral bow retooled
knows the rule of life,
and baited black bear has supped
his last before his long sleep.
Blaze Orange wants and waits
to join in ambush for meat
or sweet, horned trophy.
The northern woods are alive
unconcerned with urban law
where Fall wind yields course
to towers that cannot sway
like sashaying trees
boasting female assertions
like succulent cheeks
of short-skirted legs
not yet kissed by Summer’s light.
Delightful spring sight
is Autumn’s apparition
that haunts a gaunt traveler
in his bleak pallet,
respite from desperate flight.
Home was no refuge.
To the sprawling multitude
of Baltimore I withdrew.
Drawn by faint odors:
perfumed female sweat, hot thighs,
yearning secretions
mingled with bold male cologne.
All warmly radiating
from freshly bathed flesh
tight around firm young muscles.
I’d risk Future’s Void,
and condemn bookish toil
that spoils Lust’s coiled love,
An imposed blindness
groping for oblivion —
tactile ecstasy.
The auburn red of fire
blazing under mid-day-sun
frames bright, moon white skin
with soft, pink lips and green eyes.
Beauty captivates,
but, life needs food and shelter
and arrogance demands “style.”
Governmental chinks,
sacred wafers of metal
sealed with approval,
barter human sustenance
in civilized treachery.
A job, like a yoke
for one’s privileged servitude
adorns the masses
and eats souls to feed bodies
when Prestige’s needs must rule,
and naked embrace
fused in cosmic convulsion
demands employment.
“Rave on lunatic,” you muse.
I despise you, Guardian,
smug status quo slug
slithering through my psyche.
Were it only you !
POW, you’d feel the sudden thud,
the punch before disbelief.
Can you flip that switch
before I rip tasteful strips
of rich facial meat?
Curse the grit of carpet dirt
That grinds the corner of eyes,
That stinks in nostrils
crushed in the plush nylon pile
of cultured decor
Where secret desires ache
to hire black leather lace
Draped over moist warmth
Ready for wealthy foreplay
in refined bondage
While I, wooed in used sheep skin
and synthetic cowhide straps
Lay four point restrained
Spread upon this healing bed
Prometheus Bound
Reflective, relaxed, resigned,
entwined in mythic battle
with white feathered drones,
heartless, persistent agents,
pecking at my soul.
How pure the quiet content
found in the absence of sound
when torrential rains
cease their mad cascading wash
over naked souls
screaming with jubilant lust
abandoned to primal dance.
The stalk, chase and clutch
ends with pairs plunging to earth.
Rage is orgasmic.
I’m flushed with the rush of blood
eager to grab gushing life,
and I’m neither Greek
nor an immortal menace
to divine order,
but physics can’t be denied
and I’ve been set in motion
from Compton’s bastion
of secret whispers dispersed
through invaded dreams.
Come Judas, loosen my bonds;
I’ll speak of bleeding concerns,
an urn of ashes,
a requiem mass and tears,
fears to manage life.