Eroticon
Eroticon
Poems by
Kink Wood Burn
Completed May, 1993
In Spring, I dy
Y, wen among such alusiv luvs,
Who, with seducing skil hav cum today
Like pollend thrusts from sum fat bloom abuv,
To with my beuty-need be soft and play,
Sit I so slak without my speech’s turn
And edgeless fal into a green aray,
Motivless from sitting in the burn
Of sun that cals them out to kiss and sway,
To wend the univers into a curv,
To hold tite flesh befor my bursting eye,
Such juting sweets that with the darkness swerv,
The darkness wer I dy in Spring, O y?
*
I wil, by U, who created this want,
Finish seeing loss in luv’s emergens,
And burro thru the petals that conceal U,
Falling from our cupled eloquens,
Surging up from winds ur body spun,
As we watch in mutual opposing
Al our evanesens leavs undun,
And U, a symbol lost in its deterens,
To me, the same but by our luv removed,
Other somehow than the hidden body
That as the petals fel you gently moved,
Tho not to end, but stimulate ther fall,
To dig thru heaps to tuch ur luving, call.
*
To my poem
U ar to be so gently taken,
So indescriptivly withdrawn,
That al U garner is not shaken,
But by this dusk new brot to dawn;
Sensuous, tho not with seeing
Paths wence I extracted U;
Multivocal in prepensing,
Submerged in man, to woman due;
In ur evry symbol newer,
With ur luving ever slower,
Growing rich as I grow fewer,
Rising clear as mixes lower.
*
Indifferent she stares
I trembl. I cannot pen. I fade.
Near to me by past-held accident
Her eyes emit a dedness to my poems.
With unnoen adiction endless bent
She shooz me, shuddering, groping,
My veins at the Ausarbeitung arching,
Stifly in her coldest laser set,
Her trivial mind my al-mind parching;
And tho I would renounce al oposits,
With my hands the dumness reclamate,
Out of me in utter deth she sits,
Perfectly aligned in anti-mate.
*
Fashion-Word
We hav becum as ones most shunnd,
U and I, songs, dystrofys.
In our transfer, cut at beuty’s file,
Sum moral terminus wil not reconcile
Any meaning’s freedom to be easy-lost,
Like incorporeal intimacys,
Like douts that pauz the dirty blond,
And ar but unimplicativ tosst,
Not to be judgd, but cornered hi,
Up wer nothing’s said til the hearer dy.
*
End in This?
If a spurios lust find U,
Cum from an eager word,
Cum from a lonely boy or two
In bodiless manipuland,
Its mis-sign showing,
With ur self-filling hand
That cannot make a longing word,
Mite U augment its growing
And be an end to a clue or two?
*
The stop
My hand has reacht to many things,
Like a fuel-less fire groping,
In her sadness, and in mine,
Our drastic medium sloping
Thru wut shared has never shown
How use can conquer living,
So lo! my tawdry hand is closed,
Closed to seige or giving.
*
In lieu of Wanting
I must without presumption cum,
Like the skil-less in asuming,
To her if I want me sum,
But who can do such do-less thing?
She wud hav me indemnant al,
Naked but for undergrowth,
And def to diacritic call,
Anul my sol at ej of oath.
If having is, then she is not;
If adhering, I am dun,
For tho her laws wil bring me rot,
At her my freshest leads are run,
For if in her my mint’s to flower,
If sexes ar to alter-comb,
Al my memrys honed to power
Must go blind in weakness grown,
Just befor I may forsee her face
Werto moving I my valuz place.
*
Had I hands to hold the sun,
Lite this day and brief as fun,
Al explosions of the flesh
Cheer this day her glory’s press,
Then I wud in litesum be,
Pollen to profundity,
Eazy as the big and hi,
Flighty for her wonder y.
*
Master U, al abuv me,
Jelosy of al that luv me,
Music-hart that I must hear,
Reconciling time and year,
Caut in darkness draining me,
Ur nu fashion blaming me,
Master U, and pet to nun,
Many adends bringing one.
*
Wer they walk
Wil U noe motion;
As they talk
Conveys ur notion;
For they are U,
Tho they hide it –
Not given U,
But confided
Gentlness
Of comon being –
Al alures
In U the freeing.
*
After evry longing
Shudders sleep;
As ur surface,
So the deep
Takes its mesur
By the need
Lost in U,
Never freed
Save by al
Decides for U.
*
She has shown
Such shapeliness as I
Am undergrown
Wer to try
At touching’s whole retaining –
Birth begot,
In near-deth polyglot
My explaining.
*
No emotion cud bide this time –
It is too rescinding,
In shado of the only crime
That gave it blending:
Of people to conflict’s degree,
Of sexes on the shallow,
Of the hard and callow
In the soft and seedy.
*
Here the lawn with famlys teeming
Wer the sounds together hold
Generations thru ther singl dreaming
Of yung and old;
Not of one priora do they flo,
But play in confians with separation,
Hugd apart by wut they canot noe
Thru intimation,
Thru al the famly kils and recreates,
Primal unit of the second gess,
In the lawn of luv to mint and mess
Its hallowed hates.
*
It is the obfusion of eras
That causes this hell –
People living unaware of
The other bell
That tells them wut is now,
Ther age’s humor
Marking them ther yuth and how
Its deth to better.
*
Can I ever, O Virginia,
Go agen ur way,
Lay beneath the pines that scent U,
With you lay,
Lay beside the stream that strews U,
Gently al away,
Cudled in the breez that blowz U
Agen my way?
*
Wen poems drop into the budding,
Greener trees and blooms of pink,
I canot my hart contain
And start to think
On U who make this raptur human,
Human so to tuch,
By compare its other aching
U bring me much,
Able to within its colors,
In its Spring to be complete,
As the leavs us penchant flowers
Flowers at my feet.
*
A past luvr praizes another man
In cognizant ireliance, sum mad-fact changed
Into this incogent vesper, a cherishing
Of the grotesk within the phenomenal glint,
He rises thru luv’s long-gon adiction,
Her recomending sum sewaj in my lake,
My lake with the secret-splattered hills,
Ther haunts of my greatest thinkings.
*
At another
The implicativ net of thot
Thrives undiscoverd.
As opinions in determination
Pass thru each other,
We study being, thinking
Not by the need of laws
Wer mind its own transcursion
Formulates, but thru intubating
The singularitys of discursion
Into being, preventing discretion.
*
The artist
U hav never left.
U hav never clipt adiction.
Ur meninges are friabl and decadent,
Yet U hav never digrest.
Stil the sweets inspire U.
Stil the meats torment U,
And her bubl-bath, statutory smile
Has ur fascist diagrams merged
With ur sentimental yuth-frisson,
And like an almost-extinct species
U insist on becuming sik,
Sik with the imaculat care of others.
*
Good verse
U deride ur own clarity
And shop in the shit-products,
A swindling parabola of pasts
Showering thru ur verbs
Until the fungus crenelates
Upon ur cudling lips,
Suking at the lolipop of claps,
The nicotine of a progresiv program,
And stil, derivativ of ingratitude,
Ur verse lacks al humanity
Becuz U hav yet to understand
The stupidity of subordination in luv.
*
I am the unit
U hav created
Wut goods U need
And shud be rated
In this greed,
To be to urself evrything,
Wutever is,
A dome of the lonely thing,
A sky-lite sieve.
*
Knowledge waits on it
It dispels into the many
– Inordinat meld of individuals –
A clamor unlike life,
The bake of a bitch and a glory,
And U fawn at it
Becuz music is ur hibernation;
Now wut may be in knowing
Must pass thru al the deths
Ur ignorant fear could not
Survive, yet we must liv.
*
Absolution
It was graduated
Befor U filld it –
Yet those lines,
Wer do they end?
U hav chosen
Befor it nue U –
Yet wut’s it given
That duz wut U do?
Isn’t power
Without a prior?
*
By al our patience
Has it cum in,
Due to reverence
Of end,
And cud we have thunk it,
That such as this
So slo, yet righteous,
In patience?
*
Words we shed,
But epistemes?
Wut clamant stead
In dormant dreams
Can move them?
Replacing motion
Is any needed
Revolution?
*
I am, I think, incorporeal,
With flutters in my soul,
The derivant of used vestigial
And the after-role.
I am, I trust, in everything,
Key to al creation;
And as I liv by wut I sing
My voice is pur decision.
*
The cormorant’s flower U,
Chekerbord of iresolv,
A lite iron brazing me,
And a greasy stif blanket
Wer Mortgage and I
Eat brussel sprouts and vinegar
And then pray together, monotonusly,
That violence of vision end,
That sex be uncompetitiv.
*
The poet, humbled befor the world,
holds his coffee to the grueling sky,
and in a fine pair of workman’s pants
sings:
I hav gates on my windows,
and drunks on my dorstep,
but al I can care about
is the coming of Propriety.
*
Talking with her
Mite I ur hair garnish with this parsley?
It is warm tonite, to end al thot.
I made so many promises of policy to myself today
It is hard to look U in the eyes.
Y hav we met here, at the Time Cafe,
Wer so many gorgeus Minotaurs are rutting?
U wud tattoo R for loser on ur skull,
And I wud cal the comitees of selection corect
In ther particular closure of our works.
U ar not so luvly anymor, perhaps becuz
I hav ignord U for so long, so hypocriticly.
May U and ur soft body be much persuaded
To lay in the thrush and imajin ur man,
Feeling ur tenders not mindlessly stimulated.
*
In the time of pollen
As the belts loosen, the skin is browned
And the faded jeans our best dauters sylvan.
Fine carpets and litely spiced foods
Ar delicatly crusht beneath them,
Al ther yuth cum surging into tumbl.
Ther calvs ar tite and twichless,
And ther lips, righteously inhirsute,
Dip at one another in a berry spray,
Pisting the pith into the runnel.
They ar the flit and mission,
And they ar the fent and the form.
They ar sexualy produced remnants,
Who, in ther clueless pride of lust,
Hi-heeld and chokered, brests erect,
Strut eligibly around his sadness,
He who canot breathe the stamen’s style.
*
A summer dawn’s desire
We’ve weavd a flag of our spirations,
Hands that measur handless flites,
Lips that blow in exultation
The wish-flame out on the last of nites.
We’ve taken off our shirts and rumbled,
Al our flavors free to brood
How the fern of wonder mumbled
To us of the fulest, farthest mood,
One that makes our temerity rigid,
Oils that our fingers chooz,
Stelthy paths of feeling creases vivid,
That no mouth cud lose,
That no thrusting cud miss,
No inspissat wud forbid –
The biune spirit cleavd by a kiss,
And the rush that only luv hid.
*
U ar not, yet I prepare myself for U.
I scent my arms with summer’s bouge.
My palms grow warm and moist.
My clothes are soft, my room ensilted
With al work’s stigmas and dusk-pangs.
Wen U cum, my face wil be stil,
And my musls wil flinch at the sun.
Do not take my disiplin for indifrence.
Being near U is to me as history is,
How I stand in it so taut and inviolat,
Yet imperceptibly penetrated, exoticized.
*
For shame
I canot count myself among them,
They who concentrate upon ur goods.
I am too distracted, too filosofic.
Wen U pass, my eyes fal,
Tho my ears hear evry gesticulation,
Gutural and flasid as steam
Cum from a newly guted cow.
Wile they desir ur flesh,
I wish the space around U,
Scented with ur pre-history.
But this is al useless craving
As I noe U only thru shame.
*
Ther ar so many women in pictures now,
How shal I now ur special charms?
O, it is most easy, my unfashionabl luv.
We wil dress in the morning befor work
In the joys and pains of diference.
Then, we wil walk wordless hand-in-hand
Thru the blooms by-no-means apreciabl.
We wil eat food prepared mutualy,
Bot with the muny we equaly despise,
Bred and water, tomatos unsalted maybe.
Then, we wil turn into worms at midnite
And hav sex not knowing wer our mouths ar.
*
Al I want is she who wants me,
Wants me like the sea the sand,
Sings of me in the gnashing street,
Sanctions my entry and detail.
Al I want is she who tels me
Wut she likes and y she wonders,
Staring long at the monotonus,
Unafraid that the norm be noen,
And this I want cuz I noe she wants me,
But noe she finds it hard to tel,
Born within the cudling mother
Who told her never to need another.
*
She is perfect – wants a cure,
Lets me speak it,
Noes wut words are for,
Of severity’s advantage,
In the hot and cold
Expects to be afected,
Feels wut others are for,
Has no iner-vantage.
*
Be U and I
Whose dawns are coming
Of al dreams Y
And soul-songs loving,
And let those souls
Luv’s union flo
In U and I
To soul-songs noe.
*
U hav showerd twice
In the mist of hesitant rains;
U hav rubd ur mound
Agenst the statue’s leg.
Six smal terriers suround U,
Stil with timidity,
Until the drunk sun rises,
Brabant in comingling,
And ur flesh becums
Spirit-spray, denying
Al the bestial vision
Of its yelo-fish glaze,
And U diseminate
Into deep Siberian lakes.
*
U and I hav walkt
Upon the coloring clifs,
And u wur music
And I was a forest-nation;
The sun was setting red,
And the mountan sheep gatherd
About our dream home,
Eating both wheat and weed.
Now we are walking apart
Tord the darkening sea,
And U are silens
And I am extinction.
*
Wut units see U
ur life in?
Flowers, highs, or hesitance?
Wich side of U
Ot I ascend
Longing for my impotence?
*
U dwel in distance
and lern alone,
ur cloths black,
wind-tormented.
I do not noe
if U are compromised,
but my days
are nothing but for weeping
that U may be.
*
A Song of Wooing in Six Cantos
canto 1
Al day, the soldiers glimps the women,
Like a smal fleet strugling to avoid the shor,
Ther sarapes wilted with fructuos swet,
The fugaceus greens and browns,
The sheen silver sord, and the enemy
Who is nothing if not long ded.
The over-seers wear citrus wedges
On ther scowling, pouting heds.
Al day, marching, bitching, marching,
Into slauter, into debt, into hilarity,
Sad zapatistas of the missing plot.
Is ther any outlet for ther milky luv?
Is ther any rythm beyond dul batl?
canto 2
Tuch her the tendrils, weat and weat-ry,
Her mother’s dress tite agenst her,
She the plum, the foal, the robin’s lap egg,
In she-liberty her fields and longings,
Al heviness lifting from her brest,
And the milion titilations of her fancy,
Staring, in the afternoon, homeward,
Her spirit moving in the stil hart land,
Hoping someone mite penetrate her pose,
Distractedly licking the candied blade.
canto 3
He thot of forgivness and sience;
Felt revenge and jubilance.
He was crawling into the role’s rigor,
His baby body in the dark be-gone.
Yet he wisht to be with her, to noe
Much more than the cubicle mortis,
And he wisht to writhe between her,
She who was several, luvly, unique,
She whose cosmetic was the spring.
canto 4
Woman is wood and carapace,
Lint, linen, linden, limon, luv.
She cums in triples, sory and sweet;
She leves alone, imune and equal.
She is a beet, a creek, a bat,
And she is sisterly and embelisht.
Woman smels of irigation,
Construction sites at dawn,
A canopy of palms. Woman is cake.
Woman is man. Man is woman.
Al is whim in form, form of whim.
Let her evry fluke be a gambl.
Let her evry gambl be a fluke.
*
But among it al is silence.
Crumbling thru it al, quiesence.
The pauz that is pain to the lip,
The lapse that is tung-rupture,
The nothing of generation,
The stil, unbirthabl, cloying hi.
In her was such silence shut
Only he cud woo the sounds,
The sounds that elude ironic sex,
The sounds that are silence throbing,
Murmurs of the not-yet-born ones,
Those who own us thru our silence.
canto 6
She who lay in the field dreaming,
He who sat at the gloom-pit glooming,
What metagnomon mite beget
The tuch and city of ther passion?
Wite clouds opening in blu sulk,
Pure nakedness of purpos,
The milieu of unprominent animals,
The stupor exhalation brings,
Logics, dreams, foods,
And the confusion of too much too late –
Cud these near them to the bursting
Of the soul’s first contusion
In the orpheum of chap and crush,
Each breathing into each, at last?
*
9 plagiarisms in luv
Let ur dreams be,
Untru luv rue-ing,
Al life as free
As songs undoing
The webs that wend
About ur wanting,
To never end
Wut seeds luv’s longing.
I saw U measuring life,
Fumbling in the primal things.
Now, in the nite, U listen
To the cafe-talk and the papers.
I wud that al matter close,
And passion dy in its abys,
That in the clear, empty spaces
Of al I felt at ur first-site,
U mite once agen apear to me,
Measuring only ur seduction songs.
He who noes my luv and her disputings,
I wud he come forth and speak to me.
He who may walk with her in the street
And hear her inquirys and delites,
I would he come forth and show himself,
That together we may al be free,
Seeing how my luv is the most powerful,
And my noeing of her most tru.
On her brest
Beuty nestles,
Winks to me,
Sings to me,
Speaks to me
Of her thinking,
Al she’s freeing
Out the shadow
Beuty settles,
Teasing me
Bereft of pity.
Can his songs make of her the sky?
Do his ruttings mine out-joust?
To me, she is luv’s very energy,
How it stirs the rivers ther rumbling,
The last bird its final climb,
And petals to its notes ar tumbing.
Be his songs as mine?
Wut pork has given her to him
That her atention go his way?
Let her see us both, fair and openly,
For I noe my luv is purer,
As it is born of neither fear nor need,
But of her fragrances and drawings.
U hav fled into the woods.
The yung deer follow.
I have taken panicked ways
In serch of U,
Remnants of ur dress
On thorn and tangle.
Now the deer I follow.
How they flit and ambl!
Along the sea U run,
Kicking the sands in bliss,
And I stand tired on deck
Dreaming of ur kiss.
Wen the sun begins to cry,
Wil U be here,
Dancing neath a yello moon,
Kicking sand-stories in my ear?
From our luv al nature grows,
Ur glance its budding.
Al that sadest weeping shows
Is not for keeping.
Shud U lose ur need for me
And find me wanting,
I wud luv U living free,
Ur hart for others beating.
But not for deth has we so sought
To mix our clinging,
But for birth of passion’s plot
That brings the singing,
Al that givs us sumthing mor
To sweet our lerning,
U and al my luv is for,
Al endless longing.
*
Luv-led plashes cusp our slopus,
Wendling skin by skin levia,
Barbasol of moaning’s solent,
Ur miacious wastrels waking,
Humping at the mooned brevia,
Chew roast beef the waxy nite-o,
Tattoo carvs of caulking hotty,
The fertil pillo gorging on us,
Aliment of open spiking,
Grape-juice of the soul-defeat,
Daubing hope on pedo-pixels,
Rushing at the shiver wet.
*
As the buttercups of woe tumesced
And litely crakt the dawn our citys mar,
We held sweet-breds in plianths of ur dress
And nippt the ripe Virginia at her cress.
O crazy luvress of the moot and far,
Of spacial things and idol-apetite,
Scamper cross our antler-addled yard,
Al droning “she is rival to the rite,”
And be much mor than inocence can cloy,
Teaching luv as rage-defraying rungs,
Sex returnd to timid-brave alloy,
That we be brash of brain and lithe of lungs.
*
I wud, natur,
That U send me a token
Saying I am not alone,
That my utter disdain
For things un-artful,
And my self-led faith
That beuty stil exists,
Ar not baseless delusions,
But by U sanctioned.
I wud, natur
That U speak to me,
Say I am truth-tempted,
That ‘sexuality’ is at an end,
And that craft has hart.
For I now so painfuly wonder
If al my judgments
Ar but means of defens,
Never to seed in ur soil
Wer al this grave concern
But in silence returns.
*
On care being all
I do care that the day clears.
I do care that she meet me.
And I do care that science
Diferentiate between equals.
But I also care for truth,
Which to me is careless,
Being the outcum of all
This surging and songing,
Having no basis in pain,
And is the power that gives.
*
All the leafy world is moist –
Not my lips.
All the birdy wood is hi –
Not my lids.
Evry woman sings of summer
To her man.
And the rain is falling spicely now,
Yet I am bland.
*
I hav captivated a certain juvenilis
To be probing agenst my wants,
And ignord the ridicule of me,
Triumfing arogantly alone,
My metafors dreding al
That confirmd existens most,
In name of spirit only,
Bending desprat at easy blisses;
Yet, having herd her imitate me
Who strugls not to luv me,
I hav seen thru the open dors of time
Into the emptiness of al sublimings.
*
Sexless and metaloid, I hav waited,
Waited for the vegtabl to cum,
Noeing the color and the symptom,
Nevr the stain and the scorge.
I hav held most sheen, radical vigil
Within the invisibl ploys to dy,
Thinking evasion accesibl,
Alure infinity bound.
And tho I hav craved the moist polyp,
The arc of mime, the furry torus,
It was as the tree craves the deer,
Its shagging horns to strip it springward.
I do not noe my nudity,
Hav no grip of notion,
But am severd on my wants,
The absens I thot to be,
Staring from my plotted need,
A discount soul from aspect bred.
*
I hav had that identity wich I describe,
But it is gon.
I zone on trees and work al ways,
But I hav had that identity I describe.
*
Be ded no mor, woman, no mor be gon…
The world’s cast has finaly lifted,
Let ur lite be fed by dawn,
For stringent man has thru U sifted,
And he is leaf on spumy wave.
In ur bed of plan creating,
Al he took and al U gave
Returns afresh from his deflating;
No mor the secret barrier rave.
And U shal rise, woman, and he shal fall…
Al U share is now ur crying,
He was hi, but U wur al,
The truth that needs no dying;
Emerge thy bakward bubl scrawl.
O be not shy, but take his pain
And mend his shatterd declamation;
As U wur wild, so be now sane,
To urself the sad elation.
*
Can she leve the fertil ruse
That put his needs within her,
And, unsoild by the use,
Trik his probe to spin her?
Can she be abuv her shape
That takes with rich inception,
Hi on luv’s banal escape,
As since the first conception?
Can she bear the changing’s seed
That akes her body careless,
Birthing the father of her greed,
The mother of her duress,
And be agen her own caprice,
The lake of her reflecting,
In her helth, and in dizeze,
The meter of her neglecting?
*
Wut fix of mind this day finds me,
Pelted by the sun and dream,
Between the silent trees and groan
Of hysteresis getting on.
I wil open al my thots,
Sacred to my life alone,
Reading anything that seems
Segregat in its domain,
That wen power setles here
Fix of mind wil be my stay,
Fighting til my body burn
A luv that never had its day.
*
I wil put U visual in the grass,
Wer the splash of lafter spews U,
U in clothing cheap and crass,
Violent at wut controls U,
A beuty born not of regard,
But from the inborn anger,
That ur litigious flesh deride
Frolic and its ethic langor.
*
Shoot me, luvr, shoot me now,
For I am hot for dying.
Man’s no meaning anyhow
Save the final crying.
Shoot me, woman, thru my chest,
And let the hole be telling
How my hart outbled the rest,
Bled even at the killing.
*
It has ended, another staging,
Wer she her soul dismayd,
Blended now into the aging,
O she who never stayd
Now is finisht, yet here she is,
Stepping freely cross our views,
Pure between the clanking days
Her diet music must refuse,
For she has ended, fazing out
By the crank of special moon,
Far in fear from those who chose her,
Ever near who never swoon.
*
I hav adord U to my end;
My sol is sik with singing,
And U hav gon to the reporters,
Like the diva of indecision,
Like the utensil al luv becums
Wen it adorz only the burning
Of the fires of orientation,
The flame of creepy lerning.
*
I am dun with ancient songs,
With stiff, stupid rymes.
I want the harsh nudity of sience,
And sex with ugly things.
I want she who is most cherisht
Wen moking representation,
And I want to lose my members
And ly bankrupt outside.
I hav noen so many convictions,
Al my solem derelict cure,
But I am dun, and am returning
To the maze of a world unsure.
*
I go to meet her,
She I wooed,
Not noeing her mind.
May we share
At least one word
And many ignorant sign.
May she luv me,
She I askt
To sprinkl on my summer,
Til the autum
Leve us wanting
To seek one or other.
*
Strene of her lims,
Lak a hi man,
Soft and contorted
Is her dizeze,
Bliss be the tiny
And freaky wite spaces,
She is contagia
And U ar the spot,
Flip her and lik her,
Wut can she be?
Enter her video
Coaguleze,
Megan O Megan,
Sexy aspergum,
Genitiv hot
And natur’s ovation.
*
Wile they liv it
I hav paid degrees for my rapport,
Am steril now becuz I speak,
As others fysicality advise
And sink the spray into the silt.
I am inhuman by my own analysis,
And fertil only in coruption,
A foment spreding atrofy
In the dance-identity,
And I am a sor on ther thighs,
The anathemic luscius,
Expelled from tender comerce,
And forst to watch my wanting.
*
So I’m to sense of U but wut U giv,
Ur mood display review as it is meant,
And secret my volutions transitiv
That to me by the natural beauty sent
A spacius vent of symbols to ur end,
Composing altercations to ur peace,
Inocent striations that may blend
The simpl self with want’s complexity,
Wer only may we instrument the change
And luv not by a picture but a soul,
The oculose remission passions range,
Gesticulations born befor the role,
Wich I wud render U, but now it seems
U fear but one perspectiv on ur dreams.
*
The birth of his sadness
She had led me premonitionless
Into the raw vestibule
And ther prepared our moods
For redemptiv sex,
Wile, like the diminution
Of nemonic types
That cast luv’s infants
Agenst ther insinuativ risk,
She displayd how I mite
Eradicate my gridded mind
Of its sens of mistake
Thru the sublime reapings
Of her masculin, ventural
Morfisms of thot,
Articulated upon the screen
Of her organs of power,
Bringing my unparaleld
Divisiveness of self to loss,
And as she left me ther alone,
I saw her neuro-formica splinter
And reflect the million
Passions I thot I had.
*
She had brot the rig of darkness upon me,
Delt my portrats in the fever of detail,
And hid me, calling with her winds of indifrence
The jocund many to drink warm wine at my side.
Wen once we wur, we wur undun,
The tender indiscriminat at the instant
Of our copulation into polyfony’s aegis,
Tunging at my hibernating ake,
And wen al her fleshes seemd my emasculation,
Thinking my lines to merj with her decay,
It wuz then al framework of stupidity fel
About me in the recession of her hi delusions.
*
His is the record of a shyness,
The herm of a gregarius mute,
The norms that ridled his forbearance,
And the breth of she who left him
To dy upon the raft that weves
Shor to shor in waves of shame,
Nite to nite with lusts of man
Dawning thru his broken eyes,
The window-bars that gril his cheeks,
The soft coton of kronic nesl,
Laying in the steam of Mormon,
Ariving thru his braging trunk.
He is mounting another inanimat pile,
Entering it with his fork and balls,
The crisco spooging on the walls,
The monokrome of his moral file.
Magic parses his life in sand
Wer estrus-calves sink to sex,
His lether-wish in western dream
To hew ther pyze and savor them,
To be in them the magmic dropper,
Bestial broom to clean ther cunts,
And feed upon the psychometric runts
Of she-who-speaks-to-hide-the-dauter.