I would have you do thisHere.I would have you do this by thetaoofchaos
this is your prayer
your mantra, your news.
I leave it as I found it, papering in the streets.
as godless a truth as you will know
it’s still a ghost of a dream
smaller than theories of infinite resolution.
you will believe it because it has no industry
no acolytes or storefronts.
it’s not an embezzlement of fascination
or confabulation of missing histories.
you will not doubt its truth because your design is hollow
the space inside your car
the adventitious spine that vials through the weeds
the ice of march on adam’s needle
the ants, crickets, beetles under sandstone
waiting in a music box for the catalysts to wake
and split them out into the breen.
you will speak of your awareness
without knowing what inhabits it
like a colour that doesn't hum
or passing through a future forest
of apparitions in bald park meadows
While Driving in the Suburbs on Valentine's DayI’m sure of nothing, no one;While Driving in the Suburbs on Valentine's Day by thetaoofchaos
we’ll never be ourselves.
Our lone device is left to searching
through bins and vessels
on drives and circles
one by one, houses upon houses
secreting pills and thoughts and air
behind their stealthy doors and bellies.
I stab into each of their ugly little anthems.
What is mine?
What is mine.
Windows caught on Christmas trees
the pale hypnosis of television
bleeding through curtains drawn to a slit.
What dares to go on living in there?
Dawn comes drunk and begging
shrill and shameless, undiscerning
‘till the string breaks high above the plains
‘till it’s engorged on everything
the hairline crack in a potted blue sage
the lip of the gutters haunted by cats.
Houses are holding things close to their lungs
moistened in darkness, a glorious sadness
that no one's allowed. Left out! We're left out
of unholy communions, distensions of time.
I've only the rumors to cradle my demons
and only your face, sw
SchijtIn bathroom hoursSchijt by thetaoofchaos
I attempt to live, pretend
the fiery grackles with their lizard hearts
clinging like devils to the front yard oak
are never the worst that they have done;
they give as they have gotten.
The highpoint sun, my closet door,
the window sill, all brook together,
wide-eyed, murmuring amnesiacs
in the throes of an instant opera.
I dream of stony wisdom.
Oh, how I've burned
through her weeping silhouettes
a perpetual abrasion
on the softest parts of it.
I wonder, in whose image?
The concrete scarcely
covers up my industry
and hindsight is a ghost
who sours my endeavors.
But I will make it better.
PromiseI thought I was a prodigal man.Promise by thetaoofchaos
It doesn't matter.
The sun holds true.
Perhaps, I am a priest of thieves,
redeemed in some cautery.
The air, still bountiful and sweet.
However life inlays my debtors,
and I have laid them, after,
I will leave an opening
souls high kites with holessouls are high kites with holes, the sky is like a crystal ballsouls high kites with holes by thetaoofchaos
Blue sky harrow:
How lost for adjectives
To break our fast up there
Sugar, tea, and birdsong?
Of course, kites, souls
Curiosities, wind being free
While we, ground strung Gullivers
Flat beneath the
Of the wolcen burnspot
What do I call myself?
My sex deliquesced
An epicene, I'm a lover of honey bees
A curling fern:
We slip around like
In Lilliput ponds.
We dive in as
The tadpoles stop
At the empty
Of an underwater statue-
Arms like levers:
Blackening the coats
And peeling back
Stripping time of
We see the sky
Where it is skyless;
It remains an opal;
In the bowl
Spider Webshis mind is full ofSpider Webs by indiana-w
spiders that spin vast webs and
eat each other whole
Poseidon IPoseidon told mePoseidon I by indiana-w
about a race,
distant cousins of his,
that swim across the lightwaves
and solar winds
that stretch the length of the universe
He told me that they combat
the currents of dark matter
and ride the undertow of gravity
as they avoid getting drunkenly drawn
into suns and blackholes
He told me that when they kiss,
nebulae form around them,
making procreation as dangerous
as dancing in minefields
He told me that when they are born,
like angels, they must quickly learn
to breathe the light
or they will wither like damned souls
He told me than when they die,
they dry and harden, and are at last
pulled into the hearts of flaming stars
where they explode like the shards of diamonds
(redhot, with radiant white auras)
He told me that their weary spirits rest
in the blackness beneath
the last day of the WorldOn the last day of the Worldthe last day of the World by brassteeth
(of all things)
wine favours the liver
far better than brandy.
there were so
many goddam miracles,
we couldnt seal
Those bricks wept
of hand-blood and
still they poured unstoppable,
through stained glass
Well, You grew my feet,
to fit certain sandals.
But hot blotches and spacious
sizes are no substitutes
Objective philanthropic growth?
Oh please, life was never so big.
I declare, what lit
and talking box,
will tell me what to think again?
What sediments of wit and foreplay
slip though these waves of mud?
Show me your chaos and
I will present to you
the gift of perfect order.
History built stone sticks,
from earth and wood,
to hold our strange desires.
Sand to glass,
towers with cloud views.
and we forgot to ask,
if they could ever disappear.
(Turns out they could.)
complete exsanguination... who knew it would becomplete exsanguination... by thisdemonblack
so hard to make oaths in blood?
let's use spit instead.
VagrantsYour words are vagrants,Vagrants by Scarlettletters
bent black and blue
by the wind -
soiled and lonely,
waiting for a beautiful man
to brush them from your face
and make them clean.
They long to find a hallway
and to intoxicate someone's lover
and play Jezebel in his arms
what his name really means
and why his wife is dying.
They want to call him on the telephone
and ask if these scars are real
or if all sin is original,
immaculate and lacking,
like something left out overnight
that cannot find its home.
They want to hit below the belt
and leave lipstick on his collar,
a telltale slash,
and climb into a whiskey bottle
left hiding in a suitcase -
the kind your father carried
when he left you
waiting for a promise.
love and justice: a blind dateI now preferlove and justice: a blind date by YouInventedMe
so I can quake
and curse fate
of the burden
avoiding left by
almost alright with
once you learn
riding a bike
and it seems
I never met a liar
that I didn't like
I love you's
not a sentence
there's a sort of
what's a boy
when fear's not
what it appears
intuit an intent
when purpose is
FidelityHe sits like a tree, strong, but relaxed. The round top of his bald head reminds me of a bowl. He is draped more in serenity and wisdom than in his simple robes. The radiance of his communion with all life clings to him. His presence adds nobility to the austere room.Fidelity by indiana-w
He captains soldiers, not of war, but of the mind.
I sit with my brothers, legs dutifully folded. We gather around him like the river washing around a rock. His is a guide at our center. His knowledge is to us like the secrets of the divine. His word is to us a holy command.
he raises his voice,
and we follow with a roar
like a waterfall
|my favorite dA poetry|