misanthropology

I.

i am so fucking glad to be apart of this
heathen generation of
bitches and assholes, rending their hearts
aparts on the docks of an old sea run dry,
blessing me with their pine tree smiles
for all their worth
for about 10 miles
in every direction!

each mind pervade a drift and wide open
blazed their blinds, and with seas and sawed off
hopes and dreams, oh the irony he said sarcast-aside,
how clever endeavors break upon neap
tide

for every vainglorious
eye cast bloom blush
burst open lash batting
bitch made
man son of a boy,
i've heard the sound of thousand
horrible jokes
some nudges
some pokes,
some high expectations and some
broken broken hopes
made with reference to Tolstoy
(wow!)

comforting, i guess it's not
all rested with omniscience nestled
deep across its heavy breast
and harboring its empty vessels,
bringing golden Aphra Behns the
softly light advancing hence;
the morning virtue turns the clock,
the TV's loud and the
radio's on,
and i hope to catch my breath when
i'm neck to neck with imagery
commonplace unfortunate,
daft beyond all misery,

hopefully the sound's unspoken
and painfully awash awoken
by the sounds of hapless babes
devirginized by a new age,
bereft and huffing puffing
death-defying mace aside the leather bag
oh how we've deceived them! and they have been
taken by the words they've taken
conflated with the only words they've heard
but haven't learned themselves
averting eyes disaster rides in the face
of all the maybes
the world can offer for 10 a-buck
advertisements around the clock,

but for all of the nothing castles
float upon the clouds of folly fickle
and rain their shine and pour the wine
it flows it glows and down it goes

fie expects, fie fie fly
because of all the things
expect to pass the worst of things
and watch them last your friends and loves
and homes and hearts,
the constants whirring arrange away
contents content with mounting contempt

a bridging break stone gap it cries
it cries it cries! oh don't you sympathize
the world explodes its tears erupt the
sacred landscape bare corrupt,
a kiss blown gone and down away
the mocking stench of memory

with hate you all
with hate you all
careless and disappoint
another phone call
embroiled mind retreats its hive
the reminiscence dance with god;

if only you could see the violence deep inside of me
i see blood and pain and joy be gained
i'm not excited by anything but death
an artless poem, a lack of depth
the clarity breaks the poetry's gone
perhaps the words be fetched alone
why write words when no one reads?
and those who read are dead to me!
what's left the greatest minds have been
marred by pride, and inability to see outside
a blanket bunch of broken souls
self conscious eyes dug underground and entrenched
trenchant, fortified

the dumb are still alive they
break their backs working their livelihoods
they buy excuses on the dollar dime
and nickeled in the
shiny shine

no theres nothing left for the meek unable
blank bereft
the dignity of life is gone
take us now
before it goes on


II.


friends are a wilting flower broken
another nothing note passed under the doorway
asking for a favor or two, affirmations mentioning
mothers fathers and social forces' confluences
approbations, rejections, masturbation;
ha! i've lived the best times of my lives
hiding away from the prying myopic eyes
messianic solitude, solidarity
messenger supreme, absolute certainty.
apocalypse now! the end of man
the fall of the human face the countenance
dead,
satan gone, jesus vain,
an hourly rate driven to the minute.

friends broken an illusion muttering
selfish breaks in a smile a frown
a sympathetic glance it looks upon
passing sentiments another subject
it runs away, brush against,
give me your heart and lent ears
borrowed away and frustrated tears
no the cross is heavier
the wood is splintering the weight
crushes the homeless thoughts that strident
cry
shelter shelter, the dying branch its graying leaves
the gutter aside it collects its leaves, devoid
of description,
without mention mutters hopeful
tea kettle porcelain separate face
gently inlaid, its blue lines scripting something
sincere, but is it real?

the world eats itself and spits you out
the product of a thousand years of regurgitation
cud-chewing folks with premeditation
commercial, conglom-o, global circumnavigate,
advertised and infiltrated
the arts! the books! the philosophy! the movies and the TV,
(oh, but not the poetry!)
the magazines filter through
the lowest common denominator
until it is all substance, groundless
style, flashing gently a street light
an abandoned street, wet with rain,
paved with pain, the softened lights glare across
the slippery cement hill

GOD COMPLEX! open its eyes,
the world is a miracle and
she is its cause,
the opera intones its layered notes
kaleidoscope tragedian Capulet
copulate,
the social circles,
fawning fame seeping
deep the corners of a naive brain;
brace yourself, my dear
the end is near
and the pattern indicates a fall from grace!

the world oyster yawns its
tongue lolls out the tail droops
oh its all subject matter
subject to change
the empty anger, the passionate rage
dying light is our salvation
the light itself has blinded us.