Poetry Blogs (2017, fragments)

"The law, cold in itself, can never be accessible to those passions which can justify the cruel act of murder." Marquis De Sade 

"Let he that is without sin cast the first stone." Jesus Christ 

His words created a residue that caressed the body with spectral fingers. A fog of ephemera and phantoms born from the mind.

I have found that abstinence has all the richness of decadence. A denial...

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I would rather aspire to the inspirations that bring shame than the virtues of the just.

Evil does not exist save as a concept. Yet we are greatful for the concept as nothing is more delightful than being wicked.

The pungency of decay has a bouquet that clings tight like a lover or a memory.

Nothing excites the senses more than the extremes of experience. Life must be sacraficed in some d...

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For the murderer the Tiger becomes the representative of attainment to peace from the prosecution of morality.

Like the serpent my blood has ran cold. I sleep coiled with others who have cold blood and venomous mouths.

Knowing better is knowledge that impedes freedom.

Ultimately freedom is corrosive to the state and freedom of the state is corrosive to the freedom of the individual.

Ty...

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A place where grief grows flowers. Pierced by a star of sorrow white flowers break the earth.

The white hot heat of lust evaporates tears and their causes. 

Can't see the sun for the light.

Like a river that can feel the bank I came inside perfection.

Where the filth and smut are golden and we fill our bottomless pockets.

Infinity! Harlot of the drunken abyss. Whore of the Gods. Tak...

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"Everything seen is a manifestation of the unseen." Adyashanti 

I spend so much time with aware beings and deities that there is a distinct feeling of unreality that saturates and pervades my life. A slight tinge of sadness colors the peripheries of my days.

I looked for sickly sweet oblivion in the poppy fields of amnesia. Yet I was immune to such gaudy luxuries.

Where mirrors sweat with...

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Just as fire cannot move without burning. These hands cannot touch I AM. 

Rest in the ashes as clouds dissolve into water.

Fire is thirsty and drinks itself to death.

I eat everything until the world is barren my name is humanity.

Lust becomes rage and fury then settles back into the moisture of sad tears.

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We can't always share our thoughts but we can always share our silence so freinds let's share our silence with each other.

I see the sun is only a shadow of my cruelty.

Aphrodite is so cruel but her cruelty is not hers it belongs to cruelty. Only cruelty is cruel.

Come children I have corruption that is better than the kind words of your parents. It tastes of tears inside h...

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For us depression is our sexuality.

Nature can be sadistic this is a truth that humans find difficult to accept.

Without resistance what is physical pain? Just an intensity? Did Christ suffer on the cross?

Age 10 or 11 Limos committed her first sex crime. Age 20 she was banished to a frozen wasteland. Her main interest is healing and happiness. 

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An infinity of white marble blocks is an eternity of bliss for Rodin and Bernini.

Truth serves no one but the end that never ends.

To witness the falling rain as a miracle.

Always a child always a student. All crowns represent me.

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I want to trip and fall over like the sky.

I look for a solution to the infinity of the impossible. The terror of being everywhere must be terrible indeed. The mistakes of the enlightened masters should be shared with humanity.

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As a sapling I was wounded now I'm a crooked tree bearing bitter fruit. I ferment my fruits and drink them as wine. Intoxicated upon dark love.

I pursue the wind as life's servant. 

Cruelty shapes beauty to take the breath away. 

I regret knowledge but not learning. To know certain truths is to harbour a foetus of cancer. 

The voice of God should be ignored if you want to remain blissf...

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A short story told me by someone in heaven that loves me:

Once upon a time there were two men who couldn't decide which was the best. They both sequestered themselves away to create great works of art. After a while they both felt they had created a masterpiece. One man showed him his painting. The other played him his composition. They both loved each others work they realised true beauty co...

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Your hands are maps they show me where beauty lies.

From the deepest night to where? Who can relinquish their Shadows when the light becomes unbearable?

I touch you with my heart and yet yearn to feel you with my skin. If only time would end, my love knows no constraint.

Wanting and experience are two different things. Perhaps wanting is the path that leads us to desires fulfillm...

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The place where actions are born is where I want you to kiss me.

I write poetry in your wounded heart with the love of love. 

Abuse is an action but love knows no movement. 

This child cost forever and only love can redeem such debt. 

Every circle of the universe desires love no wound is too deep. 

In the cul-de-sacs of oblivion a light appears. 

Love is a place where circles are...

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I feel a desire to derange my senses for a crucifixion to stretch myself across the endless threshold. An intimacy with infinity. I can't help wanting the things that I fear. 

Just to sit with you and look at the stars together. How simple how timeless. A moments love lasts beyond a moment. 

What has the moon learned from the sun? Lunacy. 

Does the sun ever meditate upon the source of its...

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When I listen to Beethoven's 7th symphony I imagine a roman emperor restlessly pacing the halls of the senate at night with the burdens of the state upon his mind. 

https://youtu.be/mgHxmAsINDk

I want to dance to music no other mortal can hear. The madness of Finnagans Wake filtered through synthesizers and impossible instruments. I want to be as dangerous as a multiplicity of scalpel cuts. ...

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This was copied and pasted from my friend's website the aphorisms are so brilliant that I wanted to share them here. 

http://www.fraglit.com/impassioned/quotations/aphorisms/porchia-fs.htm

Antonio Porchia

(1886–1968)

Antonio Porchia was born in Italy and lived in Argentina from 1911 until his death. All his writings (aphorisms) are contained in one book: Voices (the following quo...

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When we put our vulnerability in the hands of another it is misunderstood and spoiled by that misunderstanding.

Words words words just soil filling a grave.

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My imaginary friends comfort my loneliness. To say they are imaginary isn't quite right but I have no labels that fit.

They sit with me and watch my dreams as I sleep. 

Nothing can truly satisfy my desires. So I try to rest in the place that they are born from. 

 I feel so weary with life. The possibility of being incarcerated or persecuted a constant shadow. If I gave up drugs and alcoho...

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All the animals I love and have forgotten have starved to death. I open the door to their room and it feels like punch of sadness in the gut.

When I slash myself to ribbons with a scalpel I don't take myself seriously. I'm just the punchline of a sick joke. 

The pitch dark of depression oozes from my pores. 

Kindness is priceless. 

Innocence a creation of the wicked...

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The philosophers will burn themselves into fresh air the perfume of truth. 

What is truth without a universe of tangible objects? 

Is the perceivable reality just an allusion to what is formless? A sign post to the beyond for those no longer satisfied with a physical life?

The unconscious and sex seem to be purely motivated by a fear of death. Without that fear how would people and sexual...

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Like love drunk upon the blood of a still beating heart, I come as one into the lions lair to eat the flesh of carnivores. 

Her voice is like a gift I wish would never die. I am born anew each time I hear her. 

In doubt I am doubted. In love I am far reaching beyond every star. In fire I burn all that burns. In death I am stillness awaiting the call of memories, a sleep that the living pass ...

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I didn't like the personality of my father's cock...but I loved the appearance. 

"Thanks" exists as a reminder that we care, nothing more.

I am an ocean vomiting seasick upon the shore.  

Actors woodenly feel for the flesh of dry and timbrous lines. 

Fiction spins webs deeper than the womb.

Charcoal soldiers marchingly grind down to dust. Atissue we all fall down.

Paraliminal exp...

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Seeing is not just reflection the stuff of interpretation is there. 

As a little boy I stared at evil unflinching and I fell in love.

"Hello have you got parts of the universe?" misheard question to a neighbour.

Every contented cat is a Buddha. 

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The raindrops fall upon me apologetically.

I prefer to write authors rather than books. 

The deafening frequency of my voice that I cannot understand. 

The first serial killers of the old testament were tillers of the ground. 

Who created time? Isn't it getting a bit old now?

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My mind feels like someone is taking their hand out of a glove.

Spider enities tell venomous stories before disappearing.

I have created a penitentiary for penitence that mocks itself.

The universe is a vast copulation.

Adults are lost children denied themselves by denial.

We partake in the destruction of beauty's peak because it is so very beautiful.

I realised the danger of wri...

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Howl with lacerations and bleed the cheap absurdity of living. A moment of life like the sweetness of decay just before it turns putrid. 

I have just one thing to say. 

Leaving just means I'll always be behind you.

Recklessly I wreck myself. I live the thrill of destroying the body and mind. Spite as ecstasy a kind of drunken abandon.

My wine has femented with a destruction so lou...

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Now the news presenters are like frightened animals we keep as pets.

I've slipped so far below your standards I can't even see you anymore.

She came as a murderer to me killing with pleasure my human innocence.

You can spit in my face but your spitting into the sky.

God is giving birth to deformed angels. The reign of the fallen is close at hand.

The imagina...

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Tranquility in your presents

doves pecking as our kiss is tending

lips lock our mind in a spell, as the doves sing their song, letters spelling in the air.

clouds draw me close for a better look

fractals in the nooks, lump to lump, baby rainbows extend their hand and shake with glee

telling my lover she is the best mother to be

She see's the beauty in my beastial nature, cal...

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There is a maturity earned in living an intolerable life. There is also a wild beauty in giving up too.

Writing: a distance that feels intimate.

Some sink their ship's slowly savouring the taste of their subsidment. Others dare to rage into extinguishment.

Raymond Carver "I write to impose my view upon the world."

The endurance of living staggers me in my drunken gait.

I can no long...

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In reaching out for kindness I hold onto life's tenuous grip. I feel the despair of the autumn leaf that cannot fall. 

The appearance of beauty is a superficiality whose well of creation is endless as it is inspirational.

She does not speak english if she does it is purely incidental for she speaks the language of the unconscious.

Sometimes we lose the ones we love when we choose to get l...

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The minutiae of violence subtly transmitted in the space of a thought arising. We convey infinities when our eyes touchlessly touch.

At times I hear the discourse of two angels endlessly debating the right and wrong of my every action.

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They don't despise me. That is love.

If I revolt, consider the ugliness of your revulsion. Don't confuse your inspiration with its offspring.

I strike true...past the heart of your defenses...but you must distance yourself with walls that don't exist.

I speak to wake the eroticism that sleeps in every heart.

We are not hand-in-hand but hand-inside-hand.

I held her so close we both d...

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What isn't glimpses itself through a refraction of words.

Words that only see themselves preach blindness.

I touch to know touch. Gentler than the whisper of a breeze, softer than the skin of water.

Nightmares like weeds are virulent they grow everywhere.

Suicide: a moment of anguish before the calm.

One more poem then I'll love you unseen. One more...the excuse of living.

Drunke...

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Pleasure a form of happiness that survives in the most extreme regions of human experience.

Sometimes sadness was a candle flame held beneath the heart. At some point all feelings become assimilated by the pain until it can no longer hurt.

The universe isn't evil just profoundly innocent. It is we who are too complex.

True beauty does not deny ugliness.

I can't help...

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Life a game of solitaire that imagined there were others.

I smoke and drink now but the difference between now and the past is that I no longer view it as a bad habit but  instead I give myself entirely to it with love.

Love is a complexity few are willing to encompass, understand or accept.

Sometimes I think of my betrayal of William S Burroughs and I hope my writing softe...

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A library of empty books is every child. To put your mark upon virgin pages is either to embellish or stain.

Curiosity gave birth to the curious cat. Every questioner is killed by the answer.

Nonsense contains the inner wisdom of absurdity.

Elegance pleases beauty and love is our tutor.

Philosophers use words to create new skies. Nietzsche the unfurling of a storm. Wittgenstein a sky w...

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I felt I had betrayed her when I said I loved poetry. I hurt with it and desired to forget. She is all I remember.

Acceptance is love like the shade that dapples the tulip.

The voice unseen mirrors me.

I was happy perhaps it never ends.

Wounds like tides pulling currents. 

Charm a soft yellow glow. Her words the clouds of endless possibility.

We invent a dance that can't be dance...

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We are in love with the sacred angels of youth. You may look upon the same images as us but you will never lose your breath to their beauty as we do. We are isolated by the preference of our singular perception.

We breathe the air of damp despair within the silent chamber of our cracked and broken heart.

Deviancy is the blasphemous prayer we sing silently night and day in our heart...

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An eye contact so forceful it leaves bruises.

If you want to create a nation of sincere people give them war and concentration camps.

Sleep the motion of stillness a wave of silence.

Sleep: In the absence of all stimuli we forget we exist.

Sappho does not mourn burned papyrus but deaf ears. For she is still singing and no one hears her.

They feed the malnourished with delicious dece...

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Lost in my desire to hold thin air tight to me your love commits me to murder my heart. I am swollen with desire for our never ending union. Lost without ever knowing a home. Your sadness is a grace that's tender and touchless. I feel you within me without boundaries or limits. Gentle and dark, obscene and depraved I thirst to give you my blood as much as you thirst to consume it.

I write for t...

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Painting by Stephen Mackey

http://www.stephenmackey.com/menu.htm

Perhaps physical immortality will become the disease of our future? The suicides and murders will remain and their groans will become the enduring echoes of our days and nights.

I have no outlet for a despair that's too wide for the dialation of poetry or speech.

A thousand sad disfigured eyes blink up at me from the bubb...

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https://youtu.be/bxUI4DeoWGg

An orchestra of babysitters.

The children grew up and I never named them. I forget you see.

Something came inside me and disappeared like the memory of skin on skin.

I write the endurance of life's marathon. Weary but compelled.

I travelled down the oesophagus of a wire and landed in the belly of a lightbulb. Blew myself out to escape the tyranny of ligh...

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Angel hair and open spilling guts hideous with intestinal snakes slithering over the floor.

I have become an illusion of arrival.

To write from stillness is to seeth still deeper than the storm.

I screamed a red skinless face. Proffered my head to the world for a beheading. 

To be born in outline only. I held a bawling pastry cutter.

Assay the killed stag of childhood. I am wor...

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