Friday 13 May 2011

perpetrates the sanity

Technorati Tags:

from the cutting room floor, circa 2009 …  my fresh falling in love with some guy who could give a shit. or so time told.

2011-04-16 001 2011-04-09 017

love on the auction block like a craigslist listing ripe now 5 days old

with a buy now option but still got killed. Witnessed by the watchers

left with some sadsong ebay email says

“ unsold ”

in boldface arial black

indeed. love ran the sword.  all she got was an epitaph written by anonymous lover who knows who:

here love resides. emotional low succeeded by rising titrated high tides.  love of the sunset tapers. The mad red sunrise. rarely unremarkable. love hurt… mad love… had heart


The dreadlocks were thick and held by

                                     silver and gold rings in various outcroppings from

                                  his nappy nappy

                                                 pretty head

            caribbean foundation put a smile in his eyes, she saw. Must have seen him six different ways since


                                       Rolling up on

a week of conscious contact between them.

deuces wild.


She was trying for

she was crying for someone to love and love her for her by her stand by her aliven her. Like wild. Like aces and deuces wild.

He just let her see and touch

this gorgeous napped out unmapped out

dreadlocked mess!

                            She smiled to find coins and precious uncommon keepsakes clasped around them

Some maybe placed years back and now immovable. Run freely up and down then found roots somewhere

an oily fresh weave? on highway eight or four? Out in unincorporated Martinez or Pacheco? circa 1988.... escaped from NYC – land of love and hate.           

                               She imagined

           what was clear to her was that this man this young man

he had been loved!  yes! Once was loved and hey!maybe many times who knows and theres no asking!

She suddenly felt hope! for him for her with him. She was suddenly struck with it. Just some light manicuring to take the edges off one another, just some light shown there in that puzzle piece place of connection. She felt.

From her shoulders

from her retinas

From her self less got lost into him. By route of Spirit on backs of roads to fields of velvet folds.

 Letting herself walk out there

was wondrous

was easy

was a world she would soon pray to have a place in



Way 2 much invested 2 soon

it sadly seemed.

What was new?  4 her? – NOTHING! so easily sized up triple beamed and tared. known quantity.

weighed out. untouched. bagged. distributed.


Cold contact titration

lacking any sensation

just a feeling washed up on your shore

a feeling which was her.


And he like so many b-4 him

chose to taper against her written script...just short of doctor shopping, truth be told. Or he was shopping elsewhere all along.

Her prayers to be let in got laid out cold T-boned

The physics the physical force and subsequent distance was atomic - too great 2 overwhelming for her to bridge. wounds came to be she could not close.

She was left desperate to throw up a sign now and then to remind him she got real estate, damn it! They got real estate!


So it seemed so soon she needed help and she knew it, he knew it, she fell to her knees crying with

the 222222222222222222222 repitition

in her lonely little aftermath space always reserved for her lonely little inconsolable

singular bedhead.

Her body her new jersey skin

pale white in the winter

coffee and cream colored in the summers

her flesh and her skin touched only by

                                          held only by

                                                known only to her


against that dark world all around her.... the cruel world!  perpetrates the sanity it does yes it does.

Her defenses now beleaugered once ran deep to stave, to hold the world off or at some distance so she could breathe at least

at last

 Yet the dreads! the dreads hung fresh and dry in her mind, her heart felt through the touch! the heart! felt the touching!

heartfelt and touched by

the symbols! the language of the diverse weaved into a bond impenetrable,  long long grown to let the world and everyone in it know not to --

Don't fuck with! this certain rooted element certain divine in the end not for her other than to witness see and touch.

Best of times she thought, how lucky her lucky star lucky day to lie around lazy with young punk rastafarian lineage? take a load off and get listless in the aftermath the postpunk postatomic posthypnotic stonewalled cellphone called up immediate microwaved and you better behave cause the walls are so thin all the sound is free to get down and move around and then – well then you have your rights, ya, your right to remain silent and have anything and everything held against you like a cold blade to your neck when youre getting jacked up.

its fucked.

Anyway, back out in the sun after she ran from Fascist Alley, she found hella wisdom on Broadway. All condensed and rolled up tight filaments.

Zipped. Charged with unusual science

undetectable to the ordinary pre-eminent usa-usamericans steady eyes. Left then right. First, second, open and aware sensing. Lawns outdoors. Rinsing. Into streets with real curbs detailed with clear arches. Roman tribute. Tricked out by fast food monsters. Golden arches. Hit the streets universal. Sore to the eye and unnatural. Comparable to some bdsm sanctioned Golden plastic showers. Theatrical.


Where she remained was

in her prayers in her dreams in what was left of memory

mixed with childlike imaginations...

Fit to be and possibly, fifty one fifty, for all anyone knows or even cares.

Nothing reflects on her. Embedded in the fearful lacking

loss of shine

her over time daydream remembering overshadowed eventually...embedded in the dreadlock. Hoping for a key.

Embedded in the dreaded nightmare location. Where love has run the sword and not yet quite arisen.

Sky without sun

Earth without trees.


No comments:

Post a Comment