the state of the nation: a mystical biography

1 - gaining a sense of the divine or birth (taste)

birds twitter
as the Ravens caw
amidst the city din --

2 - the emptying of self or hardship (smell)

I'm not sure of
where I find myself
the room that I am in --

there is many a way that I can say
'distrust in these words with ease'

I'm not sure of the place I'm in
because of you, black eternity --

a tale told of mystery
a sea of mystic fire
and all the world that I am in
it is a bleak quagmire

reminiscent
of the sea --

I'm not so sure of all
the things you've been telling me
of this and that and all and sundry --

I'm not so sure of reality
though places come
and places go
and in between am I
and that is changing as I go
from here to there and why

3 - return to the divine or maturity (sight)

because of change and change rearranged
as change of change and change
deranged arranged as reigning change of love --

4 - the dark night of the soul or decadence (hearing)

As thick, as dark, as night to light
as to the why of we
and there we go as in a flight
of angels partingly

5 - the total identification with the All that is or transformation (touch)

We come and this is what we see
of all that is around
that what we are and what we hear
is all a momentous sound

no words can take what you muddle in your befuddled brain

No words can say what I am hearing
the birds a twitter or the bleakly
caw of the black raven
the carrion of black liberty --

the birds a twitter and the
Raven caws in the sin of city din
insisting on a deranged liberty -- a noble erasure

therefore timeless -

sHe is a Daemon

flickering in a glance
and the shimmer on a flowers petals
like diamonds of light -

sHe is an Angel

beating wings tipped in tears and laughter
between a heart beat
and intense disinterest
always flirting with Dreams -

sHe stumbles

upon whimpered words
but has a didactic memory when unspoken

sHe sings

often and sHe enthuses
as much as I am aMused by sHe -

sHe speaks

~ in tongues in my inner ear
while smiling at me for losing my train of thought -

the language of the Birds, her secular tongue,
while silence is her noble one,

sHe is fickle

and measures the shape of my heart
with how much awe I've beat it with today -

the final hate

will look for the last reason
to break your face all over the place
will flush with vengeance--

lies
and fears will fiercely be held
in clenched teeth

thereafter the sting of retribution
will come down hard

righteously driven desperate despot
in a truculent way

                damn slow pokes
                get off the road
                ufucking jerk off !

screeching smokescreen
screaming, shiny
jagged pieces
dripping red

               HAH--
               the sucker never knew what hit 'em --



B.C. road rage victim
http://www.cbc.ca/canada/british-columbia/story/2008/03/13/bc-roadrage.html

No limit: A Rondel

There is no limit to vast Space or Time --
Nor of living in happiness and Love.
These prisons do not come from up above,
Come, take heart with this feeling sublime.
Come, climb with me out of this holy slime.
Where can we go, to rise, the undreamed of!
There is no limit to vast Space or Time --
Nor of living in happiness and Love.

My love, a song a singing for you, I'm
Wandering too, round about, in want of
A way through this intricate web we wove!
There is no limit to vast Space or Time --
Nor of living in happiness and Love.

A rondel is a variation of the rondeau in which the first two lines of the first stanza are repeated as the last two lines of the second and third stanzas, thus a rhyme scheme of ABba abAB abbaA(B). (Sometimes only the first line of the poem is repeated at the end.)

I like to meet in tongues

I like to meet in tongues


I like to meet in tongues
so I dedicated my skull to learning about taste
feeling around for a pretty one
who gets with speaking in tongues and
licking soliloquies in my inner ear
and tastes like apples and sweet discoveries

looping and rolling tongues
licking and learning --
drinking the waters of each other
where we can taste friend or enemy
and explore what each other has
forgotten
on the
tip of the tongue

I tasted your lost keys once
and found them where you said you had looked
maybe if I lick your boots I'll know where you've been
maybe my tongue is better at tasting the future than the past

Somehow I knew we were coming to an end
I tasted your dry lips and your tongue
hid behind that uneven wall

You tasted like the metal coldness of keys forgotten
I began to feel this nauseous exasperation
I can taste it even now

It is bitter --