05-17-2021, 03:28 AM
the woman lies for the man, to the benefit of the child
When Tommy Johnson sold his soul to the Devil,
he simply gave up his ego for this carnal world
of genius and heartbreak.
Physical and Mental are the same.
Ego, nonego.
All alphabets have the same letters.
All ideas have the same thoughts.
The feeling-tones,
the feeling-tones are different.
Emotions are biased. Angry and lustful.
All sex is love.
As trees know,
the systems in the air,
in the mind,
in pain anger lust hate,
all love. Everything is sexual.
Sexism is lust. Racism is lust.
Childcare is lust. The Salvation Army
plus ideas about lust.
No will is true will
and no will and true will are the same
are two different things.
No one will is true.
All you do, you can't but have done.
That situation, that directional course
of the nervous system
is what's meant by karma.
Karma is nothing. Do what you do,
and who can say you aren't?
To give yourself to Christ
is to be somebody doing something,
as selling your soul to the Devil
is to sell your enemy the moon.
This is the Interesting Gospel.
One foot before and after another.
Everything said and written,
are mine. A Thing with many eyes,
T. S. Eliot opens eyes there, Lautreamont there,
me here. Different Eyes of the Same Body.
One monster of the Word, imposing a Logic,
eating a fruit, rolling my pants legs,
going to bed with your wife,
one door opens, another closes,
the house is pregnant with Silence.
Interesting, but lame.
You'd have to be an Angel
to navigate the world that way.
Love is only free.
Jealousy is the only Sin,
and Envy is its Brother;
free as water and sunlight,
the Twins take to vocations,
the Nomads die in one place,
the intrepid Gardener wanders. . .
Planting seeds in realms beyond the living,
The Right Brain joins hands with the Left Hand,
and a new pair of eyes open in "dead space."
Who here has been in Love?
Real love. The kind that's not our Kind
but theirs?
Who among the dead living hates his Enemy
to make Sense of himself?
One time I saw two squirrels
battling in spring.
Limb to branch, one riding and
tumbling
from the other.
A fight, and not a rotten branch,
not once, as distracted as we would be,
not a misjump. Clear and even
jumps. Nothing tumbles to the ground.
And next Spring, new Twins
run clawed hand in hand in early June.
These lines are told me by the Spirits.
I switch pencils, and still they come.
Not a mote, not a tittle changed;
I write with right hand and open eyes.
Forgiveness is the only idea
the Church ever had.
All else is of the Beast.
And the Lady riding is my friend.
I'd ask her to dinner, if she knew
I exist.
Fame stands between us,
quotations and open roads.
Love has no sense of humor,
otherwise it would be dead.
Who hasn't cried when love was lost;
true love is without humor.
Understanding is a Verb Nouning.
Wisdom is a Noun Verbing.
Dissonance is the bad music
that makes Great Musicians laugh.
Their pride is their sacrifice;
they must have that agon with Good Fun.
To exorcise a demon, is to remove a cub from its Pride.
Mothers and brothers, sisters and newly noticed friends,
they are lost and forgotten. And the demon becomes a man.
—Genius is the end of things, not the beginning.
A crossroads is transplanted from state to state,
passing on from Tommy to Robert, Rimbaud
and Paganini, T. S. Eliot and William Blake.
The Beast is merely ridden, the Scarlet Woman merely rides.
The Sword says I love you.
The most open heart hides.
Too much is said about the Poets.
Why they talk about themselves?
Not hide behind quotations,
but talk instead of write.—
I want to say something, just for now;
but I won't.
Sara Albanese,
Beth Roars,
Emily Browning,
Zooey Deschanel,
Laura at Food Lion,
Summer Stewart and Dollar Ginny,
my lost girl in Hell;
I want to be there when you awaken,
I want you to hold me as I die.
My life is nothing without you.
I'm the most honest when I lie.
[And here the angels say
take a break]
When Tommy Johnson sold his soul to the Devil,
he simply gave up his ego for this carnal world
of genius and heartbreak.
Physical and Mental are the same.
Ego, nonego.
All alphabets have the same letters.
All ideas have the same thoughts.
The feeling-tones,
the feeling-tones are different.
Emotions are biased. Angry and lustful.
All sex is love.
As trees know,
the systems in the air,
in the mind,
in pain anger lust hate,
all love. Everything is sexual.
Sexism is lust. Racism is lust.
Childcare is lust. The Salvation Army
plus ideas about lust.
No will is true will
and no will and true will are the same
are two different things.
No one will is true.
All you do, you can't but have done.
That situation, that directional course
of the nervous system
is what's meant by karma.
Karma is nothing. Do what you do,
and who can say you aren't?
To give yourself to Christ
is to be somebody doing something,
as selling your soul to the Devil
is to sell your enemy the moon.
This is the Interesting Gospel.
One foot before and after another.
Everything said and written,
are mine. A Thing with many eyes,
T. S. Eliot opens eyes there, Lautreamont there,
me here. Different Eyes of the Same Body.
One monster of the Word, imposing a Logic,
eating a fruit, rolling my pants legs,
going to bed with your wife,
one door opens, another closes,
the house is pregnant with Silence.
Interesting, but lame.
You'd have to be an Angel
to navigate the world that way.
Love is only free.
Jealousy is the only Sin,
and Envy is its Brother;
free as water and sunlight,
the Twins take to vocations,
the Nomads die in one place,
the intrepid Gardener wanders. . .
Planting seeds in realms beyond the living,
The Right Brain joins hands with the Left Hand,
and a new pair of eyes open in "dead space."
Who here has been in Love?
Real love. The kind that's not our Kind
but theirs?
Who among the dead living hates his Enemy
to make Sense of himself?
One time I saw two squirrels
battling in spring.
Limb to branch, one riding and
tumbling
from the other.
A fight, and not a rotten branch,
not once, as distracted as we would be,
not a misjump. Clear and even
jumps. Nothing tumbles to the ground.
And next Spring, new Twins
run clawed hand in hand in early June.
These lines are told me by the Spirits.
I switch pencils, and still they come.
Not a mote, not a tittle changed;
I write with right hand and open eyes.
Forgiveness is the only idea
the Church ever had.
All else is of the Beast.
And the Lady riding is my friend.
I'd ask her to dinner, if she knew
I exist.
Fame stands between us,
quotations and open roads.
Love has no sense of humor,
otherwise it would be dead.
Who hasn't cried when love was lost;
true love is without humor.
Understanding is a Verb Nouning.
Wisdom is a Noun Verbing.
Dissonance is the bad music
that makes Great Musicians laugh.
Their pride is their sacrifice;
they must have that agon with Good Fun.
To exorcise a demon, is to remove a cub from its Pride.
Mothers and brothers, sisters and newly noticed friends,
they are lost and forgotten. And the demon becomes a man.
—Genius is the end of things, not the beginning.
A crossroads is transplanted from state to state,
passing on from Tommy to Robert, Rimbaud
and Paganini, T. S. Eliot and William Blake.
The Beast is merely ridden, the Scarlet Woman merely rides.
The Sword says I love you.
The most open heart hides.
Too much is said about the Poets.
Why they talk about themselves?
Not hide behind quotations,
but talk instead of write.—
I want to say something, just for now;
but I won't.
Sara Albanese,
Beth Roars,
Emily Browning,
Zooey Deschanel,
Laura at Food Lion,
Summer Stewart and Dollar Ginny,
my lost girl in Hell;
I want to be there when you awaken,
I want you to hold me as I die.
My life is nothing without you.
I'm the most honest when I lie.
[And here the angels say
take a break]