Posts

Aliyah Yerida ~ Tuesday, August 11, 2026

Is there no love in this world anymore If I told you, I believe, for a lark silence, your face turns crimson with anger theater of distress, as you could guess how I came to lose my faith in the dark enlightenment of a wraith, a specter rest like a sheet on a wooden hanger exceptions to the rule, I say, God bless nothing stands in the way, am I a fool only you did not sneeze, ask the rector leave me alone, humanity, I turn over in my small head, the clouds that pass virtue is a thing-in-itself, I burn eternal life with an idea so crass imagine a choir of boys at school not a voice heard, only farts from armpits this is not the beginning of the end history teaches us an illusion is there no love in this world, little shits sniffling, snotty, young brats, what can I do window to the world, recline to ascend only music, my dream, my delusion rest assured, I must die, if not now, then leave it to the Piedmontese , a shoe drops, we wait for the other shoe, as well ...
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It is the runner that makes the shoe great ~ Saturday, August 8, 2026

As it is not the shoe that makes the runner so, it is not the role that makes the man in business as in pleasure to treasure the other as sister and as brother in all affairs to make aware presence such is the meaning found in the mirror nothing but introverted language games obvious to mind monadic nomads to see how nothing moves but the senses thoughts appear in the sky as fluffy clouds how is it people cannot see these thoughts everything changes over time but space shove the stone angel face and meditate how people ignore the rules of the road only to complain bitterly, so bold everyone observes the changes, the ground that quakes and shifts, back and forth, back and forth how contrived as imagination dreams arguments valid and not invalid to recognize what is sound or unsound monsters imaginary become real asinine as a prophesy fulfilled kindness hidden in truth, yet in plain sight everywhere different yet the same, to hear signals and smell the smoke as re...
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Down Memory Lane ~ Saturday, August 8, 2026

Do you remember when we were children of course, you pinned me down and tickled me yet, because this took place behind closed doors of course, so much more happened in our house understood, mom and dad were gone at work remember how you were a child back then each time, I look back, I remember this memories are funny that way, trauma enfolds just like diverticulitis maybe foreshadowing how dad would die blurry, fifty years later, the torture each time, I look back, I remember pain remember inexpressible sorrow when you have no one to turn to, family honestly, for many, an ugly word each time, I look back, more out of habit not just a need to remember the hurt we were not close and would never be close each time, proximity nearly killed me were children meant to be left all alone each time, you blew your bad breath in my face remember, mom called me an elephant each time, like when we found our Keeshond dead children are known not to be nice or kind how did I sur...
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Eat Me ~ Friday, August 7, 2026

John 6:57 57  Just as the living Father sent me, and I live because of the Father, so whoever eats me will live because of me. --- Just because...is that not enough for you, until I met her, I chose death, my own sitting still as a monk, clouds in my mind throwaway lives, how sad, gray skies turn blue answer the question before me, this pain search the whole universe, my skin is brown the fact that I cannot see, am I blind honestly, what is the point to this life each day, I wake up with nothing to gain living so long, I feel like an old man invest in the future, is that a joke visions of suffering, the world to span insist that others must feel just how broke normal people, ever so full of strife give guidance, as if full of light, what lies Father, I met a young woman, we spoke as if we knew each other, as old friends thanks for all the angels, all in disguise however, I still cannot make much sense each day, with no money, I wake up broke really, what is th...
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Good Morning, Sugar Bowl ~ Thursday, August 6, 2026

First thing, in the morning, I cut a line in the morning, a razor blade, Franklin religiously, a novena, nine days suffer the rosary, mirror supine taste the sweetness, Walter, my dad is dead think you know better child, a shot of Glen hollow within, embrace the creep, displays in the windows as I pass on the street now, am I awake or asleep, instead given nothing matters but delusion illusory, hit a bump in the road nothing but confusion, this illusion this imaginary throne, take a seat heated as a carseat in wintertime emissary of the devil, barn owl millions and millions in the bank, I sank on the golf course, a hole in one, my crime rests with the defense in a court of law normal, this morning routine runs afoul in the eyes of observers, still I drank needlessly, to numb my body of pain given I scuttle with my ragged claw I drink as a dictum, get drunk and high cupidity with a bottle of gin understand, dear reader, how much it pays to stay alive, healthy, and not decline asinine, m...
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As on the last day ~ Tuesday, August 4, 2026

As on the last day... After the party, everyone drove home forget drunk driving with driverless cars terrible as the future may appear every day gets better under the dome remember, we all have some place to be the night was a success, emptied the bars hand over fist, we paid rent without fear eviction for no good reason, we slayed pushing the envelope, the money tree answered all of our prayers, shaking leaves remember, no one cares unless they know to protect in service, the record sleeves yesterday, spun with the vinyl, we grow empty, full of hunger, and still we prayed virtually day and night for others exactly when did we begin to see remember, how the light made us buoyant yes, lighter than water but who bothers obsessive-compulsive photon junkies nobody understood under the sea empty space beyond time made us truant drunk on the darkness, as on the last day remember, poison kills slowly, flunkies only grace lets us feel lighter than air vision beyond the ...
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Not even to save my own life, help me! ~ Monday, August 3, 2026

If I try to write a novel, words fail fortress of solitude, if I portray I see myself in the mirror, reflect trust in the characters, held without bail rely on the scene and setting to move yesterday into tomorrow, I pay to live with all my dreams as to deflect off the walls like a racquetball, this room witnesses observe what I have to prove rely on description, the mirror screams in a moment of reflection, so pure to dip a toe, the quicksilver of dreams enter the imaginary, endure architecture as narrative, the loom notices in the weave, the warp and weft objects to make a tapestry, image views the maker without deceit, such grief emerges in each line, sentenced, bereft literature reads beyond devices words fail my hand to reach into my rage objects of psychological belief resound against the walls, an empty space demonstrates mind, an ideal suffices suppositions as to explain the brain fellow travelers find themselves so lost architectonics of the novel, the...
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