I cant shut Miller up

I cant shut Miller up

hes a voluptuary who talks incessantly

vivaciously  

to keep up with him I fire synapse after maddening synapse into the air

through the rib-vaulted ceiling that is my skull and from it bolts of shivering light 

peer down through the cordite smoke and tickle its floor

                                                                                           and looking up from the batshit 

pinholes blink like nuclear stars and inbetween on wrinkled sheets of tissue projections 

are cast by reels and reals of purple memory blue experience and yellow 

unrealised possibilities

I run my hands through my hair

the light shudders

motes of dust are stirred

I want to fall back to sleep and I imagine I am dreaming in my bed beside my lover

her warm breath at my cheek my breath on her breasts

sleep deep sleep

but his voice sonorously washes across the chords of my nerves and their intone and vibrations are irresistible

they writhe like slick serpents on tines of wet grass or blind earthworms burrowing to evade 

the ivory beaks of famished birds

I cant shut him up

I cant

I also wont shut him up 

his fast phantoms break between a blink of an eye and the scarce clue I have that they were even there are their dull irradiated shadows evaporating on the film of my eye

like the scent of fresh water in the desert or the faint rose smell of a feminine ghost

0106,  Saturday,  20  10. 12

he was ironworked

black feet planted firmly in the earth

legs and thighs tensile stanchions supporting the array of his agilestacked spine and

stalwart crossbow shoulders
                               supporting  perched atop this massed erection  a bony skull 

his perceptive and cognitive watchtower

which beheld the green sweep of the surrounding fields their flanks of hills and trees

and watched the shepherds who ran from themselves

manually wrought

strapped tight by DNA  RNA

forged by strands longdead  though sprite and turbulent  contained in the loins of his mother and father
who divvied out  unremarkably   the materiel he would eventually be composed of

we are the rawest of crapshoots
                                  the vigorous shakes of die of untold facets

faces no one could draw or possibly lay odds to and no green visored oddsmakers would dare lay or take

and like he  a sculpture cast in a one-of-a-kind organic mold

a hot spasm of semen

the clutch of a hot receptive ovum

one distinct splash of magma hurtled into a blue atmosphere  twisted and spun  and fused congealed  fecund

perhaps  the single advantage he perceived

an advantage he never lost sight of

or questioned

or maligned

he was nourished fed watered and provided for

his existence was evidence

his strength and prowess was evidence

unfortunately he also witnessed other forms of evidence which did not flourish as he  
and his regret  an unmitigated regret  was their malnourishment 

when it didnt have to be

when they were robbed or stripped of it
                                          in sharpwhite broad daylight

without warrant

happening simply because it was deemed or wanted when they yet hadnt the means to defend themselves from it

later he heard it defended
                              This is a dog-eat-dog world

but he was far too straitforward too combative
and understanding the black bitter reveal he countered
                                                           I am not a dog  And neither is anyone else

but what really waft in his brain to the insolent remark was  This is a god-eat-god world

he did not believe in gods

They could eat themselves and leave the rest alone

1813,  Sunday,  14  7. 13

ROT

Sieg Heil!

yah They werent gonna call it that

Theyd have some other cry for it but itd be the same fuckin thing

so he was readying  warming up his shoulder

really stretching it out

                                               getting it pliable

                                                                                       he was gonna be spectacular at it

able to sling his arm up into the air at a crack of the moment like a fuckin gunslinger 

                                                                                                                          Billy the Kid

Billy wasnt gonna have shit on him

he was gonna be so fuckin good They would have no idea he was mocking them

an exaggeration

a farce blown out to the absurd

for as best he could tell  Devotees

were extreme 

were outlandish 

and hed be sure to fit right in with his pompoms and cheerleading get-up

tears ruining his eyeliner and make-up

Mein Kampf would follow in record time

                                                                     possibly surpassing the utmost Very timely

Uniting and Strengthening America by Providing Appropriate Tools Required to Intercept

and Obstruct Terrorism Act  

of 2001

what an act!

he could see its tiles shaking loose like those of the space shuttle

and like Challenger

doomed

kicking around for only a matter of time

Fuck!

(maybe a little crestfallen)

he had hoped that marching goosestepped would be outdated or outmoded

itd be a helluva lot more work getting his hips loosened up enough to legitimately mock

the chorusline

he really didnt wanna be a poor actor for his part

he wanted to be convincing

had to be convincing!

he wanted to snarl and spit with the best of Them  scream for blood  throw bodies on

bonfires 

Ride that unfurling wave of Entitlement lying

                                                                  at the foot of his utter contempt and resentment

hmm

best watch that

best worry he might sound bitter

had to keep it vigorously in check

                                                                  bitterness always tends to carry an acrid smell

like Black Death seeping through sachets worn like birdbills to ones head or how honey

didnt always hide the taste of medicine carried in its amber

                                                                                                          certainly a child

wouldnt imagine their parents would slip them something nasty

Oh  but something nasty they did let slip   

something spun from out of their control

as if they ever had control

and taking on a life of its

Own

traipsing ways unimagined

one mans garbage another mans treasure

but that whiff

that stiff unsettling whiff

of somethings gone bad

and something smelling that it ought to be buried

and very soon

or spores form

and spores fly

and so many unexpected things become tainted

once begun

Rot

is hard to stop

1804,  Thursday,  22  8. 13