It Wasn't Me

"Use your brain!" once you said
Taking over the wash to show
How it's done with eyes and hands.

What matter what day it was?
Valentine's, as any Sunday slow,
I rushed out for your card.

And enough about it. I've renounced it
with your moods. No comprendo?
I'm not learning that language!

An atmosphere invents itself
between the bits revealed as once,
"Stay away!" And so it wasn't me,
I made no cliches this Valentine's.

Shopping

Gripping plastics, Child,
you know exactly what you want,
though it would change
just as soon in your hand.

And later with friends
the metals and lights
solicit your sight
and jump off the shelf.

After long down those aisles
your withered hands
grabbing sturdy jewls
to brighten your grays
will stop by a child
led by firm family hands
grabbing such plastics
above its gaze.

So Many are Against Nature

It's here,
..........you didn't make it
but it did
..........you.

No quicker
your hand hastened
than it was
..........going to.

Who objects
to followed behavior?

What for, Object?

Object that does as they,
that is as will be.

Arbitrary time
knows this moment,
yet circles elsewhere
East and West
where the same motion
................repeats.

Nowhere unrest
but locked shut
though some tug and rattle
that lock.

Though some rattle the chains.

Object, disappear.
An unconscious is your one end
doing only what will be done.

Institution

Kill words, what's truth worth? as
Polititians, two sides pulverize;
Can't tell anymore what's real,
Where to go away so that I feel
No more?

History repeats its warcraft,
Nam and Himmler all ex Jews as
Pol Pot, Mao's rise, Stalin's fall
Tear down forever that godamn wall.

Feel the crash of institution,
A member of its contribution;
Can't believe world's words,
What they say
Gotta make, better find a better way
Now.

Gotta kill all this killing,
Always wrong if God is willing
Where it stands,
I ain't for the world
And I ain't your whore.

To Verlaine

Past chances, what you want?
The chilled air grieves in mordant tones
And the sun darts down in monotone
Over orange woods where wind intones.

We were one and one in dreams vibrant
Just us, hair and thoughts blown.
So sudden her eyes at me did enchant:
"What's the greatest day you've ever known?"

Her voice twinkling angelic,
And as suiter, I gave my answer discreet
With a kiss on her white hand.

Woah! The first buds spring finest
And the next sounds I just can't stand
Of first yeses without rest.

Being In Time

Iron forged to place
Burnished molds hardened
Burned all dross and waste
So the statue stood.

But culminates
To here where it melts
By no built fate
But now in my hands

Its forward image
Points how it would return
If such and such arranged,
So I might again transform.




Author's Note:
Heidegger's right about everything as far as I can tell. But he inserts his concepts into temporality--Background familiarity/coping is the past, ready-to-hand the present, and for-the-sake-of-which the future--but I think there's more to the structure of time than that. So I thought writing the above would help flesh out what the structure of time was--it didn't. I don't want to be a philosopher; I'd have to start a new blog, and poems should make such mental realities open up. Heidegger himself said as much. So I just need to make better poems. That's it.

More Masks

Enlighten me, books!
Don me more disguises
If arteries won't contract
And breath stop
At every role performed.