Monday, May 9, 2016

The Encampment

a resolute silence. like conception.
pain hanging on those unwittingly
eluding the window. all my neck.
these wretches, laughably awkward,
he puts her mountains
under certain emotions of rapture
with shame, when deprived of Echoes
whose lachrymatory fumes
fancy a confessor

penny a gloomy sorrow.
only pretty good things
immersed so frantically
now easily
be one gorgeous
habit of concealment.

terra acme of silence
until certain involutions
through design traces
were painted upon a rivet
of his visitor's tyranny

"an oblate spheroid, and you?"
A symbol.

I raised his downcast eyes which trickled many people could hear his shadows,
on de queerest idea suggested to influence their Holies.

they sacrifice a child. live. and passing its apex. they do nothing more. alas, a a tireless minister decamped leaving six characters of this treatise unfinished and unclaimed.

indeed it might be glorious. suns eating sundays. just cut and adrift.

receding, they arise. directly from stringed instruments. dislodging a bitterness which fell, partially over them.

with manifold and wetting me for possessing breath.

Any such vantage requires a precipice. They prepared a clearing in nature.
Hideous beyond question. Rats traversing the steerage. So floated off there.
A camel. Grimaces. Zealous devotees.




All of these infect the streets.

<!!>

From poe.profile.json

Friday, April 29, 2016

Dumb Cane

Prepare your fire.
Wear a song.

Till we travel to look at
bell tongued birds
in havoc green.

Atop shaped leaves, and two wet
cats, scarcely open
taunt the sky

black trundling queens. tearing a beautiful moon. through the great bell glass. cracked across. these others. in mourning for his holy cock. while white tulips. bow down his bones. holding before their own white flesh.

I nearly go extinct.
banana gas set against flint.
fiery tempered steel.
especially commercial stitches tauten.
reeling from the steam
of chaining possessives

<!!>

ngrams generated from biases created out of the works of Stan Rice, Sylvia Plath, HD, and my own work.

Sunday, April 24, 2016

This too is beautiful.

love covers its victims
in driving rain storms
leaving sufficient arrogance
to subordinate it

so beyond even
devising machines.
silent. it dictates
the doctrines of dealing

I'm unwilling to fight
I seek vulgar safety in dark eyes
the troubles of play
aroused to dig deeper
into itself
robed in society
or separation soon.
love only insofar as
burial practices
delicious for forgiving
the cycle continues
the pills and the pure
bodily deprivation
leads ultimately to
consolation

courage rests in museums.
the balanced pasts
of mammalian life itself.
shown to terms that it would
decondition them.
we differ from it
endured an equation
lines passing between
nothing, there
and it cannot slip into sets
falling somewhere in vain
to sacrifice our middle gape
spat all desire
whose processional tears
fill all religious terms
horizontally but nothing
else

love to blind all broken. hulk of pride
spilled near the wide and ripe grain
Their heads like shadows. dart swiftly before
strange art undreamt in flexible light
outdated
wilted the instruments.
but seething life.
chance bits
choaking thorns
from which the world
is wafted
a faint shadow purpose
and a harp.
falls from death.
obtaining a red pulp.

Monday, April 18, 2016

a portrait of defiance.


A sterile landscape or social custom
serve to slip the noose
And you then faded
By history's seven satellites
and the scandalous absence
of fresh sympathy for rejected kings

An unceasing death inside authority
Where their time shoots warlike --
The solitary walk. Whether I use you
now reduced, withdrawn,
a melted worn weapon
nested in the iris
of demons.

Now the banner at nightfall strikes deep
the calculated pageant
vibrating through
refined and sullen notes

Another generation since
built on chisell'd histories,
arts, experiments -- It's business
or hog's lard. This centre of Paradise
crowding from three peerless stars
two sworded envoys
transcending all seductions

How Solemn.
Everything indicates heroes.
a simple, compact, sleeping
our progress of starshine
these postures, beyond them.
no monuments exist
when servility
results from the sweetest song
or suns a sword shaped explosion.
wars and adages, transmitted safely
around turning clustering trees.
the systems. that circling.
can warp or fire
toward denser wars.

I sing
My enemy
is
noonday sunbeams
reflected.

<!!>

From whitman.bias.json

Saturday, April 16, 2016

Nature's Universal Freedom

Cheerfulness away,
dissolve, and troubling
her early
sobbing

producing her eyes: and curse.

Half seen aw'd
Echoed into nature

ghostly weeping
what my trooping hounds employed
by hard compulsion
bent to create the widow's weed
And reaching fingers
while upswelling
her caressing sobs
began an urn of me.

How glorious this source
Shut softly up awake
And, downward, suddenly
in under tone
Pouring a silence

no dark conspiracy
of cruel men
Fallen in full display
Full of continual voice
therefrom grew drunken
and consider!

Notice how light fades past them
its dying tone and noisy factories.
the comfortable green of their doom.
pure deliciousness. for tasting joys.
that word a sheltering ivy
in fresh carved angels
far More healthful midnight spirit
than the fragile bones
Save one on Nature's universal freedom.
A dreary hour of lips she foams
And to shade Ourselves
In buried paths
feeding With blood

<!!>

Text from keats.bias.json






Thursday, April 14, 2016

Sunrise

sunrise replied
she could undress
the fire
sunset dies so that
the moon may rise
it is like this
always
a fever for
the sunrise was his lips
lips of the water
flashed all liability.
until

sunrise was served.

Monday, April 11, 2016

The Parlance of Schemata

Their message was turning the beasts from abstract horror. machines under heaven. generic hybrid manners. in bleak deserts. in cozy safety,
and jelly isn't enough. chewing at Eve, Eve at its animal portion. a masochist becomes subordinated to whichever words we began laughing.
Shrill, the parlance of schemata.

Verbs can have regular sex. his mouth, his place all along. trying to manufacture solid obstruction.

though there's a grammar of something beautiful.

It signifies something to resurrect; for measuring; a clot of art
smashed the lynched god whose processional tears breast feed you
empathized with relentless pain
had an essence a shame,
you go toward understanding.
With discipline.

objects inseminated within
extremely pragmatic.