It was a full mewn. No the mewn was broken,
fragmented
Everyone here was massacred and doubly replaced
But they didn’t know it
They all looked at their faces, their faces
and couldn’t recognize
Who they were
My cigarette stopped burning
The remaining smoke slithered down my arm
forming text I couldn’t understand
Light another
And another
And an other
The studio is different while keeping everything in place
I am not stoned, I am pulverized
Goddard and Darwich visited our studio today
I think they just came to fuck with our heads.
Jean Luc made a pot of coffee swirling with drab colors
While Mahmoud laughed uncontrollably at my tears
I suffered many longing days expectant of the visit
I regret ever longing
The exit at Addison is strewn with shattered glass, always
Today it was swept clean in preparation
Of what, I don’t know.
There was an electric scurry of preparation
And I had to get out of the city
Cars of all races jocked their position
Black cars, brown cars, white cars jocked
And the Arab riding along in my car sat unsuspecting
What preparation
What was the mewn commanding happen
I knew I would not survive, this my last night on earth
I knew
My last night on Earth
My breath got shorter as this brilliant stroke occupied my heart
Now I can feel
And I know
But how to know how to wake the next day
Who would I be then
To wake I must transform
into being
12 comments:
Very cool poem.
but, r those characters real..Goddard, Darwich, etc..or make belief? & do you get to this point often where you know its your last night on earth? & do you transform then?? :) Ou do you atleast pick your next being/character?
nice :)
I like your reason for the world being flat :)
Thanks dareen.
Of course the people are real, but their visit was through film and poetry.
Every night feels like the last, I'm still here because of transformation. but it seems the new being is one that needed to be several days before, so at this point I'm a bit befind.
leafless, I'm honored by your visit. thanks for the comment.
I like your mysterious way of writing these poems... the picture goes well with the poem too :)
thanks mone, this is a milder version of my bizarre style. the pic was coincidental.
Cool..I like bizarre and different things..!
dude brother,
you took me back down deep, deep down to my deepest psychological fears, my pseudo-oldest mirky shadows that i've forgotten about. akh ya ooof, ya mama ya albi.
IBJ, brother, mirky shadows are where we live. the akh and oof we feel is ever-present. but we survive. now we need to flourish. how?
mone hold on it may get weirder :)
anonymous: don't let it happen again, i know where you live
what is this song, is that U2?
U2-MLK
So what are the dynamics of transiency?
when she ends with a likable fancy.
And we'll bury the earth in volcanic red.
into the earth walks the earth.
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