How can a naked man run past curfew the streets without living?

Tag: death

Protected: a study of futility

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deep bass protest

the dead gong sounds
in the dead of the night

star-light wrinkled feather
and a burnt, dying-out fist-fight

delight people-flying
with a bounce air-tight

arm slight to the belly
on the hood on the car’s top-light

what height feinted moisture
over-bruised clanking screams “de-knight!”

takes-fright motor screaming
deep-bass morse-code writes

“I’m slight-ly off-duty see
you tomorrow, good-night”

slept tight
her head on the tarmac song

I am jealous of some convict who murdered three men and a baby in their sleep last year and earned the death penalty for it. I am envious of his calm, gentle gait as he ascends the abattoir of the court, furiously i try to capture every detail of his blessed, radiant face as he slips a noose over his neck and does this tie for the last time. I should like to be the life draining out of those jerking legs, i should like to be pouring out in his panicky urine, gushing against hope from his sterile prison undergarments, and i should like to have the same last breath escape from out my lips, under the clean, benevolent eye of the law.

archiac, barely

surely they must pay their dues
modernists make to straggle through
but i; i (most painful) of all men
do not recycle or
listen to the heart-throb of a narcotised city
playing our tempo; the certainty of our immortality
touching the plastic immediate from shining fluorescent verbatim
the organic now serves
the orgastic later

past is : the recollected present
future is : the hopeful past
only my instant
– swung onto a visionary adjacent
can smile click coarsen or
bring to ecstasy the myalgia of the available
and when the orgy of now falls
no matter; for we will always be