Poems today
the plenums bubbling water
casting orbs of foam as we—
but where and whence this water?
and where and whence the heat?
“whether wisp of smoke or a conflagration
we’ll all meet our end in self-immolation.”
“what constitutes this fire we’re all, as you say,
walking towards, walking towards, as night does the day?"
“i heard—of image bereft, but of tone clean—
the fire as clearly as I do a scream,
and for all that i care it’s made of sunscreen—
i don't know but I'm sure, you know what I mean?”
“though do you yourself, for i certainly do;
you mean what you say but you say isn’t true.”
“don’t know if it’s true, but the melody is;
for the truth is to chords what beauty’s to phiz.”
—dash it, they’re grilling me, it’s dashèd intense,
they light candles for truth with their stinky incense;
the robes they wear for the truthful occasion
are of, distinctly, a garrish persuasion;
the accoustics deadened; like some stomachs, not full:
the nave and the apse are too carpet laden;
they are pompous, and they are circumstantial;
i tell you, i’ve yet heard lies more fanciful!
i’ll grant them one thing, and this one very well:
they’ve great taste—along with great sight touch and smell.
it’s really a wonderful ceremony
but the whole fair strikes me a tad bit phony.
for truth only calls at a moment’s notice
but when calls it won’t come, your doormat votive.
should you call it back, fetch!, just like before,
truth, the shy dog, stops coming round anymore.
i heard the truth once, it got stuck in my head,
it promised we’d come to a fiery end;
and as for that end, i still hope it’s not near,
but around combustion, i keep out an ear.
so now as they grill me, i look and don’t see,
i thrust when they parry i lie down and sleep
i talk and stay quiet, let words come to me.
for i am not present, these words are not mine.
the truth doesn’t repeat
it only just rhymes.
where there’s smoke there’s fire—soul conflagration;
where they try to grill me—omaphagation.
stressing the lyrics they got it all wrong when
they sing about truth but it’s dreadful the song—
so i’ll risk singing lies
if lies sing along.
is it alright
if i kiss you goodnight?
is it alone
when you leaf through your phone?
let us propose
i can suck on your toes
but can it so be?
youre so spacy with me—
i dont know,
so it goes,
it's like magic with me.
so then let us propose
i can suck on your toes,
i can suck up and grow,
i can hear your ringtone
and tomorrow,
no sorrow,
just pallets of rose
and platinum,
and teardrops—
through my nearsighted eyedrops—
do i see?
do i see?
that youre smiling at me?
do you turn up your nose
and turn cadmium rose?
its a lot
the laptops
but so pleasant to me;
its the cadmium,
see?
its through laptops it be,
and so pallid
and ballad
in sweet melody,
and the cadmium rose—
but the cadmium rose,
and nobody knows
but it's no one to know
and there's nobody knows.
and then nobody knows.