harlequin romance

Love....
But
Love
In the dirt
With the worm
As silent witness-
God's Digestion
Content.
To Covet
And Fly/Cast.
Go Bye
A Cell

The problem with psychology is the suggest ability of the human mind which is very high.  I see all these people walking around with i-pods, listening to their favorite music, and I think of   "Invasion of the Body Snatchers".   I left my therapist because I think it is enough  to be bi-polar.  If I had stayed I'm sure that she would be having me with 12 multiple personalities and publishing a tell-all psychology book about their identities in the same vein as "Sybil".  I wanted to fuck her of course, but she was married, so I left her.  Maybe she could have even justified it in the name of science.
My clock is ticking down, all our clocks are.  That is the terrifying thing about life.  We are all night watchmen walking around it turning the key at all the high lights and low lights of out existence recording our moments for God to digest when we burn up in his love.   Or sneak around it by going up his ass-hole, but God is nothing if not patient.  Every dog has its day.  Eventually the sun will turn into a "red" giant and cook the inner planets.  Maybe we will have stopped wasting time killing ourselves and moved on by then, but I kind of doubt it.  It is the tribal nature of man-kind to look at itself as us and the other.
"The Feast of the Harlequin" has to be one of my favorite short stories.  Thomas Ligotti has to be the second coming of EAP.  This poem is of course in his honor.

new day rising

mean people suck the air right out of me;
i assume you like air.
when a person is manic
depressive
lets see if we can't
drive him to suicide
sounds like a real
'fun' game to me:
ass holes.
I have one too
u know.

slackers

has to be one of my favorite 'movies' It is basically a stream of consciousness film that starts with the director on a bus going to Austin, Texas.  He gets on a cab and then gets out and wanders off.  We now go from third person perspective to first person with the director now behind the camera.  The rest of the film is basically a trip through Austin, an urban songline with no apparent destination.  It is a love song to a time and a place that unfortunately is no more.  As the saying goes, you can never go home, for that place will never be as you remembered it.  Fortunately,  "Austin City Limits" is still there to remind us a little of the greatness of that town.
Austin is of course the name of Emily Dickinson's brother but that is neither here nor there.

The sub-stance
Splits the light
into colors.
Do trusting dogs see rainbows?
For they can only see in black
and white.

And the prideful pussies,
As they preen,  strut
and go.
Do the fleas love them any
less for the beauty
they show?

my poems are not that subtle or clever, here is a short one from the master:

we shall find the cube of the rainbow,
Of that there is no doubt;
But the arc of a lover's conjecture
Eludes the finding out.

Is intelligence a sin just because prideful fools want to put the shotgun to their chin?  
Is there a hierarchy of love?  Flying planes into buildings is not going to teach any-one anything except fear.  How fucking old testament can you get.  How much gold in the universe do you want?
The ends do not justify the means.