LONELY

I feel enlightened!

Not to your truth,
But to mine!

I found my switch,
And turned it on – finally –
And the circuitry,
All seems to be in order!

Stripped of membership,
In the Criers’ Club!
In the Searchers’ Club!
In the Desperate Club!
In the Compromisers’ Club!

The clubs with so much art,
Opera,
And poetry,
Written for them…

By them…

Thrown into the minority of the Happy!

Almost missing the camaraderie…

All the abundant, sorry, loose particles…

I think of them fondly now and again.

But prefer to keep my distance,
For now,
And again.

FUCK YOURSELVES!

Future masses,
Crying out to me,
‘Liberate us!’
‘Write more!’
‘Write faster!’
‘Work Harder!’
Etc.

But they can all go fuck themselves!
Just like you can go fuck yourself!

My work is meaningless to me,
Unless it’s pressure-free…

I must enjoy every aspect of it!

Especially the pace,
And rhythm of production…

TOO ARTICULATE

At times I’m so articulate,
That I don’t even seem poetic…

But when you re-read,
And realize,
That what I’m articulating,
My poetic predecessors,
Were only able to hint at…

– Their perceptive insufficiencies,
Masquerading as poetic profundities –

You come to appreciate,
My unprecedented sense of clarity!

Until now,
Poetry meant haziness…

Half-expressed portraits & images…

Unfinished, impressionistic jabs,
At notions,
And logic,
And desires,
Just beyond their grasp…

And now I come,
And devour these notions,
And define them,
And excrete them,
Into bite-size digestable portions…

Perfectly packaged and polished…

So perfect as to slightly veil their profundity…

Bite into one, why don’t you?

Swallow it and digest it,
And see what enters your bloodstream…

See if you don’t loosen up…

See if you don’t wisen up…

See if you don’t fire up…

And constantly come back for more…

PLANNING WELL

When setting out to create a work of art,
You must first decide where you want to set it —
In nature or civilization?

And if in nature,
Will we see some signs of civilization,
Perhaps in the background?

And if in civilization,
Will we see any traces of nature?
Perhaps through some windows,
Or in flower vases,
Or in the faces of some household pets?

You then have to decide if you want to depict reality,
Or fantasy.

And if you decide on fantasy,
Do you want to depict it realistically,
Or fantastically?

And if you decide on reality,
Do you want to depict it as true,
To the reality which our eyes see?
Or do you want to depict the subtext,
At the price of some expressionistic contortion?

Then you must decide,
Which of our many faculties,
You want to stir…
The comic ones?
The erotic ones?
The cowardly ones?
The aggressive ones?

Perhaps you may want to combine several of the above?

And then you must decide,
If you want to follow an existing genre,
Or perhaps combine several of them…
Or,
If you’re really daring,
And perhaps even suicidal,
You may try inventing a genre of your own…

All of these decisions can
— and probably will —
Fluctuate throughout the creative process,
Influenced by conditions around you,
As well as your own limitations,
Or desires…

But be aware,
That you can never create,
An all-encompassing work,
That will free you,
Of this brutal,
Decision-making process…

EYE FOR NUTS*

How many nuts is your neighbor worth?
The one who lives down the block,
And drives you mad,
On the way to breakfast,
Many a morning…

How many nuts can she provide,
Before slipping into the stereotype –
Becoming an ordinary,
Nagging,
Human,
Suction?

I can guess the exact amount of nuts,
– Within accuracy of three –
Within the first few seconds,
Of laying eyes on her…

I can even guess her pussy taste,
Just by seeing the clothes she wears,
Which tells me which group she belongs to,
And the amount of hygiene said group dictates…

Curly blonde hair will always be more bitter,
Than straight, thick brunettes…

Brazilians and straight-haired blondes,
Remain the sweetest…

Redheads don’t usually hit my spot,
Although I can see how,
They can become acquired tastes…

Haven’t yet tasted Afros…

Don’t plan on tasting Orientals…

Italians can taste like passion…

French taste like ass,
Which they happen to offer,
Quite generously…

Arabs can taste kind of cool,
Depending on their diet…

Please let me know,
When you’re willing to share,
Your own catalogue.

I’d love to read it!

*As in ‘busting a nut’

OBSTACLES

Jane’s aroma nauseated me.

But her promiscuity delighted me.

I tried focusing on her promiscuity,
But had great difficulty.

Believe me!

CONCISE REJECTION

You’re the girl of my dreams.
But I stopped dreaming, sugabuns!

MONICA

She’s still really beautiful,
But on the other side of irresistible…

ANONYM-ASS

I’m torn…

Sometimes I feel as though,
Seeing a beautiful ass from behind,
And never getting to see the attached face,
Is like reading a great book,
With the final pages torn out…

Even a bad ending is better than no ending –
At least you have some closure…

But then there are times I mourn,
When seeing a truly transcendent ass
– Full of eternal, divine promise –
Being shattered into thorough nothingness,
By revealing who it’s an ass to…

DOWNGRADE

‘First class with you becomes third class.’
Know anyone that fits that description?