deesto

 corporate compost i = 0; while (i < ["ignorance"*∞]) { echo "    out of the black portal      through the port hole        around and around the bends      on its way from end to beginning    through earth's glorious core      a product forged by fire        and filth and dark energy      a phoenix of flaming refuse    reborn and relaunched      out again into the earth        and in through a window      and — via osmosis — into an inspireable host    who devours its delicacy      who processes its squalor into acrid, audible taps        into bits and then bytes and words and then a file

    A concentrated question comes booming, repeated from all sides,    In echoes perhaps, yet full of original insight    Like the murmur of whirling crowds as they flit past:    "Why live thusly? Without joy    without smile or sigh at a woman's touch    or the shifting weight of coins in your pockets?"    Because all hands--a woman's hand, my own--    All the fairest hands will wane, unyielding and spotted,    before their caress has ended;    And coins flow from pockets as life flows:    Without pause, without replacement,    Leaving the pockets outturned and longing    containers without content, without purpose, b

I am not at home And the process is broken    herded through gates    and stripped and searched and pushed through a funnel To wait and wait and then    into a tunnel and a flying silo 35k in the air and 500 an hour Disintegrating into space, particle by burning particle    and I still can't get to where I want to be Hurtling over nothing through nothing to nothing    an endless arc in the darkness    to arrive alone in the midst of peaceful chaos I don't speak the language of these sweet, brutal ancients    it seems impossible to communicate        to connect    but we find a way It's a long, long way home The streets are old and

The right, the left; the red, the blue; the blind, the bereft; all bludgeoning and blaming the other; none bailing with buckets and bilging the decks free    of the blood that builds and threatens their brothers    and even themselves. This ship is sinking. Who will reach the epiphany that they, too, are sinking with it?

Because the poet in me doesn't quite care    for central air        conditioning, nor for the creature comforts    that civilize the tribes -- long fur coats and furlong trots, diamond rings and roped-off plots, purebred pets in collars and cages and pages and pages of hieroglyphs, men leaping from cliff tops in paintings you stole, cash in a bowl, a tinge of regret, the rhythm of sales (30 seconds or less), and the warmth of icicle teeth in your smile -- Because these mere objects won't ever inspire any ode or the fire of a pyre in my pen, I remove to the heat, to the night, where there's no light to read and I write.

And the more you ask The more I need to trust you And to tell you And the more I tell you The more you want to hear And the more I want to tell you And I tell you more And more And the more I tell you The more you don't understand And the more you wonder And the more I need to tell you And the more I need your trust The farther you move away.

When time grows weary of your beauty    and drags your thighs, lame, across the ground You will roll yourself onto your back    and gaze into the merciless darkness    searching the stars for the one you left behind        the one that offered what you need so dearly ... But that was long ago.

With flinging hand preceding proper preparation of price or penalty, and, thus, wholly innocent of infamy, yet, with eyes averted by intuitive instruction, moving forward     not with intention     but merely a miming motion and the hand halts with a flick     but her movement not yet complete Finger tips in palm, tight-fisted, instinct opposing intuition     remaining packed taut, knuckles white and fate so kind to pry the fingers     that conceal their spoils releasing them, each, one by one     to her aston

(fûr'me-ment) While my bones were still embryonic I heard the word as I read along    eyes flicking from page to penguin and back so strong and supportive it sounded    so capable of my crosses. My mind made for me I, in faithful willingness, placed upon the firmament    as were so many others for so many years    as it was in the beginning and anchored upon the firmament    with so many others watched the sleek walls built before and around built strong upon the firmament    like so many others I watched the sun through the window and felt its filtered warmth and reached to touch it and felt    cold purified gr