Vision of the future
of future man
of future woman
of Walt Whitman
and of being separate
but,
in love.
To Walt
Whitman:
(and now, I can only say
ahem.)
To Walt
his very self:
I love him,
as a comrade
I love her,
as a comrade
I love all,
as comrades.
true
painful
love
Tears over
him
and
her
and Walt Whitman's
empathetic hand on my shoulder,
on your shoulder,
the tenderness of those
bones those
palms those
psalms
our companions.
Brothers:
Sisters:
Comrades:
Comraderie is
true love long abashed,
(still, the standards published are mostly abashed).
what is love without a city of orgies?
Its discriminate joy in appreciating both mind and body?
Its host of individuals forsaking a collective soul?
what is love then --
likening itself to a
disease
separating?
Oh,
it is so
beautiful,
so kept
separate,
we sep-
arate
separate,
into
in two,
we separate
in two.
Poems, Po'ms, Poems, Po'ms
where is the inspiration for
Po'ms, for poems, for
po'ms.
Knowing now eternal separation.
Knowing now true
painful love
likening to eight feelings:
Desire,
before it was taken, so often taken,
to mean deserved relief.
before it was overwhelming one and the other,
not so carefully
copulating, all in, unreservedly
thinking that one-self is unsustainable
in a pleasurable imprisonment of primordial
practice in-lain with
Reservation,
cognitively dismissive and forced downward,
egotistical, withheld in,
that which seems incommunicable,
daring not to expose our standards
hitherto nonpublishable,
waiting suppressed and subconscious,
an intuitive faulting of the
incapable
Purpose,
symptomatics of emotional guidance
reassured by notable notions of
it is meant or it is not meant to
be an orgasm of prodigious procreation,
if it is meant to be it will be
pleasure in union, dogma in duality,
with Gods' affectionate cover-stories
of death, of being in the insignificant
Labor,
silent voices show a little
in the activity of our hands, of our feet,
of heads held in a certain contemplation,
of knees bent then straight,
backs upright then compacting and
in the labor it takes to lift cheeks, lips, and eyelids,
breasts,
in the way,
those impassioned
silent but for whimpers
cling kisses to
the other
wraps them in their arms
resistlessly accepting
Worry,
other's heart suspended about the neck,
incertitude tied to its reservoirs, gladness damned,
standing against what should be
a choked out voice over which rings are thrown.
compromise? trust? fantasy? actuality?
lines being drawn over our tender physicalities
begetting impossible beliefs
craving
Communicability,
to hear everything come from the other and tear,
the things that keep us apart
desire, reservation, purpose, labor, worry, all out and spoken,
spoken rashly and with impurity,
only to hear nothing -- true painful
silence -- the heart still hung about
the vocalists' necks listening towards
service instead of
Compassion,
one to the other
feeling: the same together but
pressed for wholeness, fulfillment and forget-
fulness so sorrily
letting the other's river wash over
bonding tears with
"it's just that I love . . .
that I love . . .
that I love . . ."
sacrificed
Memories,
fluttering deadin reimagining,
they are phallic,
objectified by a brick by brick laying
repressions and then
regressions towards missed
satisfaction, how this or that should have
regretful meditations of the tactile,
and imbalance in our chakratic
exchanges.
True painful love.
Tears.
him
and
her
and
Walt Whitmans'
empathetic hand on my shoulder,
on your shoulder
the tenderness of those bones and those palms
those psalms
our companions
knowing now
your love
hoping for
your love
and only love
without pain
your affection covering
everything.
What is love then?
love is eight feelings
Desire,
excessive sexuality,
pleasure,
permanent, natural, abundant,
common to everyone.
Reservation,
released suspensions
we confide in
tragic comedy
common to everyone.
Purpose,
attain
paradise
rights of life
common to everyone.
Labor,
hand
mind
heart
common to everyone.
Worry,
concern inciting
heartfelt clarity
premeditation
common to everyone.
Communicability,
unreserved worry
voices labor
to fill a silence
common to everyone.
Compassion,
mutual
wholehearted
patient joy
common to everyone.
Memories,
hearts
with smiles
progress
common to everyone.
Vision,
of future man
of future woman
of Walt Whitman
of everyone.
of future man
of future woman
of Walt Whitman
and of being separate
but,
in love.
To Walt
Whitman:
(and now, I can only say
ahem.)
To Walt
his very self:
I love him,
as a comrade
I love her,
as a comrade
I love all,
as comrades.
true
painful
love
Tears over
him
and
her
and Walt Whitman's
empathetic hand on my shoulder,
on your shoulder,
the tenderness of those
bones those
palms those
psalms
our companions.
Brothers:
Sisters:
Comrades:
Comraderie is
true love long abashed,
(still, the standards published are mostly abashed).
what is love without a city of orgies?
Its discriminate joy in appreciating both mind and body?
Its host of individuals forsaking a collective soul?
what is love then --
likening itself to a
disease
separating?
Oh,
it is so
beautiful,
so kept
separate,
we sep-
arate
separate,
into
in two,
we separate
in two.
Poems, Po'ms, Poems, Po'ms
where is the inspiration for
Po'ms, for poems, for
po'ms.
Knowing now eternal separation.
Knowing now true
painful love
likening to eight feelings:
Desire,
before it was taken, so often taken,
to mean deserved relief.
before it was overwhelming one and the other,
not so carefully
copulating, all in, unreservedly
thinking that one-self is unsustainable
in a pleasurable imprisonment of primordial
practice in-lain with
Reservation,
cognitively dismissive and forced downward,
egotistical, withheld in,
that which seems incommunicable,
daring not to expose our standards
hitherto nonpublishable,
waiting suppressed and subconscious,
an intuitive faulting of the
incapable
Purpose,
symptomatics of emotional guidance
reassured by notable notions of
it is meant or it is not meant to
be an orgasm of prodigious procreation,
if it is meant to be it will be
pleasure in union, dogma in duality,
with Gods' affectionate cover-stories
of death, of being in the insignificant
Labor,
silent voices show a little
in the activity of our hands, of our feet,
of heads held in a certain contemplation,
of knees bent then straight,
backs upright then compacting and
in the labor it takes to lift cheeks, lips, and eyelids,
breasts,
in the way,
those impassioned
silent but for whimpers
cling kisses to
the other
wraps them in their arms
resistlessly accepting
Worry,
other's heart suspended about the neck,
incertitude tied to its reservoirs, gladness damned,
standing against what should be
a choked out voice over which rings are thrown.
compromise? trust? fantasy? actuality?
lines being drawn over our tender physicalities
begetting impossible beliefs
craving
Communicability,
to hear everything come from the other and tear,
the things that keep us apart
desire, reservation, purpose, labor, worry, all out and spoken,
spoken rashly and with impurity,
only to hear nothing -- true painful
silence -- the heart still hung about
the vocalists' necks listening towards
service instead of
Compassion,
one to the other
feeling: the same together but
pressed for wholeness, fulfillment and forget-
fulness so sorrily
letting the other's river wash over
bonding tears with
"it's just that I love . . .
that I love . . .
that I love . . ."
sacrificed
Memories,
fluttering deadin reimagining,
they are phallic,
objectified by a brick by brick laying
repressions and then
regressions towards missed
satisfaction, how this or that should have
regretful meditations of the tactile,
and imbalance in our chakratic
exchanges.
True painful love.
Tears.
him
and
her
and
Walt Whitmans'
empathetic hand on my shoulder,
on your shoulder
the tenderness of those bones and those palms
those psalms
our companions
knowing now
your love
hoping for
your love
and only love
without pain
your affection covering
everything.
What is love then?
love is eight feelings
Desire,
excessive sexuality,
pleasure,
permanent, natural, abundant,
common to everyone.
Reservation,
released suspensions
we confide in
tragic comedy
common to everyone.
Purpose,
attain
paradise
rights of life
common to everyone.
Labor,
hand
mind
heart
common to everyone.
Worry,
concern inciting
heartfelt clarity
premeditation
common to everyone.
Communicability,
unreserved worry
voices labor
to fill a silence
common to everyone.
Compassion,
mutual
wholehearted
patient joy
common to everyone.
Memories,
hearts
with smiles
progress
common to everyone.
Vision,
of future man
of future woman
of Walt Whitman
of everyone.