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Respondence Recess
a work in progress
Tuesday, February 21, 2012 11:24 p.m.
Continued to Be Read,
As a portrayer of fault I watched the financial twist lose hold. Our grip upon the jobs we kept and the turning tide whose inability to see was, because he deep in the surf was to my place, far from being watched carefully.
As I feigned importance, it was at a matter of respect, through fooling oneself into action and making a moment last. The blending obsequiousness of love removed my audacity, removed my pallor, and removed my pains. There, I longed to wish for the options that were recklessly being pursued by sister and by wife.
Carousing our friends in front of her, dolling out expenses for her, and making it impossible to coordinate; since, her luster picked out quickly the need for discretion. Discrepancy upon me, she was the sort of girl that could ruin ones ideas on rainbows. The resulting fetish assumed painful lust.
I can't tell anymore what sort of love would benefit me most. I've thought for so long that anyone could fall in love with anyone else and applied this liberally. For so long, I could not chase my emotions down. Now, afraid, I may out of resistance be finally able to sever action from love or out of fatalistic desperation chase out my other feelings and run willing to my plans and goals. Though, after protestation it maybe easier to quietly pace to where I have known to be.
It is with a final abstraction that I may bring many thoughts to the front.
I have to apologize as different areas of my life have run into each other. So, bear with me as I continue to make a mess and find sense within the artistic rabble. My mind orients to so many different things I can honestly spend time putting a stern letter to the electrons in charge of weekly events and organizers.
-I have to apologize from this letter.
Since it has become impossible for me to see you.
I'm trying to keep cool and active, though my tastes need more cultural influence.
I'm understanding why so many have decided to quirk, rather than complicate. Though, perhaps my understanding of complication maybe, childishly, that way from observed intolerance.
To so that I want the return:
-I've had the thought-
Sunday, January 29, 2012 06:14 p.m.
after parts and emerging initiative
becomes a quick slash through reputations and
theater's scratchy ditchings makes mine meat of us all
complicated errors
divulged religiously as
black spacial operations
grounded
before all is done into details
repetition adored by audience
their vast accompanying sound
changes pitch and it all
carries away into variances
continuously
stories, embarrassing
reinstating a coined indifference
cast aside as beneficent challenges
to allowances
their strengths
whirling
winding
winning
temptuous to us all
to catch
fervor
by it's sunken brow, brown cuddled and cradled
the resourceful vision upended onto desks that have granted access
the credo birthing
while good emerging revives
grubby mitts that keep hands toasty
buried deep in mittens and
remaining too warm
those sweaty hands
then would be
fawned.
This whipping boy blushes the color of the switch
Tuesday, January 10, 2012 12:12 a.m.
Labeled under:
Poetry doesn't sit still at any moment; it behaves irreverently and cajoles a mistake and a mistake after that - begs you to look at something, when it wants to be remembered as a duality and non-visual, while referencing to other things
- the depth upon a discerning writer as reader
- upon reader as writer w/a resolve to be created is its most unanticipated
- as a writer w/ abundances of poetries that approximate the anticipation of our weaknesses.
Monday, January 9, 2012 11:04 p.m.
Under -Dearest-
While indescribable - the accumulation of what is to be, a topic of regret - or sudden deliverance which is, may slink in instead of discoverance. Maybe that it is too difficult among our disturbances to concede to traditions of our grandparents. Out our only celebration. Growing is creativity.
Our only celebrations growing is creativity. It abounds from every topic and with every answer. Humility as an endeavor put at hip height. That it is too easy to sink into one and watch it or as I've felt when I alone wish to push a crumbling image.
Quickly I found my need to and titled it:
"Finding My Voice"
That charasmatic sensation swells
OMG
taken to our unlike races.
I would like to understand more, but that duality an arrogant versus between personality and comprehensible hurt. I just want to shake myself and take a leg.
More than anything I'm working on trust and putting it in the right place by doing so and hoping so that it's literary devices may allow me to reach education and progress.
Something greater than myself is what puts trust back in the saddle and regurgitates a shame that I'm not fully ready for. How great it would be to move beyond the insubstantial and vacate my shadowy influences.
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