You Remain as Living Poetry (2/12/2020). -M.Weisgerber

 

That’s what they wrote, tis what then they implored me thus to seek

(you cant see such writings in the dark, cant feel blood on flat wood...)

Hearts.

 

For I met a girl there on the sand lounging lazy as the day was long, book

held closely loose, hips matching lips in a pursed way as her shades slid

thus made sense when closer I leaned to inspect, apologized for a sound.

 

Stood back when realizing that hands & feet, butt 2 cheek littered heartily

with symbols drawn, lines; a thousand runes by which to loftily intrigue,

subdued the more dapper words I had then twirling round, wounds not

 

spoke too loud.

 

I fell for the little things before I saw the rhythms, bile rising softly, me to

grin out through the puke poke sneak sack lie in which I’d claim it. 

She smiled at whence she claimed me, rose then said she loved me, we

 

had nerve to call me schizophrenic, yet heartily I awoke to this new fear

that of a girl and a world, and every lie I’d ever tell carved writ wrought

on her at large, on this a frame then now to bend?  (Enter deep within?)

 

For a thief recognizes another on wide streets, & I stood curious, curious. 

Should have known better though as writers, artists, all, they circle round,

vultures all w/ rock band tunes, bandanas held so close; heads sway low.

 

Crisscrossed words upon her open arms, her lovely sun set shadows about

your shoulders; a clavicle full of posies, her side stitched hitch hand to

wave or guts to punch at that the first kiss she shared with me a car broke.

 

A warning to the near sky, “BEWARE”, soft then hard at hand, a land,

your very torso, scrawled all I was lucky just to hold but bold I stood

lightning rises in the jar, cracks all containments, such lids fly sideways.

 

This true delight I marvel(ed?) in holding, its wiggling worms - a frame

that I didn’t see of a name, didn’t share the shame till far too late, didn’t

dwell on the same legs loved, and that alone I should have said mattered.

 

It did not.  I

did not either, though I contemplate on ochre nights, sights made so

fanciful freely my mind shatters on new shores, your open pores beckon. 

 

For one cannot see worry rising in the dark, we cannot meet 50’s fantasy

fascinations without laughing at the fascist ways you circle round, towns

give before your soft toes, the hard fist, yet you did not seek to navigate.

 

 

Only observe fast in a quick song, another mark ready for shoulder side

a blade to draw a new beat, a harmony wretched in skin pulled thin to bite

hard, pull fast in large rooms, the sand calls again I’m falling…

 

May it come again, may the rest of the world see your worth as I, a

Meaning on the brow, a lifting of the now before the snow.

For I…I…

 

I fell for that pit before I ever knew feel flavor traced soft hands on loose

skin above ink that called them yet came to claim it; you (she) maimed

herself for a name, came fast upon hard sheets, a whistled machination –

 

a boob chandelier soon to rise?  

 

Snake in the armpit held, porcupine on the backside, meld

it’s a call for a new state, a new Mexico rising on a hard plain.

I’ll love her leaving there, see her dancing out on the hard pan, I’ll

 

Love there in between, here and take care and everywhere else the same.

 

It is funny, how the bodies we lie in, only rented, hot quixotic electrical

desires as the impulses that slide side by side, meld not but lie, twist side

to other side there in the dark.  Hold not me or you, but oft each other,

 

Upwards, outward – no complaints when bodies sprain the others worth.

Then on to next, into

another.

 

Electrons dancing silly, the thick hair or skin cells flake off of your &

your little hands, being vessels by which to hold, to love.

Babe give me a blotter, and I will show you how…how…

 

We draw little lies upon our backsides, dog-o-the-one-tail not effective as

its cats familiar does not worry about the colors, no blacks then blues,

only bruises rise, same as you gave to I, I…gods…

 

God, you cant see such writings in the dark...

You can never see such madness in the part…

 

(Cant see sparks before they fly)

Cannot call me before I die. 

 

Cannot tell me that I lie, I

love you, and that alone should

matter. 

Listening to the Missoula Floods; a Calling (8/20/2020). -M.Weisgerber

 Righteous hard, flowing fast: hatred grown now then to last (this hard pain)

Crabby (11/20/2019). -M.Weisgerber

 The heat, the sun; hot to tarry ho!  Oh how the heart shivers for a world &
a girl as we two loved by the simple sea, now babe your frame rises up as 

a secret treasure known only between the we & us that's yet to be there is

a mallet on the table, a bib upon the chest - a loafing of the rest which is

commiserate w/ such highs; earrings?  There is a dew drop on your thigh,

a shaker maker of Bay of Olde beside each hand and nostril left to kiss, I

lift a pinky to remove a teardrop from a cheekside stained rouge delicate, 

seeking to set our passions dueling I, desire something you can take along

with your passing a gift to match your care, I need it (I want I want I want)!!

So she grumbles in hard dark, does not understand why or how I wander

when Fells moon lights a shining of the way, heading for the north part of 

the bay & her name & all our legs they feel so similar, wrapped so close.

Yet all I can think of is the man that came before, yea all I can do is

recall which it was is going yet to be; which street will lead you & me to 

we home now.  How many yellowed woods can lead out to azure sea?

I want to stretch out on these same sands that the brachyura roam, I want to

be eaten alive as their mandibles clatter closed (fine whiskers under chin)

use ever vertebrate bone to hold you, to know your moans, deep under

the same murky stars shining for thee; us.

I was here last year on the same loam as the same worries that fluttered near

I tiptoed carefully cuz sometimes shards of glass are buried there shallow

yet growing well now, feeling stronger with you & the days & the sights.

If you pry one tendril off my soul sure it's yours to keep, yet the hole fills

up so fast with filaments and fibers, gamely workmen reconnecting joints 

as the appendages gain traction along with a color blue: all else whispers!

Yet this same token exists to catch dust & souls, memories that move fast, 

quicker than her hand as she reached forth by which to accept (to smack),

oh how I (HATED) loved that simple starshine glitter in her eyes, dragged

her off the beach to dance out in the street between chickens fleeing bikes

her up to the edge of a soft bed where cliffside nears, a rush of hard waves

gobbling up shore & souls & worried memories fading fast, then CRASH!

So yea I have something small, the least of which to show I can care & if

you'll wear them once I'll know your mine, once is more than enough if 

when you come back to claim me (shame me, maim me both I swear)

I swear (sear?) I'll give you something else you simply cant lend back to me.

Never Thought I’d be Here, this Sadness, Madness Held (11/20/2020). -M.Weisgerber

What a day is this that I wake so cold & also so very much alone, I

a pitiful wreck another of a hundred million more designed for bait, kept

alive by malicious hands to shovel hate & superstitions your way, toiling

so hard as to make a heart & a brain forget; they call me wretched.

Swearing that you would pray, pay for all the love we didn’t have to have
Taking the time away from me, from us, everything in between.
Rotting inside a vision held, telling, told all.  (Insanity?)
Nueva is just a name - my game is love. 
 
Not. be care.  free there.  Free Love.
 
Make us
Free.
 
Falling apart, found somewhere in the black between the quasars, I trip, I 
spoil inside the sun you insist on casting, the war worth waging strung up 
on genitals preaching, high school high score being the all time high
all the time yes yet then still we are flailing there, high beyond goalposts.
 
There was a table too, white clothier there was on a wall behind, fast red
bleeding deep, pulling a weeping child & lover out through the void there 
that is everything that we doth now make & define & cast our lines, our 
lives, our lots beside the barnyard terrycloth pulling fast.  Shed there.
 
My mind seethes out there beside the partition where you criticized my 
tastes, my loving heart to collapse on wooden steps, making the turn 
where the dog carves witness marks for all the times we wouldn’t hug, 
wouldn’t yell out at the gloom that consumes your past holds fast to ware.
 
You wouldn’t pray, fucktard, when I asked, claimed Christian when your 
sex fast falling, a debauchery slogging fast (did they know we sexed upon 
the second time?) same as when you’re coming cast, no second cuming 
before the diodes shift, before the wand doth find that crotch I paid for. 
 
It.  Stings.  More than your nails upon a chest did rake, pull it up from the 
sands where I lay, passed the gold I poured a bottle full at a time into doth 
lies, does try upon the same swallowed pile as wont fit inside a mouth so 
greedy as not to let the words fly free – forgiveness isn’t in your nature.
 
Bastard.
 
So pack it into the ground, where I will say any words that will cut or 
score or make your mind forget not that hatred can have a flavor here.
 
Fed Freely.

It Starts with the Screaming (Oh My...) (9/13/2020). -M.Weisgerber

 Then the pleading, the begging, the whimpered whispered crying, oh God

giving way to the dreadful shame of flailing, knowing all what’s given, 
assuming what is soon to follow, Lord take it, cut it, sew it shut, let us 
know any other love than this, let me, let any other sight of us fail. Useful
 
For my heart breaks, my soul it shakes down to where toes touch nimbus
collapse to the floor, inhale the spores that nightshade offers so freely,
dying of dreams stacked so neatly; let the bones shatter at the sight,
breaking will come soon, but love how, just tell me oft how
 
you will look upon these words and not notice?  The pupils widen so, the
small part of your mind that witnesses each word & sentence sprung, not
from my pen but from a deeper well of this hive alive, these lips still 
quivering for your love, a moment, anything this world knows good.  Yet
 
sure she see everything a man has yet to give & say it’s not enough?  A 
LIFE?! it’s better than receiving (A KNIFE)? certainly held fast, quaking
hands are best to give, held then to condemn yet nothing more than the
very soul of a man; a human opened up more freely than tools allow.
 
So no, no, it starts with the quiet, then giving in to pleading, a mind
flaming out towards disbelieving; a breaking of a heart, yes I shook yours 
you took mine too, but love I swear that madness now is worth it, the 
many months of toil for a moment in the Son, I, I,
 
I want to take sexist attitudes & squash such simple faces, I want to yell
platitudes from rooftops I’ll never live to see, I want to ride, ride
hard shaped cold of polar opposites blended together, get rid of lines of
any equator or the other dividing parts that forever thus kept us apart.
 
Still more failure then yet to be.  Yet to come.
 
So how do you cast eyes upon this quaking face, the lines this blood filled 
socket of eyes that pass, rays from slanted turns of the earth, the very
pacing of the days giving in to night, the panic of the right to say I love.
 
You.  You mattered.
And if the red comes?  And the screaming, and the hate, oh you, love
if you thought just a simple betrayal was all that’s worst to offer, then you
no you didn’t know the poets odium or the talent of a torn mind.  No you
 
You didnt, dont know the furry of a man, the shaking of fists to dark skies
don’t know how to take to the seas; for he sails for days on hope, he
writes lyrics to an ode that crashes mightily on strange shores you’ll not
no simply will not ever need, to shatter & clatter again & again & again?
 
Fury, love, hatred – what do you know of this music, the words? I, I
shall show you madness held on the head of a grain of sand, I shall paint 
you a lighthouse collapsing into the sea, I & a hundred thousand million 
more of my ilk to come shall render your heart immortal, love.  Timeless.
 
A holler against hard surf, a trial between the nerves caught on razor rock
the space between the lip & the cup that goes where the heat makes it
dance between the moments of strange words, the blur of black upon 
the white, blue - no this knight rides not for you but for hope in hope itself. 
 
I want to be sad for all the days we never had, jump for the joys we kept,
conquered armies of legions of trial & despair knowing not your lies, lair
glorious, simply stunningly, those things you barely knew, held awhile
giving way to what’s to come; shadows behind the spots of sun, or fate.
 
All you have to do, all you have to do is…
 
So heart, dear other organs failing now or never meant yet to be, yet
(What is this feeling coming over my veins?) 
what is this sense, birthing beyond the shame?
Take me, make me, shake me all.  Hold me love, in deus ex rexa,
 
heed this wary call. 
(or with the simple knowing, take then and receive.)
 
It starts with the, it
starts with the
It
It starts with
 
(the pleading)
 
 
Adieu.