

Descension
Descension=
Descending beyond mention...
Descent off the grid;
Comes up a lot in the Zodiac as a sign
That's on the slide...
Are you descending?...
Are you decent?...
Do you live in your world day to day without pants,
Or do you dive into your psychic maelstrom from time
To time to balance the ongoing chaos of what's outside,
And avoid a repeat fracas?...
I see descension as a state of action
Where we face our depth
and future friction
With vigor and a stalwart sense of attention...
...Coming to terms with what's been questioned,
And what is yet to be...
Descension+Ingestion+Invested Efforts equals
Wrenching myself out of the gutter and
Discerning what's on tap...
...There are so many odd shaped tasties that are waiting in my lap
And hanging plump upon the drooping network of criss-cross branches!...
To descend is to not only to slough off the table when
A hand has brushed your fruit jelly preserves,
But also to elevate to an elated state,
because if:
“As above, so below; as below, so above”– The Kybalion
Is to be believed then that this upward descent
Cascades and climaxes like a spent glass of water
Exploding mid-air for no one but the thorough-fair,
And much less the common man...
Hard to see it if you can, and when you blink
The whole plan shrinks and is immediately swallowed up...
Descension is a cool glass of promise,
Maybe now or maybe never...
Time to drop into the spot-lit void,
And vanish off the written stage.
©
Bunny Villaire
6/29/22
Dead Agent Nightmares (poem from 9 years ago I don’t wanna lose!)
I have dead agent nightmares
laid up in cement...
My certainty stiffens
once the mixture
has dried...
At night I go snooping,
leave this bag of bones roofied...
My mind is a torch
winged, and soaring down
sidewalks...
Which block should I haunt?...
Over alleys and playgrounds...
I play ordinary,
but birds fill the sky!...
Hard to jibe with concrete
when your feet are
just vapor!...
Heard a teakettle whistle,
or is that my eye?...
I have dead agent nightmares
laid up in cement...
I could tongue-lash
with you, but
I'm gnawing this bone...
All windows are gateways
for the time I was living...
Come close,
heed my breathing,
think again...
You're alone.
---Bunny Villaire
The Fatty Spoiled Flesh
The fatty spoiled flesh
The fleshy underlip…
The clenched and puckered
Ass of man
That allows a pawn
to slip…
Why does it come so easy
To turn and feed the draft?...
The fiends of ready excess
Play with my human pottery,
And in their dragging of the current…
In their plunging of the depths
They are fated with my very worst…
Something damning for your thirst…
Just leave me to my tapestries!…
The cold is coming in…
So soon the ice will come and go,
And we'll be welcoming this glow…
Better not to intervene,
And force the card when Imogene
Is back to blasting caps, and
Drawing figures in the air
With a finger that works quickly
Like a typist who's possessed…
She is wearing her black night shirt,
And she's not expecting guests…
Her breasts are puckered, and she's shifting
Under veil of ready cloud…
She's tenting at an all night market…
There are few who've stayed amongst the dying light of her restless flicker flame…
So she washes her face in a forgotten latrine,
And tries her best to thoughtlessly recover…
...Tomorrows another day which we all must quick discover.
Imogene, tell me when you'll roll out of your hovel,
and finally dare to be perceived!...
...I am dying for an introduction, and you haven't been received
By any company in ages...
...Are you aching for a man?...
The fatty spoiled flesh in stages
Dries upon your window-sill,
And they swear that it will turn within their time frames like bad milk,
But I see you smiling like the Buddha,
You're not buckled down with sweats...
It was all just how they drew your bath...
And though their lips go white,
And flaccid cocks shrivel to a dried out dough...
They can't write your epitaph my dear...
No, they will never hear the waves inside the shell just like you do,
So let us leave you be to close the hatch.
©
6/10/22
Bunny Villaire
Big Heart
Now your pressed within my booklet,
where old wounds have gathered dust...
You'll have to wait until your salvaged
'fore you can inflict me with more rust
upon a forty one year armour that
grows softer by the hour...
Pummeled flesh's soothed by Love's soft lips,
and a kindness that your powers
could not darken or dismiss my Queen
of Dutiful Despair...
You who lived on blackened algae,
and poisoned lichen of ill bogs...
I am free, and firmly rooted far
beyond the Siren's wail!...
Yes, I'm still paying off old debts for sins,
but at least I'm not impaled
by the horns of Luciferia in her
many shifting skins...
I've got a bio-span of healing tucked
beneath my snuggled chin...
And I never would have wondered...
I could never have conceived
that my fate would be so pleasant...
So deliciously received
by such beauty, and such brilliance from
someone who seems aligned
with the trumpeting angelic team...
They who summon from the skies...
Yes, the old days are mere memories,
as fresh dew quells dry pits...
They can call to me with their desperate yelps
'til their throats are drowned in spit...
I've no fresh fruit for the gnashing teeth,
so the snarling hounds have fled...
Bless that I have finally found some sense
as old age comes to it's head...
only pray other's can reveal their truth
within Love's savage mirror...
No one needs to stand beneath the gun
Eking out their waning years...
©
2/17/22
Bunny Villaire
The Demonstration
You've been to every tearoom,
you've dragged her out on the square...
Her cheeks are red as a rag-doll;
still blind you head for the glare
of bright lights, famine, and handshakes...
Your quick to pass her around...
She's dipped in shadows for seconds,
before she kisses the ground...
I keep my love out in the cold...
So discreet, underneath a stone...
I keep my love beyond where they will go...
I keep my love out in the rain...
You run 'round smashing windowpanes...
I keep my love tucked down beneath the loam...
There's not one face you would cling to...
You're always out on the run...
She's taught performance on impulse;
while you keep drawing the gun
on any flesh that you fancy...
A pliant and yielding array...
She's only mingled confections
to sample 'fore you'd amscray...
I keep my love out in the cold...
So discreet, underneath a stone...
I keep my love beyond where they will go...
I keep my love out in the rain...
You run 'round smashing windowpanes...
I keep my love tucked down beneath the loam...
©
12/18/21
Bunny Villaire
Disembodied Souls
Disembodied souls
Feasting on our breath...
Everything we know
Is privy to their theft...
Disembodied souls...
Slicing through the sky...
Watch them as they go!...
Romping on the sly...
Nous vivons tous parmi
Leur espèce...
Nous ne sommes pas
Tous aus courant...
Si nous le faisions nous
Lancerions les dés...
En l'état, nous ne connaissons
Pas la valeur de la vie...
Disembodied souls
Feasting on our breath...
Everything we know
Is privy to their theft...
Disembodied souls...
Slicing through the sky...
Watch them as they go!...
Romping on the sly...
(Edit #2)
©11/11/21
--Bunny Villaire
Moonshine
I was watching the moon
when she started to bloom,
then a cloud came, and
stole her away!...
You come into my room,
Instantly I'm consumed,
I forget what I
wanted to say!...
At the edge of the night
through my window sash
I look out, and the moon's
in my eye...
Not quite sure, it's obscure,
but I'll let it pass
If it means that I'll
live or I'll die...
I had debts on the brain,
and the sleep never came...
All my friends can so
rarely be found!...
They've all got their own grief,
but my secret relief
Is that face in the sky
when I'm down...
At the edge of the night
through my window sash
I look out, and the moon's
in my eye...
Not quite sure, it's obscure,
but I'll let it pass
If it means that I'll
live or I'll die...
Now I'm tied to this dream
with a backbone I gleam
like the smile on a face
of a thief!...
Everyday I push through
Knowing that I'll see you
When I plop down, and
Lay me to sleep!...
At the edge of the night
through my window sash
I look out, and the moon's
in my eye...
Not quite sure, it's obscure,
but I'll let it pass
If it means that I'll
live or I'll die...
10/28/21
Bunny Villaire
Night in the Factory
There was a flutter in his chest
as he mounted the first few steps...
He had been watching this factory
from a nearby street,
he just wanted to be left
to his own devices, and make sure
there was no one
inside stirring...
Later on that night, by the streetlamp lights
he'd return through a broken screen...
Tim just felt at home in these haunted spots,
and right now he had felt at ease
to raise a crack pipe to chapped lips and spark up
as he squatted on the floor...
There was creaks and groans from the other rooms,
Places he'd never been before...
In the back of his head there was unchecked dread,
but he rarely tuned his ears
to his conscience now...
He was too far gone...
There was something at his rear
that raised a metal wrench
above his skull and smashed it swiftly down!...
It was some deranged old fogey who'd been living in his filth!
Tim didn't have any time to scream for help...
He was killed in the shadows and silt...
And the old man, barely paying notice,
ate off Tim's skin, his face, and his eyes...
Then he crawled like a spider to the dismal black
of the factories awful insides.
10/13/21
Bunny Villaire
Tirade
This is not a place of safety and welcome reception anymore
Damn you Prose for losing your slim and athletic and very healthy aesthetic!
It's too idiotically stuffy now; too much damned stuff on it so that you don't feel attached to what you spit...
At least it's making me angry and forcing my words out again...
I wanted spill out my remorse for my dying uncle, but I feel transfixed and held hostage by this ridiculous new Prose that postures as a Suzy Homemaker I don't know what the fuck
with a sterile ugliness a mile long to keep the creative juices off the stage and out of the question...
Fuck you Prose and your gluttony for conformity.
Is that what happened here?...
A lack of commitment to patience and understanding for deeper words turned this place sour, and I'm going to have to retract and think again before I get on here for at least a little while.
I really don't what to say, but at least your stirring me inwardly if only with revulsion.
A Pirate’s Bounty
All the bodies milling 'round
tethered to their hallowed phones
are like sailors beyond light who've died
Cleaved and punctured by lake stones...
...Can you see them on the bottom, crying,
clam shell eyes, and coral nape?...
They were waiting there on billows rising...
...Stifled, sidelined frames that sank...
Now swinging though both hands are tied...
They will bait you to your tomb...
All one's got to do is dial them up,
And you are to the nth consumed...
...Can you see them on the bottom, crying,
clam shell eyes, and coral nape?...
They were waiting there on billows rising...
...Stifled, sidelined frames that sank...
That big line outside has got some pulse...
You'd be curdled to resist it's pull...
...Here's the monkey that scrawls every name...
He is drawing blood to pay his toll...
...Can you see them on the bottom, crying,
clam shell eyes, and coral nape?...
They were waiting there on billows rising...
...Stifled, sidelined frames that sank...
©
10/2/21
Bunny Villaire