Mystified Chords of Vision
Organic sinews into the afternoon
chewed hidden meanings in like food
Gentlemen; one head-phoned
with two fingered glove, crams
extended pinky, chalk, twists, slam!
along carpeted bench perimeter
another sat on, speaking out loud
to him and the manager. . . .
“Well, I believe the idea of an economy
simply requires sustenance, uh...to remain.
For civilization or ‘life’ (if you will)
to preserve itself is the ultimate triumph.”
All some confounding numb comfort
of reasonably shifted instance, as my apocalypse
Time-maneuvered, an envisioned fallen
Of the 20th century, closed in to the promised end
Placed every anxious certainty
upon power failures, palms of daylight
melt down, comet tidals and two-tone typhoons
Computing outages, screens blipped mad
further in these mind boggling
Beautiful circuitries than crudely ensued
with stupid hope; and scampered scrimping labors
by the speakers anymore - as vanished, done
as for something finally counting to zero;
sounds the final whistle
as the ball drops of déjà vus trailed away
as the real separation
And a billion shoulders gathered, mashed,
youths kinked, ages crushed into where?
Perhaps sent in wildest chills
through the front doors, here
into the extension of the world
of uninterrupted poses inside areas
where the assumption of hall life, the inevitable
arrested all-movement spins
bursting bubbly popped glances
Seeing these split-second, mushroom cloud images
unsettlingly systemic fire beams
over and over attach like traffic, intervene
sinuous sunlight tall window panes
Reflected and disturbing, distributing
blaze repetitively
through tomorrow’s thoughtless continuance
As if near the front windows, bright looks
In own my revere save them in breast pockets,
And instrumental vestments
Trying to explain all, to explain to all
that matchstick ignition
like Glenarm’s facing backdoors
Thus leading to
in their search for my dreams,
into my ideas that remained nowhere
Double chances steeped
floats from these rumbles
never slowing down
Nor physically soaking in, but
like my fails to suck on the food,
oh the central aggravation
drip sickening leaks
not circulating in pumping arteries
where pulses energize, instead
“Would you suppose I intended
to look differently had I fed
this brain and anatomy already this morning?
You suppose I would have dressed differently?”
The other finally returns, turning out a bud
as each vehicle flashed tremendous
stone reflections across them windows
where spray-painted “the END has already passed”
on the graffiti walls into the alleys of quotes
And The Real separation of microsounds
sprayed from the uvula “Reach! Touch me!!”
I always had in me.
Into a look in yesterdays of someone
in clothes so old the angel carver himself
would weep
Oh before, though, twisted sentences, enclosed
in this TV blur freebased on thinner, obscure
Again & again pressed smooth back,
easily filled lost tracks of all trains of thought
With chills slipped, minnows’ lips
gasping on hot vinyl sunlit ahh hobby, a hero,
Glorious pinnacles lingered stronger and stronger,
scents of Rane Arroyo, water burning. And Visions...
Thinking muscles began to understand
glooms & deeply yearned emotions of images
of the ones rummaged around for metaphors
Of the overgrowth near the edges
The dirty unkempt places
in the moments unsuccessfully, overlooked corners
Meaning places extended
well in posterior breaths, along foundations
and such resemblances to my predecessors
that Only spurred smooth Camden
In my new heart as I was searching,
circulating curves in space, then came in
compressions to peripheral natures
& when the sun crossed over
into night in the sky-solar system sunk
within All them waiting, the waiting room
& preoccupation of the poolhall
sense, captured in intriguing fatigue,
cluttered amongst
& maybe that everything
Which does not aimlessly star everywhere,
so pulled the Still-dissolving
little white paper flakes,
in the absent coated slivers quick aura
that minded a distance through
sharp razoring afternoon beams, memory
as each, parts flustered & jumbled
each glass all over the floor, just in pieces
-the near shattered open entrance
And the all-Hysterical laughing where in the hall
where I had been, gone in, with those old men
in nonsense
Cuts, tickles, giggled squirmed ripples
in the sinking rainbow of their own hullabaloo
that desperate drove... for
“Fuck!! There it is!” sundry considerations
about implausible or something, someone
Deepened backwards in a telescope; as glimpses
quickly as night segue, and the alignment
of prophecies of me entering into the place
So overhead in the hall was that
As heaven swept up, shattered,
stones through stain glass music
we all Counteractive believed in
spirits & a power, but thee older men
and intangible connection, contact inside
Some dusted crying from sky to land
The squeezed cloudless showering,
pinholes in pinholes
as a smoldering desire to feel the texture,
dangle small collage on one fingertip
in full detail of its hand
Struggling stranded fidgets all tangled
enduring the glowing everlong, ecstasy
The Manager snipped about,
“to pieces with thees poetry
--trapped storytelling, perspectives on discs
-they have kind of struck that,
beside I work
engines
no concern with invention
of . . . . of lyrics”
spins his own in axle grease, ball bearings
and whatnot, roses of stories
Now whereas one remained on the bench;
The wood seat the entire length of the wall
when that part lived thoroughly, this fallacy
Like computer clackers, hacking
across keyboards in hypnotic communication,
swirled that which skin into cyberspaces’ lining,
innards pressed deep
The sounds of divine fingertips
Transmute within a TV; soooo understanding,
communicating, connecting all the bite-size particles
And as such dust spreads,
ignorant trends swell
as if novel, yet the minds must experience
itself, instant
And now the whole thing gathers
in the sky clouds, the endless mutating
piece of art in palms, the infinitesimal drops
then broken out of magic glaze
like whispers, annoying sensations
intertwined snickers, cracks,
deflates the twisted logic
But those strong old hearts once danced with...
around the instances, and now cranked in grins
at their beady eyes
The Gazed big, tough, practical old timer, yeah,
right through, right (points) “their fuckin beady eyes”
So roars the other two
Amongst an incubus of Classic brewing
fitting the scenery, a song in my head maybe
And I’ll just cherish backwards
As deathly looks burned, drew closer, his
became dying & all the news
spread silent pitiful variations
Scrolling of the discovered chips, endless art
Scrolled anymore along the walls
Across to all the screens
And above the weird wonderful halberds,
With his thick comets dipped
of multitudes & myriad infiltrations
inTo invincible stares,
strive the middle, around the nose
kind of jab as if the dragon’s heart, Achilles heel
the awesome primitive imaginations
like Yawning flames
from heavy throat
‘An in my first memories that shot Kennedy’
(to let...you know)
But could no longer resist
to these mystified chords
of Vision,
a retaliation that would long to maneuver
the over-theatrical
over-orchestrated extravagant valor
he so infuriated -to pluck out into oblivion
like the Dark squamous clouds hung endless
the reality of the spreaded falling luminaries
and here is where I pulled anchor
since I could not sit still,
headed ashore, as vessels I contemplated too
Squinted slow, gradually rose,
unfolded flip-phones, flops to step in,
rinse the grime of glossy cues
Then finger-slit slightly open
the stream of red pinnacle
giving in to the end
But mirrored, glide back & forth
remembering Visions, opening forth
yelled, “Reach! Touch me!!”
from in them mystified chords
across the avenue’s wire sagged forest