Brake language with me
garble, gargle garbage, garumph
Hollah! Hi, hello from a far moon
walk whispers
steering, stayed long sentences off parchment
patch worked and parted, for four part pierced peel parsnips, raw with real.
We divulge ourselves under selves of certain inane intuition that baffles bouncing –
Balls become ball, become red drifting wanderers over our vision sack,
as relations run raw with word wasting. We will them wrangled with words –
we wake them to so dismiss the few whose sounds have hindered and delivered so much so much, she beautiful, she sweet, she beautiful, she sweet, she beautiful, she sweet,
she sheds her skin for polish –
I polish these words behind the words screen flashing colorless bright –
Narrating my life in my life story shaking, shackling sheets suck dry sheet
sieving my seething conceiving my sex – did I give you my sex? –
my body is your counterpart, so I count the parts and add the right angles to right actions- the story blings ready.
I am a jaguar, you are elming – you are hedging your bet, black jack,
slim, cool slim, shady Slim, slim pitching,
take a jaguar home, panthering bright, biting bright, leopard pattern blue bright cast your eyes, avert your sight avert your gaze from light, say word now, say jaguar now, say cat, say shut, say shut open – say my shit shut open –
as I beautiful sweep your, beautiful sweep sweet sweep off feet and I
sheathe entomb and old sickness poets wrangled.
But I’m not a poet, I’m a program – a code sentence – a fast decipher,
a gimmick a challenging gimick, a nod, an eye stare in the check out line
waiting for your eyes to answer me answering,
for you to fake it better to forget it faster to master the answers and answer the master with still word, forgotten word, no word.
it is a dream-sickle lullaby on breasts, naked chest, naked limbs
drawing honey from moonlight. but soon it is our moonlight past,
moonlight it is moonlight story, a story a time that day night, day long hard forgotten, now worded in rhyme of insult to the forest
that made the trees the air the breath the people cleaning words, like trees are paper,
like pulverized crushed pressed, crushed pressed dyed bleached, pressed pulverized trees are something like trees they are nothing like trees! like I am nothing like human man – and in darkness over darkness, shrouded shredded shrill shackled voiceless pages you write it is ok, you will say nature you will say mother, you will say to your own saying nature mother, mother nature, nurture, nurture mother, mother nurture,
and you will forget,
and the story will continue of you when you heard mother word mother, word nature, nature word, until there is pain, there is only pain and you will say stop the pain, the pain is wrong and you will say stop.