[x]

Crumbling Conversations"It is something to know ~ that a penis in tow,
and an arm
are very, very different...

neither
is the measure
of a master creator
a long waving stave of divinity.",

the matriarch said,

baring a strangle hold
on the wrangled mould
as she spoke to the Tiny Hiney Man.

Clearly a 'Ms. Under'... standing heeled and balanced in the cracks

Hiney Man looked on
as mustaches were hard to come by, and not every noble nose could afford one.

"And where there are pussies, there's milk, I assure
the kind that kittens with mittens adore...",

the matriarch finally felt fit to admit
as the crowd failed to roar
and the bulb never lit.

Angel-SpeakIt isn't right
throwing a child in the river
without their coat
and without their keeper

without artistic merit
in your last words to either of them.

It isn't right that you would cover their faces
so...

tightly.

It isn't right
that you waited til night
when Sturgeons would be
nearest to this treat

while the moon is huge and you without a camera
or your wine.

It isn't right
that you do any of this ~
even cleaning your nails
or nursing your fist

especially when you'll get no credit for it.

.

Anatomy of CloudsWhat is the truth behind cheese after midnight?
The air is too thick and it won't let me in,
I told you so, it became sore,
Years it clung onto my teeth.

Don't... don't wear hips with that darling,
You should roll a glass on that rash.
No! Let go of my hair, you don't know
Which snail will come Knocking next.

I can only take her as far as the hospital car park...
What if between us we can't make it home?
Chased by additives and candy corn,
Apparently the direction of our writing says something about us.

Just when you think you see the white rabbit,
You lose it again.
This is what separates us from those who haven't
Quite realised what kin

Those Open Casket AffairsPropped and cropped beyond warmth and lividity
looking as natural as possible

Easily achieved
if the goal is to represent death

and those passed away
look no other way

no matter what you do

It's this tradition of feigning life
that's wrong with the world
on both sides of mortality.

Diner PinersUnkempt gents minding their own
and the scraggly hags that avoid them;
walls
more see-through than windows they occupy
are these newspapered ghosts with addendums.

Wiley beards and crooked brassieres
are met with smirking resolve
as origami halos from non-absorb napkins
form a moot youth that dissolves.

A perfect coffee
stains the yap
they'll never live long enough to brighten
while personification's memory
pays towards the tab;
a slow-moving bullet much like them.

Those Rabis & Witches
dress their last days
in mothy green tweeds and cat hair
in hopes of hands-free spiritual exchange
as much as they both hate to be there.

Super Novas.

That grill
frames a flammable breather
and all the bites that ignite it.

You heat the flow of brassy gas
while the abrading taste towards rusty rehash
remains.

Eyes,
the plastered glass
made up of insects
from sign-less intersections.

Windshield wipers squeal
on an antenna'ed frame of steel
as you high-wax all the white-resistant truths.

The once-in-awhile brake-check
detects a depth,
except...

all your oils leak
much the way
filters falter
upon exposure to watered down air.

A high mileage hindrance
upon blubber-rubber treads

You hydroplane
even at sleeper speeds

...a two-man job
of tension belts

while revvin

Things to Do While the Sky is BlueHope
is a kite sore
from stringy, clingy steering

High winds
rashing up the cheeks
knotting one hair to another

but we smile and run
smile and run...

Loose-shoe goose
with bugs in the grin

keep your eyes up
and the sky comes with you

Full circle
is a skinned knee
from stringy, singy flight

One's BrotherHe
who would use a
bulletproof vest to carry on fights in an elevator with an elderly woman...

Cub of Milkless Mothers ~
Bowed-Boned Buoyancy

He is
Lean

and Flawed
yet

Stronger Than His Seams

'His Uncontrived Life'.

Leads to behaviors that would float
no explanation.

Some Sons
baked in sun,
wrung unsung

become Enigmas.

Earth's Rotation.

a low watt fire hazard
within thin, thin glass ...

she
is the last of the utility bulbs
pedestaled upside-down from a rusted, swinging socket

flickering when it rains
drying you into stains

still dutifully
outlining the edges of where you are
in cyclic revolution

you've come to a place where you now smile up at her
and your leaking roof

.

Hunting SeasonWhat would deliver you
if not your coiled, oiled
tail's tale
of molt 'en malevolence-

Spring-heated sentience of suspensions
you'll joyride at high tide every time

Bursting bladder of
Perpetual pestilence

Old shit on a cold spit
with Turn-Burns

Growing thinner
as the winner
of every Winter

Like hock-able clockwork, the
Spring-thing
becomes you

Thawed out
Pawed about
Marker of mangled merriment

Who could not smell your hole from here

while down wind
blows the musical hymn and howl
of an ear-clipped
Slap-trapped animal

Wash AwayMark off the day
when I wander outside
using muddy mole holes
for eyewash
and write it all down
when I no longer sleep
but instead drown awake
in the dark
Put it in sandwiches
all that would choke -
like gravel-voiced grins
from a closet
Dry and caloric
but far from a meal
For my gut is a goner
for sure

Gone to bathe in the rain
As the sea never drains
No tours and
No more
returns

Hose in the nose til the end
of the end
No tours and
No more
returns

The Blue and The Brothered BraveAs a wretch of
The last stitch

You can rhyme my name

But my pain is the game of need
But never the bleed of truth

For I am hell on wheels
Without hell

The force for the course
With a flex

Steering is a bitch
Whose name could be on any license

Plated and skating ice

Scorched and blackened by
A heavy hand
Which
Spills the beans no rice
Could twice reheat

The cold stove of feeling
Was a hidden healing

Fuck all those
Buzzing Bees

For the only wood worth revering
Is held

In the soul bravely bearing

Tree's

F'eighth Coming of The Loured.

Faith in a mo(u)r n;
so frail,
is born...
it struggles
though thrives in the k'night

When dust
becomes rust
and the gashes
turn to lust,
it feels no th1rst
in the fight.

Oh save them, those so(u)l s
who bump in d'Ark
and cry for those b'Urning
in sun...

throw all the lost
over~boar'd
without cost;

Volcanicly ashed,
every
1one.

.

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Canaries of CoalUndertaker

Your Scratch & Snatch Pursuit ~
The Skin-of-the-Teeth
you collect
be the Root of Victim's victim

an unwise slice of dice

a roll of buried bread

a Life

that resembles
unleavened
Progress and Product

lies in salted doughy knots
and here, you think you can rise them.

Kneading the Needy ~
Those who would sign over deeds
and these same widows wander
into processions not their own

Acid activations
upon bare bones, be a solvent
to cracked open flesh th

Spell Book - Tappings Chp.VIIILittle Brown Mouse
Come in! Come in!
Warm your bones
and fluff what's thin

You'll be received
Oh, never leave!
We're here to help and haul

Show us what you've fought to brought
Your ticks and tricks and all...

Umber Louse does smile and bounce
when crumbs are thrown at walls

Not for you, but take what's due
Fit for Vermin... all.

Chewing The Fattened CalfOily eel deals
Red Tag steals
Discounted mounts
of a sore, Soar-Horse

Oats gone bad in the rain
from windows left open to gain
and the chicken's cluck was
The Bell

Feathers for the Weather, plucked off
While Bridles were bitten right through

Well...
the Farm was a charm
nevertheless blessed
and so was the river that ran through it.

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Capillary Refill

by *TheMadMulatto, Mar 15, 2012, 9:03:39 AM
Literature / Poetry / Human Nature / Urban & Spoken Word

Heart Unraveled
Toes too Traveled ~
Still, you've far to go

Pulled White Hair
With Length to spare
Will Never be Your Halo

Unforgiven
Pigeon, You will
Never be a Raven

While Wolves now sniff
Your Neatened Bones
Is Your Grave a Haven..?

Awkward Dismounts
Do not count
When time has come to Die

"Old" is never Reason
Only Season
Should be Why

So Saint Yourself
Upon that Shelf
If that's to be Your Way

Left in Sun
To Dry has spun
a smile
towards your Decay

.

Capillary Refillby *TheMadMulatto

Literature / Poetry / Human Nature / Urban & Spoken Word

~All-My-Darkness Sep 8, 2012

Dave S would approve.

So fuck that.

*TheMadMulatto Sep 22, 2012

I wouldn't call Dave for this. He'd pass this onto the pink shirt of Parking Lot Martinis.

~All-My-Darkness Oct 10, 2012

Decompensatory shock.

CLEAR!

*Immy-is-Thinking Apr 10, 2012

"Unforgiven
Pigeon, You will
Never be a Raven"

*TheMadMulatto Apr 11, 2012

Damn...
I was so pissed at the time I completely missed how sad that idea really is.

(Thanks, Immy! - sincerely)

*Immy-is-Thinking Jul 15, 2012

Maths, mushrooms and the beginning of something ---> [link]

*TheMadMulatto Aug 4, 2012

*chriseastmids Mar 15, 2012

"so saint yourself" ... that is just excellent ... and this piece instantly brought the Cult to mind so i hope you don't mind ... [link]

*TheMadMulatto Mar 16, 2012

I listened to that about 6 times and each time it
brought me closer to such escalated emotions
this piece orginially came from... never heard it before now.

Yep. It suits. Thanks for that!

*chriseastmids Mar 18, 2012

your very welcome

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