habit and rancor

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GJK, 16MAR2017

from WRIGHT THE BOOK

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‘habit and rancor’

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hello, predictable. hello, habit. hello shitty diner coffee

that i do so love with every fiber of my mortal being, every mote

of the ephemeral essence that is not me, yet, in truth, is entirely

me and you and every living thing that ever was and ever will be (which means nothing because time is a fiction) and because, as we have learned and understood for eternity — time is not real.

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conversely, timelessness is also not real. confusion enters

the mind and sugar is stirred into the ‘brackish black liquid’

and down my gullet it goes and once again i proclaim:

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Sentence structure be damned to the deepest bowels

of the most foul, vile and wicked lake of fire

that sentience itself has ever imagined within

the rancorous confines of earthly existence!

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YAWP! grammar, to hell with thee! freedom, expression, caffeine! exaltation and liberty!

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* * *

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Advertisement

laugh-ku

—

i’m a space-man and

time-traveler too is me

this is literal

—

GJK

21MAR12

04:22 CDT

see

—

there are always at least

three ways to look at things.

for instance, either THEY

have trouble noticing things

or I am skilled at stealth,

OR,

THEY and I don’t exist.

or, these here words themselves

are an illusion.

or a delusion.

see

it never

ends

—

there is no sin

—

GJK

23FEB12

behind us

—

i have noticed a change in me

and i have noticed a change in you

—

we seem to be brighter

and more buoyant,

we seem less distressed

when things go foul

—

or when chaos runs amok.

—

like today, when our lunch plans

got fucked up, we didn’t rant

and rave or behave like

little children

—

we simply bore it

for a minute

then let it

disappear.

—

trouble?

no, there is no trouble.

—

only one errant thread

in the blanket

that is us

—

only one speck

on the lens

of our life.

—

we are full of light,

you and i

—

and we have left

the despair and ennui

behind us.

—　

　

GJK

11OCT10

topography

—

the topography of shame

is a fractured steppe,

a denuded and sun-bleached plain.

 —

GJK

2006

needful

—

GJK poetry notebook

from June 2002 —

　

—　

needful

　

my guitar sings songs of dissonant dissatisfaction

its strings vibrate disconsolate, morose tunes

my hand strums a somber rhythm

and fingers fret agonized chords

—

i need a new song

a melody strong and hopeful

harmony filled with peace.

i need a rhythm for the living

not one dead and stuck in defeat.

—

my guitar sings songs of lonesome detachment

it rings with sounds of failure and futility

my hands are stuck in a pattern of sadness

and my ears are filled with brooding.

—

i need a new song,

an energy full of bliss

i need to hear a masterpiece

to take me away from this

away from madness, away from sad.

—

i need a new song,

a melody strong and hopeful

a resonance firm

and pure

　

— — —

GJK 30MAY02

— — —

my only problem today

—

is tryin’ to figure a way

to eradicate this headache

this head

ache

i’ve had for the past six hours

six weeks

six months

—

well, you get where

this is going.

the coffee did its job

this a.m.

but now all i can think

is

smoke another cigarette

that oughtta help

yeah sure it will

until twenty minutes later

when the ice-pick in my brain

starts to wriggle and writhe

again

today

for the umpteenth time.

—

me brain says

smoke up, dude

as me lungs clamor

oh no, not again…

he’s doing it again

—

and this duality inside of myself

is, of course, the source

of the headache

in the first place.

—

so, pardon me…

today’s second dose of coffee

is ready

and with a steaming cup

i will go out

into the night

to cause some pollution

all on my own

—

GJK

13SEP10

even her

—

liars.

psychos.

doctors.

they are all guilty.

—

guilty of misleading

everyone.

even her.

even my lovely

lovely wife

has been

beguiled.

—

he’s not right

they all said

about me.

he has an illness

called bipolar

BOLLOCKS!

IT’S CALLED

MELANCHOLIA

and there is nothing wrong

with that.

we all hurt

we all have problems

so what if mine

appears in the DSM catalogue

of misnomers …

—

phuck you, doc.

i’m fine.

and thanks fer all the drugs.

—

you’re a doctor

you’re a dealer

and i use the zy-prex

recreationally.

it’s phun to trip

so which one of us

has been mislead?

—

ah-hah

ha ha ha

the joke

is on

you.

—　

　

GJK

6SEP10

thirst, part two

—

d. wanders to the bathroom

and

the toilet-hiss is the venom

of angels

and the cheers

of the abyss

—

the wretched

morning birds are here,

twinkling outside

their impossible

dawn melodies.

—

GJK

2010

—