Archive for poems

sunder the self

Posted in best of GJK, New Poems, poems, poems 2017 with tags , , , , , , on May 25, 2017 by GJK

under duress

utter chaos

obscures the light

blunder and shame

sunder the self

with wretched blight

desire’s dark lie

requires assent

grimly withheld

reviled and shunned

desire withers

hope is beheld

GJK

23MAY17

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gravity ceases

Posted in New Poems, poems, poems 2017 with tags , , , , , , , , , on May 25, 2017 by GJK

in truck-stop diner

i hit the pisser

with tremendous speed

i evacuate

two pints of water

so i may proceed

with diligent haste

to fuel my brain

with coffee strong as

a locomotive

that bursts unhindered

off a curving track

into a canyon

where against all odds

gravity ceases

the massive machine

is then borne aloft

by cyclonic wind

that is my bloodstream

fuel and blood meld

awakeness occurs

awakeness endures

metaphor abjures

bladder signals full

with furtive glances

and a hunter’s stride

i evacuate

to the outside world

GJK

23MAY17

a simple thing complicated by thinking

Posted in humor, love, New Poems, poems 2017 with tags , , , , , , , , , , on May 11, 2017 by GJK

scraggly grass is curiously clipped

uniformly by an unwieldy

and aggressive machine.

the scent of gasoline melds with that of tree pollen

and the internal fluids of innumerable

bifurcated herbaceous dicotyledons.

wending its way through that melange

is the aromatic certainty

of rain-clouds drawing near.

it is the first mass torture of spring.

i grin impishly at the dirt

between the green, severed blades.

do your work, soil

i say.

i laugh, walk away

and slay my evil minion

by throwing a dead, vulgar tarpaulin

over the top of the hulking beast.

i congratulate myself

for a job well done —

(a ridiculous job that offends

my neo-tribal philosophy,

but this ain’t grad school

and my philosophizing is sporadic

and incoherent at best)

so,

the trouble, i suppose,

is simply some vague fear

of incurring a fine from the city

for allowing grass to be grass.

the deeper reason, though,

for this botanical violence

is the bloom of happiness

i see upon her face

as i brush the dirt from my hands

and the first drops fall upon our skulls.

GJK

11MAY17

haiku (11MAY17)

Posted in best of GJK, haiku, poems 2017, taoist, zen with tags , , , , , , on May 11, 2017 by GJK

vivid stained-glass pales,

sun saps slight, frail pigments – HA!

vitality fails.

GJK

11MAY17

habit and rancor

Posted in best of GJK, for Calvin Grandaw, for Jingle et. al., humor, New Poems, no-mad poets, poems, poems 2017, prose, taoist, zen with tags , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , on March 16, 2017 by GJK

GJK, 16MAR2017

from WRIGHT THE BOOK

habit and rancor’

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.

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:

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!

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

* * *

ignoring all

Posted in best of GJK, New Poems, no-mad poets, poems, poems 2017, taoist, zen with tags , , , , , , , , , , , on March 9, 2017 by GJK

i sit contentedly ignoring all that surrounds

and focus only upon the internal realm

of consciousness in all its infinite, formless

and unknowable grandeur.  i am beauty and ugliness,

i am order and entropy, i am all

and i am nothing.

i laugh aloud and startle my neighbors in this common room

of this public house.  i alight from my overstuffed chair

and exit abruptly to smoke that cigarette

that awaits me in the shotgun seat of my own truck

and damn it is wonderful.

the sun shines on the smoke

and i disappear

completely.

GJK

9MAR17

i type with four fingers

Posted in New Poems, no-mad poets, taoist, Uncategorized, zen with tags , , , , , on January 3, 2017 by GJK

and that is enough.

the others work well enough,

but with four my mind has time to float

a bit

yet remained tempered by focus

as sharp as a bushido blade.

GJK

3JAN17

12:24am