Posts Tagged ‘holy’

John Berryman

Depraved Piggelie wanted a pile of pot

Laugh Piggelie while your empire falls apart

Cry Piggelie as you mess up your brain

Howl Piggelie to the choir of naysayers

Rupture your sense of entitlement

Cling to a holy and beautiful lover

 

So what of it, Mr Cones,

You pilfer your darling’s sanity

You rest your hand on her pussy at midnight

Why do you think you are so special?

What clockwork conspiracies lurk in your mind?

You are nothing in a void of nothing.

 

Piggelie didn’t know about a universe of pain

A torrent of poison rain

Creep, creep of paranoia

Dead weight of depravity

All converging on the point of the conversation

In spiralling synchrony

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most-beatiful-women-08

The bush eats a woman and a maggot full of blood
Dead beaten body murdered for love
Eyes on the pus and the crack of the bone
Never will, ever will be so alone

Dead to the world and dead to all thought
Dead to the oceans of pain that she felt
Now she is empty but also free
Nothing but a vapour on the menacing sea

The bush eats a woman and a maggot full of blood
Ready for, ready for, horny for love
Dead broken bodies on a moribund street
Pain for salvation so slutty you must eat

Heads shaped so holy to scrape against God
Harridan half-steps in search of being odd
Half eaten monsters lurk inside your brain
It can never, it can never, it can never be the same

Sylvia, Anne, rot with me now
So the body tells the body it is dying somehow
Rape me in the moonlight with penetrating bone
No I’ve never, no I’ve never felt so alone

valley_of__the_dry_bones_by_loswl-d36usal

Deep down below
Beneath six feet of loam
Bone on bone on bone
Down with the worms

And midnight’s creatures
Oozing through soil
Ancient stasis of bone on bone
Waiting, waiting, waiting alone

For the holy breath of God
To enliven bone as hard as stone
That holy sacred God-soaked wind
That renders dead bones alive again

Sewing flesh, pumping marrow
Wiping every tear of sorrow
And when this flesh is raised to life
Blood hurtles through new veins

And shadows loom across the plains
Of every man and woman born
Who suffered in a wild world

Unrequited Love

Posted: December 8, 2014 in poetry
Tags: , , , , , , , , ,

nuderebel
To find someone who loves me as much as I love them
Unrequited love is a miserable trip
Even if it’s good for poetry
To find someone who loves me as much as I love them
Unrequited love is shit and maggots feeding on shit
No point in ripping my heart out of my chest for some woman who thinks I’m a joke
To find someone who loves me as much as I love them
Unrequited love is a leach on my soul, addling my hobo mind
No point making an idol of someone young, pretty and unobtainable
Living on wet dreams and half-awake ecstatic visions
To find someone who loves me as much as I love them
Unrequited love is smoking satanic factories of conformity and hopelessness
And searching for angels under piles of rotting corpses

To love someone who loves you is
Starlight and heavenly ecstacies
An echo of God’s quiet voice
A touch of divine Kerouac compassion
A race across the country in a stolen V8 Kingswood
A timeless kiss in sensual moonlight
Holding hands and not needing to speak
Apocalyptic fucking to vanquish solitude
A psychedelic sunflower sunset that blows up Centrelink
Blissful beatitude incarnate in woman’s form
Spitting in the festering face of death and cackling madly
For all true love is madness most succulent and holy

allenginsberg
Running to holy joy with my ears pinned back and hurricane love in my heart
Joy of kicks against the vicious anal darkness
Joy of tweaking the nose of the federal conspiracy of cabalistic capitalism
Joy of dacking Tony Abbot and laughing at his microscopic penis
Joy of reverberating with hilarious companions and feeling love-struck and passionate blessed awe
Joy if being overwhelmed with enthusiasm for all fruits of fertile earth,full of budding glory
The air is holy, space and time are holy, the chora of coincidence is double-choc holy
Every tree and creature is a Bible portraying a loving Buddha-God incarnate
O sacred Ginsberg
Great bearded bodhisattva who berates the military mind-fuck conspiracy
Calling them out on their death-lust and murderous urgings from ultra-zen East Village New York side-walks
Dancing down the technicolour road with harmonium and humour
Spinning words like yo-yos with Whitmanesque wonder and universal compassion
I hear your voice great sage and prophet-poet who blasts the bomb by saying Om
And calls forth forgotten America with lascivious dactylic lines of passionate poesy
I hear your voice master teacher, gentle prophet and blessed fool for love in all your sacred inscriptions
You beat down the CIA with hobo love and succulent sound-bites
You pumped out magic texts against the rapist mind of Moloch
You took off your clothes to say that America had your entire soul revealed for health and healing
You ignited the children of flowers with Buddhist Jedi mind gimmicks and dancing sunshine Manhattan madness
As you heard Blake I long to hear your stratagems, stoned and impeccable with my beard well stroked by books and day-dreams