Phimosis Postibi

conduit shrugs

from sleepy wither

morning scrapes

itself off the night

with bruised studded clouds

I will shower

soaps lather run

looming down

at the hoodless one

shaped contour of

male tissue erectile

veined with coming age

desensitized to cotton touch

hidden behind

clasp of gideon sundbuck

soft towel rub

once retreated

so nobody will know

it’s a shame

that this dome

quite architectural

with narrow eye

can shine and shimmer

in fluid moments

of interaction

but for now

the day pale clad

has begun

me as of today

Alejandro Jodorowsky – Dancing Poems (in English and Spanish)

The senses continually give what they receive / The world is modeled according to the way you think.
Kind act pleasing perfume / glass of water poured unmanned / pure liquid is like the soul / created by the thirst of another benefit.
The reality is embodied illusion / Birds sing because we believe in them / produce the melody between the two / eternity without them is not.
I speak from the darker / Site Lamp From the river / takes the magic of life is the encounter with the countless deaths.
Things are from the moment that we call our / discard them possess is / is in giving that you get.

Jose Guadalupe Posada

Suppose we were chaff, that was lying about
When a very small whirlwind brushed us to the sky,
And then at the moment when we sailed highest,
A wind that was stronger blew us apart…

posada

Goodbye little brothers,
Dear parents, farewell
Here my sins end,
I have no more to tell.

posada 2

Jose Posada  1852-1913 Artist, Illustrator and Cartoonist with strong beliefs during the Mexican Revolution with his publisher Arroyo, illustrating ballads and poems and images for day of the dead

posada mage

chewing the inside of your mouth yesterday

three inhuman seconds

and his mouth meat bled

one bite stress induced

a soloist on the telephone

making obscene financial calls

scratching a flabby stomach

still held the phone

the woman a thousand fibers away

still howled

fiscal abuse

he had spoken off the script

probing her dollars

sliding inside her head

avoiding indignant sounds

her whole life on his computer screen

a random credit score

he had pushed to far

stench of cheap deodorant

dropping the phone

he ran

red nylon carpets flashed by

everybody watched

as outside the double doors

he vomited with blood

from his cheek

too afraid to return

walked towards

somewhere else

3wordwednesday

 

 

pointers from the flesh notebook

clever blue eyed clock

measuring the width of harm

in ratchet clicks so solemn ,

childhood had finished

you saw to  that

overtook my heart with years

as firm shrouding

growing up was a facility

in the forest where only some

belonged,

and i did not want to go there

it was a sentence

a finish

even ultimatum

to those near expiry date

flesh baggage creased and folded

eyes as dim bulbs,

i was the one on the bicycle

wishing to go past

shouting at the top of my voice

yet something broke the wheels

and i was left at the path

sat crosslegged wondering,

one woman with a cart lopsided

and one eyed horse offered me a lift

and i refused despite

silky touch of mane

as horse nuzzled my hand,

i was broken not forgotten

resisting time as an armed guerilla,

i would fight

and there would be casualties

3wordwednesday