Incoherent Ranting Martin Leonard Freebase

Dedication:

This collection of poetry is dedicated to those who still believe.

A Short Introduction as a Feeble Means at Explanation:

This is another collection of poetry without hope and yet there is a small glimmer of hope within these pages. It is the task of the reader to find the thin thread of hope that lies within the chaos of darkness and despair. The grounding of these poems is in the hard harsh reality of the difficulties of life. We are confronted at every turn with extreme hardship and difficulty. Life is like walking on a flimsy bridge made of weak dreams that stretches over a large and dangerous abyss. We can hear the screams of those who have fallen before us. In fact, giving up and falling into despair is the easy thing to do. So many have given up the fight before us. Do you remember when we still used to live with hope? It seems like so long, long ago.

Incoherent Ranting #1

Reading about the disaster in the newspaper between sips of pulp free orange juice a parasite producing work tailored to sell art as prostitution.

Uneasiness with ambiguous situations documenting the risks of reality they do not fit easily into the marketing plan.

Abundance is a vast emptiness I am owned by my things they keep me close to their side sucking the life from me.

Hung edge to edge and close to the floor the nothing is not here look for it elsewhere maybe under my shoes.

Texture as an alchemical feel refusing the knowable underlying object the distillation of negative reflections.

Refusing to take definitive shape preferring the projections of bullets grasping the smoking gun my body deformed by perception.

Accidently stabbing me in the thigh with the red umbrella a bleeding wound and v-shaped images wanting to isolate the single image.

Building the visual vocabulary positioning myself physically and interactively pressed between the transparent acrylic divided into four quadrants.

I have crafted an archeology of the unconscious taking steps into the unknown there are certain things that I always drag with me finding myself in the same place.

Incoherent Ranting #2

Throwing some retroactive doubt upon this thing called legitimacy a crisis of knowledge is as vulnerable as moral resistance.

Haunted by the necessity to address our losses I over-invest in the rhetoric of the erotic gaining a radical significance against the struggle against power wanting to look at the whole range of similarities and differences.

Awareness of the history and the dynamics the discourse of past decades taking on the entire fabric of social formations, a struggle over representations.

I am effective at disrupting categories no longer considering the normative ideals being able to surrender to the moment, thawing the frozen concept.

Allowing for experiences and transformations, feelings for the original impulse trying to find freedom.

Understood so deeply and intuitively, avoiding the center of emptiness, having mystical visions and cosmic vibrations.

Proposing to widen awareness, tracing it back to the same roots in a lonely solitary state.

Professing to have no supreme reality, there is nothing more or deeper than my own skin, coming forth with some little magic formula I combine life with the pathos.

Have been taught the foolishness of desire, the loss is inevitable, forced to confront the mistaken nature of my beliefs.

Devoted to my origins wanting to escape my indoctrination, inheriting the profound and the ambivalent.

This is what I call life wanting to place it in a bottle, to find this place of pain and restitution.

Smashing it all against the rocks, driven by production and consumption, no longer occupying the privileged position.

Incoherent Ranting #3

You tell me that someday I will sleep with the fishes I prefer to sleep with the birds with a blanket thrown over my cage.

Moving beyond the spatial dialectics flattening all distinctions a private retreat from the world of public anxiety.

Using the human perspective to subvert getting my fingers through the holes of the mask it is an open space that I fear to see.

Projecting my pastoral imagination onto everything that I consider to be green wanting the validation of common sentiments.

Developing the minimalist textures

caught up in the belly of the beast transforming everything into the digital.

Transcendence always emerges moving beyond the straight forward beyond personal powerlessness.

A body shaped area of space impatient with predictions of the inevitable an introduction to encyclopedic rhetoric.

Exploring the anxieties of the atomic age hurled against the harsh reality that is America angry and passionate like a revolutionary firebrand.

We cant process this with a normal mind attacking the established beliefs wanting to withdraw from the world.

A process of treason and defiance providing for the knowledge of miracles making preparations for the purification.

Considering all things to be impossible in this world and the next

the moments beyond the patterns.

Having failed to contribute to the forward march of progress finding nothing to be instructive and rewarding assuming that connections do not exist.

Excited about the end of human civilization thinking that a new world will arise from the shambles of the former deconstructing the world from an outsider perspective.

Incoherent Ranting #4

You undermine all coherence existing side by side with the mundane world considering all things to exist in your imagination.

Serving a single mind, you flow from one to another your desire is to provide insight into a greater reality having rejected a succession of personalities.

Falling in love with the real taking on much of that which is non-human a thousand drops of fire.

Living in destroyed buildings and broken streets our lives mirror our surroundings filling up the hollows of ourselves.

You fastened you own nails quick to gouge and destroy the flesh demystifying the sufferings of blood and flesh.

Living in a universe of things that simply are guts, genitals, and the five portals of sense roaming the streets with an underground soul.

Living in the bombed city of ghosts they once were angels bright faced with lapping tongues.

You recast your world as dead history they have burned your books as obscenities dragging you into the streets as a fresh sore.

We are unconnected to the past or these dead traditions rubble heaps and holes in the city soaking up the wisdom of the dead.

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You want to determine the images of the future many possible grounds for hostility operating in a common underworld.

Incoherent Ranting #5

Trailing behind you are your past selves you are ready to receive a new inscription communing in your tower with your dead selves.

Haunted by the memories of your guardian angels speaking adolescent girl talk the ridges in the stone draws the grain to the outer edge.

You appear Talmudic from a distance you say that your true opponent is yourself (pause) becoming radically compressed.

Filled with the relentless cheer of issues building your grim machine of self-abnegation often is your gruesome nature exposed.

Romantic as star-crossed lovers

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on the surface you appear to play with your autonomy searching for an opportunity to transcend the limits of self.

But, in fact you are cosmic in your absolute determinism your hand on the wheel shapes your ideology yet you claim the wheel does not exist.

Creating a process of fundamental destabilization you emphasize the ironic nature of your approach attracted to the power of the narrative.

Your structures of control proliferate now part of the apparatus seeking harmony with the elemental realms.

Seeing them all as droopy-eyed armless children showing them the magic you are not interested in what others believe.

You take the extreme and extrapolate relying more on molecules than binary code a pioneer of the minimalist persuasion.

Underscoring the incomprehensible you feel confronted by your own existence

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knowing that the proper sense is never really right.

You are immediately grasped by an audience of convicts all your elements are rotten and decomposed as you sit there just picking at your scabs.

Wanting to find you in the faces of many people spreading the plague of instability you want to know the context of the meaning.

Giving in to sentimental impulses naming the roads with multi-syllable words twilights emptiness turning into a nightmare.

Indifferent to accusations of pretension your hand shaking like Lucifers lips stroking the long beard of memory.

A sharply tattooed thought, impregnated upon your mind standing alone in the apocalypse it is always a dance with nothing.

You blame the alcohol and your red panties and the dying of the earthly beggar asking for your rusty coins.

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Incoherent Ranting #6

Your role models have fallen victim to windshield escapades finding a worldview difficult to accept you are at a crossroads.

Your life resembles a scene from a subatomic world an ever changing kaleidoscope of characters constantly determined by each others relations.

You want things to have a unifying theme making your twists and turns comprehensible manifestations pointing at the object as it shifts from one state to another.

You are constantly regrouping loyalties and shifting viewpoints every stage of your transformations are clearly defined your sycophants call you a strange attractor.

For you, disorder always comes from within basing your life and existence on the uncertainty principle it is because of the velocity and the momentum.

All developments have dramatic effects contradicting common sense

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it is what you call reconciling the prestigious.

Most days you are so deeply ingrained in the cultural assumptions of ordinary life that you cant see how your precepts of modern life determine your unproven phenomena.

You always seem to be out of your element dreaming the dreams of other people while we all watch your unique sexual talents.

Tracing your interaction and reactions in order to examine the impact on basic human experiences you stand as an initial violation of cause and effect.

You are inclined to do the unexpected as we strike off at another angle trying to link everything to chaos.

You jump and move and bring about existence fearing the collapse of enhanced notions paying the price for the giving up.

You project the pain of the outside and discover that your ideas all have opposites now you are self-absorbed by uncertainties.

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You tell me about your ten emanations how each one is weaker than the previous eventually they are weak enough for us mortals.

Incoherent Ranting #7

You long for a post-apocalyptic society one that can be obsessively controlled, I try to imagine what would happen if I could ignore you.

Punishing the citizens for violent rebellion building your career among the chaos denying the existence of an assured and agreed upon interpretation.

You approach all narrative with a methodological jumble putting forward before the whole world that which is unpreventable, your concerns are with the impacts.

Calling you back from your odd dreamy mood you are all here, right in front of me wanting me to attend your demonstration.

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Embracing a dreamy an infantile stance, we are fascinated with the spontaneous and symbolic, this need for magic still resides in our bones.

Rejecting the cruel commitment to an unjust war they are culprits of betrayal worshiping the unknowable force of mystery.

Working through negativity, you are hoping for a new world, offering me a talismanic vision grounded in your experiences.

Following after a hopeless and boring paradigm, exorcising the ghosts of shelter and privilege, your condemnation is strategic.

You have a sense of the fragility of order and reason, the influence of your skin shows how terror is located within the discourse of uncertainty.

There is something about the monstrous that makes you enthusiastic about the falsity of facts, the construction of truth in the absence of the accessible.

Adapting your aspirations to your ends

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you locate the coercive urge as the exemplification of form and multiplicity.

The absence is found in the ubiquitous threat, ever present dangers blend together metamorphosing into all the viral forms.

Something deeper and more closely woven into the state of things, finding yourself awash in the pervasive dust, you embrace the vulgarity associated with mass culture.

Your anxieties assume more appropriate forms, fracturing the fluid otherness of the monster, and not simply a vulgar hatchet man.

Preparing to give assault to envious forces, you gather all the barbaric differences to violate the restrictions of possibilities.

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Incoherent Ranting #8

Your continuous unpredictable digressions underpinned by a teleological drive exposes your inadequacies under close scrutiny.

Mixing the high and the low, flagging up literal connections, trying to reduce the experiential gap.

We go on living our doggy lives collecting property taxes and selling nitrogen fertilizer while developing a jones for the unexplainable.

We find ourselves written into a horrible conclusion charting the territory of the troubled, yet always understanding the empathy of destroyed lives.

Powerless to escape the closed circuit of the self, we trigger one extreme situation after another like those who have been hard-wired at birth.

Inviting the derision of a cynical age, a truest vision of our own private Hell, remember that the risk of looking banal is always worth it.

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Looking for the manipulative in the midst of naivet, you have found that stretching the world is way too easy, becoming appropriated and commercialized by television.

In certain fundamental ways, the world you live in is an illusion, inside you is the connection of a chemical haze, and this haze fills you with a distinctive singular stamp.

You have reduced your world into an infinitely small dense dot, it leaves you trapped inside with everything that is beautiful on the outside, everything has become inner directed.

Incoherent Ranting #9

You believe that terms like love and soul have redemptive qualities, distinguishing between the talented and the consequential, the selling of a constructed persona.

Grieving the loss of the essential voice, you shape realities into paper swans, thinking that I escaped into oblivion.

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Wanting to distance yourself from nefarious orthodoxy, the crucial allure of taking things at face value, wanting to level the playing fields.

You never could see yourself as a divider, both beat down and beatific, and swimming and drowning.

Managing the fantasy lives of the powerful, It is more than a job to you, It is a divine calling.

We have heard about you going berserk in the zone, chopping off heads with a dull machete, hoping to decrease your libidinal activity.

A certain gravity pulls us all down together, just as all the rockets pierce the skies, the civilized reverting back to their base animal instincts.

Derelicts exhausted as obsolete hustlers, the things that you carry out to salvation, gamblers, hoboes, and molested children.

You whisper the mantra in my ear,

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gone are the days of tomorrows, being has passed over us all.

Incoherent Ranting #10

We have learned to live with the swollen otherness the unusual still stands across from the smoldering it is so alike the suffering of love smitten avenues where you first learned the madness of grace.

I sent you away with the others with a spoonful of courtesy that you interpreted as disgrace, you are a turbulent throated panorama.

And I still remember those fortuitous mornings when you would loosen your naked vibrations exposing yourself to this transparent man, making a servant of my humility.

I have become too accustomed to your electric vigor, how you turn it off and on just to tempt me, making me reflect on the days of spectacle and hesitation when you used to advertise yourself as the victim.

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Those were the days of embracing all the available madness, an ambivalent portrayal of your ideological universe, when your life began at your moment of despair, living without the exploration of possibilities.

I confess to you that I am more animal than human, not conscious of my own being, I just simply live, my conception of self evolves in relation to you, you have made me more human.

We live and have our being in the satisfaction of our needs and this makes us acutely aware that we do not belong, not finding satisfaction in our instinctive needs, we search for the lost stone of enlightenment.

You remove your anxiety with the balm of conformity, then this otherness dissolves more and more, the produce comes from the joining of opposites, we become equal through love.

The inauthentic is submerged in the external world, your excitement is trivial and transitory, this is an encounter with your naked self, the soul that you hide from others.

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Now that we have left the dream world, we can never go back, recognizing the wealth that we have attained, now the question has become a question, meaningless, cruel, and stupid.

Incoherent Ranting #11

I have hidden from you in the arms of other lovers, and yet, you unearth the unimaginable, scooping it out with both hands.

Little by little you are becoming an emerging technology, someone to read about in all the daily blogs, you distance me with your words of attribution.

My throat gets dry and irritated as I repeat your words, they trouble me as I mull over them, as I embrace them, I become fully aware of the horrible.

Giving me insight into your binary structure, there is either war or peace, challenging all centralized authority.

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Failing to connect the narrative lines, we once were soldiers of a different cause, our hearts beat faster then.

Always moving away from unity, the long arm of the rocket, a flash and then a big bang.

The whole unravels into nothing, returning to your familiar digressions, against the systems of power.

Contesting this mode of production, the selling of your ideology, it justifies your unequal distribution.

You have become an element of fiction, left in this circumstance with a body marked, everything dissolves into its own authority.

Leading to the theoretical dead, a game without consequences, a rupture between the sign and the object.

Slipping back into this other being,

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a book of sermons by brother Augustine, synthesizing these conflicting approaches.

Steamrolling the radical tradition, seeking other orders behind the visible, examining the attempted exorcism of the ghost.

Attempting to install a new world disorder, organizing the haunting of repression, you mourn the inheritance of the unjust.

Incoherent Ranting #12

You say it is best to focus on the lost, sniffing the air for the faint smell of pretention, and digging your toe in to the agonized dirt.

It all may be a matter for jokes, found playing in the mind bites, face down in the smallpox.

Here goes your plagiaristic pastiche, securing a popularity that lasts in Hell, the sister of your sweetheart.

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Examining the truth of the traditions, wanting only to pacify the natives, your heart exploding like a firecracker.

Making your owner proud, being both something and nothing, a connection between my bones and the small country.

I found you gibbering in the supermarket holding a lobster in each hand, you cannot escape that which dehumanizes you.

Watching the gods die on youtube, taking your clothes off and becoming angelic, full of tears and hard boiled eggs.

You cant stop pushing, you are a fish speared and strapped to the side of the boat, rebelling against the cultural trap.

We misread the primary causes, still believing in faithful fathers, even when they demonstrate the slippage.

Threatening to cut my thoughts

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with a dull knife from a lazy dream, placing yourself at the margins.

Embracing the hybridized idea of identity, demonstrating your deep conflictions, not being able to compare it to anything before.

You seem fatalistic or even paranoid, as you keep your eyes on the sky, looking for a savior to come down out of the sky.

Wanting to control the representation, contending with the hidden doubles, somehow only fractionally present.

You are so connected to the echoes, they have become your imaginary mirror world, dramatizing the maniacal.

Doubling the equal and opposite, being far more pernicious than we thought, this daunting task of synthesis.

You say it is all stylistic contagion, transmitting the virus,

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we call it America.

Incoherent Ranting #13

The effects of radical triangulation, a permeability of the consciousness, dramatizing the dramaturgical.

You are possessed by the voice, including all objects and forces, in your life it disintegrates.

Gaining insight into your inner cognition, the weak run away frightened by the monstrosity that is your mind.

You prefer to keep your omniscience hidden, another instance of pathetic fallacy, using a violent ventriloquism.

Your perspective is shifty and malleable, focusing on my obscene gesture, a sponge absorbing all things.

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You are a copy without an original, everything must be inverted and turned around, external forces possess us.

My life is caught up in certain alertness, so many times living a temporal displacement, speaking to me impersonated.

There is nothing to lose but your senselessness, the steel web is a living organism, the potential to become subjective.

You capture the psychic forces and exist in two places at once, a predisposition for the erotic.

You say that time is a funny thing, as you kill me with your futuristic smile, I know you came here from another world.

You have been busy stealing my mind, putting thoughts in my head, more lies about democracy.

Ive got to keep rolling this violet love,

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even if everything is in front of you, like a toxic dose of corner religion.

You are a punch drunk monkey hanging on my every word, there are no winners on this circus ride.

Incoherent Ranting #14

You broke my heart with a chisel and hammer, wanting to engrave your name on flesh and bone, I cant blame you for being stuck on the top.

I used to worry about your ability to let go, how you would paint everything in black, persevering against your reality.

You say it is an honor to be in my presence, yet, you keep telling me the same story, how you killed a man to save your soul.

I once wrote you into my story, the taxes were too costly, when you ate me with your alligator smile.

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Im not fixing your bike anymore, you have to learn to ride for free, even when you are shooting your documentary.

No one believes me when I tell them how fucked up you are, they think Im making it up like a communist plot, you know I dont need their approval.

I have seen the beginning and the end and I have written it all down, you are mad at me for killing your god of hurt.

I could have loved every cell in your body, but, you traded me for a bottle and a ticket for the train, you are engrossed in your self-destruction.

Endowed with both length and direction, you are a partial ordering of events and a force acting on reality.

You always recognized the costs before I did, and had a gist for controlling the energy, you had a way of making things work for you.

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Incoherent Ranting #15

I watched a bird eat french-fries out of a garbage can while a hungry man played his guitar hoping to make a couple of dollars to buy a bag of social harmony.

As you pray to your god of corrugated aluminum, a mangy mutt sent by corporate nose pushers, to do the deeds of angry apostles.

Your dysfunctional figures write in the sands of time, as you conjure the ghosts of burlesque dancers, lost lovers that never quite reach you.

You fashion a fragmented narrative that never can hold the bounds of hope, these souls do not feed on a happy message.

I cannot sing like the songbird when there are misery and unhappiness in my heart, for I hate this life that time has shackled me to, they have always loved you more than me.

All of your relationships are puerile and dependent,

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that is the way of seductive relationships, so easy to bitch about the world going to hell.

You have become a dominating force upon the peoples consciousness, you rarely attempt to challenge or disturb, not being able to instill a sense of challenge and pain.

The happy-faced clowns comfort the disturbed and disturb the comfortable, that is the way of vicarious experience mongers, we all suffer alone in the real world.

You identify with the characters pain, conceiving suffering in the lives of others, I am sorry if this is more likely to make you uncomfortable.

You have grown too accustomed to being lied to, you want your entertainment to be 100 percent pleasure, I am sorry if I make you work so hard for such small rewards.

You have become lazy and childish in your expectations, I have no desire to hold you by the hand and lead you to the fruitful analysis.

For you, pleasure is a value it becomes an end that you strive for,

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maximizing the pleasure-to-pain ratio.

I guess I dont love you enough, I dont care enough about you to be cruel to you, If I really loved you, I would drill you like a raw recruit.

I would inflict you with trauma, physical, mental, and sexual, beating you with a violent love, engaging you with a range of experiences.

Incoherent Ranting #16

You accuse me of teasing the fun out of you making you afraid of all the unvoiced shadows, your guilt is not mine.

You still get your daily mega-dose of the grotesque, I make sure to find a useful vein, it can always be found between a rock and a hard place.

I am completely unabashed about this, I use you for the glory of the corporate gods, when I look at my own stuff, I feel that I am too absorbed,

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You consider me a fringe benefit, one with a thorny side, lift with your legs and not your back.

Serving the rather darker purpose, there is no way for you to escape, not when I hold you down with intentional words.

Depending upon the vehicle to bring you to the gates of nirvana, you have given away all of your power.

The familiar love-hate syndrome of seduction, that is what you sink your teeth into, taking pleasure in the disappointment.

Something more than the desire to inflict pain, as you sold tickets at the door, building your alienated and atomized society.

Im squatting naked in icy mountain streams strangling beavers with my bare hands, yammering about hive minds.

Terrible glowing rains of murder,

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churning with hostile life, if I could I would crucify myself.

You have been sanctified by the emotionally retarded, they have made you their queen of sadomasochistic tendencies, because these sorts of characters require no development.

The contemporary condition is hopelessly shitty, I think we all become heavy as death from time to time, while you become bone dry.

I have slept with your corpse for too many years, to stop now would be like drawing the scent of human flesh, I am a howling maelstrom of decay and destruction.

I have reduced you into a snarl of tangled and broken filaments, applying CPR to once human elements, it is all about being a fucking human being.

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Incoherent Ranting #17

Watching the breath come out of your mouth, we are all becoming less and less human, without souls or love.

My tongue is made of erectile tissue, depicting me not as a flattened, dehumanized stereotype, a dilemma that you and I have always faced.

An embarrassment of riches, we do pretty much whatever we want, without boundaries to define us.

You have broken most of the rules, you said you did it for me, for our love, rule breaking has got to be there for the sake of something.

You wind up yielding incredible results, this world is not pyramidical even if you believe it to be true, shit does not pile up to make new paradigms of shit.

You are a true believer and this makes me want to kill you, you have cast your lot with the beret wearing assholes, all your rebellion has become trendy bullshit.

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You sell the revolution like another commodity, the revolution will be marketed on the internet and sold in affordable units, your goal is to increase your bank account and not to free lives.

I am disgusted when you argue that modernism and postmodernism are expressions of the cultural logic of late capitalism, you are influenced by this massive acceleration, selling people a memory to help sell your revolution.

Loving the jargon you dress common sense in, Im not trying to be compelling, watch me use seventeen different points of view.

You say you love me because Im clever, I dont know what you mean by clever, I thought being clever meant to be redundant and insignificant.

I agree that Im insignificant, but I never thought of myself as redundant, I rarely seem to exist just for my own sake, I am just an animal searching for that which is human.

It is remarkable that you consider my integrity to be so sad, I have created in you an internal effect, a reaction to my existence.

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The results of all self-awareness is eventually destruction, your response to this is typically biblical, my reflection in the mirror is terminal.

Incoherent Ranting #18

The little gray people who turn the cranks, working the machines that others have built, well out of the range of the eventual blast radius.

You have replaced the angel of death, you have given me new life, washed away the blood from my old wounds.

You have taught me how to divide by zero, you have given me the strength to run away from the machine, I have given up the gray pellets.

Trying not to love me to death, we have this insatiable hunger for the appearance of novelty, striving to make a difference and to be different.

I never could understand how you had to be estranged from yourself, I think this alienation from self that you experienced paved the way for your death,

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now your integrity is sad.

You spent a lifetime antagonizing the loneliness of people, you made intensification your career, your calling, you look at me and say I love you.

Then you hate me more than the rest, I deny my loneliness when you wrap your arms around me, together we share the big lies.

You always said that the bigger the lie the more tasty, and I can still taste your soul upon my lips, even though I have learned to move on without you.

Incoherent Ranting #19

In order for growth to happen, we must first face the dreadful, our transitions are less cause and effect based than most, you reward passive speculation.

Exposing yourself to the audience to anesthetize, your message is never about the medium, who you are mediated, filtered through a colored lens.

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You mimic the jumbled flutter, when you dance across the floor, increasing my blink rate to signify that I am hypnotized, now you can insert your subliminal message.

Coercing me to buy into your way of life, to view consumption as the means to happiness, I know that if I do not consume that you will kill me.

Thus, my life becomes a farcical pantomime, that illustrates the meaninglessness of my life, we all suffer at the hands of capitalism.

An old saying that you always use is seeing the crap is like sniffing a rose, all I see around me is piles and piles of crap, and it does not smell like a bunch a roses.

No, it smells like a bunch of crap, lets stop kidding ourselves that is all there is in America, crap.

Is it roses you smell when you step out into a cloud of pollution? Is it roses you smell as you walk three flights of junkie piss stained walls? Is it roses you smell in garbage strewn streets?

Travis was right when he said we should flush it all away,

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someone needs to flush it all down the sewer, Maynard said it was a hopeless fucking hole.

Spend your days worrying about your next fix, worry about your credit cards and your imported beer, worry about your Wang and your Dior and your Buddhist punk.

Fuck your star spangled salute and your nicotine habits, no one cares about your blogosphere diarrhea, or how long it takes you to get your courage up.

Incoherent Ranting #20

It is like you are constantly adding to the growing confusion, where there is disagreement there also are opportunities, like cracking open one more head before you call it a night.

You became a fashion trend during the war, everyone wanted to fuck like the idiot whore, speeding up the production.

They have placed a net around your building, hoping to prevent your lovers from jumping to their death, isnt hope such a silly thing?

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The experts were brought tin to study the problem, they tested the toxicity of your internal organs, they studied all of your piercings and your multiple tattoos.

An exorcist was called in to cast out your demons, I never believed in angels until I met you, I hope my words dont hurt your chakras.

You shudder and then off to the next worthless adventure, saying that nothing can kill true love, I know that this is only a lie.

I took twenty four milligrams and then thirty six, it always takes just a little more to get higher, attending to things like carefully turning a doorknob.

When we left the city, you looked back, I was surprised that you didnt turn into a pillar of salt, Im always betting on the long shot.

You turned back to see if you still had a tail, dont fool yourself girl, its winking at you, something crucial from your middleclass youth.

Your fetish priests sitting in lawn chairs,

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thinking they can edify and uplift, as you stand at a pivotal moment in the construction of sexuality.

You examine the blankness of women in the fantasies of men, nothing more than the constructions of searching freaks, they work so hard to erase the scares of masculinity.

Your preferences usually lie outside the normal zones, surrounding yourself with the believers of phallocentricity, you say that at least they believe in something.

At times I am nave, uniformed, and even crude, and I ridicule the assumptions of arrogance, never once fearing my impulses.

Between us is a history of power, people are more than their sex organs and genes, we find the things that dont resemble the others.

You call them your little pets, giving them hell with a full dose,

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Incoherent Ranting #21

You have no facts on the disappearance, it was a circle that began eighteen years ago, my memories are all up periscopes.

Searching for that remote object, that thing you bought at the thrift store, wanting to escape the confines of the outside sphere.

Suddenly we are confronted with the inevitability of the future, you tighten automatically as if caught in a struggle that you cant resist, bound tightly at the wrists and ankles.

An intermediary step to the present, naked and spread-eagled on my bed, this is the crucial moment.

A distinctive disoriented fragment, lost in your own individual ways on the frontiers that once was Miss America.

Lurking deep inside us is the repressed bogeyman, we cannot block him out with hallucinogens and alcohol, the whole thing is about ceremony and ritual.

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As best as you can despite your bounds, its about the experience on the dark side, we all go there every once and awhile.

The dying breed that threatens to become extinct, your obsessive need to establish a firm order of things, eventually you are forced to retreat.

Unraveling the meaning and function, just like all those sudden changes, understanding all the others that came before you.

You are overwhelmed by your unfamiliarity with the present, defined by the reflected light of the males that surround you, trapped in a universe of simulacra.

Filling the space of your own lost personal history, no longer comfortable with traditional expectations, being forced back to the world of forced intentions.

You pretend that Im a character in a television show jumping though a plate glass window, it is the way your mind deals with the situation.

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You found a land of the dead that is populated by a camera, the flat lifeless forms haunt her as she views them, they have a strange power over you.

Incoherent Ranting #22

It all started when we discovered that we have nothing to talk about, not being able to remove the stupid barriers that separate us, we cannot find our common executioner.

We once were born of a greatness born of blood and falsehood, nothing left to conquer in our hearts, knowing that our own spirit cannot fight against the bullet.

Since each of us were several, we saw all things come into focus, making ourselves unrecognizable, being only a vast accumulation of chipped fragments.

Voicing the experience of the past and that which lies behind us, looking at life as if we did not exist, we dwell in the world of ideas and commerce.

Not content with doubting everything but going further,

48

and still you claim to be courteous and unobtrusive, even though it would be a queer thing.

You have made it our duty to doubt, attaining this reason despite all the pitfalls, in the old days it was so much different.

You say it is something that no one quite outgrows, even those brave souls living in the minds of used car salesmen, you know this is what you want.

You say that we have all been touched by the absurdity, even those who close their eyes chanting believe, believe, there is nothing more to believe in except for the end.

When it comes, it will come with a jar of bees, a Christian cross dangles from your neck, you could never touch my dark heart.

It is amazing what you agree to when you are on fire, throwing away the shambles of this former life, there are no more wonders to hold in phosphorescent hands.

You taste my restless spirit with your tongue, stepping on the tripwire and releasing the prongs,

49

they enter deeply into my heart.

Incoherent Ranting #23

There are no more seasons for dreamers, gone is that little girl that used to dance, she is older now and sells insurance.

You want to place happy thoughts in my head, but, they only wither and die on the vine, like the forgotten and neglected grapes of life.

You pull the Rosetta stone from my ribs and fashion a man from my bones, I can see the eternal.

Everything comes crashing down around me, your stained glass windows shatter into a million pieces, up your rise from the floor like a dragon.

A burnt offering upon the mountain, you surrender what you have lost, you had the assess saddled.

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A skeleton driving a burnt out car, when mystery no longer exists, facing a new nightmare.

Begging for the fair hope of your future, calling me the idolater, as I pull the cards out of their pack.

You have blackened your breasts, for it would be a shame if your breasts looked delicious, I must believe that you have changed.

I have taken away your reproach, we ride on in silence along the way, turning my glance against the ground.

I am your delight and joy at all times, even though I have stopped being natural, I am a synthetic virus grown in a test tube.

We still do this addicted thing even though we have become fathers and mothers, they see in us the hand of death.

I am sitting on an invisible you,

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distilling your true essence through a cloud of smoke.

Waiting on the other side, making plans to spite the devil and in the end making the gods laugh.

Incoherent Ranting #24

We rode together in harmony, a tremor passed through my body, as I raised up the knife.

A the foundation lay a strange seething power, beneath a bottomless void, I contribute nothing that is my own.

My faithful service in the house of shadows, it all has been observed by you, striving against the cunning of oblivion.

Powerless it may be as a memory, these gifts you freely give to me and my brothers, through a cloud of misunderstanding.

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Each of us great in our own way, according to the proportion that we have loved, this happens through expecting the impossible.

One by expecting the possible, another by expecting the eternal, and I in my struggle to overcome myself, those who are secure in their strength sacrifice their all.

We can overcome the evil of god through the strength of our sacrifice, the secret can be found in the wealth of your foolishness, for I have sorrowfully sought and found that which I had lost.

As time passes all things seem unreasonable, not mournfully counting the days as they passed, it is not my fate to stop the path of the sun.

It is so easy for use to give when we realize that we are giving up the temporary, my blade has not become dulled by grief, I still fight against the power that inverts everything.

With the old man that outlives all things, we both have become mature in the conflict, casting everything away for this world of which I do not belong.

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Incoherent Ranting #25

An old man in comparison to the child of promise, your doubts cannot stand against the preposterous, the heavy dispensation of providence approaching.

As the mountains fall upon me and cover me, fetched from the outward and visible worlds, you have been subjected to the laws of imperfection.

You cant believe that the sun shines on both the good and the evil, introducing the same law of indifference, it all depends upon your willingness to be heavy with burden.

Without labor we are not able to understand, despite the fact that you have offered your best, fortunately things dont happen the way you want.

Perhaps you lack the courage to carry your thoughts through, you claim to be willing to murder us all for the truth, and yet you want me to hang upon your wall.

My light I shine into your heart, easy enough to imitate the unfaithful, you have never been able to silence my pious veneration.

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You say I should not initiate others into such thoughts, wanting me to let the sheep lay on silent pastures, but they want the wolf to be so close to their throats.

I am a transitory mood and a voluptuous emotion, when we talk about the exploits of love, doing that terrible thing which love has sanctified.

Making incomplete movements complete, the whole reality of existence is concentrated, in the tips of your fingers.

Incoherent Ranting #26

You are delighted by the speed that the infinite appears and disappears, the more pathos filled outbursts are usually followed by blows, how foolish you would seem if you abandoned your calling.

Being built up in the quietude inherent in the nothing, sharing in the joy that circles the world, the first is the speculative manner and the second is the ironic.

Expelling all these mind numbing vapors,

55

when we realize that we know nothing at all, finding the whole domain bound by illusion.

The nature of your social value marks the contested and defensive, wanting to establish an anti-ironic form of rebellion, you always had an eye for that which had more financial viability.

Refusing to compete within the terms of existence, throwing away the model of white male cultural authority, within this context you find it necessary to justify yourself.

There is a crisis that informs you, living with it daily, often your tone is weary and jaded, in your hip pocket are twenty-five bits of factual information.

You make the dramatic the most visible, this business with code books is all your invention, always seeing appositive side to this calculus of death.

For you happiness is a boon or a bummer, as you are building the new world in the shell of the old, you keep telling me to be the change I want to see.

You say that you are living the revolution now, as you sharpen your bowie knife,

56

the truth always cuts deep down to the bone.

Human things broken loose from humanity, we demand the attention of a selfish mind, trying gamely with your chit chat of prime numbers.

Together we have been looking for stray arrowheads, in some transcendent state where our minds have left our bodies, narrow glimpses of pipes and wires.

Incoherent Ranting #27

A pitched battle against prudence and sound judgment, sneaking up behind you in the jungle, spread eagled like a saint on the altar.

You always have a special way of coming down, cursing the ears that never hear, this is not a gospel that you can kill for.

Reaching into my being and pulling out the joker, he dangles from your fist like a toy puppet. screaming for more mutilated flesh.

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You dance to find your inner demons, gathering this physical violence into a redemptive posture, I am always amazed when you do this.

When I have a moment to stand back from the nightmare, disbelief owns my heart in so many ways, fathomless is the will of evil,

Incoherent Ranting #28

Everything is a mystery in hushed tones, as my words get turned around, wanting just a private place to open up the purple bottle.

You are a boys game played by men, appearing to wait in quiet anticipation, we are confronted by our alienation with the past.

You live in your own circle of hell, a city of hustlers, beggars and junkies and pimps and runaways, before any sales pitch had been made.

You say that you are putting the finish on your training, I know better than to believe in your lies,

58

you are still looking for your next warm, soft, and sentimental sacrifice.

You are gifted, needy, and quirky, creamily full-bodied spendiferousness, as a particular tradition, embossed and emboldened, reflecting a pervasive change in our culture and in us.

You are sacred because of your physical prowess and anatomical perfection, you walk as if you carry the seed of life for the whole universe, the fallen angel and the temptress moon together in you.

You raise questions about your ownership, you want to know if you or I own your body, when innocence and sin were both respected.

Suddenly, your body was lawless, you could leave me and everyone else, without permission, without crossing the Rubicon.

Your ethereal reach longer than your pin-wheeling skirt, each a troubled cog in the collective, all of us hurt and hopeful faces.

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Incoherent Ranting #29

It was like shooting the main bolt on the gate to hell, as you release the radical dogs from the tethers of conformity, you must be immersed into the chaos to fully understand.

Tilting quietly and with an imposing presence, with your waggle of punch-drunk poets, you stand beneath bridges watching humanity jump off.

There is a long and lonely loss hidden way in the back of your pupils, we were all shaken by your depraved smile, convinced that your coldness would last for an eternity.

They never stayed long enough to find if you were true to your rustic open air, I will never tell you where I have hidden my ghosts, It is a secret that only I know so well.

I knew that I couldnt keep you and this made me mad, soon you would be off to find new adventures with guilty eyes, you once resembled the likeness of a devoted woman.

You adjust to deal with it; the way that what happens becomes a part of who you are, clicking your heels together,

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the idea of yourself is bigger now.

You know more about the human condition, your view of the world is so much bigger, you are more than you once were.

This is not a knee-jerk reaction, no, this is something more, it is more than your calculations with your algorithms, filtering it through your own narrow view.

Existence and life break people in all kinds of fucking awful ways, I have seen it happen over and over again, too many times to be an accurate reflection.

This sickness sort of seeps into you, it takes you over, I have heard your stories about the degradation that has come to you, how it has entered into your life and become a part of you.

We can wear this thing for very long, it weights us down, pulling you and me to the bottom of the pit, yet, we have survived this havent we?

This has made us stronger; it has pulled us closer together, it makes a difference when I say that I dont just believe, but, I know, yes, yes, I know this is the truth.

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It is this belief in my heart that makes the sun rise every morning, suddenly to know that the world could break open, and swallow all of us in its destructive appetite.

Still some part of this human soul would survive, like a quick expensive little tour of the human condition everybody talks about, but no one really wants to go there and live.

We just visit there in our minds through others bodies, now you understood yourself as a thing, ripping it all way, how much this rips away.

Incoherent Ranting #30

When everything that has a connection to you is gone, and who you thought you were gets torn away, all thats left is whats left.

You know that nothing is automatic, you structure your mind to fit into this world, just split yourself off and float up to the ceiling.

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it is a message of self-trust and self-empowerment, you are a scientist without portfolio, moving in the domain of the gurus and pontificators.

Always on the brink of another world, I have barely scratched your surface, It is all so embryonic.

You say that you didnt invent the oligarchy, yet, their fingerprints are imprinted on your DNA, we are all addicted to a drug that will destroy us.

You have seen the collapse of our civilization, only concerned about your ticket sales, I am foolish but not that foolish.

Hiding behind your narcissism and hatred of self, while you scribble notes on a legal pad, jotting down the ramifications of the bloom and the sprawl.

There are no visible wires that connect you to the world, as if this explains something that has been puzzling the shit out of you, you are the one who tells the passengers to insert the metal tongue into the buckle.

Your leg was amputated in a jungle somewhere,

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the specifics of where and how are not import, you gravitate instinctively toward your position.

All the important stuff is going to be sub textual, built around an armature of 206 bones, it must all be vented to the outside world.

You say it all has to do with realized thoughts, the conception and the existence are two sides, a soul without a body would not be a living thing.

You see all things as defective, throwing little concern at definitions, all our calamities are deserved.

Incoherent Ranting #31

My unfamiliarity with death allows me to speak of truth as if it were a flower that can be grown in my garden, even though I believe that I could never be such a god as this.

Together we fight against creation, we know that death is shaped by anothers order, but, the name escapes us.

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Having seen the evil that is born from ignorance, inside us we have killed this thing called love, I always want to love that which I cannot understand.

Never revealing myself until the end, there is always a symbolic significance to my disease, responding to the violation of traditional values.

Saying it takes a special sensibility to decode, that is utter nonsense and bullshit, my fraud has only been exposed.

Claiming to be a member of the most wisest and prudent, not wanting to return to the darkness, betrayed on this altar of life.

My whole being is exerted in accomplishing nothing, flying into enthusiastic orgies only to retreat in desperation, not finding satisfaction in ambiguity.

Pretending to have an understanding that is beyond the masses, but, illusion is my opiate, I am blind like all the others, I have killed too many prophets to believe in you.

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Living off the river, wild and wooly, wanting to be greater that the world of sleep and dreams, gaining knowledge of the hidden world.

You are coming at me in waves, the first one usually the most effective, bringing all the issues together.

Seeing the aliens and becoming the aliens, and considering all the paths to not be equal, what I want is the experiential.

Collecting all the tools but lacking the original engine. lining it all up and pushing it through, seeing it in a way that no one else has.

Suddenly there was a shift, coming down from the sky, another dimension sprouting out, dancing around the cobwebs of history.

Every nature has disappeared, becoming human ideals, I am not the margins but the center of the object, society is infantile, idiotic, and stupid.

I dont see myself as human, I only believe in my things,

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preserving the illusions of the population, something written in the language of the flesh.

Incoherent Ranting #32

Wanting to build the apparatus that makes me realize that no one is in control, using the word fascism without knowing the meaning of the word.

It has all become scribbling on cracked walls, wishing to say something about the meaning of life, how there was a civil war between the gray aliens.

The tilting of the brain stem brings new epiphanies In the UCLA library, watching the old man beat down a brother, over and over again, and the children of privilege can see their privileges.

I am still trying to escape that girl that I created in high school, she was the one that I condemned as being too pretty, wanting to always know where the next big thing is coming from.

Ridicule is always fine for my purposes, I thank each stranger as they pass by, and the game always evolves.

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Pretending to be wicked very, very well, as I pretend to agree that I am an American, I tell you that nationality is of secondary importance.

Immediately recognized by a special pattern, habitat confirms the correctness of the determination, having been preceded by the age of realism.

There is always a question of affinities, incomparably more attractive and more abundant, my feelings are always so complicated.

Some current of a strange being is passing through me, I have allowed ideology to be my determination and my destruction, it is a matter of temperaments.

I have devoted very much effort to the task, I have created me for a day such as this, not up to discuss the figure of fun.

Followed by admiring glances, it is not the coincidence that bothers me as much as the coincidence of coincidences, using a new glib line every other day.

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You were invited to attend my execution, but you didnt come, perhaps under the influence of many notes, I needed to switch from one to another.

I have followed the course that you imagined for me, I reproduce it as faithfully and fully as you would wish, not having anything to do with my shade and shadows.

You make it impossible for people to ask me questions, there is no more uphill race to run, trying to eject it from every orifice at once.

Incoherent Ranting #33

I feel you spreading through my body like fire, ghostly flickers of illumination, inhabited only by demons.

Explaining the facts of the world to the people back home as I wear a sphinx like expression on my face of many lies.

A cast of actors and a rhumba of rattlesnakes in the midst of a bevy of ladies,

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settled in that deep dark spot.

They all want to hear me pontificate, claiming to be in tune with the vibe of the universe, Im sorry but this train left the station a long time ago.

You never looked as beautiful as you do tonight with your hair dangled across your face, I never knew a devil could look as tempting as an angel.

Incoherent Ranting #34

Longing to connect with all the universal bits, to no longer see the shiny faces that drag us down with them on the end of the couch.

I once tried to identify it, but the meaning of the words escaped me, I knew that there was something more than what I could grasp, even though love was so treacherous.

I say I do not care if you believe me, I know that you will believe only that, which you want, suspending disbelief in order to believe.

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Yet, you rub so god-damned hard against my rust with your petroleum jelly, lighting another joint, you look away from me and sigh in disgust, there are too many things that I know and you do not.

If you identify with any of my poems, it is simply the fault of your imagination, all I have I have given to you, the stem, the horn, the vigor, I have given you a home, a place to dry your roots and berries.

The man who follows you with careful eyes has grown older over the years, I discovered fear when I thought that I might leave you, it is fear that reminds me that I am getting old.

Incoherent Ranting #35

There is something inside of me that finds it hard to close in, I have grown outward into your lines, drinking in all that is your substance.

Plotting all that lies behind and below, you are encouraged by Scarlets success and your replacement by the giant dung beetle.

I have visions of you on your deathbed

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because of the consequences of your own appetites, shrinking into a small point of light.

But, they are only the visions of a madman, frustrated by your frequent permutations, my voice still booming off your skull.

The orange-ish makeup that you wear every time you go on television always makes me laugh as your face seems to glow with a life of its own, pivoting on your knees and swinging your legs around.

You are always the first one to not say no, as you kneel on the bed spreading both butt cheeks, I insert the long plastic tube and blow.

You want to expose the framework of stupidity, sticking your tongue between your teeth, when you smile I think there still might be hope for us.

You create this explosion of associative connections inside my brain, chopping at my frozen insides with your silver hatchet, inside you is the pressure and the release.

Speaking about subjects that you are under qualified, you always try to bullshit the bull-shitter,

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for you the world keeps getting smaller.

Incoherent Ranting #36

When I touch you, you feel explosive and percussive, your skin is like something that has been blasphemed, grinding you up and running the goo through my fingers.

Deeply alien to my American resonance, you can never tell when my jokes are jokes, absurd and scary and sad all at once.

When I take the time to sit and think, I realize that I deserve your face, how you have found your life to be contemptuous, I have seen you sizing up the strength of the rafters.

You want me to write about us, how we drink in the darkness and sunshine, how you dip your finger into the pools of deeper alchemy and realize that the worlds hope is not for us.

I cannot write this for a world that wants to be entertained instead of enlightened, this self is not something we have; it is something that has grown out of the primordial sludge, it has struggled through the decades to develop an identity.

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We cannot separate ourselves from this horrific struggle, and you hold on to your beliefs in justice, my beliefs I have crucified on the cross of realism.

Incoherent Ranting #37

You always want to calculate ahead of time whether something will be a hit or a miss, I am a stage on which you perform.

Everything for you is an opportunity to flirt with the ablated and nakedly jerry-rigged world of our imagination, you are ambient with univocal urgency.

After all the cuts and bandages of your lethal bellicose manner, I still build a machine that tries to read your mind and heart, it works on the principle of shared intimacies.

We could have once been considered human, you and I, but now we are victims of our own avant-garde heuristic, we spend our days looking for a way out.

You want the pieces to add up to something recognizable, something that could be considered human,

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poking the your head through the holes of reality.

For you this is not therapy, it is you being your utmost honest self and yes, you being sincere unarming yourself of all your preconceived ideas about how the world works and should work.

In fact, you realize that everything should be scrapped and thrown into the universal garbage pile, this thing you feel is too damned hard to name.

There is no way that we can escape it, finally you get up enough nerve to ask about the sameness in all human relationships.

That inescapable price that all humans must face, no matter how hard we struggle in the noose, using me as an instrument for your own selfish needs.

I once loved you with all my heart, that was before I discovered the fraud that lived in your heart, some piece of heirloom furniture that shows your connection to authenticity.

You only want to be seen as generous, the smiles fall upon your giving, when it is all a manipulation of your narcissistic projections, you could never give up your precious beliefs of self.

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This is why you always appear so pathetic and melodramatic, desperately you try to salvage all that you have, in the face of your punctured fourth wall.

Incoherent Ranting #38

You always consider the costs like a somber man facing his future, trying to avoid your self-conscious feelings about the induction of anothers insecurities.

How this thing that creeps up behind you as you stand next to a stranger at a party with your drink in your hand, keeping it in the back of your mind that it all may be for nothing.

But, this nothing is what you bank on; it is the frontrunner of all your bets, not trying to look desperate or pathetic in your new shoes, swaying ever so slightly to the musics hypnotic beat.

If we could somehow find a real human connection with each other here tonight, then, all your bets would be off, trying to escape the inconsolable aspect of self.

We both are fundamentally lost and confused,

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frightened and unsure if we can trust each other, whether we both experience things the same deep down inside.

Incoherent Ranting #39

I have lived with your irrational worries for a long time, how you feel that you are doing something wrong, that somehow you dont measure up with the thoughts of others.

There is never enough generous and reassuring things that you can gather, all your numbers still add up to a deficit no matter how you add things up, this glass of beer in my hand is always half empty.

I can never get enough of your self-loathing, I imagine that others can read it upon your face So you spend hours in the mirror practicing to look normal.

You aggravate my friends by calling them up in the middle of the night, crying to them about some perceived wrong that a heartless soul has perpetrated against you, how this infraction of social etiquette leaves you thinking life as terribly unbearable. 77

You think you know how things go, that you have been kicked around the block, we have all seen it portrayed in your home movies.

How your childhood was fraught with bad memories, you and your sisters huddled together crying on the hill, the family car smashed against the restaurants dumpster.

The time you stole your mothers Virginia Slims and shared them with the neighborhood boys, and that one special little boy who saved his paper route money to buy you a ring.

We sat around the table and each made a judgment concerning your epiphany, your understanding of the world compressed into a blinding flash of insight, never thinking that it was inappropriate or at the least irrational.

Slapping at the steering wheel in desperation, as the nightmare continues, always preferring your left to your right. 78

Incoherent Ranting #40

You say it is ok to ask for help, yet you laugh at me when I do, this is why my feeling towards you is complicated, life is always too complicated at the exact moment we wish for simplicity.

I know that you desire to be lifted up, to be built up by my encouragement, you come to me with this helpless look wanting my words to put new life into you, this is our ritual that we share together.

It is through your needs that I have become more human, to be truly needed by someone has made me alive, you work so hard to protect your secrecy.

From time to time I find it necessary to turn away from the truth, you find it necessary to save everyone with your dime store Jesus, I was with you when you bought him with the money for groceries.

I remember I was so mad at you then, as I watched you climb another beanstalk, 79

imagining your minions prostrated before you.

Telling the reporter about your habits, it is funny how you invent them for special occasions, if you were not real, I would find it necessary to invent you.

We try to elucidate your wild workings, making sense where none first appeared, in this way we have made you something more than you really are, I think this is a fault that can be blamed upon us all.

You blow the poison dart at me through your blowpipe, speaking to me in that made-up language that you invented, I have walked the plank for you many times before.

Standing behind you as you create your manifest destiny, as you move forward, there is a little bit of me that stays behind, you quote a phrase that is an unpleasant coincidence.

I have seen you on the streets mongering your influence, following after another leering glimpse, 80

you have stolen everything you could get your hands on.

I have dreamed all this up to surround you with something that is not your own, stabbing you in the back with the missing thorn of a rose, as the world recedes into the distance.

Incoherent Ranting #41

It was my aim to convey a constriction, a warning spasm if you will, to lay bare those horrid foundations, where we tread so lightly, fearing that we may awaken and offend the ghost.

You are on the whole, a spontaneous combustion, contributing to the corruption of others as if it were your godly calling, calculating the auspicious days as to when we start our journey.

Parody is so central to your vision, and you continue to search for a good martyr, distinguishing between a game and a lesson, we have all been hampered by your decentralized tone. 81

Perhaps you could understand me if you had similar thoughts as me, maybe even if you looked at the night sky and saw the same stars, had the same dreams when you slept in my bed.

Many things lie on the other side of limit and nonsense, for you, the world is a totality of things, both material and nonmaterial, this determination of all things become the basis for your peril.

They work against you like an unruly dictator, building machines that fight against the facts of reality, your goal is to destroy that which you do not understand.

Thus, you claim that we are our shirts and pants, and shoes, and hats, we are the car and the house the condiments in the refrigerator, we are all the bullets in this gun.

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Incoherent Ranting #42 The one thing we can be certain of is uncertainty, as your twisted tongues lay buried in the graveyard, with your mirrors you dissolve my flesh.

You feel the most comfortable in the shadows, each step you take is an emotional journey, Im still searching for the honey in your voice.

I am standing upon your metaphorical plateau, from this vantage point I uncover your psychological pain, in between your hours of manual labor we get our frustrations out.

You could never begin with harmony; it was a beginning with distortions, the reflection of my watch in your picture frame frightens me, it makes me think that there is a golden-headed monster behind me.

I have tried to share with you my honest feelings, but it never serves a purpose, you are willing to participate in my pain, in some ways you are such a trooper, so willing to put your whole self into a cause you can believe in. 83

Crawling on my hands and knees back to the whores bosom, with the thoughts of a shorn dog still rolling in my mind, unflustered by your lapse.

It seems like you travel back in time, I know never to trust in appearances, you have a history of crafting illusions and my mind has been trained to believe, I have seen you turn into something that wriggles and something that spins.

You rotate around a single black point, as I stare, it breaks open, I see your pentagram making reflections on the wall, you breathe in like a dead Modigliani.

I retreat into the shadows with your one sharp nipple, we have been touching gods metal all night long, the men dont know what the little girls understand.

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Incoherent Ranting #43

I am a giant, a mountain that has been pushed up by my own hands, disclosing myself as a dancer trapped in the spell of the music, I have been consumed by your all-encompassing law.

I know that you will appear tonight in monochrome, your body has the power to absolve all my sins, I am hanging from you jagged sky.

You want to clean up my blood from the floor, all my supplies covered by an old blanket in the backseat of your Chevelle, if you dont love me no more, I know your sister will.

You tell the stars in the sky to stop moving, you stop them from building that one perfect line, if you would blink, it would all be gone.

All my lives have been brief, but they add up into one long string, you wink at me with your muddy waters eyes, 85

when the changes come over me, I can feel so blue.

I could walk right out of here and take it like a man, It has all been too hairy since you spray painted I Love You on the ceiling, I can see your profile out of the corner of my eye.

I have seen your eyes swimming in trout streams, you reach out to me in the cold dark spaces, flashing me like a disease.

Incoherent Ranting #44

I have seen the shadows flee from your presence, they remind me of guilty insects who want to be burned by the flames, it is all about how the light attaches itself to the dark hearts of things.

You once fought invisible enemies standing in the foam, instructed to crawl on your belly like the priest taught you, we are dimmed by the deconstruction of ourselves.

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I once was a man, now I am a vortex of feelings, searching for a soul to inhabit, living with your continual groan, as you employ desperate attempts to reconcile the differences.

Rendering all frozen and oblivious to your manipulations, I am a weak participant in your erotic fantasies, with the covert up and down motion of your hand.

Incoherent Ranting #45

You dance around the room in your violet rage, the blueness falling off your fingertips, like the sparks from your spinning heart.

We disappear down the road in your old Chevy, worshiping your semiotic god, always on dark dusty country roads.

You are like a child waiting in a hotel lobby, wanting me to only smile at the people you like, 87

your fingers still searching for diplomats.

Would you still have this spy romance novel feel if you didnt carry that picture of redemption with you everywhere you go?

Your skin, your clothes, your Virgin Mary obsession, I know what you want to hear me say, what you need me to say, but I cannot say it.

You are always shopping for a bag of posies, I ask you why and you only smile, its like Im standing in the hotel lobby again.

Incoherent Ranting #46

You want me to close my mind, teaching me to compromise just like the chairman of the board. 88

I would eat you if it werent for your mother, you never wanted to be divine, only human, there are always two frames to your dialogue.

You acted like I accused you of murder when I told you that I wanted to kiss you, you would always walk upon my water.

You gave me hope, when I saw in your suffering in the reflection of my own, together we are only objects rotating and always concerned about the influence of progress upon us.

We used to work together to produce a shared reality, but now we only stab each other with sophomoric knives, our attempts at creation are crude and rudimentary.

Who you are is the result of who you are not, you are only understandable in your relationship to me, without me your life would have no meaning. 89

No matter how many times you try, you never get the desired result, you have become petrified by the smallest event, your needs are constructed and are not innate.

Becoming a dismal prophet for the attractive ones, chasing after the industrial revolution, and insisting that we focus on the tactile sense.

Incoherent Ranting #47

This collapse that we live in is the result of the disappearance of vision, we can no longer see an outcome that brings progress, all the things that we touch are only death.

Still you keep trying to convince me that there exists a universal end point, your sincerity seems genuine, but I find trust a difficult commodity to purchase, even when it comes in such a finely wrapped package.

I know that your beliefs are still just another religion with well crafted utopias, 90

it is all done according to your god s mighty equivalence, building the delusion of a visible confrontation.

Your neighbors send you anonymous letters, trying to explain life and meaning to yourself, seeing destruction as your only creative passion.

You show how you felt in your touch and retribution, it is through our shared misery that we have learned to love, you are a human work and not the imitation of nature.

Incoherent Ranting #48

You lean against me, you feel the sunset in your soul, it is as if the dying of the sun represents a human sum, you are screaming in my blood.

Separate and disconnected figures of sorrow, it is shown in your disrespect of the roots, 91

disenchanted with the established forms of living.

Your large numbers are not my large numbers, I cannot write for you, I can only write for me, resisting your attempts to fit your values upon my life.

There are parts of me in this, I tear them away from me and watch them struggle for life, but their roads lead only to death, it is this final outcome that we share as creation and creator.

I have all the magic I need; I do not follow after your gods of folly, my tracks are stuck deep into the mud, rendering me a stoic figure.

You interpret my silence as misogyny wanting me to like only your friends, I could never sleep in your river.

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Incoherent Ranting #49 It is not I that is important; it is the spirit that moves me, that puts your life-blood into my hands, that lets me see you in all your weariness.

You say that life has no boundaries, engaging in the particular and peculiar, believing in the significance of the eternal.

So many times I have seen you backed against the wall by your insights, waiting to be saved by self-realization, you are secure against every conceivable possibility of doubt.

You want me to proceed according to your guiding principles, never hampered by the obscurities in your foundations, the splintering of your thinking sets you in a tailspin.

Externalized as a lifeless convention, the intimacy of our conflict demonstrates that we belong together,

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lacking the unity of a common space in which we might exist for and act on one another.

Shaping yourself with the ultimate evidences you have produced, you renew with greater and greater radicalness your spirit, enhancing it to the last degree.

Our intentions were to walk together, hand in hand, soul to soul if we must begin again like children, uncovering for the first time the necessary regress.

As we pursue our course, we stray into seductive aberrations, and so we make a new beginning once more, we put out of action all beliefs that we once believed.

There is no absolute ground, on which we can stand, the all-embracing must have the form of deception by your absolute certainty of self.

Giving in to rather strange circumstances, 94

in the manner of believing on account of already believing, grounded by the agreement with the judgment.

This having that you hold inside you, it coincides and agrees with what is given, experiencing of something that is and is not.

Incoherent Ranting #50

We immerse ourselves in the striving, extracting falsity, error, and criticism, this everyday life is filled with changing and relative purposes.

You want your verifications to be carried out to the end, obliged to modify your truths again and again, recoiled into an infinite horizon of approximations.

You believe that you can surpass everyone and even yourself, we discover fundamental parts of the final idea, deprived of existence by the universal overthrow. 95

An eventuality about which we can at present know nothing, we always exist with the possible intermediate stage, owning the instability and ambiguity.

Incoherent Ranting #51

We count these as being parts of our normative existence, wanting to be capable of becoming, completely destitute of all knowledge.

All dressed up in your clown makeup, I can see it in the whites of your eyes, the life they dont sell you in those travel brochures.

I can smell the hurricane of your lips, two by two is the tip of your tongue, as I remove your bumper stickers.

You are unable to process your own life, 96

thus you need me to bend you like a tree branch, we met when I took a tour of hell, you were the tour guide.

Jaws dropping with protruding eyes, the basis for our opening at nine, the package is assembled with the flattery of your eyes.

We sit around you quiet like Tibetan monks, as you cuddle your ass close to my face, you tell me to say woo-hoo, when I see your pussy.

Woo-hoo!!!!!!

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