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Anthony DiMichele, 29 october 2015
The Beginning of Everything
The Beginning Of Everything
now I think I will bite the blue ice in the toy box
with an ocean of maturation
cat whiskers in chains
a bridge from the harvest to my face
that storm tossed ghost ship
that solo cobbled together
with tales of longing and a few clouds in passing
wish softly sister
the mad world is a light dancer
nameless colors cascade into a red lake
urban homesteaders fly by in a fog
shaken lovers stir the city
with a loaf of bread in full bloom
baked with dynamite
what time is nighttime tonight?
tango with the black widow
or talk to the ventriloquist in the mirror
it is sunset's day off
it is the beginning of everything
again
*
Anthony DiMichele, 28 september 2015
we were warned
I remember to remember
a hail storm on a motorcycle
it took me
it shut me up
thunder and lightning...
hurricanes that broke glass
and bent the trees back like Odysseus
bending his bow
a flood that had huge sewer rats
swimming down the street like they owned it
and a pregnant muskrat with an arrow through its head
and a turtle on fire
and we played in the clouds of insecticides
sprayed from above
we were warned
but we were kids
it was magical
and defiant
Anthony DiMichele, 8 july 2015
before dawn
they are at the parade by now
after noticing the time
little numbers
that adjust the sunlight
to the waiting corner
getting the box of shade
the chairs lining main street
where the sharks feed
were bait for the initiated
with the kids following along
too late
for me
I rise before dawn
Anthony DiMichele, 8 july 2015
The Theft
the birds in the trees and a wind chime
in the slow breeze
that is exceptional in muting
our talking
quietly
the jaws relax
we float together on the flying moment
silenced and willing to go on
further into the day's magic
stolen by the theives of our days
and we feel we are stealing back
what was ours all along
*
Anthony DiMichele, 8 july 2015
just for laughs
I see many points of light in the dark night
fires in the void
as if the void loathed itself
a white wash in a black hole
I too would call
it from inside it
no
no message
I call again
and again
just for laughs
and their echos
*
Anthony DiMichele, 8 july 2015
love poem
I love you shamelessly
and quietly
directly and immediately
here and there as you come and go
*
Anthony DiMichele, 21 july 2014
namaste
I bow to the spirit in you
with a lower case pronoun
the first person singular
agenda
dissolves
into everything
a plurality
ironically a unity
bonding us in our chaos
without both of us in each other’s way
*
don’t be negative
when your head
is buried
in the
sand
you are already one
dying
to be two
and so on
through
the entertainments
the fears
the day dreams
that can sometimes
remember
the sky inside you
*
we pick at our defects
as with scabs
always in a hurry to heal
to accelerate its natural pace
to be perfect
again
and be able to smile
with our original face
*
Anthony DiMichele, 20 may 2014
Astonishment
“I no longer want to be astonished.”
A declaration made by Antonin Artaud during the last
years of his life. When I read this I was astonished.
Why did he even bother to write this down at all?
Could he imagine the effect it would have on a reader?
The impossibility of living without astonishment
is terrifying to challenge. Is that what we amount to? Terrified
slaves to wonderment? Bewilderment domesticated?
The codification of self-delusion?
All the myths of deathlessness lead to the preposterous posturing
of civilians who adopt the attitude of happiness as a strategy
of denial. Happiness has become a Cult with vast numbers of adherents.
To live without conscious awareness of death is like being unaware
one casts a shadow in the light. Dreams have become consumer rubbish.
Dreams and Death go hand in hand into the forgotten Shadow’s land.
*
Anthony DiMichele, 25 march 2014
Farewell
There is a heart
behind this shield of fear
with its aura of hatred
pain and ambition
commerce has nothing to do
with the gift
you gave me
at the office
and at home
you probably caught me
red handed
in a dream
or two
over the years
the gift of time
with the trees
and herons
the collective solitude
of song birds
singing farewell
with joy
at dawn
if we could only unchain
ourselves
from ourselves
and not insist we all
suffer the same way
to live
through a lifetime
singing a memorized song
I will not build my own coffin
around me
with salvage wood
from the dumps
of despair
the material is light
the essence is light
but we are most often
heavy with impossibility
I have no quarrel
with squirrels
or the other absences
which I stopped reading about
accounting for
in an instant of lightning bugs
and they were gone
from the landscape of childhood
this is my folly and fondness
and most high regard
not the meditators and commentators
but those who know how do what they
always knew
let go
move on
and give away everything
to follow nothing or no one
but some strange feeling
within
there is a heart
here
under the grays
that knows no fear
the lowering everydays
we put past us
there is an island with a heart in it
a sun with a starless night in it
and friendships that make ordinary speech
a miracle
*
life is always astonishing
Anthony DiMichele, 23 january 2014
illumination
names with painted faces
breathless words illuminated
dying is a crazy dream
*
Anthony DiMichele, 26 december 2013
tomorrow today
frosty wishes
santa chihuahua
barking laughter with a vengence
who asks me did hypnotic pink ever happen?
and what is this wrinkled caramel coating reeking with aging
moth balls?
first light is a painting of sorrow tomorrow today
with all your favorite mammalian adaptations
every angel in the collection bears a crystal
bouquet with coloring books
waiting under the apple tree of judgment
I cry in the freezing rain right in front of it
keeping the best company
to myself
ice cones of geometric perfection
go wavey in the calculus of the white rays
yellowed in brown dwarfing cumpled into
something else
because nothing never exists
you need a mitt the size of Jupiter
to catch the comets and hot rocks
that take down dinosaurs
who can’t remember how they got this far
despite their myopic triangulation and monumentalism
that allows one last glance
before we get here in miniature
okay the gluttonous long fingered kites
are tethered to the beaches where the dead
are served up on platters of cool glass
death kiss in the blue blue snow on the waves
burning in the bellies of skates
I think of all the plumbing slumbering beneath us
while tugs are pulling the aquarium across the river
on fire
snowballs and igloos fill the holes in my palms
Floridas of corruption irradiate the embryos
floundering in oceans of renewal
where the strangest creatures born from cosmic excesses
get passes
Anthony DiMichele, 13 december 2013
the box
unappointed
seditious
scurrilous
I hate to fall outside
the box
you make
in your unmindful minds
but in the beginning
was the myth
of reference
there really are many ways
to barbeque a baby
on the white house lawn
it's not the case in this case
fallibility can betray our last resort
mechanism that states nullification
is over 90 percent guaranteed
I am no slouch
I worked out all my contradictions in
kindergarten scripts
I was an enlightened gorilla
in a playground totality of plastic
I was an anarchist by five
I knew what I wasn't and it was everywhere
it made me sly with cunning
prefering the ways of twists and turns
to the logical line's ontology
I met every beautiful monster inside me
outside
and the life inside that showed me dreaming
was flying responsibly
*
Anthony DiMichele, 11 december 2013
Mandela
as soon as I heard Obama did a puppet show
at the funeral of Mandela
I suspected the hero of being a sociopath
a man out of time
murderous rage
doomed
to celebrity with blood on his hands
that washes off easily
after each torture session
his 2nd wedded wife necklacing kids
laughing as their heads exploded in the
ring of fire made with gas in a tire
shoved over their shoulders
which are wrapped in barbed wire
and ignited with a match
lovely
but somehow his evil was less evil than the evil
he blamed for making him resort to evil which is
righteous
so he posed with the spice girls like a sweet
ole daddy and probably
recalled all the rapes he condoned in the name of freedom
called the ANC
each could point to the truth of the others' terrorism
I hope when he died he remembered the horror
in slow motion
so it takes a lot longer than 27 years of free housing
*
Anthony DiMichele, 8 december 2013
tempest
I have no thoughts of home
when cupped in a lotus of the presence
of life
it runs through you into the ground full of clouds
and rain
through the walls of your eyes into the sea of streets
fully occupying minutes shaving hours for meals
and yards that fill an enormous loneliness
that has multiple contradictory definitions
death to the justice of the just which is just
for the unjust
brimming with the unlovely sight
becoming monstrous
famous on earth
among strangers who find in their brutal hearts
moorings for their grizzley dreams
while the tempest blows over a tea cup
of barely audible whispers
*
Anthony DiMichele, 28 november 2013
Thanksgiving
Only cannibals eat other animals
Smart meat
evolves
to veganism~ consider it
meet for your mind
*
Anthony DiMichele, 1 november 2013
a cup of rain
there was a plum tree
whose rich violets on green velvet
were dreaming of white gold blossoming into a cup
of rain
Anthony DiMichele, 30 october 2013
our calling
adolescence
the last level for us
destroyers
our calling is in the ashes
kill this world
of uniformity
when you're asked for solutions
scoff
it's not your job
*
Anthony DiMichele, 17 october 2013
in my sleep
I can't pay you back or in the fast forward
of my future's present
I can't find the present
because it is living in a fictional future
bearing my name
away
as I disappear into my work
for nothing besides the making
filling a spot on a floor for a bed
working toward revolution
in my sleep
the lies go on and on and on
I have no credibility with myself
without you involved
and you have none when you are
I want to give it all back
to you
it has always been yours
I always said never
there is always a lot of dead time
for speculation
and I find it intriguing
thank you thank you from the bottom
there is finally no where left to go
for any reason
without means
and I have mellowed into a neutral smile
a line seperating nothing
inserting its self like a scar
that stitches the tear in the face
into lips
*
Anthony DiMichele, 16 october 2013
ignorance
scientists who deny the utter destructiveness
of their methods and outcomes
the actual historical results of their work
their compliance with and submission to corporations
that control research with unsustainable aims
these scientists who cannot account for our origins
or consciousness
are also those who claim life is inherently meaningless
and that life began out of nothingness
rather than simply admitting their ignorance
*
Anthony DiMichele, 16 october 2013
dreams
my dreams scare me
I am an absence in them
a feeling hard to shake off
after waking up
*
Anthony DiMichele, 3 october 2013
sex and war
what sex and war have in common
besides beginning with blind passion
is their resultant carnage in the aftermath
of their engagement
*
Anthony DiMichele, 3 october 2013
war
war is not a word
full of ambiguities
it is full to overflowing
yes
fuck
love
too
but unlike them
war is always full of the same quarry
of insanity
*
Anthony DiMichele, 3 october 2013
reality
Reality
a dumpster word
if ever there was one
too full of everything
to mean anything
in particular
it is something for dumpster
divers
to contend with
*
Anthony DiMichele, 8 august 2013
humdrum
everything is humdrum how we like it
nothing going on here
in the cosmic drama
the trees surround the house and beg
for permission to believe in our enterprize
the remains of other characters on the barbeque
are being smothered in smoke
you will miss the point of my life
missionless decency
unfolding inside a spectator sport
make a place for yourself
among the anonymous multitude
it is said
you can part them like wheat
Anthony DiMichele, 28 march 2013
After Midnight
there was captain slave
and the book
and also the inner clothes I dress up in night after night
the revolutionaries’ worn out flames
the next time we will not take you by force
our aspirations are to be advertised on movie posters
I shake hands with a swordfish in a blue suit
the blood hums in his gunpowder
all of us are burning
for a catharsis
when you are gone even for an
evening
deep down I am miles into a dare
*
where do you undress
your voice?
who is really naked naked or not?
in vain your tough structure bends
an immense utterance into a whisper
but the electronic walls spy on you
black and bitter from eternity
our wine bites its pulp
above the scars the riddles are unwritten
claws sink into memory
the broken clouds appear to be breaking up
and I owe you
a long book
*
between each infinite maybe I made my way
with being being evaporated drop by drop
do you remember shouting at the earth?
and then the vanquished dawn without birds?
through turquoise and crimson clouds rain fell
soaking our stockings of ashes sunken in traffic
my nails would be delightfully undone
by a solitary arrow on a one way street
I am dressing myself with cold gravestones
in the emptiness of another picnic with all expenses paid
the overture is written on a yellow postage stamp
it doesn’t make sense because it doesn’t
motionless celestial flight
*
the overture however might go on forever
said a heart wildly alone
with a thick tongue of solitary kisses
lightningbolts exploding on my lips
slapping stars in palm trees
with the hair of water
and my semen scattered in constellations
oh! the axe was a torch though I held the light like a weapon above my head!
*
Anthony DiMichele, 26 march 2013
urban solitude
I am under a light
everything I want is a cheap fake!
drugs sex power money miracles…
there’s a line for you…
keeping an eye on that thousand foot smoke stack in the sky…
all ahead went fuzzy…
behind it was dark as ever…
bent down doubled over in a struggle
for animal warmth…
hard roads make of our royal labors… labor…
be humble
or revel in a future that looks
token green
over the irises
the garden still delivers
like threads…
Anthony DiMichele, 26 march 2013
Hermann Hesse
since the first time when the light was a promise
fulfilled
the air clearer my eyes keener
the books ladders to climb
I loved walking through the alps
in your imagination
never stumbling
because happiness was everywhere
and you could breathe
without noise in your ears
the simplest wash of cerulean blue
in a broad band across the top
of a paper rectangle
was saturated with its own magic
someone always got away
from the storms of love and poverty
plague and wild flowers
before the game got complicated
or was it all in the mind afterall?
it didn't matter what side your voice was on
the wheel covered us all
every time I am split down the middle
and stand between myself and myself
I remember the smell of autumn leaves
smoking behind the fence rising below
pale stars it was marvelous and ancient
you couldn't ignore it
which made me feel like company
the monsters were always ordinary in hats
monsters who were not monsters
afterall perhaps
since the first solitude
since the first door opened into wonder
and isolation
I only blush alone
I open you again to remember
the days that were already memories
with no futures
and happiness in simplicity that was always
oddly naive
*
Anthony DiMichele, 24 march 2013
perfectly
This morning I woke up in my coffin
I was on the wrong side of my neck
to be precise I was before and after
myself
with a message that dreamed me
caught forever in my mouth
I hope I get to you in this promise
but I was already on the wrong side
of my pain
in the neck like a medal I wore backwards
intentionally
between stars this morning
I wore hope around my neck in a noose
that I knew was meant for someone else
but I woke up hopelessly
and it fit me perfectly
Anthony DiMichele, 24 march 2013
lust
my frozen lust left an empty puddle here
fantasies
filled with lovely fillings
while nihilism leaks out of hollywood buddhism
buttery old fashioned
shamefully naked
nothing
living in underwear
a purgatory for vainglorious poultry
who are finished with thanksgiving
Anthony DiMichele, 23 march 2013
weightless
the anxiety slashed me it curled me into a fetus of fear
the fear cancered me
for years and then it killed me
many times
I am with you not of you
my pain is weightless
my thoughts a narrative of escapism
suicidal dance in the shadow of our rubbish
everything goes in the frenzy and the trance
the song and dance
of eatting corpse
I don’t know how or why
but I fly downstream to the sea
automatically
and I don’t stop there
I can hear you speak
to your self silently
as you read
I think this is eternity
I don’t want to die
Anthony DiMichele, 19 march 2013
Mindspring
I went to the mindspring
an oasis in a desert
the place has been off limits to humans
since the 1930s
and so has gone wild
I was the first white man there
to see such vast vistas
and to hear the silence
that was immense
it covered me and everything else
with its invisible blanket
I knew in my heart which was suddenly
enlarged
what it meant to be part of the earth
rather than an occupant
of rented space
there were no other humans on earth
but me and there were
a few flies
the mountains were punched up and isolated
blocks of jagged rock
the alluvium
crept up their sides in low
long slopes
they were alive and almost
organic
I too was detached
and part of it all
I did not need a hand to hold or
the reassurance that someone else
was just over the hill or at home
waiting
I wanted to crouch down in the sun
expectant but for what
I did not know…
now I am back
not deeply changed
but more solitary than ever before
our place is in the wild
by the ocean or in desert spaces
places where we are neither beggars
nor kings
but bits of the foundational dust
eternal
Anthony DiMichele, 18 march 2013
significant other
when I came into my life
and became my significant other
I became a grave by-product
I love the way he tells me there
has got to be a system
to build a car out of data
choices will be modular options
with a whim of individualism
the great divide echos with
very little variation
in sarcasm
which takes enourmous amounts
of delusion
normalization
floundering mindscapes in an ocean
of insane insecurity
constant dissonance resonantes
hammering chords into random bonds
adapted to what is malleable
within a monoculture
I have no relative resources
to spare
I like reason I understand resistence
as well
there have been far too many linguistic
massacres
whole languages disappear without notice
*
before you leave I want to ask you
how you got here
priority mail?
that microcosm of a macroworld
of competition
that no way is anything other
than murderous which makes me
garnish my neighbor’s ruthless
barbeque
I make good money nominally
a narcissist can make a movie
out of it
that goes viral
in the impossible
*
your loneliness accuses me
of being someone I hate
who shamelessly steals my shoes
those identical twins day and night
but I am accountable
and talk then talk over
talk with more talk
which is absurd which I have already
heard
because it is part of all the talk
your loneliness I have heard is not
my business
but I have no business
but silence
which accuses me
*
your absence empties the task
at hand of significance
who needs you when I play hide and seek
with myself?
is that what you mean?
*
you are up now well after I woke
restlessly
in a seperate room I hear the bass notes
of wood against wood
and maybe something made of metal and glass
and I wonder if I should go for walk
to be gone for you
*
it is a fine late autumn afternoon
of cold sunshine in
March
fall spring
they miss each other
so much
they resemble each other
they just can’t let go
*
listen
just for another hour
like background noise
distant traffic
to a raven in fir tree
next to a cemetery
or cicadas after a hard rain
with 90 percent humidity
or wall paper from another century
the white noise in the dry yellow grass
listen to how tall it gets
tomorrow
*
the curtains are closed
holding back the light
when it wants in
the clocks haven’t quite digested
last night’s leftovers
or a forthnight’s overdraws
I suppose
*
when you are really happy I know I had no
real part in it
so I have nothing to fear
*
Anthony DiMichele, 9 march 2013
the flames
and the flames were swallowed by darkness…
you go ahead I’ll be there in a moment
the dogs are dead
I tracked them with a computer
to the end of hope
they’re here
they called me home
I am at your convenience
which will get you nowhere
trust in the lord and you’ve suddenly got one
but company is hard on my knees
and if I were an imitation
of a standardized test
a sample
a reaction
broken into
with the only key
I could explain the fusion
of those funny things you hear out there
that would like to get back inside
nobody
who got it from you and returned it
used it last
why do we always
talk over each other when we are trying to think?
the clock is eating the frosted halls of an apparent haven
and of course there is a limited ration of kerosene
who is hidding inside the imitation
that takes over the question marks in ski masks?
punctuate this truncation with a bodice of perfume
yes it could be anybody’s
now
*
Anthony DiMichele, 5 march 2013
get out of jail free
I woke up yesterday on my birthday
I was a rock star
in a double wide garage
let me show you again what ecstacy looks like
after our passing into dust
(something you want to weigh in on)
you alter the settings
and get out of jail free
but your citizenship is revoked
wandering here never ends
and that is okay too
the reserves are just over the hill
their wings on wheels blaze
they are breathing fire
everything is about to change
Anthony DiMichele, 3 march 2013
who is beautiful
you have to be short for a guy
misshapen and ugly
as if your face was made with the flat
side of a shovel
in wet cement
to lurk openly in broad daylight and mean it
unintentionally
suspiciously
while every caress leaves you feeling
secretly filthy
and your doppleganger is out there
looking to deal with the devil
who is beautiful
white and expensive
no not us we say
I wish I were green
or striped like a mandrel’s genitals
I would lay baskets of poppycock before goldilocks
you just have to be ugly
small
to key the boxcars full of you know who
going you know where for you know what
to clear nostrils on red carpet
or valet service for a ufo under a carport
don’t go there
once you have seen one and talk yourself out of it
only to discover you are a liar much later
you revel in the freedom of hair coloring
hand-me-downs
even ghetto was begotten
by the same sow
huffing a cocktail
mixed by a slave
oh yes
yes
smaller and uglier even
Anthony DiMichele, 27 february 2013
The Cult
I joined the cult of the self
anxiously
not completely willingly
but I was born empty
and nothing could fill me easily
not without a tacit acknowledgement
fettered to a vengeance
a charismatic speaker
who demands a democratic process
I never wrote it in stone
but left my footprints
hardening slowly
all over
that wet cement
Anthony DiMichele, 27 february 2013
America The Beautiful
murder incorporated
presents
America
the beautiful
crime against humanity
and
after all is said
and done
it is just a word
a proper noun
posing as a verb
in memory
Anthony DiMichele, 26 february 2013
epitaph
If I have made a career of failure, it is because success has always
looked like a life of crime to me.
Anthony DiMichele, 25 february 2013
The End
who is ever ready for the end?
the elusive obdurate oblivious ending
of anything but pain?
to change what is
to what was?
who is ever ready for love to end?
who is ever ready to say goodbye and mean it
forever?
who is ready even after love has died
to walk away?
who can kill all hope rather than hope
for one more day?
who can tell the last chance
from the last hope?
it is the speed that amazes some…
who is ever ready
for the end
once the end has finally
begun?
*
Anthony DiMichele, 25 february 2013
Sage
I said to myself when i re~read what I wrote
its okay
to say what I said as I did
even if
even when
even though
the consequences
are great
after all
I am not
lying in wait
to trap love
like an unwary
animal in the wild
words are an empty cage
and when passion knows no bounds
its ecstacy
even alone
is sage
Anthony DiMichele, 25 february 2013
A Matter Of Convenience
You are something else
puppet master without faith
in the puppets
where the police police the police
and the children are in charge of trouble making
while all of us are walking toward our corpses
it is only a matter of convenience
not to think so
butterfly dust
the rain is also nude
all points of view
face the same direction
the journey toward rebirth
makes me laugh
at trees without trees
in their leaves
I need someone to hold my feet
to keep my mind from leaking
one persona at a time
I am half in half out
of the driver’s seat
with a snake
in a suitcase of smiles
Anthony DiMichele, 25 february 2013
Ring
the ring is old gold
in my dream I wrapped it in a dream~cloth
a tissue almost transparent made of veins and words
I polished it to the sound of an old oud
and my heart sang as I prepared it
for your finger
with a vow I had never heard
or spoken before flying from my lips
I saw a goldfinch disappear into a sunset
but my feet recognized it
and my heels stamped the earth
in a rhythmic dance
until
the dust flew up
in a circle
around my ankles
*
Anthony DiMichele, 23 february 2013
well wisher
you are so good to me
it fills me with shame
a cardinal in a cage
who impersonates a parrot
replaces me
as soon as a kindness confronts me
sadness sorts it out
well before regret
the well wisher's punishment
Anthony DiMichele, 30 july 2012
never the same
the greatest moment of my life
I was 5 at most
late summer afternoon
squashed into a bed before dark
ecstacy interrupted
thunderstorms in my head
I scanned the half dark wall paper
the sailing boat the blue shade
half drawn
over and over again
until there was nothing left to see
but a rectangle
of light
an emptiness scintillating like a galaxy
the more intently I stared the more I saw
as it narrowed and faded
absorbed by the wall
which had also disappeared
infinitude within confinement
the room around the void
I was never the same
*
Anthony DiMichele, 12 july 2012
paranoid
I know I am paranoid
it took the first ten years
of safety education
to open my eyes
a frog's mouth unexpectedly magnified
how life forms are transformed
into celestial garbage bags
my mother's command repeatedly
was to push harder!
it taught me repetition
a contortion of origins hard to control
finally I see my zombie at high noon
eat its own hands in prayer
but something is always missing
in that appetite
I am suspicious of its nexus
a gordian knot I tied with my toes
I sheath my tongue in a hunting knife
and I can't wake up after I awoke
there are ideas that bleed confections
carpenters who never touched a toucan
the flow is moving from mind to mind
mindlessly most of the time
I was so wise once
every game was life or death
with my dice cup full of hot air
in arcades hypnotised by surrealism
advertising its lips
finely stitched with care
Anthony DiMichele, 20 march 2012
seeding time
it's seeding time again
and that involves a lot of shopping
with any number of warm-up attempts
at least I remember that much during the busy
weeks that cycle faster now
wobbling on bent wheels
and panting
if I was as young as you
I would take a good hard look
at defacing and erasing
and outlaw it
you have a harvest behind the curtains
take it and run!
Anthony DiMichele, 20 march 2012
wind
tasks wearing old and faded motives
shuffle aimlessly
waving handles an idiotic tale
that I will tell you
there are spills and clutter throughout
the wind we spoke about the wind
as you opened the door to another world
and drove to work
to pay for the trees it was about the trees
in high winds all night
and how you woke wondering about your
thyroid and I was listening
it sounded like surf
at an airport
or a carport in a marina on fire
but it was wind shaking the distant
treetops
Anthony DiMichele, 28 february 2012
Black Snow
I wonder how much of the sun has already been used?
manditory optimism
as usual
willful ignorance
maintained by a pinhead lobby
of invisible deities
they are busy being happily wounded together
how did you know I would ask that?
propinquity breeds objectivity
where did you go since you first got here?
the sun is over the roof
but you wouldn't know it
by the footprints filling up steadily with black snow
Anthony DiMichele, 5 february 2012
It's Just Business
business
big business
alligator skin
face
and realistic skin-like gloves
it's just business!
a tie like a blade
from the neck to the genitals
Anthony DiMichele, 5 february 2012
I Won't Kill
I will kill a fly
but I won't eat it
is a fly more annoying than a pig?
than a carrot wrapped in plastic?
I won't kill a cobra
but a mushroom?
Anthony DiMichele, 5 february 2012
joyful noise
I will take the path
to the white light
inside the bearded cottage
of joyful noise
Anthony DiMichele, 22 december 2011
In The Beginning
In the beginning
it makes your hands glow
coldsnap's whipcrack
cranked up drumfire
gliding on air
blowing trumpets of ice
orange poppies spray out of rock
fishes fly out of the sound like a jail break
our voices
together at last
singing: this must be the end of the world
while the light
at once in all
struck through our bodies
History's absurdities
we called off the past
whistling through smoke from behind our
numb masks
for the everlasting silence
with our livid night blue sleep on earth
longing for life emergencies
in a carnal embrace
we were becoming
the furious planet
the exiles
the rainbow
all the prisons dissolved in our minds
we dreamed we were freed from time
laughing
praising
a necklace of rain
the haunted violin
*
Anthony DiMichele, 20 december 2011
love
I would not be surprized
if a fractional percent
of people with depression
are clinically depressed
the rest of us know better
it is a process of clarification
unavoidable world
the absurdity
the compromise
the conditioning
tooth and claw
in expensive threads
the unattainable surrender
to love
and dental records
*
I picketted our wedding
I protested our predictable
future
that routine that would steal the day
away from us
*
the first trick
is to love without loving
to not desire
what isn't there
or what is
which never lasts
*
I imagine my plurality
the finest moments I live
are alone in the weather
with animals and trees
we are out there all of us
alone
momentarily relieved
*
man is not wolf to man
man is man to man
wolves treat each other
much better
*
I love you too much to wish
myself on you
and vice versa
*
hanging on by a thread
is what spiders do
not people
people panic or grow desperate
in the chains they make
*
we tell ourselves we'll blow our
brains out
or do it in a more delicate manner
after payday
*
killing is killing
ritual or not
training or not
if you can kill yourself
you must have killed already
again and again
while making your plans
if only it were legal
like poverty
like a right you were born with
*
many people explained me to myself
I bought their books
and read them
it became a pasttime
*
even my anger is half baked
it strives for wrath
but is ultimately faked
*
to say it doesn't matter
about any or all human events
is to be situated far from apathy
*
Anthony DiMichele, 20 december 2011
wisdom
there is something missing in our wisdom
and you were born
to find it
*
we are lived more than we live
*
how do you die?
how do I die?
it seems to me that the spirit
of vitality
determines that
not the body
and they rarely if ever agree
*
individuals become sociopaths
when indoctrinated by a culture
of narcissism
*
is belonging to a group
wearing an identity in common
the greatest human weakness?
*
everytime I see a solitary leafless tree
I feel as though I am looking into a mirror
*
remember: silence is the fence
around wisdom
as often as it shelters lies
*
people who live for the poetry
regardless of circumstances
verify the existence
of what is both essential
and unspeakable
*
I remember remembering
it was always enlightening
and devastating
something beyond consciousness
survives
without you
through you
it remembers you
*
Latest comments:
26 april 2024
jeśli tylko
właśnie :)
26 april 2024
Adam Pietras (Barry Kant)
Dzięki, Violetta!
25 april 2024
violetta
Dziękuję:)
25 april 2024
Bociany są takie ufne:)
25 april 2024
Yaro
Bardzo kobiecy wiersz:) Pozdrawiam:)
25 april 2024
Bardzo prawdziwe słowa.
25 april 2024
eyesOFsoul
A nawet mniej.
25 april 2024
Piękne:)
25 april 2024
sympatyczny :)
25 april 2024
sam53
przychodzi czas i trzeba zdecydować...
24 april 2024
nadszedł ten czas..
24 april 2024
Weronika
Sekwencja ram obrazów z dzieciństwa.
26 april 2024
wiesiek
26 april 2024
Satish Verma
25 april 2024
wiesiek
25 april 2024
Satish Verma
24 april 2024
Satish Verma
23 april 2024
Adam Pietras (Barry Kant)
22 april 2024
Satish Verma
21 april 2024
sam53
21 april 2024
wiesiek
21 april 2024
Satish Verma