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| Anthony DiMichele |
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Anthony DiMichele, 20 marca 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 marca 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 lutego 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 lutego 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 lutego 2012
joyful noise
I will take the path
to the white light
inside the bearded cottage
of joyful noise
Anthony DiMichele, 22 grudnia 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 grudnia 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, 27 lutego 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 lutego 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, 25 lutego 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 lutego 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 lutego 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 lutego 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, 20 grudnia 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
*
Anthony DiMichele, 16 października 2013
dreams
my dreams scare me
I am an absence in them
a feeling hard to shake off
after waking up
*
Anthony DiMichele, 26 grudnia 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, 23 stycznia 2014
illumination
names with painted faces
breathless words illuminated
dying is a crazy dream
*
Anthony DiMichele, 1 listopada 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 października 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 października 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, 13 grudnia 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 grudnia 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 grudnia 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 listopada 2013
Thanksgiving
Only cannibals eat other animals
Smart meat
evolves
to veganism~ consider it
meet for your mind
*
Ostatnie komentarze:
18 maja 2024
kb
jakoś kojarzy mi się z "siostrami wielkiej
18 maja 2024
no chyba że pomieszkuje
18 maja 2024
zdaje się że nikt tu już nie mieszka
18 maja 2024
bardzo
18 maja 2024
orzeźwieni... prawie jak otrzeźwieni... i to
16 maja 2024
violetta
Może w lipcu będę miała takie wakacje:)
16 maja 2024
jeśli tylko
słońce w płynie..
15 maja 2024
Weronika
Za jeszcze jeden rejs!
14 maja 2024
Mam takie oko :)
14 maja 2024
Jaga
Zwierzęta upodobniły się do koloru otoczenia
14 maja 2024
To naturalny suchy i pustynny klimat. I tam są
14 maja 2024
Klimat taki, że nie był i raczej nie będzie,
18 maja 2024
kb
17 maja 2024
Deadbat
16 maja 2024
violetta
16 maja 2024
Marek Gajowniczek
15 maja 2024
Jaga
14 maja 2024
violetta
14 maja 2024
Misiek
14 maja 2024
Arsis
14 maja 2024
Marek Gajowniczek
13 maja 2024
Arsis