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| Anthony DiMichele |
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Anthony DiMichele, 8 lipca 2015
love poem
I love you shamelessly
and quietly
directly and immediately
here and there as you come and go
*
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, 21 lipca 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, 30 lipca 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 lipca 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, 25 marca 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, 8 lipca 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 lipca 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, 3 października 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, 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, 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, 26 marca 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, 29 października 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 listopada 2013
Thanksgiving
Only cannibals eat other animals
Smart meat
evolves
to veganism~ consider it
meet for your mind
*
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, 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, 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, 28 września 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, 20 maja 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, 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, 8 lipca 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, 3 października 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
*
Ostatnie komentarze:
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,
12 maja 2024
Melancthe
Kajzerki są przereklamowane ;)
11 maja 2024
kb
wielki wypas - był albo może będzie. kto wie...
11 maja 2024
sama prawda z tym myśleniem i psoceniem ale
11 maja 2024
zastanowiło mnie czy owe cenienie kajzerek wynika
11 maja 2024
skomponowane kolorystycznie..
16 maja 2024
violetta
16 maja 2024
Marek Gajowniczek
16 maja 2024
wiesiek
15 maja 2024
wiesiek
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