A SONNET OF LOGICAL POSITIVISM

featured in the poetry forum October 18, 2016  :: 1 comment

above the mainly positive is known
so let there be discussions and the Name
proponents of the member language shown
before the circle turns around again

consensus joins to vet the written word
the advocates speak in a language plain
but opposition makes it seem absurd
and still Vienna begs to be explained

the doctrine of the standard proposit:
to add it up you must include your toes
it’s rational as long as it has Wit-
tggenstein assume an a priori pose

epistemology is well and good
but what is what if you’re misunderstood?

editors note:

Yes, precisely… What? (Read another of satnrose’s mad rants on his page; fear, assuaged in beer. – check it out.) mh clay

ALL YOUR FEARS HAD BEEN BRAVED BEFORE, a tropism

October 18, 2016  :: 0 comments

and of all the others you becoming the best even when and to transfer
the enemy and the bystander under the narrow place where everyone
goes going to the Hell where the stairway is dropped with us although
you see concerning those who were really the friends of the monkeys
I am the friend or if need be other things seeing that when those who
are more distant and shivering as they go and pushing their own fool
method down the road dividing directly from your craving those who
can do that one thing with the demons you are at worst then you look
at a certain evil little twin who continues to look at you and makes the
insult which finds the fact that the thing desired is done in any case so
therefore if with your interest to be strong is death the largest domain
and presents you with a cold beer and as you drink it you realize that
all your fears had been braved before the first word was ever printed

editors note:

In that day, when we’re all awake, we’ll wonder… – mh clay

AT THIS POINT AND HERE WE ARE

featured in the poetry forum August 4, 2015  :: 1 comment

at this point where I am walking
towards you savoring the moment
for something which I now know
you knew so you spoke and then
suddenly I did not have you
you did not have to permit me and as for
that which I then did not fully
understand and still don’t I had not a
clue but because I inflicted the fine
you were just disappointed in me
and I frankly admit I must have been
amazed but the feeling that was
attached to that was most of the rea-
son that perhaps it happened the
way it did and as for me who des-
ired happiness I still had to pass into
another life as if I were reincarnated
as someone else and so as if my
monopolized lines excluded me
from the typhoon of your emotions
and then if that which cannot be
thrown high enough to take a chance
is where I could not now how far I
would have to go to possess your
love and so now I think I have achieved
safety and blame myself no
longer I do not have you any
more but that’s okay and here we are

editors note:

Another case of “You are Here!.” Origin to destination with story in between. – mh clay

ANSWER TO THE WIND

June 15, 2014  :: 0 comments

if it is kind to build to make it just
the possible is put-together but keep on laughing
in the adjustable crack
out the window the waiting the storm opening
focus

the which in the door you gave me
above roof thundered
too narrow at the shakes where a beam
of midnight empties
looking through the keyhole at the flashes of lightning

that is something like pain
which perhaps makes it likely
to be blown away

I am awake reading through the night
which means I can not close the lesson
in fact the room
locks me in

who to all I hear through the skin
someone close
footsteps
the where walking in my house

I eyes
and the paint keeps wet
depending floor blinks
and hearing upon the boards is the dream

the noises where secret went up naked inside
tears the language the light falling hurricane
is of ghost
the bulb
and which the beam is in the answer to the wind

the creaking pulverized this message
and so too of my noon passing

THE WORLD TURNED UPSIDE DOWN OVER US

June 15, 2014  :: 0 comments

did we learn what? did we try
the fact that what is done has made us
older our desires transfer the days into
years into unseeable functions

with no endings what happened
what went right it is far too far for it
to have been known whatever it was
whatever it is whatever it could

be I thought it was just something
small but it has colored everything
afterward and even stained the pre-
dictions of the past all methods of

withstanding them are useless
the world turned upside down over us
now someone who has hurt you is
at the door so what does he want?

RHINOCEROS

featured in the poetry forum June 15, 2014  :: 0 comments

I don’t know where you’re going
only that you’ve been there.
How do I know?
Let me be that secret.

I knew you when you were just an eye,
just another starry, starry night.
Perhaps you were just another lie,
or maybe something special.

I like a mirror just as much as the next man,
but you can not be that for me.
There’s too much memory,
and now we see as through a glass darkly.

Too many times I’ve put off.
Too many tomorrows I’ve lost.
You, you are only a kid.
And I, I am only a spark.

editors note:

Riddle resplendent in eye night spark kid, life alive and awake. I’m watching… – mh

THE BLACK HARBINGERS
An interpretation of “Los Heraldos Negros” by Cesar Vallejo

featured in the poetry forum June 22, 2013  :: 0 comments

There are knocks in life so hard… what the hell do I know!
knocks of God hate, as if driving
the riptide of suffering
were to dam the soul… what the hell.

Though few… they carve lines
in the fiercest face and the toughest back
Maybe they’re Attila’s horses
or the black harbingers sent by Death

They are the abysses of the Christ in soul
of some utter faith blasphemed by Destiny
the blood hits in the crackling bread
that burns us at the oven’s door

And poor poor man, he turns his eyes
as if slapped on the shoulder
turns his crazy eyes, and everything lived
is dammed, a little lake of guilt, in his sight

There are hard knocks… what the hell do I know!

editors note:

What the hell, indeed! – mh

SHAKESPEARE’S TRICK OF SALVATION
A deliberate misreading of Sonnet 124

featured in the poetry forum January 13, 2013  :: 0 comments

if lust was simply but a child of state
then and now to be a bastard of the fate
that all destinies are met not good or bad
but in the joke so practically had

time for heart or merely time for hate
the common weeds are gathered with the sate
and by an accident were only meant
to be just a moment of discontent

in every single hour life is short
in every raining shower faith abort
and all alone each forced to perform the trick
that makes profession of faith a heretic

witness the fools of time who died confessing lives of crime
in the belief they are made clean to enter into love supreme

editors note:

Arrest evil outcome with this article of faith (or magic spell) boosted from the Bard in three quatrains and a couplet. – mh

GIMME A DIME
a troped poem

October 6, 2012  :: 0 comments

I opened up the door to the cab
and paid God to take me where she stood folding
He said here’s the station
she walked through the now chanting my my my
my hands were on the door but her heart was a card
the singer won uptown eyes the train bailed out
and night threw me down
I refused to have it handed to me
maybe I was lazy but the phone was ringing
and I said buddy fix that out
he had his hands at her heart wild crazy like some Zapatista
He was in my deal and I was ringing the bell
but no one came nobody to job me without a chorus
the fingers warming over the sun
we got back into the cab singing
so we took the first left although she started hiccupping
but I tried to ki-
ss her anyway
she took just one
what was that for I said
and that was that
but just for luck she laughed
she said gimme a dime I gotta make a call

THE SECRET LANGUAGE OF THE WIND

featured in the poetry forum October 6, 2012  :: 0 comments

if as for the window opening in me
the who where something can do
that which makes awake the lesson
and listens to the footsteps in the wet
depending upon the secret language of the wind
the message and the rain opens it is just possible
to adjust the focus to a narrow beam
of contact that is perhaps possible
to read the fact that all through the house
where the floor boards give up the ghost
the beam creaking is the noon of the ceiling
a kind of put-together crack
but waiting under the roof at midnight the fact
that it is blown through the room
which peels that skin where the paint blinks
and is the naked light bulb
and is pulverized and so passing
by the long wall built to keep out the mares
the door behind the empty keyhole by the front entryway
I who close the lock hear someone walking away
I keep hearing the noises inside
tears falling which in this halfstate of consciousness
can move me and make me laugh
in the storm which you thundered
it shakes the twist of pain
which by any means cannot cause me
who can’t close my eyes
and make a dream where the hurricane
is the answer to all my prayers

editors note:

Great way to learn a new language; while you sleep… – mh