Market place phobos manifest,
x-ray infiltrators – traders;
the panic spies are watching.
John has an antidote.
self-medicate, modify, for a new solitude
malevolence proceeds awkwardness
diamorphine apotheosis
cerility relief temporality
anchored.
dishevelled blue suited
scoured cotton post-white plimsolls (my Sunday best),
found wanting on the cold concrete steps.
my figure,
skewwhiff and contagious
pondering an ulcer diagonally,
a diseased cigarette paper
rolls my smoke up; conducting cancer
in a bubble: a bottle of pop.
my sister arrives, instantly ashamed.
tomfoolery at the sacramental dish follows a blur;
dirty looks greet dirty jokes
Unfortunate smut
(a r(i am)ut)
I am a disengaged satellite, an alien form,
orbiting the estranging atmosphere
of a dearly beloved loop.
I am clearly high.
muddy knees
bloody knuckles
overhung keep sake;
memento mori,
indicative of trash.
Junk
lolling
a dozy adult
‘d (r) op (e) the baby son’.
Jesters cry in large chunks,
spiders weep in wet look webs;
eight opium beads in total.
as ever
I am asked to leave - backdoor boy
(((>(shamedisgust)<)))
Perpetual inner-wrath revolving;
an approximation
of a heathen.
heathen itself is not bad but watch the back door...love your word play in this...in a rut is awesome...and it just gets better from there...great visual poetry.
ReplyDeleteok..i just get high from reading this..great wordplay and images arron and can feel this
ReplyDeletedirty looks get dirty jokes, great line. Once more vivid at your shore, although my backdoor is shut good and tight, no pesky heathen will sneak in there day or night..haha
ReplyDeleteArron, you can't know how this piece resonates with me, especially the majority of the second half. Killer lines and evolution within. The perfectly chosen word, in almost every case. Awesome job. Thanks
ReplyDeleteI feel as if I've just been booted from mum's for Sunday supper...(been known to happen in my more "colorful" past). I feel dirty, ashamed, and worthless. That's a powerful write, dear sir...I must now go and repent on some past sins I was hiding from the confessional! Wicked, wicked, write, Arron...(No Pun!)
ReplyDeleteTo begin with, it has been far too long since I came here to read your work. This one is beautifully ruined, like a ride inside the head of an addict, a weird gush of comfort, distortion, shame and strangeness, rattling through the landscape.
ReplyDeleteThere are so many particular things I liked: "the panic spies are watching" the paranoia for which "john has an antidote", a perfect stand-alone line. "Skewwhiff and contagious", "my sister arrives, instantly ashamed", "jesters cry in large chunks"... it's awfully good.
Post-white plimsolls--instant visual, soiled, scoured but never white again--carrying the sense of a deeper soiling that drives the need for oblivion. Life is a cold and cruel anteroom of hell far too goddamn often, but how else do you get any decent poetry? And I'll go out any door I have to, front, back or the window. You're re-looping the cosmic croquet range with these colliding balls, my friend.
ReplyDeletePS my word verif. is 'be(e)flet' Only here.
whoaaaaa... this is like a painting AFTER you've smeared off all the color and left that off-hand outline.. I say this poem is ELEPHANT TESTICLES! that's not any kind of slang... just a lil freestyle wut wut
ReplyDelete"the panic spies are watching"
ReplyDelete"diamorphine apotheosis
cerility relief temporality"
"skewwhiff and contagious
pondering an ulcer diagonally" ... Whew, they do cause ulcer pain!
"(a r(i am)ut)" ... I love this! I am in a rut. Clever boy. :)
"memento mori,
indicative of trash"
"I am a disengaged satellite, an alien form,
orbiting the estranging atmosphere
of a dearly beloved loop." ... Arron, every offbeat poet/artist/"unique" feels this way, that we are floating, separated from the congealed remainder of society. But in our separateness, we cling together: we satellites, a collective body disconnected.
Arron - every time I read your work I know your getting closer to IT. From the first, the manifest (in a r[NOT You}ut).. FLY(you -high)ING - Icarus like - near the sun dropping images like melted feathers all over my street as I wriggle with EN(green)VY!
ReplyDelete(a r(i am)ut)
ReplyDeleteAren't we all, in one way or another.
Clever words. Am left feeling sad/empty at
"...I am asked to leave"
Quite thought provoking, Arron.
Arron- Love this... especially:
ReplyDeletemy figure,
skewwhiff and contagious
pondering an ulcer diagonally,
a diseased cigarette paper
rolls my smoke up; conducting cancer
in a bubble: a bottle of pop.
... and the ending. There but for the grace of God...
This poem evoked numerous responses within me, but by far the greatest was the thought that the faster and crazier this world becomes, the more people will self medicate to cope with pain we were never meant to. I also sense the great sorrow, the deep angst of the scapegoat in the family, he who never fully belongs... This part I felt grief about, like a death without a death. A profound piece.
ReplyDeleteDamn, Arron. This is powerful stuff. I don't know if I want to cry or cut somebody.
ReplyDeleteDislocation is the name of the game..you do it so well..I'm leaving with a warm feeling for the one who is alienated..off to the side..approximate.
ReplyDeleteSpinning plates with inspiring dexterity..as ever.. :)
Arron,
ReplyDeleteYou have such a gift for jarring and jangling description. Somehow, you see to go where others haven't gone...for me the most 'poetic' part of the narrative is the stretch of "I am a disengaged satellite..." through "...indicative of trash." The juxtapositioning of a soaring notion with that of a base creature of the ground is very compelling and ingenious. Gravity is a bitch....excellent writing.
for me, you were more vulnerable in this piece than anything of yours that comes to mind. maybe it just came through more here. but it's a powerful weapon, being truly vulnerable, or at least the presentation of, which is a true high-wire act. and you wield it really well here. i recognize some of that landscape for sure. terrific write.
ReplyDeletealways get caught in the intensity of your writing...so vivid it really does race the heart to read pieces like this of yours. ~ Rose
ReplyDeleteSomething so different and refreshing...visual, powerful and vulnerable at the same time...a terrific piece of writing.
ReplyDelete