(via azukilynn)

gift redux

gift (pts 1 & 2)
take this sunflower
it’s rotted i know

but when i picked it
it looked firm,
smelled fresh

and i hardly got
on my shoes
any mud from the yard

where it lay.


le buc - wednedsay 9/14

thought long and hard
about where to find

in my heart
a heft to express

about where to find

in my yard
a gift to impress

upon you
just what you meant

what i feel
for you
that’s real

please accept this gift
from my hand
& my heart



take this sunflower
it’s rotted i know

but when i picked it
it looked firm,
smelled fresh

and i hardly got
on my shoes
any of the mud from the yard

where it lay

hardly —
sorry about your carpet.

we loom large

& we scale small -

an innate contradiction
of our human condition

what you and i do on any given day
means everything or nothing
in the grand scheme

we can only
truly know the weight of things
by using a scale

what is
the weight of the world
as an afterthought

which can’t even
be ascertained with any certainty?

what then of you and me
in such a world

where scales balance
so badly
and they misread

take no measure
of the mountains

the valleys

the stars of infinite density
in our eyes

the lightness of worlds of wonder
we wish upon

our heavy hearts
once broken?

they loom large -
fill up the entire length & width
of our galaxy

they scale small -
limited by a span of one
each of us, individually

even as such
they matter

as do we -
every moment
of every single day.

(Source: lebuc)


along the edge, confused 
staring nowhere, anywhere -
but down

rooftop air crisp & cool
should i be here? 

sidestep & consider backtrack; 
make a half-circle turn, 
then, from somewhere: 

"go back"

half-circle again, ledge-ward,
look down & wonder ’what if’?

so i step -
into blackness; 

step -
no drop-off yet,
nothing stopping my tread;  

step -
into bottomlessness;

a fog lifts,
a mind begins a shift…

don’t know what happened next,
but i do know  
I’m a stepper now - a stepper! 
a looker for ledges -

& i’m renewed, too;

with my wings
i can fly whenever i want,


(Source: lebuc, via lebuc)

house of hollows

long listing shadows of night
follow you where’er you go
apparitions can give such a fright
but you don’t dare to let em know

in the hollowing misty fog
of a creeping naugual land
shines bright a limning light
causually tripping denizens

while i wonder where you’ve gone
exactly how you’ve taken flight
until you’re forced to take it on
the toadster’s way mayhap delight

if zombified or vampiric formed
though they serve to you do naught
but show you onward into morn,
to shake, awaken, aid your route

to spit outward archaic phlegm
to sate the sippling, to release
your ever-reeling receptors from
unreality they’re wont to tease

to break at last chained perceptions,
leading you from misdirections
against your unwitting genuflection
and your native predilection

of staring at unholy sites
writhing bodies, flashing lights
promising enchantment evermore
inflaming mythic full-on nights

dawnward, you return to ground
backing from miasmic mist
revealing what was lost, now found
to commandeer your new isness.

(Source: lebuc)

Poetry: an artform so provocative and effective that the entirety of Western Culture has to spend itself daily telling you what a waste of time it is.

preach, brother.

(Source: howitzerliterarysociety, via howitzerliterarysociety)

the light breaking

to a tear
is nothing like
the view from my sofa

watching rippling leaves
in the breeze
always pleases

a precious kind
of mind
that appreciates

the specialties
we define

scattered throughout our realm
by providence
or some familiar God

as the sunlight breaking
through the shade

which balms me, here
as it would you

as it did you -

once upon
a lifeline.


face to face
with your demons.

unlike most,
i don’t advocate a battle,
a rant or rage

which they laugh at,
feed upon
reflect & blame you for

leaving you confused,
who the monster
really is.

i advocate
a simple

the closer to silence,
the better.

simple saying.


but a no
indeed -

controlled, continual -



where are you?

though not looking for you
more a waiting and wondering
when or if

in a placid turmoil
this tepid turning of days,
parsing prompts
noting the peer flows
& how they seem to go…

soul probing for feeling
& trust
if not in today,
in tomorrow
or whenever words wish to
waft this way

creating, crafting
in that magic moment -
quite amusing.


let us let them
form an incandescent bubble

habitate the area down by the river
keep the landscape blue

partake of local fauna
to sustain their clan’s number

let us let them
evolve the wherewithal

defend themselves from forces
that would prey and decimate

work the land and love it
bring forth resilient crop & culture

let us let them
scavengers that they are.

let us -
guardians that we are.

poet’s defense

lay down the letters
lightly & soft

unzip the headlines’
urgency off

bind up the decay
throw it away

wordfind a level
above the fray

cool, calm & placid
establish a mood

entraining spirits
for comforting food

insense the imprints
in intimate tense

prose into prayer
the poet’s defense.

(Source: lebuc)


fools though we may seem to be
stumbling just as easily as we step
blindly searching and decrying
after consent and certifying

certain others’ attaining
to stain our own straining,
while we’re led for lucre for real
onto a labrynthian training field

of dreamers crab-dabbling
in the streaming memes and discrete physics
of teams of teeming beat binary mystics

in front of screens of boom-data beams
seeking to mend so-so-ciety’s
rag-tagged split ends at the seams

into cute little patchworker quilts
and knitted blendings we ourselves built
from bustling hetero-hued be-things

to what meanings, save the propagation
of the passion products of our own creation

folded up to adduct us toward the modal
of the molded antidote to the poisoned zygote
of that which thwarts our soul’s only portal

into the dance of the dervish unnerved by the swerve
and the service of the strays left behind the curve
or schism - but not behind the 8 ball, yall
searching for He who’s risen after His fated fall

into the incomprehensibility -
a phrase borrowed from a faded yaqui
wholly disinclined to find our kind still pining
as a feral, proto-spiritual lackey

beholden to some of the senior men-brains
observing the scene from behind the plains

fools though we may first seem to be -
even in darkness,
we retain the ability to see

if only by way of a frayed refracted light
and in this -
i think that we’ll be alright.

(Source: lebuc)

sunrise / sunset

place your head here,

justice ain’t just


let your eyes gaze,

cause life ain’t fair


this is a gentle space,
a precious time

so somebody’s gotta do


we don’t know if
we’ll be here this time tomorrow;

what needs to be done


so for now

i’m not one to rage


i’m going to place my head here,

but i will deal cool vengeance


let my eyes gaze
and laze

in due measure


i trust the space
and the place

with or without your participation


the time,
the grace
of the moment

i’ve got the tools to make it happen


and i trust you.

and the time is now.


"…a Herbie fan in a Ramsey town…"

— Apeerer - The Cognoscenti Conundrum

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