The Battle

my actions
are seperate
from a divided and stormy mind













I


learn




that





moments before

a storm


there is a feeling of abandonment.





despair

Mother Teresa knew.







It is an error; a grand error









The mind battles on



and


my actions
know.

The Saboteur

the saboteur







is ready


coiffed, erect. Hands neatly folded in front









a smile ready--for anything you have.

I have been asked many questions in my life about poetry, religion, life, and I have given precisely the same number of answers, but I have never, I repeat, never, satisfied a single interlocuter. Why? Because all questioning is a way of avoiding the real answer, which, as Zen tells us, is really known already. Every man is enlightened, but wishes he wasn't. Every man knows he must love his enemies, and sell all he has and give to the poor, but he doesn't wish to know it--so he asks questions.



R.H. BLYTH

you have so many roads








love is sent out, misdirected and always stuck in traffic






drumming fingers on the dash
anxious and final

why am I

drawn to the broken
the foggy
the inconsistent




at home in their dreams
stuck on their porches
and frozen by their fears

Why am I

standing near
analyzing their pieces
kissing their shard's
and making promises I don't believe

Who am I

Sacred Tenets of Egoic Relationships

Being treated specially and made to feel special is a good thing.Having a special partner is a good thing.Other people can make me happy.Some people can give me more than others.It matters what people think of me.It matters how people treat me.I can be treated unfairly.Making sure I am not mistreated is a very important skill.It is right and good for me to point out the errors in how people treat me and tell themhow to correct those errors.Other people make me feel things.Other people can attack and injure me and they have.Because of the bad things they have done, other people deserve my anger.I am honestly angry at the bad things they did. My anger at them is not really displacedanger at myself for my own "sins."My actions are caused by what other people do to me.I never attack first.People have certain roles they are supposed to fulfill in relation to my needs and myhappiness.If they fail in these roles I have to feel bad about them.My picture of them is wisely informed by all of their past failures in fulfilling their role.In reacting to their present actions it is valid for me to respond to the entireconstellation of their past actions that resemble the present action in any way.People owe me because of how much I have given them.Giving to another means loss, sacrifice, and needs to be done very cautiously.The way I was treated in the past continues to be relevant in the present.My past should have treated me better and I can prove it by my achievements in thepresent.I know who my partner is, maybe not perfectly, but roughly.My partner's personality matters.My partner's material circumstance and place in society matters.My partner's body-its sex, shape, weight, age, clothing, etc.-matters.If someone can meet my needs I should be with them, if they cannot or will not I should leave.Knowing how to get people to love me-through giving gifts, having an attractivepersonality, body and life situation, and appropriately guilting them-is a crucial skill in life.My attraction to certain individuals holds the promise of my future happiness.My attraction to them is a gift that should make them feel good about themselves. It is not an attack.Conflicts are best resolved by a good memory of the conflict's exact history, goodbargaining skills and a willingness to compromise.



Robert Perry

You can't handle any dissidents



everyone on board plays your music





you will listen to this
because you want me--comfortable in a seat


Drinks served with your propaganda playing forward

You are a politician

a diplomat

a performer




I am malicious here

privy from too much searching and understanding
but you are also a conductor whose calling a loaded train to your attention

I was on for a stop

Residence

we sit here
creating anxiety


We swing our legs
drum our fingers
and busy ourselves
with an over read book and a over pronounced word




we sit here.

You keep it.

You keep it
holding tight--burying
while you eat sushi and play scrabble
watch movies and listen to the rain
suddenly you grimace
and then it fills you
bulges and presses your mind
it becomes you
all of you
pouring on everything you see
you keep it.

Found your tiny city







surprised


to see how easily I could exploit your ornamental resources











No choice but to quickly traverse your cultural Continent




surpised






to find nothing clear of relevance








should
I
return
towards exploitation?





should I leave

for years


as

mining begins?

will you let me.

what is dignity?

what is it


it is a coat in the summer to feel uncomfortable

You are attached to their loneliness




No documentation needed.

photography

is only a tool



that should not be corrupted by your ideas.







is like sex


used
to verify knowing


not a residing place to hoist your flag
and open your mail.






is like philosophy



pushed out and examined.

it is only a tool that through its stark consistency

through its seamlessness

through your held tongue

your silence










you advance your purpose.





it is only a tool.

I don't like the Leverage

I don't like the leverage

no evidence to push in front of you, and then watch you try and see around it's pile. I then fold my arms.

no boundries for you not to cross while I lob rocks in your direction, and hide my hands. I stand teasing you.


I want the weight

I want to tell you

--what I want

and own every sentence.

That mind---that brain *fairly
loaded with Poe's Tales
and Shakespeare's rails

books with huge tomes


words from many tombs

Divinity cross
and your legs crossed
linen pants avoids a stain

a soiled body
keeps order in the brain.

I can only ask that you don' t fall in love with me.




it is a nusiance




it becomes an endless fireworks display that makes you miss work.

The Dispenser

fear dispensed


but

the invulnerability




excuses that doesn't leave home.

the circle gets smaller




the conversations gets tighter




the moments


even finer

I can feel your heartbeat and your accentuation.


your sigh and your magnitude of nothing.




the circle is getting smaller

my vision even finer



I am beginning to see you.

The Cultural Mountebank

the cultural mountebank













surrounded themselves with a vast array of art and music.



the offerings


Artemisia Gentileschi



Sweet Honey and the Rock






bestowed a grand memory







all held in their hand; easily dispensable, but not swallowed





















what does it all mean if it can't be applied


























marble floors


and echoes











My mind a minimalist





in usuable space













avoiding the cultural charlatan

I am a conductor
with a torn topcoat





a nomad
a cryer

ice cold to sneezes

and pleasantries.










confused,

understood,

angry and merry.







and my subscription is paid up
something is wrong.



Above all I am determined to see.