Happy Stars (and more poetry)


the incendiary truth

I recall in the dark, a happy year had begun
for the glory of these chapters, we had hoped for
a collective wish or a new destiny
a bright starling

a golden farthing child named peace
and within the yearling wilderness we dreamed of
love to conquer all disease

my opponent that guileful cloud
I opened my arms, an apothecial — Grail
my self-chosen known upon the gale

that love never fails
the importance of the work, and choosing to be chosen
the flaw of being human, and choosing

humanity over immortality
nobility over humility

for both may end in the same empty ranking lot
profits to fill the coffers of false leaders
who scoff and when it all disappears

we poured unseen tears over an unread tragedy
the ending that was begotten of time

a crooked engineer
amending this burning of a book/not
by crafting redemption in the clothes of wholeness
being some kind of lamp post and a dove

from forever and from afar
and at last, as I rested these beside her, these pearls
of wisdom

I found myself with her, an amulet
the broken and unbreakable earth
the priceless and the unbreakable hearth

“When the pornographic Connors
turned away, into this wrecked asylum
trapped between the hapless noise and false
mind’s state”

Summerland at last, as we burned our sinners
glamorous and more than the richest Gods
a golden ogham, land of the hero, proud
and the winners of a dark unseen war.

were the true children of Helios, incident Ary
If only we were all Golden, self-chosen
as above seeking a new path forward and hopes held high
to come true, an end to cancer
for a child’s yearning for his father to answer

the sky, freedom, baptized in seawater
the creed in arbor
saw the sailor from the harbor


snowflakes and winter-rain

I tried to be humble, and you celebrated.
and here’s a blessing, no, really.
I’m going to apologize for leaving at night.
to ■■■■ some random stranger
who wanted to murder me, possibly?
Maybe Chelsea isn’t where I am meant to go.
they saw my body as a mere fiction.
laid out upon them and stationary.

Perhaps a magical frog, an unwritten tragedy
I love to talk non-stop too, even behind
these locked doors of synastry or in this city
housed by vacancies made for people like me
Maybe it’s too easy to cross these blocks.

coughing up the dust

of the poorest, of the sad and downtrodden
coming from a country-town so forgotten
In a haunted house, where Maggie shouts
to the sleepless ghosts of a dead China doll
feeling helpless unwanted and alone.

I prayed our father in my head.
my mother asked me to pray along.
as we listened to all the songs played wrong
despite I wanted to share my memories
of infinite lifetimes, of being merry.
of being happily married.

to this mental disease
what kind of luck — what kind of fate?
to be destined by the blacksmiths making
some kind of unholy undertaking

just me, my broken guitar
just a needle and thread and endless bazaar
just the rain still falling.
wanting to prove something beyond description.

to prove it somehow, over this seizure of

my eyes too teary their words obscured.

because even though it may seem
terrible to walk those lines.
that perhaps his son might understand.
if only they could be divined
between waking and asleep
a manifesting hope, a miracle cure
a happy life after psychosis

this rapture to me is beautiful.
a gift of impossible engineering
because love just can’t exist
without a touch of madness
and miracles don’t happen without
our foolish tears, even in our shaking

if only I could transform an unwanted curse
that no one understood.
into some kind of force of prosperity and good
some kind of Gift something
not to erase or wipe away
so, I gave that hope to God.
and I will someday

Be like that cardinal of light.
rule this universe, turn a ranking lot
into that endless paradise, defeat my enmity.
discern the right advices
advance upon the enemy with my army.
that war they cravenly desired

inspired by the cruelty of the kind.
that made our angels into blind martyrs.
as a ship sets sail for a new shore
and it’s the same as it was before.


Great imagery, and unique descriptiveness

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