©grizzlysbear
rtm3:

thirdorgan:

Vladimir Luppian / Revolution as a Stage of Evolution 1924

Study in creation of depth in work.

rtm3:

thirdorgan:

Vladimir Luppian / Revolution as a Stage of Evolution 1924

Study in creation of depth in work.

Watch "Tom Waits reads the Charles Bukowski poem "The La…" on YouTube

Tom Waits reads the Charles Bukowski poem “The La…:

"

broken circles with teeth

compare this to a sinking ship, with no land in sight
the aurora borealis thrusting and pumping the mast
while I sickly sway side to side,
as the whirlpool grows, beneath moldy creaking boards,
they snap like jagged teeth, desperate for a mouthful
biting to tear flesh from bone
struggling to feed itself - the starving ocean floor
it’s the weight of the world
falling, crashing down,
onto wingless shoulders
crashing into a skeleton built of soil.
It’s the red cross eyes of the world
they haunt me
desperate to save drowning strangers
before they truly know
if the strangers they’re diving to save
care to be saved anymore
bukowski saw the uselessness of self importance, self worth
he wrote pages of diamonds, covered in filth and dirt
and i too want to sleep forever
just as he said
i just want to close my eyes
i just want to escape everything
everything that keeps me awake at night
everything that pulls me from death
nothing that will change the world
only bitter words from a struggling human
whose thoughts have become a sickness
to be bled out onto blank white ghosts
no other places, no opening windows
dissonance reigns at every turn and corner
of the worlds dark roads
and as it dissembles, into pieces, the winds pick up
and they ride, the sunset burns them alive,
and they ride, climbing skin ashes into the sky
i see them everywhere
they haunt me
thousands of cellophane eyes
reaching into a beaten machine
that they could never understand completely
yet they step in, full bodied
into a world of ghosts and smoke
into a place that was never made for flesh and bone
into a magnanimous prison with 4 walls called a home,
watching a colorless version of josephs amazing technicolor dreamcoat
shaking an uncompromising fist at the jagged mountain homes
of the puppeteers made of stone, who vicariously live through their people
instead of stepping into the real world -
I am just a lonely, dizzy alien resting tired arms on a fence post
eating a red white and blue popsicle
watching the world circle like Ouroboros
anxiously waiting
as this world spins out of control
when its mouth opens
I will stand
and watch the world consume the world
because I want to see
after, in complete darkness
if anything would begin to grow

"

jacobmilleralderman:

Rules to writing poetry:
1. Stab me in the fucking face
if I every try to tell you
how to write your poetry.

FamBam

FamBam

"A gated community for ghosts

Is it clarity or confusion that you desire most
I’ve built an arboretum
to go to when you’re alone
to search for what you’re missing
to openly discover both
with the hope that either would show
and there –
will be no more smoke
only green gaps of energy
veining out from below
below cracked, shimmering, floors
pulsating with necessity
in the moment of its growth
broken arms outreaching
to cradle the dancing fires warmth
you need to go
it glows-
step beside – take my hand – look below
welcome to our community of ghosts

digging out hollows beneath relentless snow
the knocking dumb leaves of hellebore
extend to completely blanket the arms of the cold
warm leaves of orange warmth, sutures
for brittle starving bones, melting us into
1 object, no trees, no human form
spectral liquid vices
to hide from your life with
1 object, no trees, no human bones
no more light - no more homes
we are just wandering molted failures
with no place to go
rising with the moonlight alone
only vague stretching reflections
caught in passing gleams
of golden mirrored globes

pointed left -

pointed right-

looked ahead-

4 static eyes observing the gluttonous dead
sun marked rainbows poured down their throats
swirling all color
into kaleidoscope pools of ghost

looked back –

into her eyes
removed now of color
lips trembled at his side
as gentle bone fingers gestured,
supplying

to haunt the world

in black and white

an old rotten sign
she screamed
opened closet doors
and the people, they listened!
to every solemn word
as they never had before

sell, sell, sell
youthful, useless, souls
or too soon, too darkly
they will walk out the door
and too soon, too darkly
your heart will grow old
and no one will need you
not anymore"