your reason

I am not to not do anything here. Do, but do not identify with the doing. Identifying - my manacles are wrought. Urizen was Blake’s poetic device of my ‘your reason’ which alienates me from ‘sweet delight.’ Self expression is the totality of Urizen’s limited postures and gestures.

‘Your reason’ being referred to is my reason, please do not identify my reason with your reason. If you have a yankering to fess up – so be it.

Where is the wind in self expression?

a poem

                                                FRANCHISE FOR SALE

I the chief of none, far from nothing
my feature pyroelectrical swirl
- thickly embedded around bilious blue.

Me, me, me which I would that be?

Smoggy, groggy, fated foggy - so suspect
of my residency in this trademark space.

I, that boss of some so-so franchise,
in this phenomenal terra familiar,
blatantly blat my interpretation
of my so-so this is me.

Pleading away -
it is I that leads away from me,
with me, for me
- odd allies in denial.

Shhhhhhhhh
wearenotalone
feast or fast, fray or flee
all reactions from the first fear
eternal recurrent
phantom circuit
fiery lying slacks in la-la waste.

Flipped upside down, in out space-time
she saunters through infinity
with one fluid gesture -
now on this stage.

She graces my left ear
with her crimson lips
and silently shouts -
you have been there and you been there

Hear dear, Here dear...

The bailiff bolts,
the megalith gesticulates,
the empire is under siege.

Then I speak, I always speak!
That I bombastically boast
of my special relationship with her;
She flares
and I am tossed back into in space-time
She is gone
I alone.

I wanna leave this cinema,
always the same shoddy show,
and in between each screening
reading the same old feature
in that flaking aged daily.

I purchased space in the announcement section
once upon, so long ago -
filled the grayish white
with desperate red ink.

I am here,
Love.
You remember,
Love?
You see me,
Love?

only i responded
that chief of none.

January 2009