consonantberry

Archive for May, 2012|Monthly archive page

Butter

In Poetry on May 28, 2012 at 12:03 am

Give me a a bit of butter on my bread
Give me a bit of heart attack with my sustenance
Give me a bit grease for my organs
Because right now they feel
Far too clean
For this body
Because right now they feel
Far too pristine
For this world
Because right now they gleam
With the fragile disaster
Of wearing white to work
In a coal mine.
Give my innards a little
Grit, a little
Reality

Increments

In Poetry, Uncategorized on May 24, 2012 at 5:44 pm

Increments need scales to crawl along;
They are linear creatures:
Pay scales,
Weigh scales,
Piano scales,
Pain scales
-Increments have such dry-inching variety!

They are creeping creatures:
Pay cuts,
Weight gain,
Minor accidentals,
Escalating pain
-Increments have such subtle-pinching mandibles!

Increments build
In tiny scuttlers,
One upon the other,
Into tunnels or towers
Of buggered ticking
Antennas feeling out
Every milliseconds’ crawl
Along its linear lines.

Blackluster Orgasnsms

In Poetry on May 22, 2012 at 3:41 pm

Aw(ache) on screwedges
Breathing paradoxygen.
A twenty-thirst zenture:
Reading singhilarity
About the unidiversitrying
Astronominative complexicon
Of existensues from
Antique matter eating
Fission chips a chiselled
Wonderated passworderless
Ordure of a tattoo
On the forehead that says:
“forehead”;
An ode to redun(dance)
A hole in the floor,
Call it brightless
And let gravity pull you in.

What I Would Like to Talk About

In Poetry on May 21, 2012 at 7:44 pm

Isn’t something spiritual
-nothing that profound!

I want to talk about
How to keep the weight of my body
Solely in the tips of my index fingers
And my two big toes.

I want to talk about
How to lead my every movement’s ripple
Through those four points.

I want to talk about
How to type on a qwerty keyboard
With nothing but weightlessness
In the other eight fingers.

Entroprizing

In Poetry, Uncategorized on May 18, 2012 at 7:55 pm

But is he really?
We are scarcely
-let himself be worshiped (by him).
No one can be sure in anything we might have done or failed to do…
If there were healthier possibilities
-And in a way, I suppose, it’s almost funny!
The crowd roared:
“Don’t worry about it,”
But the dark stage reminded me of it.

It is implausible that people should have positive aspirations
Not become cruel and destructive
Bearing in mind:
We don’t have thousands of years and millions of lives to live.

In this project,

Terrible age(ing) compresses the facts into short formulas
Of provisional expression,
Morphological recategorizations inexhaustible
Misunderstanding
Any original voice. Loudspeakers carry the speech

That outlines all the way ways in which people
Advance towards babble

Every Penny Counts

In Poetry on May 18, 2012 at 12:20 pm

We agreed
To a dangerously inexact and confusing
Association
On the verge of bursting apart
At the very hand shake
Spat shut with the sealants’
Posture of a firm salivatory grip
On greed, the only
(true) glue to agreement.

Nine pennies is a malnourished dime;
Someone is short a penny;
We’re both counting.
The re-tally is an entertainervous
Routine of laughterse critiscissors
Cutting along the dotted line of artilleready
Trigger fingers underneath the table.

A microphobic environment.

Still one short…
The comediocre covering
Banter comes off
Raw in insults squeezing tighter
Towards barometric pressures for  microcosmic breaching fulmination-

-ah! There it is, by your foot!
Must have rolled off the tabletop.

The Wondrous Power of Fiction

In Poetry, Uncategorized on May 14, 2012 at 1:24 pm

Wonder started the power
Of fiction in a pasture
Of weeds.

Wondering at the nuisance
Of them:
How can weeds be so…
Good for nothing?

Wondering at the preconception
Behind that:
How can we be so….
Sure that they’re good for nothing?

Wonder finished the power
Of fiction in the imagination
Of worlds where those weeds
Are good for something.

Superlativile Divillainity

In Poetry on May 12, 2012 at 12:59 am

Calamatrix calcium structoys
PlayDNA mandibles modelling
For a photo shoot crookings
Stylecherously shovelevelled
With filtravesties of delect
Brilliansectivorousnesses an
Excelet-down of concatenant
Devilerium and angelechery.

Arthritis, Pianist

In Poetry on May 11, 2012 at 1:43 pm

Livid with
Hands that
Don’t act like
Flexibility and it
Irks me the piano I
See how other hands
Slip drafts on the ivories
With dissolving boundaries.

Am I an Actor?

In Poetry on May 10, 2012 at 11:38 pm

Pretend that the world is pretend,

Then pretend that you’re not pretending

That the world is pretend.

Then, when you  can no longer remember

When to pretend about what,

Just pretend that you do

And live the rest of your life like that.