Rancid Astrophil 18

So much for god damned star lover -- that's me
So much grief caused by things earthly mortal
Ignorant crutch -- Jovian sky portal
Desolate butcher -- rancid cream -- fact free

The last god in me hates all I despair
Feckless god damned governmental pity
Can't stave of hunger or starvation's city
Can't fast unquick -- laud justices unfair

Torment this fucking looker on of star
Making beauty-physic fairer than far
Of that cosmopolitan cosmic plane
To what metropolitan caustic fame

Makes of this fucking bullshit days-end game
When frustration makes keyboard warrior sane

Rancid Astrophil 17

Star loving ramrodding shit flinging chump
Let murky hate flow expelling all air
And finding not but musk in all things fair
Forget all tact and dump rear end on stump

Pull up a chair as to throw yourself down
Delengthen yourself like omega man
Ripped raw of bong starches baked black and tan
A mocking dickless state's shit warring frown

While madness condenses and all things suck
For Happning meets and meatings greets in sheets
In beds sleeping with nice women strange fuck

Let the world fucking implode in shy beats
Ass beaten raw with tiresome once shrugs
Tiring and retiring midst murder thugs

Rancid Astrophil 13

And so my new direction begins here
With broken crown but memory's distant
Glance -- enjambed poet with mind so infant
The post post modern me sheds all his fear

Where the tiger failed the ram will not wait
Disposed of starlike wonder and thunder
Blasting starlight's flung vigour asunder
Run headfirst into hungered desire's sate

Ramrod this god damned fallacy of shit
Pound it till its new as a tarnished sail
Upon open winds and on grounded tail
Upon mounted arms and arms' last holy grail
Let loose passions and wars fear not to fail
Be the Whitman pill that Pound's eye did spit

Rancid Astrophil 12

And yet they never seem to hit home quite
These relics of a foregone conclusion
The sonneteer's last mindless diffusion
Do carry not respot's only first respite

Love poetry's only words dance on paint
When there is no page but foul odours pounce
On blogspot we write but shoot for an ounce
Of Celtic spirit ouisce beatha saint

To look upon that fair rancid Stella
Feeling noxious in sight of fair bella
Let go the dogs of war and loose your heart
Dream not young faggot of lovers' failed start 

Broken crown not the knot of destiny
My 苏州 sweetheart responded to me....

Rancid Astrophil 11

Whisked away when to 苏州 I did find
That she had fleeting interest in me
I would be jilted never loving me
Slying window prying masterless mind

I looking not on the cabinet hutch
Had perhaps missed genteel man's opportune
Moment when in silver spied copper moon
I paid in dutch, and left it so, and such

Perhaps then 苏州 is not for me one
To take to task lonely lullaby fun
Once and for all I would have known nothing
Except that I know not which I don't know

Know thyself -- always the maximum words
And yet they never seem to hit home quite

Wasted Fortune

My father is a spoiled rotten child
Collecting pogey and parental support
Two homes paid for
And over a dozen cars;
Three written off
License ceased in DUI

"Honour your father and mother."

One sign of many -- biblical bullshits
Failed axioms mantras and maxims
From a book written long ago
By the nobodies of the Earth

"Know Thyself"

A much more resolute

Maxim from antiquity

The Delphic maxim referred to so in

Pythia

What do I know other than tantric meetings

Fleeting moments predisposed distraction

Look about the urban jungle's fraction

My sexual urges are entreating

To have but a single dipthong of lust

Following a LinkedIn classified ad

More bets I could hedge unjustified dad

Amidst conjoined particles of hip thrust

Rancid Astrophil 10

Marks my demeanor with spring time season
And oh -- what a spring time season it's been
Thoroughly my dating apps full of win
Curiousness then exciting reason

Befell me with unexpected surmise
A fire in one's eye, so did I swipe right
Her cuteness prevailed, and matched my delight
When a tinder flame turned tinder surprise

A match made rematch, to match make a friend
A blind date perspective excited me
It might go, quite well, or oh so badly
Curiousness won, and so to surrend

Any disbelief made by my own mind
Whisked away when to 苏州 I did find

Rancid Astrophil 9

But he knows it won't be like yesterday
Which is the name of a poem he wrote
A rhyme of memory rote wills to float
In her somberness of ways and the way

Sweet 苏州 lost from my grasp to fancy
Electric her so presence makes me feel
Spiritless in divinity's eyes, steel
No holds barred in love's lost necromancy

I know her not, but she is not least known
To my world's liaison is fancy thrown
Cross windswept alleys in spiteful treason
O'er valleys of delightfulest reason

Adjectival neologism's bone
Marks my demeanor with spring time season

On Epic

This poem is just a jumble of thoughts expressed
in passing

The April 9th Sequence

The Morning of the 9th

Icicle winds' dull chill
Dusk free smoke skies part ways
Lone rays' soft simmer

The Afternoon of the 9th

Deep cove rolling blue

Matchlock powder clouds dream

Stones flutter under toe

Mixed love like mortar

Fish painting rough current

Wood walkways breathe life

Rancid Astrophil 6

That bitterless not ssweet taste o' divine
A putrid rock in cheek see not the damned
But lucidly makes boastful, fistful, words hammed
That lord of the flies is not truly swine

The effort last ditched in place perfect pitch
Fruitless nights of ποιέω in cafe
Finding no Sylvan words for beings fae
Discovering days withheld of the bitch

Moonlit horrors' tumultuless fever
Weights not the least dense of my worst days' day
Festering stones in tongueless cheeks don't pray
That the Sun hoists days as with moon's lever

The Poetic gesture of my own night
Is that I will be forgotten in spite.

Rancid Astrophil 5

When the robin in my eye had stood
A loaded gun -- looking, hearing, feeling
She flew away but I flew first, kneeling
Needing only that one finest for good

How than I had stood so far chained in yoke
Reined into me -- I never know least known
Upon my dew dropped glowing valley thrown
Visage -- Venusian than Vesuvian spoke

Said she 'pon I -- never had I known one so...
Quite like you -- familiar tones I hear
From other fails of lust droning, on go

And in so much had I but daring, dear
To look once at the face of my angel
Never known, never known, I but never knew her

Rancid Astrophil 4

I just threw a memento in the trash
One of those "I love you" journals
Half filled memories of haberdash
Circumstantial wherewithal

I love her not; no longer at all
Says broken hearted I, with thoughts of lash
To remain cool through an out fall
Expecting too much from minds of rash

Have another drink, princess
Next weekend you'll do it once more
Asking me to chauffeur you from your tinder date

Who, after all, wants life without awkwardness
For then you would be a bore
But not for your angry desires to sate

Rancid Astrophil 3

Star-crossed lover lost his chance
To make amend for lusts's lost dance
A one-two punch carried on balance
Boxer's grace -- harried electron's valance

Meaningful/meaningless, ditch your words
Frightful matchless, hitched up swords
Hacking away at visceral pain
Making a slay of hearts in vain

Acrophobic enemy of the state
Of knowingless gaze's gate
The darling known not in my eye
The starling speaks that those who cry

Shan't ever spy the leerless one
Faceless he whose visage run

Rancid Astrophil 2

Twilight breaks through dusks' hollow star
Bright young Aldeberan husks shallows afar
On star scorched shores of possibility
On those farthest moors of tranquility

Radiant cinders and ash most putrid
Daringest lingering and thoughts acrid
Glaring through pungent telescopes
Taking stock of forgotten last hopes

Giant red star, homonculous
Differences vastly homologous
Kissing new lusts' fair
Limbs weaving affair

The one affair that mattered never had
The bulging stars' tattered fever sad

Rancid Astrophil 1

Bitter, rancid Noxious heart

This day doth dream a better start

Poor man's bluff makes truer volley

Of a man's rough choices foley

Decisions made never least true

Paid for later with trembling few

Mightiest a few societally unbound

In the cult of perfection I so drowned

Having once heard I carry you in my heart

I never looked twice at my failed start

Dating apps fill a void so I am defined

Pleasure in tinder meetings oh refined

But a dark dream throws me askew

A nightmarish though of romance anew.

Our Pictures

We still live together, and even share the same bed. We're in that awkward phase where we are still co-dependent for the time being. Wounds are fresh, and thoughtful tears are intermittent.

It's not going to work out between us, and it breaks my heart to admit it.

The possibility of patching things up is there (or was there), and as difficult as it is, when I look at our photos, or photos of you, and see all the things that I want in my life, I have to ask myself the question "is it worth it?" Although, I don't WANT to feel like I'm closing a chapter in a book, but rather, that our story is worth continuing, the answer to that question seems to be a hesitant "no." In all my heart, you are the person that I want to spend the rest of my life with. And when I look at your face, my blurred vision reminds me that that is what I want. I don't ever want to stop seeing your face that way -- I don't ever want to stop looking at you, and seeing things that other people can't see. Five years with you was a lottery of happiness that has forever changed me as a person -- even through the hard times; and there have been many hard times of late.

I want to stand from tabletops, roofs, and mountains, and cry out "I love you!" But what would it accomplish? Three more months of trying, and failing? Or perhaps three more years?

Five years... it's been five years, that have gone by far too quickly. My own parents, dated, married, had children and separated in less time than we have been living together as a couple. My dad, was scarred so profoundly, in a way that seems to have affected him for life, while my mom was also affected negatively in her own way by the separation. I know that I can be resilient, through these times, and do what needs to be done. Even if it is so difficult to see something that I want more than anything, so close within reach, and know that it's not worth it. We would never be able to work out our differences, and in and of itself that makes me feel great sadness... considering how close we have been these past five years.

I don't know what happens next, but I know that the grown up thing to do is to hold no animosity over what was lost, and to leave things on as positive a note as possible. I don't want the pictures we've taken together to be marred, or disfigured by negative feelings. I want to be able to look at them, and I want to feel like it's okay for me to cry, without resenting what is gone from my life.

I nub you bao bao. I hope that a part of me will always love you. Now, when I see your pictures, and the stream of salty tears meets my lips, I know that what we had -- what we have -- is a very rare thing for anybody to experience. However, it's time for us to stop making pictures together. It's time for us to start new.

Literati

When Rat Traps maximize
All affect stands in most articulate poise,
And when predicates terrorize
Alternative facts express mellifluous intention.

Hootsuite's scheduling of stock photos
Twitter posts and fans of your Facebook page.
Food pics, #hasthags and rage post dramas
Political savvy, time zones around the world

And things you do, as if nobody is watching.

Such as dancing to the tune of a different key,

And the drum of a different beat.

You may find love on Tinder

And on Pinterest, chocolate chip cookie recipes,

Censored documents, burnt to a cinder

And of interest, a Danish roux with
potatoes carrots and peas.

But there will be no puzzle peace

In this Mangalomaniacal haze

Before fires make double cease

That lasts for ends beyond days

Tiger 3-4

Part 3

Expensive wine as Barolo
Picked of the vine that grows
of the grape of Nebbiolo
A Piedmontese vinery rose

To be consumed by whom which partake
In thingstuffs and fineries
Which leave the soul in a state of heartache
For luxuriestuff from expensive dineries

Then sit cross from me, me and I
And share in this fermentery so fine
For which witness of, seek to spy
Of this that is so richest of the wine

But don't!
Or do.


Part 4


Taken from one extreme to another
Oh! So so so haughty
East Coast to Pacific North something or other
Dabble with drugs, oh so naughty

The low-calorie martini
Of MDMA fame
Burns not as the Scotch
Yet indifference the same

And not the same type of word name
Although alcohol is no less a drug
Than any other Absinthe, or Mezcal
When nothing becomes of a larval bug

威士忌酒
For me，you，my love, ic luvie þe

Foreplay

Poignant melodramas
Make angry faces at melancholy
benevolent Despots.

As the last Gandhi speaks

the last lama reconsiders

taking reincarnation out of the picture.

But reincarnation doesn't exist

And souls don't exist

Or ghosts of Gandhic disciples

Aliens don't mutilate sacred cows

for your pleasure.

牛肉很好吃
There's nothing quite like -- a
        Big Mac. But most all burgers are better.

Food blows electric daisy winds
                    Pushing up 9 inch nails
                    Against the ruddy teal waters
Of tall mountains.

Tantric massages know no
               Bounds when prostitutes
Bind legislation
And make bitter pills in Ecstasy.