poems

Text Messages: Poetic Pontifications Pertaining to PostModernity

1) Do You Mind?
you have already done
me violence;
you are reading me out of con
text
(as a "text" without a message,
which is to say a medium--not large or small)
and by the very act of
appropriating/reconTEXTualizing
what you read
(are you appropriating something inappropriate
or inappropriately appropriating something appropriate?)
you have reduced me
from the unattainably mysterious
Other
to a datum
of content
contently manifest in a thought
conjured and assimilated by your
mind
so do you mind?

[be kind, please rewind]

2) Staged Presence
most writers pretend (pretentiously) to be
unconscious...
...of the fact that they are
writing...
...but when I break through the
medium with the immediacy
of a breakthrough mediated
by the exposure of the media...
...as message, mentally messaging
you to massage your mentality by
breaking
through the brokenness of
language,
to break it down,
breaking down the broken,
downness of our belated breakUp,
which has been the bracketing
of "me" and "you"--
in the instant we [sh]are
a laugh at our lasciviously ludacris language,
appreciating the apprehension
of the spontaneous suspension of supposition
(to truly listen to what the "you" might say to the "me")
and only then positively positioned
to posit a position
dissecting even the distinction
between "now" and "then"
and then...
..."we" "are"...
(in " " because we speak, therefore we are?)
and as "I" digress[es]
"I" transgress[es],
"I" is
too late to translate
to "you" again,
so you again
become the "other"
(not [m]other or [br]other?)
and so do[es] "I"
to you as you resume
your violent attempt to reduce...
...my "I" to your "you"
(and then, a him or a hymn?)
at which point you and I are
both left
with "my thoughts"
at a loss to reduce...
them to Truth[s]

THE END!

[read again and "see" what I mean]

3) PLAYr H8

so when I "play"
with the poetics
of meaning,
and successfully elucidate
what I am
meaning,
my present to you
is my presence
effectively
presented by presentation presenting
itself
which, whenever read (or said)
is undead (represented by...)
re-presentation
resurrection
and insurrection in the direction of an {erection}
as yet incorrect correction
that is, "I Am"................
deconstructing the structure
of deconstruction
yet far from indicating
if this is indicative
of an implosion
or an explosion, an expulsion
of meaning
itself
(can "meaning" have the means to mean itself,
or is it just a myopically mean meaning?)
for meaning,
its self is
a construct of
the revolving, revolutionary evolution of
SUFfixes and preFIXes
that are not themselves...
FIXed (or fixes)
and yet become (or come to be) FIXed
only to SUFfocate / asFIXiate
their own sense,
in a sense, desensitized
to the sensitivity needed to feel and make
sense
(so words become sensually nonsensical
and solely sensory and sonic
dissonant consonants or consonant consonants
capitalizing on a cacophony of assonances to assail the senses,
assiduously abstracting sense to distract and contract
your perception with an exceptionally clever conception of interception)
but does the act of defining
give you a view in high-definition?
can we at once define and refine
without also confining
ourselves to consign
our lives and lines to mindless signs?
(or adverse advertisements and enticements?)
you may call me "sharp"
only of you feel my "finer" "points
but I will
nonetheless proceed
to intercede, succeed,
and not recede,
in my attempts to tempestuously tempt you
to inscribe, rather than describe,
to design rather than resign
to consign the "self" to a sign
(or whatever we ascribe and assign ourselves to)
because sign language is for the deaf--
If I assign my
"self" to be defined, confined,
I must defy the effort to reify
and pursue the attempt to deify
keeping my
flow liquid, lucid,
and my language fluid
flaunting its flaws floweringly---poetically
opposed to poems
possessed of pseudopoetic prose,
posing instead "as a posy"
or, even better,
(to assimilate a similar simile,
albeit a filially familial familiarity),
"like a rose,"
red as a violet is blue,
yet not violated when posed or posited as true
to you who
can clearly see
that the "I" who is me (not the reader)
has not the authorial authority
to even hint of its scent,
nor to peddle you a proper picture of its petals,
when all I have is words,
signs assigned to define
or else to describe
that which is alive
and all the while,
I'm not completely convinced
that I even know
all that is evinced or evidenced by "rose"
--all the details of a rose (arose in rows of rousing rumination in germination like roe[s]...?)
like entrails that look as
uninteresting as intestines
yet are destined to manifest
the only means by which you can ingest and digest
what I mean(s), with
my heart burning
to express this impression to
prevent, not provoke
your idiomatic indigestion
so I digress to intercept this event
like a prophylactic poetical Prilosec,
Peptol, Zantac or Pepcid ABC's,
ingested in jest,
like so many other "texts"
devoid of context (or content)
avoiding their textuality (in the homotextual closet)
to [k]{no[w]} avail
like a void behind a veil
concealing nothing
yet no thing remains concealed
as something-revealed (?)
if we turn this in-side out
we find out something about
the nothing that masquerades
as "something"
but we cannot bear to apply
we cannot dare,
we cannot bare to apply
what is implied, belied,
flying from some-thing to some-one;
acknowledging the infinitesimal
space be/t/we/en,
which far from be/ing
a void
to avoid,
is the very link itself
between the "it" and the "I"
seemingly insignificant
because it is hard to remain
in significance
when signifiers
no longer sufficiently signify their assigned signs
except for the "Signifyin'" done by "Monkeys"
who are not really such
primitive primates--
they stand at the Gates and Loose "Canons"
in an emancipation of provocative proclamation
'cause often, flippin'
da script or da bird
can be more descriptive than words,
less conservative; less conserved, reserved
more than liberal: liberated
more than literal: literary,
poetics is more than knowledge;
noetically kinetic,
irrespective of happen-stance circumstances
that circumscribe truth
like donuts without [w]holes (hollow),
going round and round
in clocklike circles
that cyclically circulate
nothing;
fine lines dividing inside
from out
to inspire the devout
without letting anyone
in
like arbitrary arbiters
arguing unto attrition,
(and analytical atrophy from want of a "trophy"),
confused by conditions
that confine unconditionality.
define unconditionality. (not possible?)
impossibility
is impossible
and possibility
is in "possible"
however implausible,
implausibility
is the only end possible
because convention
makes intentions of intentionality impossible
not to mention freedom
which is, by definition,
unbound
yet still bound
to be defined
within the diction
of contradiction
within which it is
dissolved,
without which it is
solved
within those who resolve
to dilute their dissolution of
disillusionment with absolution
from their delusional solutions,
realizing that resolutions are not said or thought
nor made nor bought
but lived
as revolutions
that never delve or devolve into disillusion
but evolve continuously in creative evolution
wherein one is not construed as convoluted
or conceptually polluted
if they hold these--creation and evolution--
truths to be self-evident,
not "mutually exclusive"
(which is itself an elusive contra-diction in terms)
((which is itself an elusive contra-diction in terms))...


4) Con[seg]regation


do not hold these or any
"truths"
to be self-evident,
as if to say, "all men are free and equal...
...except the slaves!"
(and not, of course, to speak of women!)
this conception
of "one nation,
under god"
is a lie
whose inception
gives birth to two nations,
two gods,
two sides
black, white
south, north
either, or
yet both appealing to
one name as "God"
for justice, or for "justification"
to justify the injustice of prejudiced
jury-rigged juridical judicial systems
jur-isms and schisms
in pursuit of juris-im-prudence and impudence
to whitewash whiteness
that is stained by bloody hands
(a Christ who makes their sins
"white as snow"
by shedding his dark-skin blood)
whilst the "other" side
of humankind cries
from the shadows of "blackness"
to one and the same name
(namely, "God")
for vindication, liberation,
deliverance from the depths
to the shallows (and beyond)
of Troubled Water,
seeing the veritable very-similitude
of the cross and the gallows,
seeing strange and un-spiritual fruits
hanging from white folks' trees,
wary yet fully aware
that the Romans always own
the cross,
hanging the Christ
to display their Caesarian power
without knowing that by
lifting him up
they've nailed him down in a higher place
than they themselves
could ever hop[e] to embrace
but yet by grace...

(which begins in disgrace and degradation,
litigation and aggregation
then aggravation and segregation,
which gracefully disintegrates
the generation of integration and
degenerates the state of the human
from humane to insane
from profound to profane and inane
genuine integrity cannot be generated
genetically and be generically
germane to genuflect in
respect for the General,
who demands gentrification
into genres like "Gentile"
or Jew,
fictional myth or true)

...we shall overcome,
and congeal
in the true congregation
of unequivocally universal
salvation

(that is our destination
as well as our latent location)