May 2015 Notebook

by

Klaus J. Gerken


Shattered


I

there's anger in the heart of madness
love doesn't exist in foggy weather
one may feel but does not see

where earth meets water
there is scant resistance
from the mud

but then there is always flood
and the bottom line is always cash
lives hardly matter where the money flows
the railroad of resistance is a nice conundrum
it doesn't build itself but argues against those who do

emptiness always fills a void
no one comprehends
of course then there is the vessel
coagulated blood is hybrid
works like a charm
on any roller coaster

pretty is as pretty does
doesn't matter what you fill the vessle with
it all returns to dust


II

the mess of clutter on the new horizon
baking like a dull desire
on the heels of a major breakthrough
wiping out a universe or two
or just a theoretical anangram
that makes no sense to human beings
lodged in the mud of everyday

i'm just hanging around at the corner
pick a latitude or longitude
but make sure it's not on water
or in the crater of an erupting volcano
i don't want to be dust or mud too soon
i have a few things to do
no one will ever know or care about

but that's ok it doesn't matter
my broken springs are not your bed
thorns are fine froma distance and blood's a good drink
if you only pretend to drink it
after all vampires are a perfect formula
for safe collusions
water into wine and all that shit

III

sickness is when the mind can't agree with the body
when the harbour of conception
is a mudflat of deception
no warning signs of quicksand
one vanishes without bravado
swallowed up without existence
where there is nothing there can be only nothing
no volumes of philosophy will negate that
or explain the unexplainable
shadows play in the morning sun
and moonglow gives credence to the night
howling wolvews of thunder split the silence into waves
and these visions of surrender are such a big rave

IV

the poison does not articulate a set of circumstance
it waves no flag no adverticement of sandy beaches
paridise enfolds you like a set of arms comforting
a child's desire for securty lost all lost
in a world where hope renegs with weapons of slaughter
and dry passion empty minds worshipping even emptier religions
they have given up because the fantacy is better than the life
death becomes a lotus land you have to drag them screaming away
before they have a chance to kill you
and no one sees the truth but only the terror to themselves
damage done 

V

the bones dance a rotten tango
mill around whore houses and dig up
van gogh memorabilia
shades abound to hide hollow starstruck eyes
and chocolate ears are packaged in a Chinese laundry
somewhere in Manhatten
rainbows roll like coffee from the tongue
and the visions of surrender are way too young

VI

lord god pray me a false fandango 
the shades of crayons melt like candy
on the parched grass of desire
no one parks the revolution
no one knows what it is
we don't strangle the earth for nothing
evolution doesn't have regrets

VII

a long long time ago
when the world was still corn syrup
the blue velvet mountains erupted
and the echoing thunder roared 
a caveat emptor over the whole shebang
no one listened the deed was done
and plastic became a solid form of mummery
there appeared a crumpled bombast
in the form of parchment with the WRITTEN WORD
that could neither be read nor spoken
no one spoke it
no one read it
but a million scholars intepreted it
in a million different ways
inspiring a million glutinous wars
in the thunder of the WORD that can't be spoken


VIII

i keep waiting
waiting for what
anything
whatever happens
whatever won't
the raging storm
the passive calm
death
life
wisdom
most of all wisdom
because the world needs wisdom
that no one has
yet i have no wisdom
just another person
on a planet hungry
with regret

IX

genius will never have a place
in the minds of mediocrities

X

one is reminded in the skelter helter
of the rabble midnight madness
frozen abbyss where the silly 
meets the absess helter skelter
everyone capitulates and what is clarity
is really hate
it's way too late to make amendments
to the word of god or god or god
whatever name you choose is odd
what pretending fools will not regret
their own demise
wisdom wise or pack of lies
does thought even matter in the universe











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Copyright (c) 2015 by Klaus J. Gerken
Published by Ygdrasil Press