Limited Linguistics

Word complex


A word or few can hold within its qualms

Entire universes of mysteries and miseries

From that initial jog into view down to

That final extirpation out of entropy’s final thrust.

Lives, of course are more than words, contain

Wonder and pain, love and disgust in configurations

Well beyond the noun or adjective or even verb.

One must contain a throat to scream, a mind

To dream, that sense immense cannot condense

Existence into the formalities of utterable sound

Or even scribbles symbolizing oddly the lightning of life,

That flash of clash that streaks through every now

May echo in linguistic thunder to trace the wonder

Of reality but there is no way that actuality can be trapped

Into the tangles out of the consonants and vowels enwrapped.



People multiples


This universe of words wherein we listen to ourselves

With mouths inside our mouths, with ears

Where all the ears are ours.

This universe of words, caged

Securely in our heads,

Discerning patterns out of patterns

Out of patterns which

Becomes an endless hall of mirrors

Multiplying infinities of ourselves.


The avenues of understanding clog

With package wrappers,

Rusted tin cans now emptied of gods, demons,

Elves and flitting dreams,

Fled from sterilities of gravity, the speed of light,

Entropic powers.

Times once they watched with small eyed threats

Crouched to spring to snare, now gone as smoke,

Or perhaps to wait in ambush in the dark.

Lately fears now have matured to stride

With flaming columns,

Attired in blood and screams,

Across the entire world.


We are transfixed, all of us,

In frozen array,

To tie our shoes,

Brush our teeth, comb our hair.

Odd whispers of realities

Slip between the marble columns

Carrying solidity. Smiles, bright toothed,

With red lipped wings

Flutter overhead to reassure.

There are strange rumbles

Beneath the floor

Criss-crossed in

Fine lines of growing cracks.

Acrobatic Socialities



Iconoclastic catastrophic complexities pursue

The social glue we all apply with an eye to do

What must be done to stifle fun. For fun essentials

Are chaotic, insubordinate to the psychotic idiocies

That comprise the complementals incidental to the mental

Imprisonment of the psyche. That internal mechanism

Suffers immensely from the schism of what’s required

And the intensity which is most desired. There’s real terror

In the error to anticipate what might rate admiration

Or can evoke disgust. One must tread heavily

To ascend the deviltry and leave surprise in the dust.



Skull Earth


It sets on fire what might inspire

The necessities that life might require.

Clean water, air, fresh green grass, and trees,

An atmosphere to neither roast nor freeze.

These are essentials on demand to please.

Are these simplicities beyond our means?

Life exists to resist its own demise, to perpetrate

Upon this fierce universe itself towards eternity.

There is no shape or transformation it will deny

To supply solidities and permanence to its elements.

So what grotesquery implants itself into humanity

To seduce this most strange latest concoction of bone and flesh

To digress from fundamentals, seek so eagerly the extinction

Of all sense and value with events of total self-destruction?

What brings forth this slavery to death

To choke an entire planet of its breath?

Fabrications Of The Universe

Holding Earth


The eye of I confronts immense floods of useless stimulation

Immediately discarded in automatic discrimination.

No doubt there are genetic fundamentals industrious

To pick and choose what is vital to gain or lose but more,

Consequence devises choice to bestow experience a voice.

Terror and delight entangle to devise security from confusion.

And by this in selfish cleverness manufacture reality through illusion.

Actuality is far too complex to contain in totality by a mind

Of limited capacity. This conglomerate of synaptic nets approximates

With guesses, bets that gets us safely fed and housed and perhaps

Sexually aroused in circumstance to chance occasion of successful propagation.

Life requires nothing more. What happens deep beneath the sea or beyond the sky

Or how to make an apple pie is incidental, vaguely incremental to survive.

This planet and all on it are intentions out of dust. An accidental chronologic thrust.

Of smash and bang combined in context of claw and fang to arrive at you and me.

The universe could not care less of our success or total mess

So it seems just what we do with our dreams is up to us.

Ancient Memories



The broken marble columns of ancient cities

Stand like remaining stone stumps of forests

Harvested by time.

Here and there a defiant statue stands.

A human fossil, edges rounded like the blurs

In a fading photograph, cracked and wrinkled,

Touched by time.

Humanity is quite busy setting up events to vanish.

Nevertheless, the fragile patterns of sunlight

Sculpted by its presence possesses persistence

To flee out at ultimate velocities to the stars

And wander amongst the galaxies

With the grace of time.



Qualities Of The Intimate


Concentric circles

Touch and scent do not merely complement the eye

That penetrate the depths of space and reach through time itself

To locality, dissolves in the greed of now that gnaws the edges of eternity.

This ear that knows the trepidations of the atmosphere implies

An approach, seizes to command appreciation, delight, understanding, or fear.

The body must accept direct invasion for haptic intimation of sensation.

So, touch colludes direct to nerve sensitivities exploring texture, pressure, heat, and frost

Risking costs in structural destruction. Contact must be tentative as caution’s preventative.

Scent is sent as adjunct to flavor’s five in a trillion variations to reveal a predator or a meal.

But contact continuity requires perspicuity of intent, mutual consent with an eagerness

To be alive, configure possibility with self and other, mingle with reality for personal extension,

To touch the future with the past.


Strategies Of Inevitability

Snake eyes


Earth screams loudly this day

In dismay at terrors real and fantastic.

The poisoned sea, the corrupted atmosphere,

The tortured continents boil and tumble belching gas

To choke with energies out of the Sun.

And life complies with the evil odors of death.

We are, of course, all out of nature.

The vagaries of chance and circumstance

Plot with no goal or mind, neither generous nor unkind.

The sizzles of is are the to and fro of automatic fate

That dictates with no intention, no invention

But the thus and so that rolls downhill in entropy.

Like any kaleidoscope the displays out of chronographics,

Tossing color and furies in performances of acrobatic creativity

And destruction seem uncontrollable so one must

Resign to appreciate the idiocy and run like hell as it approaches.