the necessary condition

A poetry blog

Month: March, 2013

set in a world, a stray.

mcspadden park. git sum.

mcspadden park. git sum.

It’s muddy outside,
it was caused by her tears,
try to w
alk through,
but your feet will leave marks of fears.

Remember what he taught us,
“solitude is the necessary condition”,
the mud grants you not,

but tears over, will grant you remission.

She cannot remember the last time,
it followed her for umteen years,
it cast a shadow,
brought her shou
lders to her ears.

Feel the mud between your toes,
your shoes cannot be on,
and when your done,
pick up the shoes of anoth
er john.

xx

-v

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mittens.

take me back to chelsea piers.

take me back to chelsea piers.

I never wanted to say it,
but it’s time for a change,
I never w
anted to do it,
but it’ll be out of my range.

The action upon which,
the push comes to shove,
will outlive your pati
ence,
and reclaim the fingers of a glove.

The desire within which,
is held dearest to your feed,
will be out-shined and re-shined,
far past the power of ne
ed.

The time during which,
it’ll take you to realize,
you’re not too vain,
this is about you –no ne
ed to philosophize.

xx

-v

so then it was friends off?

catch u on the flip.

catch u on the flip.

what can you do?
Sometimes…
there’s nothing but a train to cold mountain that never comes back down.

The final trip to show you…
there’s nothing left for him in this town.

xx

-v

acute pursuit.

it's not a one time thing on the brooklyn bridge.

it’s not a one time thing on the brooklyn bridge.

I go around the lake in hopes of,
finding deepe
r route.

I find myself upside down,
in tangle between fun and better loot.

I want to build a different view,
with thought of you fitting boot.

I cherish the thoughts of your smiles fitting mine,
on playground parachute.

I look ahead and tried to see,
what’s past the fermented fruit.

I tried the trail and remembered well,
the paths of deep uproot.

I don’t mean to scare, or intimidate,
the potential change of suit.

I’ve tried roundabouts and cul-de-sacs,
but it’s not a
good commute.

I’ll try to stay away,
but these urges aren’t minute.

xx

-v

for her and maybe.

float away with me.

float away with me.

Look between the stars,
there’s infinite space,
compou
nd two compound,
you put me in place.

That planet long gone,
it’s hard to say,
if a change in peer review,
affected more che
wed hay.

That planet revealed identity,
was actually moon,
a journey’s a journey,
even with years of mis
taken swoon.

You’d be lucky to find,
a moon and sun,
for the daughters of venus,
carry loaded gun.

I ask you, I beg you,
to put your hand between the stars,
if not pro
jected separation,
try a lack of depth perception on ours.

xx

-v

carry that barque above your head.

ancient egypt exhibit at the  met

ancient egypt exhibit at the met

You are Nun,
and we were told.
Carry
the barque above your head,
and percolate from land to water.

I watched you destruct,
to reconstruct and create.
A world so complex it takes worlds,
lifetimes, deities to liberate.

The clouds are smoked
with ambiguity,
knowing that the ambivalence of Nun
is still.

I watched you create
all that you have ever known.
A creat
ion that wants to deviate
but got stuck in a fate that you think you must carry.

Carry that barque above your head
to the edges of your universe,
wait until you allo
w yourself
to reach past to another universe.

Chaos gets scared,
Nun shuts down.

xx
-V

…and then we laughed.

trapped in the bk bridge.

trapped in the bk bridge.

A necessary condition,
a feet o
f the flight,
a trashed set of strays,
it was a good night.

An unnecessary exception,
a crescent moon to stay,
a laugh that will not quit,
and let come what may.

A consequential admission,
a series of open-ended questions,
an inc
omplete sense of hope,
and a multi-faceted list of suggestions.

An inconsequential release,
a filled night of guise,
a complicated excitement,
a locke
d in truth from the earth to the skies.

xx

-V

same boat, different motor.

look into it.

look into it.


Don’t ask me what I want,
or wher
e I am,
It would be like asking what is actually in..
that can
of spam.

Don’t linger on about the past,
you bl
urred it with-in fluence,
Do with it what you wish,
but approach me with serious prudence.

Don’t entice me with who you are,
or what you are,
but if th
at’s the extent of this bond,
I’d probably let it go shamefully far.

Don’t tell me to tell you what to do,
don’t liste
n, don’t follow suit.
We’re in the same boat,
with different motors.

xx
-v

one of how many?

did you try to make it a blur?

did you try to make it a blur?


Little arson set it off,
G
ot too high and caught himself,
the lif
e of a woman,
in a pot, on shelf.

Little arson let it off,
Got too wrecked an
d sat alone,
the laughs of a woman,
flood
ed, hung on a single drone.

Little arson tore it off,
Got too crooked and slept in crescent,
the heat of a woman,
repla
ced, by a box, incandescent.

Little arson screamed it off,
Got too fired up and ended talk,
the lu
st of a woman,
floated, recounted and infinitely mocked.

xx

-V

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