In Search of Rest

the image of love in

the mirror

turns…

into a whirlpool of desire

we cannot maintain our balance

and so we fall

was it love?

we are the fuel

and when we are gone

there is no flame

i became brilliant beneath the light of your love

i was alive

and only then was i alive

woven into tapestries of color and sound

where have you gone?

i look for you in every face

but i do not fall in love

i remain apart

one wing in an empty sky

somewhere inside

a woman moves

and at night she often dances

in perfect breath with me

this is the woman with whom i am truly close

this is the only woman

mother of God

sound and fury

silence absolute

beautiful beyond description

terrifying in full approach

the mind dissolves

“be still my child

no harm will come to you

strong men i bring them down

and suck them dry

but my child may dwell in safety”

i looked too hard and too long

i found her and now i cannot return

there is no dream of life that can be believed

there is only the vastness of space

the appearance of time

and the differing weight…

sometimes heavy

like the sorrow of a long past

sometimes light as an angels hand upon your shoulder

steering a course through the stormy heavens

and planetary wars fought in human form

until the last day

she is everywhere

in unseen miniature multiplied

in the air

the earth

the dancing flesh

she takes me in my sleep

flying up the long corridor to my bright home

why is it difficult to leave the fields of play?

here among the doomed flowers

the gravity of bones

the brief exhalation of life

young girls press the pulse

and draw the essence forth

into the raging holocaust

of passion rampant

on a field of blood

“i will protect you my child

i will wash the worlds of form from your heart

i will remove the sword above your head

i will teach you to dance

but you will dance for me alone”

it is the greatest heartbreak

the destruction of the false self

dreamed by the self

and revealed to the self

at separations end

the terror of mortal pain

the agony of life’s constant march

unending loss of everything

unending loss of everything

it hurts to be free

freedom is too much to bear

too difficult to accept

the luminous door appears

and the mind cries out for darkness

it slithers under floorboards and rocks

to hide from immortality

“i will protect you my child

i will hold you as yourself

we are woven as one

eternity and time

forget

forget

forget”

in a world where everything but truth dies

but which few see

in a world that begins and ends forever

that is the playground

for a mind magnetized by dust

in a world where everything is broken

no heart is safe

in a world of mostly water

for it is a world of mostly tears

in a world where love is crucified

no lie is safe

in a world of contrasts

of desperate flights

and measureless descent

where everything is written on

or built out of sand

that flows to the bottom of an all forgiving sea

in a world of waiting

and hoping

where every dream comes true

eventually

and then loses its meaning and disappears

in a world of rumors

and dying swans who mate for life

we move to and fro

in search of rest

impelled by need

in search of rest

tormented by flies and furies

in search of rest

burning in the long night

in search of rest

in search of rest

in search of rest

“i will protect you my child

i have built a garden of delight

it hangs iridescent in the air

it gleams in a drop of water

it spins in the living breath”

a love serene

the emptiness of mind

the holding of one

the mirror of light

the bloom of begotten-

worlds sent forth

in search of rest

in search of rest

in search of rest

Patrick Willis narrates:
In Search of Rest

I Do Believe (an Easter Poem)

In that essential stillness

that quiet endless hour…
preceding every dawn
of every day…

God breathes into the world of sleep
whatever power might be taken
to reach
that waking moment
in the warm falling rain of his grace…

In every year
whenever the wheel has turned
into the place where it must turn again

or stop

for want of hope
or lack of dreams…

God breathes once again
into the greater whole…
this soft malleable whiteness
this stone…

he blesses
this unformed essence of extraordinary love
not yet fashioned with object
or desire…

it awaits our cleansed and contrite heart

awaits our innocence returned

awaits our renewing hope and certain will

that we might approach closer to the mark…

We have fallen back
upon the dying leaves

upon the sidewalks of shouting cities

into the guttering run
where flows the secret mind of our hidden deeds

more times than we can
through mercy
recall….

Every breath
every morsel of food
every chance of redemption
every possibility of hope
rests upon the bleeding power
that has bought and paid for every coming minute of the age…

Every twisted ugly thing

Every kindness unseen

every gentle thought

every whip hand falling
or whatever we may have turned it to…

all paid for by the living vision
of the one who dies

who is crucified
in the simultaneous instant of every act….

everything is permitted and fed
that we might, through the gift
of this unspeakably great thing
come to see how we might be….

and the certain possibility of that
for everyone of us

no matter how dark the way

how far afield…

is the ‘ceaseless’ intent
of the one left bleeding….

what freedom is
what love is
what peace is
we have no clue

only the yearning
and the road that leads us there…

Many have filled this void with words

Many heroes come
and seeming villains to meet them in their time

all sleeping now
in places deep and waiting…

but this one does not sleep

Is born anew in every breath

shines from each shining eye

cannot and will not forget

carries us past the trouble and regret.

In tongues forgotten he has come
to every race
in every time

dressed as everyone

always unknown and alone
and waiting…

this immeasurable gift

unappreciated

not understood

remains…

lays on the common ground

is tossed aside as worthless

is unseen among the items in the cart

it feeds us

grants us life where there would be none…

endless granted, giving life…

full and safe and perfect

I do believe….

Patrick Willis narrates:
I Do Believe (an Easter Poem)

Bend over and Wait

true love is a dream
that wakes up
and blends everything into itself

life has meaning
everything makes sense

sometimes it is more than this
sometimes much less
without it

then life becomes all expectation
hope running nervous at the edges
that are frayed
where they have been gnawed by doubt

too weak in the end to hold together
under the terrible weight of disappointment
which is always the result
of seeking true love
while being unable to truly love

real love is more rare than a bankers tears
more rare than sacrifice in a politician
yet it is what gives us life
still

we dream and wonder

and bend over and wait…

the physical eye is aflame and
intoxicated with form

golden Barbies and volleyball gods
symmetrical curves and perfect lines
youth without brains and
as cruel as a cat

the fruit of imagination
the object of desire

the plain ones cry-
“choose me!”
“no me!”
“sprinkle me with fairy dust.”
“smile and break my heart.”
bend over and wait…

“image is everything.”
in that case imagine Agase sodomized with a tennis racket
an excellent image
caught by Canon
seeming…
somehow…
vulnerable in this new light
lets see that one again
i know
bend over and wait…

life is television and television
is life
there on the mindscreen to digest
serve it with blood in a beaded glass
put the shine of romance on your beckoning ass
while you
bend over and wait…

ah
the wait
the expectation…

small bumps of excitement dot the cheeks
the sphincter contracts
and in a circular twist
its length is rimmed with invisible tongues
slick sweet death to the max
“oh!”
“now!”
“now!”
“now!”
bend over and wait…

visible beauty
the desperate lie
they came here
and confused attention with love
notoriety with fame

and not even death and rebirth
has given them any depth

these tragic shells with nothing inside
they slide through the scenery
as the scenery
crying to the world

“long for me!”

“desire me!”

“lay awake at night and dream of me!”
(clench your stomach tight with need)
but
“don’t touch!”
“don’t touch!”

let them milk your desire like bees among the flowers
and
bend over and wait…

they slide like snakes in the moonlight
over dark glass
they mate with their own vacant forms
moving millimeters apart

never touching
and always out of reach

two dimensional poster art

the blue television light flickers
and halos their face
lit with the blood-light of swallowing fate

they dance before you and sing

“bend over and wait.”

“bend over and wait.”

they break the heart like glass
with their cold hard beauty

hard and cold and hard and

adamantine

and valued
as diamonds are

by those who covet what cannot feel
bend over and wait…

bend over and wait…

we are presently dead
actually asleep
and in a dream

buried in flesh

everything is backwards

we wake up when we die

god is playing hide and seek
while you

dream of being serviced by a cyborg
that television said was real

television said
“get excited!”

television said
“let them sit on your face!”

television said
“you should live for this.”

and

if they are late?
yea
you know

bend over and wait

 

 

Patrick Willis narrates:
Bend Over and Wait

 

A Trilogy for Bushligula

this
twisted abalone shell
whose
lips
curled round
the writhing black linguini interstate
Hot breath burnin!!!!
burnin hot!!!!!
[is that all you got?!!
IS THAT ALL YOU GOT?!!]
And bush bent over for the devil
because he liked it!
like he likes the
Satanic whips descending
on snakeskin buttocks
mule fucked
and blood wet
To the tune of
natural things
turned into cinderblocks and shit
He’s got the numbers hidden under his hair
tattooed by demons in vitro-embryo
when Barbara got the ectoplasmic astral-hyena
enema
visitation
Up the backdoor
Into the secret clubhouse
Republican living room
[“is it just me or does something smell really bad in here?]
something
crawled up in here and died
Just before
George W.
got shit out on to a Petri dish
In the basement of the illuminati castle laboratory
Somewhere to the Midwest
Of Geneva
Sail on…..
Sail on…you ship of lies and
useless things
Into the middle of the river of darkness
And sink within

lost in the bushes
with the WMDs
and all that compassion
running like the clap from
an infected dick
and everybody lost and nothing got found
back in the day
when the lies seemed so real
but were not enough to win
so they let the court steal the country
and the heart and the mind
as the neo-cons got up as one
to kiss his red behind
spanked in private
kissed in public
and came all over himself
couldn’t remember where or when
hum a few bars
I’ll get back to you
Do lunch
Do your wife and kids too
If you
Fuck around
all the kiddies that got left behind
along with truth
justice
and the American Way
getting skull-fucked by
Spiderman
Cock-blocked by the frogs
On the Champs Elysses
lost in the bushes
and fucked behind the bushes
and discovered in the bushes
somebody needs to beat the bushes
till the tigers appear
♫and the beast ran away on the spear ♫
Halliburton
and Venell
up on the hooks
drying in the sun
Justice jerky
“Did it make your nipples tough?”
Got to be a Lecter moment
while the twins hit the bongs
could be from Laura’s dimebag
go to girl in college
dead man on the highway
and the Iraqi children bring the water home
that shimmering radioactive water
from the nuclear containers
that they found in the caverns
while we
were protecting
the oil ministry
and the museums were smashed and looted
and someone’s
having tea with Osama
on the beach at Tripoli
WMD’s sitting in sun-chairs on the sun blasted shore
of purple mountains travesties
Maui Jim sunglasses and
cocktails at six
with the great whore
of Babylon
who squats on the banks of the Potomac
where the necessary work gets done
and the vultures soar
over the looted plains
the blasted limbs of children
that will never dance again
in the streets of Baghdad
As Nintendo jet fighter pilot bush
lands on the aircraft carrier
with his sock stuffed crotch
packed like a Piñata
waiting for history
to kick him in the nuts


no actual caps were injured in this simultaneous outpouring.

if you can’t follow this break out a copy of Fruity Loops and mixmast your ass into the realm of unforgettable I wish I could do that air-rap fantasy midnight idol gasoline inflamed saturday night special (PEACH SCNAPPS ENHANCED ALSO MAIDEN VOYAGE IN THE AFTERMATH OF 2CB-J…VERY COOL.. IN RETROSPECT I CAN’T BELIEVE I JUST WROTE ALL THIS BUT YOU KNOW, THERE IT IS.

see whut IT IS
un huh what it is
i come into the block white non-homeboy
not ganged up…looking fish country
but, could talk
could fight
just like it was in real life and not in this
made up rap for commercial release
this one is made up rap for commercial release

yeah, I went up on a hard two to ten
if I was good they give the nickel back again
less worries when I go look for a job
uh huh
less worries when I go look for a job
says here you get a nickel back
but I’m not thinking about that
becaus right now in my
mental penitentiary
the rules are different you got to play
the song my way
just like it really was
oh yeah, i’m living proof
just like it really was
had a tattoo on my arm that said inshallah
muslim saw this whilst i was back-slapping off some part of a group who played—-

—their look this way while i fuck you in the ass
capers which i tumbled to and did a surprising flamenco- off the cuff caporeira paco delucia enhanced double back at you thunderfuck
and the muslim said cease and desist
what is the meaning of this
and i said just what it says..
whatever god wills and i threw in a few bismillahiroCKman’sirahim’s i don’t know what comes next
just like it was
in real life
and not in this penitentiary of the mind
so they thought cause i said the palestinians had a right to a statehood that i was cool
meanwhile, the nazi skinhead contingent
of the aromatic body enhancing
not prone to desirable human contact
groping… dug my perceived anti-jew
not true
i expect i could find one i like
it’s a taste you get accustomed to…

piss yu off good…push any buttons yet?
oh trust me there are buttons i haven’t pushed yet
i see right fucking through ya
uh huh…just like it really was

just like it really is
in this mental penitentiary see I got some cachet
i proved i could fight and i hate everybody
so that can’t be bad in here
but that’s not quite how it was
i was much nicer than that …when i could afford it- otherwise i warned people who never paid any fucking attention anyway
so…like i said
i got some cachet in my mind
and unless you have actually faced down bad leroy with his pounding klipsch-horn enhanced dick speaking in tongues
then you just part of this bad poetry caravanserai
this unending bordello of unrequited masquerade
is that my lovers lips?
is that my lovers mind?
read it back to me slowly
while i admire the expanse of my endless behind
just like it really

so, cut to the chase
in my mental penitentiary
new fish come in today george bush
cocky for a white boy
looks like he might know sumit
walks likes he’s connected
if he is
we ain’t heard of it
word is, in here, man gotta prove his shit
or that man a bitch
man can lone gun and walk away
but he got to clean his plate when yo deliver it

so george he comes in all high in the saddle
my daddy this, my daddy that, and karl rove turn on the lights here
in this place where the sun never shines
and i have fucking been there and so

yeah sometimes the sun does shine
but don’t expect it will call on you today

when i remembered, huh
this is this punk ass bitch was president of the united states
this was this lying theivin, run away from his cushy deferment vietnam evading career landing dick enhanced robotroid don’t you wish your daughter would marry somebody like me worthless piece of shit pretending posturing side of the mouth talking got no fucking friends in this jailhouse dead man walking or worse…much worse
in this penitentiary of the mind from the miserable rotting fucking you don’t want to know what kind of scum lives here in this penitentiary of the mind…

and i’ll clue ya
this is the way it really will be
in the moments now being orchestrated for his special lord faultenroy and attendant beasts

let this ongoing poem be just as passionate and violent an uproar
as i may create
but there is a seething foment in the pustulence beneath
and so you will
hear the next version
of this
and you will hear the next version
of this
unless of course (it’s poetry after all- loophole
no need for the disclaimer kiss my ass)
you get brass knuckles back i speak for a whole lot of angry mother fuckers
and since you don’t know the meaning of fair play
maybe you will appreciate when we do it your way

lies
intimidation
slander
get in my range motherfucker
oh but george you are
here
in the penitentiary of the mind
when they made plans to take you out
(copy the secret service on this re…penitentiary of the mind…undisclosed location…george is in trouble guns don’t work)
when they went to take you out
they came to me george
asked me if i wanted first up
ya know george i’m basically non-sexual prison wise
just like it really was
but i got to make an exception
so they brought you to me george
your white fishbellied butt winking in the 60watt bulb dangling in erie reminiscence of some forgotten film noir where my heart was broken..

but that poor ceramic figurine
is endlessly tumbling now
like the snow in citizen kane
and you can kiss the rosebud of my tormenting ass
cause you’re mine now goergeree
gottacha
gioereorej
gotcchaha
in the peni..t.t.t.t.t.tentiary of the mind

and I’M HARD NOW GEORGE I’M HARD
LIKE I’VE NEVER BEEN FOR A MAN
SO HELP ME GOD
AND YOU SQUEAL LIKE THE PIG YOU ARE
WHEN I DELIVER THE PORK TO YOUR SELF RIGHTEOUS CRYSTALINE BEHIND…NO LUBRICANT GEORGE
DO YOU MIND???
OH PLEASE, PLEASE MIND…
IT EXCITES ME SO IN THIS PENITENTIARY OF THE MIND

LA LOI DONT LE REGNE VOUS EPOUVANTE A SON GLAIVE LEVE SUR VOUS FRAPPERA TOUS, LE GENRE HUMAIN A BESOIN DE CET EXAMPLE..

oh, that’s right yu don spik french
too bad
big leroy is going to interpret

so george..mr white boy supreme now in this tank fulla we find out right now what you got or you givvin it up know what i mean?

and your punk ass got no respect in this world
i’ll be the livin witness of that
watch your back?
you ain’t got no back
sept what i’m pile drivin into you except for
when i relax like that
you in the penitentiary of the mind asshole
we ain’t got the in house sound system like we like it yet
but you ougta hear your fat friend rove yodel, yeah, he’s next door
dick’s gone…i’m sorry to say
big Leroy used his dick as the kiss of life
mighta got in tha way
so i gotta ask you george
you like it when i do it slow like this
or do you like it when i fuck you really hard like you been doing everybody else until now
big wake up call huh? mr i used to be the president of the united states and now you crying for your satan worshippin momma and aint’ this a kick in the ass
cause it’s satan that got you now
it’s your very best friend right here with you ALL THE WAY TO THE END…A…L..L….TH…E WAAAAAAAAY AH HAH HAH HAH HAH
YOU KNOW GEORGE I GOT TO QUIT
MY HEART AIN’T IN IT
BIG LEROY YOU GOT SUMPIN YOU WANNA SAY?
WELCOME TO THE BIG TIME MR PRESIDENT
WELCOME TO THE FUTURE
EVEN THOUGH IT AIN’T CAUGHT UP YET
WELCOME TO HOW IT REALLY IS
AND HOW IT DO PLAY
IN THIS PENITENTIARY OF THE MIND (CLOSED CAPTIONS MULTI LANGUAGE ENABLED..NOT SIMULATED…REAL ACTORS WERE USED AND WILL BE USED AGAIN AND AGAIN)
in the penitentiary of the mind…yeah george i’m fucking and humiliatin you every way i know and i will do worse until you come after me and i wish everyone else would do the same
until the sound was so loud
the oceans roar and the thunder would be just
sand rubbing their knuckles together in my mothers hands
back when i still believed this was a decent land
back when i still believed in god
and now i know it’s just up to us
and maybe that is god after all
cause i could never..no matter how you have shamed the human race you fucking traitor
i could never disavow that still small voice…inside…
oh i hear it like angels dancing across glass
never did fabric rustle so…
it is you isn’t it???
i hope so
in this penitentiary of the mind
lots of hopes and dreams here lord
lotsa childs left behind

i’m coming george…i’m coming and i wont stop and you can crush every fucking voice in the world and still this will ring high and clear above everything you and your robots seek to control…you can’t stamp out human freedom..

especially not in the name of freedom…and our voices grow every day.
and not
just in
this
penitentiary of the mind…kma