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Brinesanity – an abide jar, filled with all the fuqs given.

By

Winner Take Nothing, he said.

After the storm, a clean, well-lighted place.

The light of the world.
God, rest you merry.
Gentlemen, the sea change – a way you’ll never be.
The Mother of a Queen.
One reader writes, homage to Switzerland.
A day’s wait.
A natural history of the dead wine.
Of Wyoming – the Gambler, the Nun, and the radio…fathers and sons.

Alone in my thoughts.
Wishing for nothing but a year in the presence of greatness.
Perhaps in the place they call blessed.
A silent bow, an honored smirk to Ernest tales.

Violent cuts of the mind,
spliced images in a kaleidoscope coffin,
edges holding the fine scotch for you,
a raft to the next dimension.
14:12 25813

*abide*

By

Stailing the open seize.

Digits flailing softly reminding us. Lest we forget. This is chum. Tower over it. Pulse.

Digits flailing softly reminding us. Lest we forget. This is chum. Tower over it. Pulse.

Stay lifted on life.
“The right one never comes off.”

Seeing it, embracing it.
Skin sailing on wind.

Bone stails.

Waves become whores wishing to drown
with you by the boundless sea.
Hide your gin, hydrogen.

Flesh gulls begin to peck at your cheek,
neck gristle shines.
Salted air.

Rotunda knuckles crash to the misted sheets.
Wood, resisting flesh.

Chalk, filaments and fibres melt in the heat.
Jaws cracking calcium peanuts.
Divine peanuts.
Banged big peanuts.

Oral peanuts.
Chomp the big heels of life.

Those stilettos will prevent your tongue.
It wishes to sail.
Expose your inner genius.

Have faith.
Few have the ability to do it.

To fully understand how to wield it.
The bone stail.

Hold it firmly.
Place your tongue on the table.
Drop the blunt.
Stail.
Repeat into the tool as part of the whole.

Remove guts after the seizure has stopped.

Fluids are always.
Looking.
Particles – to float, indeed.
Grasping.
Solid just stands.

Over the mess of chum.
Not possible.

It must be in the chum.
The chum must want sum.

But stand, and count.

Then let us dance.
Icarus is here tonight.
One night only.
It is a hot show.
Cannibals and witches,
stand up Stantastic’s,
genital mollusks, Zeiss flies.
Snowflake moths.

Look at the guts.
Make yourself happier, feel the prick.
The sting.
The leather whip tail of a radish,
bound and sutured to the sights you see.
Feel, read.
Up and ebbed, flown over a nest.

Shame they always think of cuckoo nests.
In that highway, that trove of concrete.

The books must be dry when we quote them.

That is what they want, so give in.

Painted the walls with olives,
my cave.
Gorgeous dolmadaglite.
Heavy as fuck.
Shiny, clean.
Scratch my back on that point there.
See?
On this boat.
In the open seize.

Just you and me.
Where do you want to install your stail?
Quick, they are coming.

“Can we sail?”

I was hoping you would never ask.
I just don’t know.
We can try.

Poetry walked the moon first.

*abide*

By

Surety

fetaman, feta, abide, believe, brinesanity

You are very sure of why you are there.
You just don’t know how you can get to another surety.

wrinkles age, advice sage
templates move, winds on page
sensing danger, chilling rage
placing fuck, in a cage
cold steel on the forehead
fur on the back
licking the juice off satan’s crack
green bin monsters, full attack
back to the tack like daddy mack
thessaloniki, fat stack
bring it back, hell no, that, flack
bullets don’t evade the echo of the mind
shadows don’t hide when they looking to find
the light casting doubt on their essence
who the fuck, what you see
pain, angst, weathered storms misery
motherfuckeryouthinkibe dying
christ still sits here lying
‘bout crucifying
romans and jews
big spliffs, and homebrews
who am I gonna sue, papparazi or you
ingest your mind, in time, on the dime
prescribe the wine, so fine that line
landing strip, nipple slip, feather tip
drip, drip
chlamydia fool, cancer for the tool
living life, shots and booze, so cool
logic went out the window when the bitch came

i am today’s anarchist
brinesane.

*for the savings on coupons at the grocery store, when I go with my wife, and she says not to wear my hoodie, she only wants me gangster at home, out there I have to make sure I don’t like te cucumbers…they are so long, and green and slender and have bumps…fucking fuckity fuck fuck, is the mic still on…oh fuck…

*abide*