DJT+
Lennox Raphael
Chez Nous brokenhearted regrets ROMANTIC NOUS TO MATCH no thanks
I agree with the heart*s desire forced as I was then choosing from rubbles of memories & calisthenics become desire.
When you are looking for something and cannot find it, what do you do?
Of course, I do know who I am nut.
You called me a paragraph – well, you*re not too far from truth.
My misadventures have been fun.
Magically for no other reason do dogs love me.
Madly, I should say.
For someone who has been married all these times, I still have faith in fate: and people.
Especially in people; & those on perpetual leave from themselves
as anointed elves;
pity never being shadows of desire: or
those who themselves over-love hate without vengeance.
I soon came to know love as a miscarriage of injustice: ice*cream kisses abandoned in a Hell stooped to expelling the Divine.
Good manners have no class worth matching scowling scratching away on tawa roti turntables.
I am proud of myself for having remained intact.
Fear had always been my best friend … and guide: and tear drops holy water blessed by blingspirited inner gods imagined as keepers of rice paddy sardines.
As such, I have never once been told the truth, or what lies behind the lines
Being blessed puts everything to rest; and
there is no harmless sinsolence wagging tails to donkey logic before opening closed doors to traps springing determinedly like plants which, when touched, fold themselves into flower spirits and speak brokenheartedly like coconuts descending from their saddle perch at night to carouse in tadpole streams of consciousness.
That imagined, I am often mistaken for God. Which is not my fault. Not at fall.
Zeugmatically speaking, stranded between logic and imagination, adjective or verb governed by two nouns, emptiness is full of absence:
so too memories and murderous instincts gifted as Love.
To give in to the self then is to prejudice the murder of sound in a tomb long averse to silence as time dances & sings my tunes.
What however stays with me after venturing down to the bottom of the Great Pyramid in Cairo was looking up and seeing a blue roof reminding me Life is a taste.
So nice to have the future be always present in opening itself as one would a gift.
I haven*t the faintest idea where this voyage ends, or begins. There are 3 streams …. one goes up, one comes down, and the other invisible special, having little bearing on accidental ideas whistling in the dark like inquisitive mosquitoes revealing what*s behind the magic of authenticity and blind desire.
I have dared only to believe in tears: except for the time I almost drowned in a lake of teardrops breaking free from shackles of knowledge, tradition and familiar routines.
To begin with, God is not necessarily Love; and love is stranger to the truth, which makes expectations easier to forgive as one would regrets that strip down to basics in public as indestructibility becomes objectivized.
To show us the extent & potential of our moralities, God made the devil in our image which, to keep the sea waving to its pursuers, is a celebration meaninglessness if belief as cure for angel footsteps biting lips of the sun turns to love for help and is disappointed by romantic lettuce in invisible symbolic domain early arrival of laughter tumbling down cheeks of the very same god who killed in my name and made a mess of forgiveness and regret bitch of the witch kissing curses to stones I do not dare question myself with romantic nous to match games played on life by people who like weople.
Of course, a bad man may be a good man*s teacher, but every lecher is worth its salt in Malt from Malta for the taste being slambooloombeboom having survived ribald slaughter of language and secrets ploughed always deep into confusion of feelings gasping for innocence, selfish out of hot champagne assassinated by shadows pilgrimaged thots alive to the touch of romantic barbed wire I have nothing left of the shelf I started out with when wild was tame between lines of least resistance wars among lips disenfranchised from season now reasonable as contrite truths belching become lost in shadows sickness the only cure left in the leaking swimming pool of life I am a witness bigly too to my atrocities and hollowcausts and smiling teeth greeting ghosts beings now resurfaced after endless years of air-freshened slumber of orphaned ideas desperate for hopelessness such love as provides camp fire enlightenment with bones left over from last conflicted embraces of recuperative lies too good to be true to love shrinking back from real disbelief long overdue pretending to be what is not silence of loquacious dreams not the buzz of inclination and absence reeling from happiness no more time left the self waiting against waiting overbitterly in darkness Pity and Time outstretched wands breathe furtively artists innocence mustard yellow blue indignant souls become ywllow angels rule weaknesses of language and new hounds barking fall to fashionable green last recourse to dreams and perfumed laughter adored by br/hearted ghosts laughing shyly become great listeners naked bodies of shy paint on ladders reaching beyond kidneys of the chimneys interior consciousness of revelatory blindness outside the frame of how doing and undoing cleanse the Augean gaze and reinterpret evil as reasonable introduction to thinkinglessness as first step by step to origins of satisfaction.
Now can you imagine peace & love and the champion dove wrestling with love, I can, so difficult it is, how dreams belittle sadness, touches of illusions u*ve been walking, but, 3 hours later, you haven*t moved an inch – don*t kiss don*t hurt the church god & the mouse renting a house I cut open my head before the mirror and took a good look at everything in pursuit of the flea making desire the laughing stuff of weaning of meaning crack be crack to crack the crab speaking the devil*s English tongue spil(l) in several pieces as to deceive a dream, whole world virusnited cure, everything possible too in jest the way things are when not falling from memory leaves conscious of inner responsibility to an emptiness whose challenges fear money not God even while eternal leads to repetitious reptile angel bargaining for wings to which the albatross sings and as soul eternal leads to repetition habits emerge times submerge dirge atop mango dreams ghosts betray shadows detachable memories crossing Red Seas and opening to nothingness.
I can*t disagree.
I am word, sentence, paragraph, a phrase dancing in hot gaze of kisses burning their ecstasies at both ends of the deep beneath our feet across desert loneliness solving all problems of human heart endless sound ever present to absent feelings escaping fear where fool as I am I*ve treaded needles exempt from feelings always hope for more happy moments of tasteful worry the blue night from the open window sees all and every now and then becomes one of my favorite dreams is a lie I just can*t remember – no matter how I try to stop remembering as a chance offering of desire and awkward bashful destiny biting hearts that feeds it those petals of eternal rose smelling its way thru imaginary certainties swept aside by desire but perfectly happy know happiness is beginning of invisibility and fractured innocence like brokenhearted kisses skidding off target monsters in chest of the believer in beauty of Renaissance intuition emptiness carved out of imaginary of history and when I see beautiful dreams of forgetmeyes like tadpoles in pink galoshes terrorizing lovingly the sleep of butterflies and contented mosquitoes showing off fog*light behind their eyes lighting up the arid darkness of sound – the pity then had been shallow enough to bite dreams and still have enough surface left to say no or perhaps – enough to disabling pleasure as monitor of nameless fantasies – and the moon, so fill of itself, mimics dimics so becomes egg against egg and trounce bounce denounce pounce on surreptitious memories of decency lost and found in regret, the kind that restores inclemency to passion in the heart of chill and the strange blind eyes of yeast satisfaction leering blindness as we ate chili con carne and barked up trees of memories derailed by vagina roses and imaginary distrust digging out the ordinary slips of tongue as beauty of true love lying patiently in the shadows of doubt and algebraic algae and lethal consequences since rabbit time destroys innocence see in last bars of doeth vanquished enigma of Papa so playeth paper and all such relics of golden abyssemerging from the abysmal.
First of all, I am you, but not so sure, would you let me off the hook to gett off Bitterness toward encouragement like life thick mango teardrops splitlip dreams – you knelt down on mandarin leaves and live it up for the grand show where the bubble trees twerk for guilty pleasures soon to know & embezzle vampires first to say FREE & speak aloud to surgical crowds in the pizza moderna of holy moths dancing with promises to stay away from all that is time all bent on dancing eat cactus love hot sand morning worms screaming love alone & beyond God + by whatever shame caught in the trap of life beyond word on the jumpy tongue of a green iguana which taste exactly is hardly a worth forgetting the company of kisses kissing edges of darkness becoming light conflicted regardless of whether quite astonishingly God sought refuge in silence both in the community of female vices embroidered into flat and polite astonishment smiling and having great laughs making night feel bashful like inklings bent on riding thru minefields of memories from days when being called handsome made me fight my way thru High School before angelic took over and, with that ‘you belong to me’ and ensuant jealousy made something else happen to the philosophy of Everything is Everything with maybe a dream or two thrown in for good luck and recombitant duende hoodoo
voodoo saintfulness around the corner where copulation was in full swing to oohs & aahs and giggly sex between the lines on bed covers invisible kisses drafted into a war of taste over ultra infidels glossy as they come after having crossed over from valleys of shadows of death into sintentionlessness of labyrinth kisses buried deep in misses wrapped in Second Avenue knishes from 14 down where between midnight and 2 on Fridays naked women emerge from the sidewalks and offer fcks&scks if ur hellbent on going to heaven with a statue cuddled by ice cream melting your fearlessness into beatng hearts achieved in puberty and aggrieved lawlessness from top to bottom of God the Girl who got lost in red lipstick that attracted only fallen angels mouthing words to silence the moon curbing reflex retribution cure for indomitable errors we make into ladders confident as interiorizing the rush of interior design biting the Adam*s apple along the way and knowing your taste is unique and when lonely and starved you eat hunger and satisfaction and belch independently of ideas worth swallowing eros the heros bismativice of curry perfume from Givenchy and Paco Rabane a knife that spoke before cutting its eyes at strangers in a night such as this stars in the skies dripping lies on the white carpet; well, of course, we watched him roll down the length of the carpet saying yes when you mean it to be otherwise sneezing kisses built to last outlast shadows tiptoeing across fragile quick tears sparkling mouse selling wings made to last from frog eyelashes burnt at the edges and poison repellant from this libidinal infallibility precious moment on its back to the future of delicious nonsense and wanting to be tooth-picked to holy rivers of desperate moonlight embraced by Waterloo frog on a bridge of the last mirror of siblingistic dreams pintsized fears fear of the other in loneliness & fear neither of which can be explained as imaginary retention of debatable scrimmages I am very happy taking myself & work to another scaffolding as we reach out for an inner world now in the process of being discovered by harmony the key to pilgrimosity & neverness in the face of Everything being Everything and Everything nothing a little bit a big little bait of fate tears electrique Distorto as I found myself afloat in a swamp of snake poison.
I had my fill & returned to the shore.
Along came a horse with the talking I used wet handkerchieves to help close any hearing of the contented moon and the ten-story high jelly fish for God finish with its rituals of my sustainable dreams long friendly maps of reading our minds plastic suffering lived a hero shadow city in wild forest squelches on wasp honey.
I sat down on a log, turn to ‘friends’ and will not fain attach my has to indepthorsarrow faithing next wonderful time I am horsehelpful than you not curbing worthfulness time as shadow of its own essence a buzz endless bees when last determined one time next to say f!you to the greedy mirror sworn to movement but in witch haunted melody is a song celebrating man*s assent to heave & finding it empty fears have no shame only gratitude a hand lost a friend every morning afternoon skinny dipping in teardrops I didn*t want to see the cream lie down in red cremeformidable lines between lies lost now found and playing hard2get to the prenormative world play and want only to be kissed to enchant sad & joyful innocence all I used in leaving the moon behind indifference to certainty how strange human beans looking at life at different positions drinking perfume from a soft poison and laughing when told to be invisible.
“Quo vadis?”
I decided then to buy myself a body shop of kindness & wicked depth aloud as we stood in line at the side bar of golden water and bottled breath.
The judge said how do you plead my man first of all there we two tails left to be mended by literature to curb routines how best to tame lazy imitations cuneiforms of same lost shadows and frizzle fowl beauties sunning their swanginas in the moonlight disenfranchizing our hard-earned tannage goofy givers of God belonging to no one succulent punishment as ideas fought outdoors leaving trails of blood to the last bottle of champagne testing testing testing leave now if you don*t feel like gitting pisstoratically inner-fated on such a lovely moment no longer than compound-fated satisfaction as nipples meet metamassively touch to touch as silence screamed in quietly at the appointed pain of the kind of love one does not revisit my best friend died while loving up another witch dressed to look as a donkey from the Kalahari far out of this world seven ears and the whole head a mouth with rubber teeth aurashin glee and bent on feelings punishment shadows bleeding from the eyes to red gaze amaze screaming like new desecration of ambivalence batteries leaking vexuality bitter sweetness salty to the haste I decided then to take it easy and let my friend have his one last fabulous time before dying from top of the moon down to the mirror giving new life to jokes as time he lay between heaven to hell and having no say in the matter we took turns at his skin prepping sorrow & guilt gratitude in exchange for attitude & burdensome animal future pre-return to disbelief so fabulously adrift in meaningless thoughts of fabulous elevators and safe social distancing in the saddle galloping past the saloon to just another breathtaking night at Soontagstrasse when I had been thinking of the time in Port-of-Spain when Derek Walcott brought Susan (Sontag) over to 10 Pelham Street where C & I were building THE THEATRE and we shared drinks & snacks and talked into the night and went down to the playing space and Derek stood on the balcony & recited homages to Laventille beautiful hilly meditation opening one*s kimono to a plethora of innocentaries Tao following what is natural and when he was done we went upstairs and he read something else of Susan smiling and hills of Manhattan were golden jubilees sparkling in our hearts that time in Soontagstrasse when I couldn*t locate the Berlin apartment and ended up finding it before it found me when my friend jumped over the seats in pit & challenged John Wayne to a fight man2man the whole world stopped as Wayne accepted and when Gods name is called there is silence in the caboose as bells ring doorbells to strengthen confusion, and so too the impertinence of desire behind the sexpense of having a fence tied around one*s neck upsetting the ice cream cone, I would hate having to return a kiss I will not miss a lemon dip, a teardrop, snortle the mind the kissing will not stop united all the beans have been eaten by snakes from the waffledom I swear reality becomes such a surprise when you let it be sarcophagi in the morning fog you fear walking out on you like hungry bananas in cat cemeteries atop the same emboldened mountains reiterating spiritual values of dinosaur skeleton kisses mounted on shrunken embraces every touch building up to this moment of Tao Mao Mao in desire making a run for it in the face of negligent romance & jeopardy big moma eating silver mosquitoes focusing on me and how we are being distracted by too much climbing fearing God and believing in accessories and pumpkin memories of nights gone by of kissation without compromise weighing down the boat to the bottom line of that last teardrop as were height markings on the Nile at Karnak a thousand and one fruitful ways of desire beyond desiring elevation of the nonsenses making up nothing good to say about bad things saying God is love and then going out there and killing spiders with Herodian touches of madness arms folded like ghost frogs with indigo blue lips going quips quips crispy angina curried to clit tits empowerment peppermint of heroines you wonder why the moon stopped laughing at wry suddenites reflecting the rapid rise of monsterites from the multiverse on fire and leaving no trace of spartana when elegance bites freedom adds refined bitterness to crispy kisses humming in the boom me when in love with why trampoline for love as trampolinists fuzzy on the dance floor believe there*s time for nothing and belief disappears under the scrutiny of those woven beings who stole my nose while I was fast asleep in the time intuitive bakery bump of original taste gone bananas and sliding into the charmers market for sada rotis and all the wacky goodies riding it regardless of the moon and its denizens with super glue on their consciencelessness hungry for ambivalence but stuck in smokescreen teenage lust for top curling motives at the feet of talking trees caught in the diabolic sex act more familiarly known as satisfaction overboard bring out the gangplank for grabbers new to morality in leaking teabags absorbing icy drips floating mummies in love with depunstruction challenges of our favorite antifckidants borrowed from the corner bore deep in the surface of broken hearts linking ambition to desire strictly here for the big partyfarty of strawberry yields now or never our original sins sold only to the kinkiest bidder liquid monsters make the best sponsors of ancient donors amok gamecock struck up by memories of inspiring formative fears crisscrossing the street every time the witch rubs her cheeks against the crinoline casket strengthening what shows is she against all comers transcendent bitter wonderfulnessblissbeme hungering for evangelical grief darkness within darkness eternal life gates to simple enduring mysteries of love to all directions blue dreams screams silently in mouth east noise begets silence this morning up early to last the day out of usefulness resurges as taste clear outstanding duties to everything not so easily lost and found as Heavenly spaces would have us to understand invisibility as visual permanence sleeping off exhaustion from satisfaction everlasting sorrow renewable tomorrows lurking in the visionary harmony vanity as source of
remorse hiding behind the curtains.
This is so beautiful – O, wow, dahl & bat fool the hysterical rat moon sucking silence with straw beauty laughing up storms in a teacup of suspicious satisfaction at a glance from the fer de lance I wish I didn*t have to taste the poison of expectations until we reached the top of crocodile hill where there is a novel by any other name is more than empty chatterfull of confiscatory kisses yet blinking blinking blinking still blinking in pet noise truth uses as high hiding places.
Maybe I should not have picked up the mysterious head rolling down the Berlin train platform.
Of course, it*s a long story.
I was sharing a 3-level apartment on Soontagstrasse, giving myself up to the marmalade sky falling down the spiral wildness.
The vanity I sought was sequential innocence the sun is new another chance disorder of empty distortions tongue in cheek; and, all along, this feeling of curiosity and desire of Utopic messages from cherrybirds whistling champagne teardrops out on bail kisstory of heartbreaks and promises swallowing your smiles overshowing love to ladybugs on the kitchen ceiling above the marmalade when I stopped wishing I knew what was happening to the flying casket when all I wanted was more fun before feeling good got mixed up with ownership & suspicion and thinking loss and vinyl sorrow at the bottom of teardrops as my friend and Wayne battled it out of the enclosure to the sidewalk & back to more John dragging him kicking & screaming into the belly of the movie.
I never doubted I was wrong to pick up the rolling head only to be redistorted before I got halfway there editing familiar fears ghost sunshine of now being always now jelly beans ladybugs lost in a land of dreams nourishing silence bitter noise darkness I lost my dreams in the sanitary and never did believe in perfume again.
It was a night after there had been a kiss for everyone in Berlin liquid innocence scooting thru streets of delight pure taste of spirit hastening slowly to the end of God who giveth taketh maketh all the solid jokes like cobblestones biting stilettos and saying not a word in revenge for pluperfect instances of butter romance penultimate shadows of desire from Bellevue beach with Love to desire from towers of death to cobblestone kisses & dreamfcks at Heaven’s Gate guarded, of course, by hate and mirrors reflecting torments of Belief & satisfaction, man*s worst enemies in a jam to ram home the sexuality of wooden cobblestones and wry quotemisquotes in summer winter coats shielding us from our broken jagged conscious drunk vampire susurrations dipped in blood of the Holy One erotic mutation of reality sound pretty as a ‘burner’ of weed between the cobblestones of life, that whrrrrr sound of love squish as squash as silent thoughts of pure noise bit by bit by bit life
a myth by myth by myth I don*t know anything I wish I knew something that knew me back innocent greed & desire Bloom*s Beans there are no more doors in my heart only the start of no mercy bananas emoryizing memories destroying brain waves have fun all night long of the short tapestry of attitude
rectitude big think small big think salad mad across the traphole kiss journeying to the soul survivor God amen small pink rose depose lightning disappearances from the self grizzly beers inside fishnet stockings crib rib laughter slaughter house of embraces now4now
then God trumps the President ate gives him a slap overheard in my art wine bar empty teardrops full of all night watchman slips past Heaven time waiting to brush its teeth with enamel tongue hiding now in Pandora*s glove of the dove love spit fire above beyond shoe chubby bubbly on the moon hit your monthly irreality true to formlessness I am happy for never having called anyone an unkind name desire is shame lame duck quack quack relax so man memories out surfing boasting of roasting cashyous safety God mad taste and attitude crocodile fears & avocado pears happy unhappy same moreformore opportunity about 2 of real the rest still surfing windmills raw pink flamingoes from Caroni swamp kissing probabilities become possibilities all fun said and done hurting hoping bistrototalitarian bikini pizza exchanging glances with misguided angels catching up with time not enough for love very sure of wild sandwiches burning their kisses at all four ends of their beginnings vitrolick sex also means six emotions on mountains become candles & cordless memories I didn*t feel like using my hands 3 times longer than touch meow meow ur a human being grabbing memories by the Prophet*s moustache template full of knish wish cucumbers could talk of leave me alone i*m driving beyond limits of desire nothing is real as the ache I feel for NOTHING anxiety born of uncertainty of the eye which is inimical to seeing visible invisibilities of time as tho people have good breeding but don*t remember it anymore when you go along that line and think things which should not be said blankly as tho history’shistory never bothers me only smarts & f/arts and counterfeat farthings as tho you never care, you & Fred Astaire stumbling down the staircase saving face for a rainy night of hot snow red crystal reflections of silence being realistic & demanding the impossible like relaxed doing nothing forgetting the future sounding thru the perhaps of displacement as predestined arousal of artifice masked by style as being freed from emptiness and revenge for the absence of rubricornytryst embroidery of serrated shadows come to life as disenchanted memories of deconstructed innocence risking intimacy at Macy’s of Calcutta sidewalks at midnight of wordless distances from cruel kisses lost in discontinuities of the valley of the shadow of death everlasting as hell-proof ice cream terrorizing god mad beyond taste and tip full steam ahead of superior circumstances of full moon’s tongue drained by sexpectatious imaginings of everything and nothing remaining shame forever burnt into my brainlessnessively pity disrobed like sadness schadenfreund(e) bubbling up from flesh-toned volcanoes dragging their feet thru the ashes of deserved reserved allure so pure as to eliminate protoimpurepoiuoiuypoi and, of course, time has a massive appetite and free sauna before jumping diving into like laughter being like cold teardrops like laughter being used to fill the space between sentences in an abundance of caution(ary) innocence since a life sentence has no desire left for transparent victimry of style below the belt of romantic dismay.
“Shut down,” she said, “images released into such disembodied selves are cryptic weepers at the edge of pledgelessness & fluidity of transparent absence of a crippled enlightenment boo boo.”
Confidence is a trick of mistreat, and embodied in the eye is the absence of seeing absences of seeing them is desire reloaded with absences pronto tonto moments maximo abundance of risk dog-eared squalid memories spitting images at the sun slam dank blank trapdoor opening its legs like nervous flower beneath the rat moon decebbrity gone rogue rogue very hot almost too cool to be true images of light fantastic avoirdupois salvation sucks rocks the cradle of the unknown and powerfully powerless as tho redreaming nightmares into measure2measure kindness be thou deceived by satisfaction by thy guide you are welcome to Heaven and Hell toning down just to see blindly birth of the future opening up like time adored by angels who flap their innocence John Wayne said i*ve come back for my favorite squaw – what about u?
I*m so lonely, have been squawhunting.
My last squaw turned out to be the law got arrested for bigger me because my last squaw was a golden galaxyious beauty from Congoree pardon my intelligence and casual IQ like an oak tree the one … anyhow let*s not talk about anymore – the routine of being comes with a fee that*s never paid the regular algorhythms whose only pulchritude was desire plus melting like butter ice cubes in a petri dish periodical cicadas spend their lives underground until time to mate and reproduce and almost immediately thereafter die innocent desire I don*t think it matters at all if Johnny rode down Sunset Boulevard pulsating carelessness raindrops big as eagle eggs celebrating biting bullets the sheets were cold and windows supping on the (delicate) bones of Love God sintestines falling off cliffs of ifs of course don*t get lost in found memories time would always be in our DNA blue God feed nest commas take a break diving into teardrops pants panting empty taste remorse shadows I don*t want to go I no in the mood I am not going I am staying home I staying put in the difference between thought and opinion and bread taking onion removing meself from visual to residual decursing emptiness as shield against ruinfull teardrop pause rise & tomato aphrodisiac run in stockings of Achiles heel as we feel touch in darkness alive as blind kisses watering transplants the pity we see is the shadow we see eye to eye in corresponding darkness swift as cursive embraces scratching my back as cars fly by in onion skins against white pink flesh black spots beautify coming to come screamings for more cocktails in the heart*s oven imagined everynow&then mathematical consequences of God the ugly me beautify if everything screw the same melancholia into bits & pieces of passionate luxuries fate bait faith in now theories of loneliness seated on stoop at 1984 St.John*s pardoning the future of dis poortrait of the translated elf these blisses of distant misses returning to the self in writing beyond reading without end that first time in Denmark when the sign said GOD MAD and GOD meant good and MAD food deserving of golden statues.
LENNOX RAPHAEL: work-in-progress, NAIPAUL’S COUNTRY; several theater works, including WAITING FOR OBAMA, with composer Carman Moore; co-curator, with Jesper Dalmose, of Berlin Soup International Arts Festival; author of the Manhattan-staged play CHE!; &, BLUE SOAP (musical direction by Archie Shepp); co-interviewer of a Harper*s interview with Ralph Ellison; written for Asymptote; his Haitian earthquake essay nominated one of the best online in USA (2010-2011); in WINTER TALES, (Serving House Books);): +, recently, Chant de la Sirene the Journal .
