7 parts divided by 2

[Doreen Peri]

1.

johnny gotta lotta gotme
gun slung on a bum done
lotta scum don't have dat twist
but johnny got dis bliss insisted
with his johnnygun slung like
a guitar over a back backed up
into a walltrap that's the johnny
sling ring me up sometime blind
to doesn't muchmatter straps
craps thrown seven come eleven
on a musical scale fail me not my
virtue, wail into windsails, flutter
wings angelstyle, miles upon miles
upon miles of absent current and
i will find myself landed upon
your gallery, displayed with
legspread hues, you the paint
brush dipping into
want

2.

light cried
on the inside
thighs of gal's gams,
the sham of such a
trick, slick as a magician's
wand fond of a magical
approach.

sunshine vehicle
honestly rocked advice
electrowired
superego custard in a dixie-cup
subway crime,
wine vinegared like
a slice of sale-away half-off
half-on channels, nosed into
a half-island beam,
anchored by a shadow waltz
doin unexpected things with
wiki-watch wagamaster –
digressions, interruptions
of picketpackets, knockrocker
tango fests, rollin' on a thunder
blessed by
hell, it's heaven's
dor again
just me

once more down the
fish mobile,
once more up the
scales, each tale told
slid like cortisone, numbin'
a dumb head like mine,
primed like a sump pump...
mumsdawoidbaybeeee
mumsdawoid

damn room is full, yanno?
gallery dancin like souls
woven into a cigar-lit smile,
ages upon stones, glint-out eyes,
reels running from one side
to the other of yojimbo,
STICK it in the air, brotha!
Stick the air with yer
suspension

eat this donut whole up
like nothing else dictionalized,
clocked cheshire on a branch,
smile wide like pumpkin seed mantra,
chantin' worm-mind supermen mensa stuff,
top of da mesa explainin hopi dancer secrets,
jackolantern nights, roadrunner mistakes,
killers bent on innocent taints of bloodletting,
an elegant matter of husky grown labyrinths,
epochs of traded words collapsed
on ridiculous percentages..

precious is the night!
precious is the voodoo, the passion play,
the way each spring sprang, each sing rang,
each conceived breath
became an irony,
a peace perceived,
quick pickypackets
of words strung down
my heart into my leg
where unexpected things –*
(custard, midshipmen, for example)....
come to meet me with you
where the sun becomes
one with the below-surface
explosion

hey babe!
if ya got a notion, let's have
conversations like this more often.
I got chills, brotha, up anotha spine slot

sham
trick
slick
magician's
wand
fond
approach.

why ya gonna fight about it?
gimme what i want
let's dance babe,
ok?

you lead.
i'll play
cymbal
isms

3.

I was determined to get some sleep so
i stayed up all night trying to figure out how.

i had the same feeling
i had before when i had the same feeling that
i had after i already had it and that's
how i knew it was the same and so i felt it again
and then it was like i felt it brand new
for the first time and realized i hadn't figured out yet
why it felt like a deja vous and it reminded me
very much of the feeling i had when
i wasted my time even thinking about it
and let me tell you, this is pure truth,
no accident of religion or philosophy or
ancient relationships which curve their way
into memory the way a fond embrace touches the
spirit when you least expect it and so i always realize that
i least expect anything except the same feelings
i felt again once more, shelved momentarily
to be pulled off and slammed into my
semi-consciousness which is very much like
digging up a grave only
not because the exhumed body
becomes live again and breathes breaths of
expression and the eyes, having seen a sunset on another day,
become opened to oranges and yellows and tints of grey
mixed with subtle pinks and so yes,
i think you understand what i'm saying
and yet again, how could you?

you might want to sleep on it
like I want to when I can't.


4.

The invisible stanza.
Just like your heart
sometimes.

5.

Moneyman holds a
foot on yer face,
mud rhetoric
caked on his boot,
tries to use a
tyrant's noose
around yer neck
but it's only
a slipknot, so
slide on out greased
with a freedom salve,
get released, hit him
with a slingshot to the eye –
He's got cyclops vision.

6.

i have been honored by the presence
of forgiveness, forgiven by the reminscence of
adolescent graves. i have had rave reviews
from the few who have saved holy-virgin
experiences in unrehearsed vehicles and i have
felt better with the dismal breaking of a sweet
heart cut along an aorta nerve, never the distance
between verbs and nouns farther than
missing adjectives.

notes have been noted
like this, pleasures won.
none are more vacant
because of it. many more
wise.

7.

no perfectly recognized box
laid out in front of a congregation
openly viewed, lewd is the destruction,
rude, the very offense taken, flowers
draped, escape of a soul, coagulated
bloodstains, unearthed soil, the burden
of mantra and glib disgust, rusted hinges,
misconstrued turns on improperly lit roads...
the frequency of radios not tuned in

and tonight, i have no begin,
i have searched
for unaffordable homes,
shorelines for foam
to wash nails beneath,
teachers to relay a cleanse
and i have made amends with moonbeams, taken
a trim to overgrown weeds, suffered tea hangovers,
counted dues like calories, admonished fat reasoning
with a pitchfork to soil, become a seeker of perhaps

but i don't believe in residue any more than i believe
i can do handstands on ferris wheel ideas, i don't
believe in naivity and so i have given up acrobat
costumes for a sequinned photograph album, paste
taste in my mouth from continued sticking in order
to decorate tattered leather for generations hence

nobody can order past
or present tense.
not one person can recall
timelines

show me your pushpin on the map
and i'll show you my slug slime
drug from one end to the next,
cities destroyed by travel

there is nowhere to go
no show of hands can demonstrate
a vote to force an aorta to throb

there is nowhere to go and so
my job has become an undertaker's
risk, numb my hands, dumb my
vocal chords, words still rising
from a off-chance syllable, words
still choked and spit
from throat gags

give me my notice
it is time for the eviction

[hester_prynne]

AMEN!
You have enchanted my choir.
I love this, it's a whiskey of a good read Doreen.
Bravo!
H

[Doreen Peri]

thanks, hest

it's gibberish poetry.... isn't it?
i'm pretty sure it's meaningless

[mtmynd]

Word Count

5068 characters
1080 words
222 sentences
252 lines
220 paragraphs
6 pages
avg word length 5
avg words per sentence 5
maximum words per sentence 13

When you're on a roll you're on a roll.

This was SoC, yes?

Not gibberish unless you intended gibberish...

[Doreen Peri]

Stream of consciousness? no... well i donno come to think of it.

All are older pieces which I compiled together. Stuff I found I posted in the past on the DOS forum.

I write right straight from my heart directly up my spine to my head, back down my neck and into my arms and fingers to the keyboard most often .. without thinking about it... it just comes.... so yeah, I guess that's stream of consciousness .... except.... sometimes I edit them before i post them ... ... usually i edit them

i have the feeling some of these have been edited and some haven't

thanks for reading, Cecil

it's long, i know

where'd you get that word count from, by the way?

[mtmynd]

editing is fair in SoC... just ask me.

where'd you get that word count from, by the way?

wordperfect>tools>word count

[Doreen Peri]

heh... ok.. then ll my writing is stream of consciousness .... 'cause i edit it while I write it too ... it's part of the process

word perfect! cool!