feeding the flames with permissions

 darkness through silence slammed the calm out of an october night      with permissions granted  we gauged water       power      light and heat source declined            all invitations to become one as part of our       insignificant footnotes    we then  avoided attempts at restoration    of line and verse        with permissions granted    we understood the beauty in the equation of    less recognition bringing     more heated clarity  to the bullshit around us  it lies      within the dark folds of most of these bloody       pages, insignificant

small dry sticks lit quickly under teepee    of sweet-smelling applewoods   woods burning hot in stove        with permissions granted      we culled    and sorted      reached deeper into both pockets for  bits & pieces of fuzzy recalls             slammed back kamikazes      spoke of jealous fools who made their small name    and smaller claim to fame     bringing false notioriety on the stooped back of poets they long to            and never will       be       with permissions granted  we told stories and read lines     breathed in now ancient history      saved   only our own souls  by recall and rememberance of  youthful        folly of    every           fame’s game

the idea of fires burning tonite          brought glee and delight        with permissions granted what better to kindle us with!       one by one       with tongues tied and eyes opened with merriment    we chanted honorable lines from favorite    art      shamefully tossed lined notebook papers  scribbled    signed like autograph  badmitton return typed font 12 in Hansa printed  pages and pages of poesy   letters nestled into webbed cores with permissions granted    it released  me     releases him from more stress and worry at endgame      of more lies sent his way    release sus both from the terminable agony of  inclusion           do what you like    if you can make a buck for your kindness to me go ahead       with permissions granted    you keep them    _______?   he showed me his true face of idiocy years ago when he screwed me with another writing deal    he thinks i’ve forgiven and forgotten        i only let him believe he means something to me to get the work out there…      for i am a user and a taker with few friends and its that unholy characteristic we share…for such a historian he shouldn’t have forgotten such an important FACT

with permissions granted the hour became asphalt    fire burned hotter and hotter  later into the night      as we fed      sheet after sheet      as perfect sacrifice to hungry flames               dance naked around it for all i care     i like your idea of a profound bonfire of our collection of mumbled vanities on your cold northern beaches      venice swam naked on my back at the foot of brooks when it was a nude beach for awhile        did i tell you those stories–oh yeah, that is in here too     i remember

with permissions granted    he gave it his best shot   to end us   if he made me mad at you with his journaling/tattletale-ing   he could be the hero      what   a burned child     lonely on the schoolyard plotting revenge from bullies  who must have once       tauntied and tortured    that foot-stamping was hard to miss        he’s mine he cried  i gave him life!  visibility!   you can’t have this with him!  he’s all mine!    but no one was listening   no one cared enough to hear such whining,  pathetic

page by page      it burned     edges curled in last night’s fireplace     catharsis   release                    with permissions granted     we discovered that starting again    in contact    would only induce  a labor  that neither were willing        to have carried to term      release me now       i’ve enjoyed the dramatic effect         of flame to skin        today a cupful of cold ash settled       into plastic bag       will fly south    its mission accomplished     five fifty-nine          minutes later   after 24 hours power is restored       five fifty-nine we’re still alive        really alive        and its still really    today

About lindalou5150

as exercise or exorcism, i write...for the eyes of others, for my eyes and heart only, for the love and the rage, i write...to release the gamut of emotion...to tell the truth and say what's often thought but not written...
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