wednesday's poetry page

Pale and sharp and dark laden walls behind
and Burgandy at close to the Hour
have awakened in me my blossomed Mind
of Poetry that can't be deflowered.

Swallowed in Rapture
  flowing blissfully through pentagram
    speckled blackness.
Traversing not aimless, but direct
      following my own dissonance.
  Mellodies staccato in the vastness of my memory.
  I am here, acknowledging you.
Magenta hues coalesce the mindscape
      and persecute my falsehoods.
      Be gone the emptiness that threatens my Becoming
as Paltry glimpses graze a cavernous longing.
 The Flesh Beckons And Unknowingness
      Deafens My Cries.
  I am here, yet am I?
   Away to the Northernmost particle of Life
          I ride the forbidden merry-go-round
       unable to control the speed yet sure
        of the exact moment of collapse.
 Patterns of Pleasure and Vomitous Nuisance
  turn me toward my goal, again.
And again I sway, I stray.  For Whom
 but mySelf do I travel this Path?
  Glory rises in the distance and reaches for
     my grasping hands.  Why falter?
    Why disprove mySelf?  Why dislocate
     my Soul?
Come back to me Muse of the Night, dark
    and yearning.
  I am here,
Enraptured in silence, alone with the
 Melody, ready to swallow every last drop.   

setian anthony phillip bommarito
september 22, 1998 ce

Think of me
    always
         as Near.
cemetery celebration
    of life  sparked true
and graals
flowed forth with Knowledge and
     Sangria.
          Trust.
who said the art of conversation was lost?
GAPING midgets adorning
   FUNGUS laden maiden's
      BOOTY with utmost
         PASSION and concern.
Amusement
couldn't begin to describe
     the Essence
produced; uncontrollable laughter permeates the Darkness
(without and within)
          Innocence.
And then there was
2. Bitterness(delusions) and Chlamydia(horsedick on his
forehead)
     scorned, received funereal lilies as
Farewell, while yet a
third waded in and out of the mist.
                    Gone.
but someday to return when mundane loses grip and
allows
air to Flow into awaiting lungs.
           she Will.
And then there was blonde waif
     for a second.  blurred my vision with fornication.
Not enough Upstairs.
         she wasn't too bright, either, but the jokes on me.
I lingered
      not of Free Will
                still yet to be attained but beginnings need a
start.
i Am.
Our Time Is Eternal
as Family seeks to remain.
be near me always in thought and on glorious glossy
               (fuzz speckled aqua sweater topped with
          geometric pastels.  Scarf.  Large hoops and hair.
The
80's
      (CE) were good to you).
be near me always in thought and remember to remember me.
                                   Please.

setian anthony phillip bommarito
written just before august 28, 1997 ce

I sometimes feel that Life's not all that it's cracked up to be
   Not in the "I'm not worth anything" instance
     (Anymore)
   But in the "Why do they think that way" Bullshit
My Life, though topsy turvy in the least,
     has culminated into the finest
              I could ever have imagined.
 Knowledge (TRUTH) has brought me Happiness.
      People stop to analyze why I'm
       "Excellent".
                     But they don't comprehend.
         They merely look at their own downfalls
          and belittle my Joy to make their miserable lives
           VALID.
  Fuck that.
I'm "Excellent" because I choose to Be,
                not because Life has thrown me
                            a lucky hand.
I Am my own Savior.  I am God.
 And In my Divinity, I belittle them, their
                                pitiful lives, for they know not how to
           LIVE.
 I sometimes feel sad at their ignorance.
But sometimes is now few and far between.

setian anthony phillip bommarito
january 28, 1998 ce

Forgive me for the chatter.  I, in my Celebratory
        State, have
                   nonetheless fallen off my rocker.
        I feel the influx of Emotion as though
              the floodgates have never
                            before opened,
              though, as ridiculous as it seemed,
               those floodgates have never been closed.
My Emotional sustenance is Truth.
            Without such I shan't survive.
             And though, to some, it may seem
        I've fallen off my rocker, I fell into a most startling
         Truth.  The Truth of the Fall.
But, alas, that, in Truth, is my Truth, 
                and not theirs at all.

setian anthony phillip bommarito
january 28, 1998 ce