Monday, October 19, 2009

Poems by Allen Masterson10/19/2009

Thunder On The Ohio

I dig deep to remember....
I remember the damp cobblestone street cooling from the heat of the previous day.
I took a tour and walked to explore the uncanny architecture of romantic minds, as my
mind flew to a place of rapture and acceptance. Emotions placed in sharp corners of
gables peering down at inferiors; expressing a minute of intellect that reverberates
through lifetimes of declining respect. Echos of engines roaring on a river contrast my
romance and rape the beauty of discovery. Modern entertainment for the sun burnt
hordes beer-bonging and pill-popping their way to oblivion; a mass of fecundity
for the babies of generation next; gesticulating with no apparent rhythm, but still fertile with the soil of ignorance. I look to a friend, and I ask, "do you see?".

Lotus Growing

I am the lotus growing,
Blooming forth from an
Industrial quagmire

Stretching out of decay
And turning away
From Freud and his cronies

I am an alienated product
Of mutation with a tight tourniquet
Around my Id, Ego, and Super Ego

Cutting off circulation to their analysis
Letting phenomena wither and die with tactile sensation

Because I feed from the light,
The One

Colors taste true in my mind,
My Eye

Shattered is the image
Fractal is the imagery

Born the finite
To embrace the infinite

Look at me,
The nonexistent,
The Ultra

You see
I am the lotus

Pause... In The Sugar Bowl

Gravel lot
Dusty sparks of "Doses"
ignite my senses

Shady characters dressed in dysfunction

Slip a universe on my tongue
and dance in aching joint agony
with a peach

Cathartic activities in an insect
invaded sugar bowl

A series of compartmentalized experiences
happening at this touch of space

Thrown off kilter
from a question of direction

Cold doubts of existence

Knowledge that she will never be there

Separation of cerebral functions

Faculties handed over to the hidden Grid

A new awareness of past life sufferings

Truth can't be found in semantic rantings

Truth lies...
in the pauses

Pubescent Sunday

You should be ashamed
Licking the back of God and howling at the moon
Double vision in the back of a Nova's no excuse
Mentholated memories under monkey bars with Miranda rights
A little shit goes a long way in the firing of a synapse
You're a handcuffed prepubescent fallen in love
With a future hood rat whore with aspirations
Of audio equipment titillation
You never went for the good girl
With the odor-eating panties
And inhibited makeup application
With the acrylic nailed aqua-netted
Prayer session mother
And the fetish ridden father
looking down his nose
and secretly wishing for genocide

We want to save you from this-
This pulsating hormone hysteria
This miniature Event Horizon
Of consciousness

There is another side to our whip-crack of reality
A little ergot vehicle manslaughtering whiskey mentality
A little torn existence
And taste of dark rhythm
Maturing in a petri dish
Awaiting installation in a worthy host

It could be you
Just turn your back on Aristotelian esthetics
And impregnate your mind with chaos

Because it all comes together anyway, kid
But the question is the answer you give
When you get there

Long Dead You

I've experienced your swelled vein grip
On my heart

Loss of breath as I catch a ride on the train
Please remain

Smooth sticky honey for my Queen Bee
Bitter pills melt
And mingle with a memory

Never met you,
But I know your taste

You'll come to me with colors of obsession
Promising pleasures
Open doors

Offer comfort for crawling

At shadows of an insect empire
Perpetual dawn offered to a liar

Cradle me in the cold arms of the universe
Reach the blackness
Only to find more

Disillusioned boundaries
Of the dark whore

Feeling familiar to a few
Feeling the presence...

Of a long dead you

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