Friday, July 31, 2009

now released--

the heavy count
the mortal dread
without evidence

of troubling anyone--
gone at last
to unbind me
so my next fatalities

will cleave
to no enmity
save the sorrows
of reflection

the final relief

Content (c) 2008-2009 Philip Milito.


how lovely the love

except when it prove dense
to privacy of the heart and memory--

what we remember is soul's content--

the entire identity--and scraping
the other half waiting to be fitted

how lovely the oneness

when the love is joined
and nothing is remembered

beyond now--

Content (c) 2008-2009 Philip Milito.
what the future hides
the present decides

Content (c) 2008-2009 Philip Milito.
one last turn
to look back
on all I was
in that time--

since I haven't
turned to salt
I presume I may

turn forward

Content (c) 2008-2009 Philip Milito.

Thursday, July 30, 2009

vile creation--

our suffering contribution
to a plan so far beyond
we can only call it chaos
the price for
some legalistic insanity clause
that demands we strive to transcend
then damns us for striving
to transcend--

and the lesson?
the atonement?

cease all striving--
to hell with all imaginings of God--

love and do as you will
(as the middle ages abbeys
used to emblazon
over their entrances)

ignore all idols
(including crucifixes
seals of Solomon
bo trees
camel drivers
infinity and hex signs
etc., etc.)

and tend only to
the God inside you---

Content (c) 2008-2009 Philip Milito.


means no elbow room


is the
of freedom

if you worship objects--

is the
of perfection

if you accept essence--


don't be full enough
to sink
to the bottom
of your own

a greater Void
subsumes all--
swim in it
until you
are utterly unconscious

of swimming

Contents (c) 2008-2009 Philip Milito.

Wednesday, July 29, 2009

no worlds I understand

stand for long or steady

it is perhaps

the phrase changes

the instants between seconds of time

when creation ends

and begins anew

that morph my world in its elements

the continuity held in the soul's awareness


Contents (c) 2008-2009 Philip Milito.
I tend to the vine--
but I am a poor vintner

my wine tastes good
on a salad

and I must be happy
with that--

let better hands plunge
into the soil

as if to manipulate
the very sweetness

out of the grape--
the better for the rest

to despair of or celebrate
their day of toil

and their night of rest--
rest even for the poor

vintner in his dream
of eternal vineyards

merciful as the drained cups
they enable...

Content (c) 2008-2009 Philip Milito.
the world resolves itself
around your choice--

the wise ordering
the movements of the stars--

are you wise?
will you act?

you resolve the world
of your choice...


praise to Uncle Dirty--
a hippie comedian
I've never seen
but a friend did

and told me
one of the things
Uncle Dirty said--
"The American eagle

has a left wing
and a right wing
and it needs both
to fly" *

(*this was back in the late 60s--
God -- and presumably Uncle Dirty's
immediate family--knows
where Uncle Dirty is now..)

Content (c) 2008-2009 Philip Milito.

Monday, July 27, 2009

oh, and by the way...

my home stretch
blurs in the heat--

shimmering on a liquid horizon
of mirage and anguish--

the regret of living in flesh
incomprehensible to all

but those who feel--which is most of us...

go figure why we botch so much
in the name of a god

we can only imagine wrongly--

I'm glad my time is at hand--
much more time alive can only further
kill my soul--and only God can call that time--

Content (c) 2008-2009 Philip Milito.
I will treat of our imminent destruction
no more today--

summer has arrived a month late
and I cannot comprehend anyone who thinks

this hot swampy cauldron
of sweat and weariness

is wonderful--oh the wise and the foolish
who share this earth--and cancel each other out--

Content (c) 2008-2009 Philip Milito.
I have work to do--and don't know why I should bother--

but we're here for a reason--
and the Almighty alone knows when
the end of all things will really be--

and I remember some saint--
though I don't remember who--
who was playing ball with some kids
and was asked what he would do
if he knew the world would end in one hour--

and he said
"I would go on playing ball"

Content (c) 2008-2009 Philip Milito.
I have no dream to put you in--

you are the biggest part of what
generates my dreams--

the source of my lessons
the degree awarded my graduation--

love I've ruined in other lives
come back to haunt me now

that I want you so much--


every woman is beautiful--

every woman the Magdalene
red-haired fire box

birthing a bloodline of kings--


I have my other half--
not as perfect a fit as it was once
given life after life
of crude error and unyielding amendment--

but mine own--
and me her own--


the foolish bitches have passed on--

hurtful to me because they were not mine
but I'm grateful they are for those
souls who I so hate
who ruin redemption for the rest of us
(whom I must forgive if I'm to forgive myself)

thinking at least thank God
these bedizened fools are not my trial--
but for the mistaken hungry seeking
to merge with them--

(how long before suffering shows me
I could count my blessings--)


every woman reminds me of my own--
how not? they are not a separate species--

breasts ass legs--every woman is a snare and a trap

blessedly acquiesced to--
every one equipped to overturn
the idiot men who think they themselves rule--

oh fools we be--happy in the limits of the earth
dreaming of paradise in every blind moment
of orgasm and ecstacy--


I must've abused the eternal pattern
to have been denied so thoroughly women
as a time when everyone was fucking each other
until their brains poured out of their ears--

and the smugness of my self-protective pretense
of superiority just poor excuse
for my hunger and my sorrow
and my greed for is the property of all--


latinas asians middle eastern dark eyes
even the slack-jawed white bbws of the American midwest--

it hardly matters--they all know their power without knowing--
it is ingrained in every silent command--
in every frozen glance of disapproval--
in every joyous surging of lust and satisfaction
they bear each successive generation pledged on earth

to drive each other--man and woman--mad in ecstasy


I thought I was beyond all cycles of creation--
I thought I had transcended--

quel imbecile--spirit cannot work without a body--
and all I did was wall myself off from the necessary fall

into sad precious love--


we are fools for the devil
as much as we are
eunuchs for the sake of heavens--

and obviously
we fail at
both endeavors--


to those idiots who think only
in terms of beauty I say
stop frustrating yourselves--

if beauty mattered that much
the world's population
would be limited to
a couple of hundred souls


this is our worldly estate--

to groan--

in bewilderment or ecstasy
it doesn't matter--

this is what we're here for--

for the glimpse of the Almighty
in the mindless instant

of infinite awareness

at the moment of orgasm--
the moment of illumination that is

the matter of the sacrament of matrimony--


no need to be oblique--

every one knows what you mean--
the open secret that is our
common currency--


here's the hardness--

to be given freedom of choice
among the limited choices
of God's perogative--


one day enough people will wake up
to the fact of our common condition
and see it fresh--

see it not as the aberration of some willful idiocy--
but as the common rite we all share
on our way back to Paradise--

Content (c) 2008-2009 Philip Milito.

Sunday, July 26, 2009

the end has come and gone--

and the only freedom
is the illusion of mind
that lends a continuity
to the fragments of our experience--

the convenience of a finality
with which we comfort ourselves--

the idea of an end--


so what now?
what does it matter?
after each culmination
in our varied relationships
we ask what next? what now?

nothing nothing but
a fresh increment
in our continuous saga

where who but the One
knows what next--


as well say hello as goodbye--

we disappear from each other--
sometimes for lifetimes at a clip--
only to reappear--

as if we just stepped out for smokes--


I do not know and do not care
what reasons you had
for your discourtesy

(after all it's so easy to be friendly
and get what you can out of people
when you can just turn and leave them
when you've gotten it)

but somewhere beyond your justifications
you will know without evasion or illusion
the price you'll owe for that deceit

and then in the One's incomprehensible mercy
you will turn in your privation to those you used

and in their abused sweetness will be
the forgiveness you'll need--if nothing else--

Content (c) 2008-2009 Philip Milito.

Tuesday, July 21, 2009

you will never leave my mind--

you came from somewhere deep
in our collective past

to be the sweet ache
I attend to daily--

joys and sorrows mean nothing
next to this actuality--

this love that sustains and suffuses
our beings beyond anything

these limited bodies can name or be--
this love that draws us on our way

toward what transcendence--what salvation--
what utter fulfillment--joining us always--

Blessed Oneness--you will always be at my side--

Content (c) 2008-2009 Philip Milito.

Monday, July 20, 2009

People think I don't live in this world--
they're right
People think I'm serious when I talk of not killing
all the assholes in the world because there aren't enough bullets to do the job
they're right
People think I'm not serious when I talk of killing all the assholes
because taking even a few down will be of help to someone
they're right
People think they know what they think and think what they know
is right but that's the one way in which
they're wrong

and that's all I know


you are permanently there in mind

like a scar--


how much thought of you
is like a heartbeat
keeping alive
a futile dream

earth trembling
around us
like a seizure
and I have no vision

of how to rescue us
except through
the shock of awakening--

pale image fading
as the lids open...

Content (c) 2008-2009 Philip Milito.

Sunday, July 19, 2009

all my scenes sleep in another skin

and thus I remove myself
from the evidence of my life

a circle closed
a circuit completed

and after all the harm and woe
finding you all over again

leaving through the way I came in

Content (c) 2008-2009 Philip Milito.

Saturday, July 18, 2009

I stay not constant--
ever in flux
I reassemble my confusion and doubt
into something harder--
genuine guesswork and certain chance
to resume the imagining
that got me here--before it collapses
into yet a fresh configuration

so don't ask who or how I am--
I'm the last to know--being me--
you guess is as good as mine and scrambles me
just as surely--

Content (c) 2008-2009 Philip Milito.
I should not write anything
when I'm distraught--

(the July 16th entry is good recent proof--
not the content of what I'm saying
but the hurried--even scattershot--way
of expressing the matter)--

but then it begs the question
of why bother to write anymore--

(...I've sat here for twenty minutes
trying to continue and can't really--
why bother indeed? for what purpose?
to what end? if no one gets it--or wants to---)

so people can read or hear what they want to read or hear--
I've been unfortunate enough to live to see

the only things I had to stand against
the murderous mindlessness of your average person
are gone--diminished and co-opted and made useless
by power-mongers so throughly and all-pervasively evil

that no idea of good can avail--I've lived too long--
and found the hard way God is no merciful protection--

I will keep this blog open a little longer--maybe write less--
wait for some notion to come to me on its own--if it does--
and then see if there's reason enough or WILL enough
to make anything of it--and if not then stop--

and who frankly would know or care--and why should they
if I myself no longer know or care why--

done done done done done done done done done
done done done done done done done done done done
done done done done done done done
done done done done done done done done done done done done done one

Content (c) 2008-2009 Philip Milito.

(and fuck the smart-ass who says "if he's done why copyright it?"
old habits die hard--just like you assholes...)

Thursday, July 16, 2009

I can't figure out
anything anymore--

the gross contradictions
do not seem to me
like wonderous paradox
and I find it
harder and harder
to maintain the gumption
that got me this far
down the line--

some of you young idiots
coming up today
will do better
but the few who do
will have greater loads
of horseshit
to contend with--

a generation
of morons
to be nothing more than
cogs in a machine
and--here's the kicker--
happy to be so--

no deep thought
no resonance
of meaning
nor sense of awe--

just multitasking
nitwits bred for pure function
here to wipe out
all matter of achievement
that came before them--

the wisdom of the ages
deleted by the honored
stupidity of automata--

and no human outrage
can prevail against
this unsupportable mass
of ...what? call it what...that
has no comprehension of anything--
that cannot conceptualize
or bring forth forms
organic to the matrix
that supports all life?

I can take it no further than this--
time lays waste to all forms
but never before with so much
deliberate help
from the soulless sociopaths
connected to nothing but their own

no sense protesting--
no sense to do anything
but realize we have never been other than
in God's hands

and that our fleeting moment
in this world...all we've done
and all we love...ALL of it passing...

what more to do than acquiesce

and pass with it...

on to the Great Whatever Next...

so long see ya later---

this time is gone
into time yet to come---

enjoy your consciousness
now at the end

of this term...
sad old wisdom not so wise
young mindless bliss shrieking
in the void at the center of its own being...

fuck you all

forgive you all

I weep
until I cease to weep
and in the weary rest that follows
let memory
built through
lifetime after lifetime

lead us up

lead us up...

May God have mercy on us all....

Content (c) 2008-2009 Philip Milito.
no amount of love
will put my heart back together

except for the power of my love
who loves me

despite my lack--

I'd drive myself crazy trying to wrap my head
around that contradiction--

but I know better now--this fact she embodies--
this fact is her love

that fills the lack--

thank God for the unexplainable--the incomprehensible--
the dumfounding love

that bypasses the mere broken heart
for the healing of an unbreakable soul--YOU go figure--

Content (c) 2008-2009 Philip Milito.

Tuesday, July 14, 2009

I wanted to change the world---

stupid idea---

the world changed me and I didn't know it
until I spoke sense and people looked at me
as if I'd poisoned the only well in a hundred miles--

see--they drink water and taste water--
while I switched to Living Water

and drowned--

now you know why I'm the only difference

at least here

Content (c) 2008-2009 Philip Milito.

Friday, July 10, 2009










                                    Content (c) 2008-2009 Philip Milito.








                                              Content (c) 2008-2009 Philip Milito.
vibrating like stone
'neath the beating sun

the heart sees its life on earth
subsumed in its totality

like and unlike joined and parted
and washed with blood

drying under a lizard's spinnaker
pulsing praise for its meal


we fill the earth with hurt and rue
just as we were meant to do

under the One's almighty plan
to raise us to begin again


I'm safe for the moment
but God only knows
how long that instant unassaulted will last--

I'll praise the quiet by honoring it
alone and happy

to let the assholes go--


here I be
for the world to see--

the slick one
the sick one
the ill one
the still one

the one who's tired
the one who's mired
the one who's hurt
the one who's inert

the fooled one
the renewed one
the only one
the any one

the one who's steady
the one who's ready
the one who's contrite
the one who's right

here I know
going where the world does go--


the cool of the evening
bathes me in relief

lengthening shadow behind me
I stride into the red sunset

coming down the home stretch...

                                Content (c) 2008-2009 Philip Milito.

stumbled hungry as an anchorite
through the deserts of your aspiration

found no temple in the drifting sands
saw no trace of a history or a renewal

supplicated your compassion
detached as a idol from its imagined altar

at a shrine of someone else's beauty--

a long way to go       for nothing--

                                     Content (c) 2008-2009 Philip Milito.

Wednesday, July 8, 2009

where I'll see you again God only knows

but if we have nothing this time
then what will be difference the next?

unless it be for crossing paths this time
this life

to do at that time what wasn't ripe now

and by then we'll have no memory of now
except in dreams

we will never comprehend...


our achievements left in their place in creation

we are free to move forward  saying

this much I've accomplished
but look at what lies ahead...


regret will fade
in the easier moments of living

acceptance harder
when time is in turmoil

why say anything?
we each have our language

and no holy translator
to guide us to comprehension

                             Content (c) 2008-2009 Philip Milito.

Tuesday, July 7, 2009

sin of doubt
sin of despair

paralysis of will
has brought me where

the total vision
empties out

the weak aspiration
bewildered still

                               Content (c) 2008-2009 Philip Milito.

Sunday, July 5, 2009

I pay no attention
to my own sufferings--

they are the yowlings
of insignificance

from the delusions of self
that make hells of heavens

and pains of terror that look
to others like grimaces of gas


now what the hell are you doing
I ask myself

now why the hell are you asking
I reply

I was just showing concern
I said

I pardon you
I answer


your cunt and your asshole
so sweet on my tongue

I remember
I remember
I remember 

how much I want it again


I thought I was getting too old for this shit

but like Yeats's late poems
or Dylan's mature masterpieces

I do my time as old goat

hot hot hot fo' da stuff
and how


some kinda apocalypse approaching

and all I can do is peer through the blinds
and blink at the amazing daily circus

scratching the back of my head with a thumbnail--
what new world--thousands of years from now

people will peer and scratch--they'll likely be us again--
still wondering when the Galactic center

will gobble us up

                                    Content (c) 2008-2009 Philip Milito.

Thursday, July 2, 2009

how often I will think
of the mountains of western Maine

when they are no longer there--

somewhere in eternity
their essence will resonate

and inform the vast story that is

this particular view of Creation--
glimpsed in the twilight

over the mountains of western Maine



the past has utterly dissolved

the world I knew is gone
and the new one forming around me

will likewise be mourned in  due course


so I will take it no farther that this

but will be taken myself

forward from all that was done

to all that will be done

                                        Content (c) 2008-2009 Philip Milito.
young flesh like ghosts of previous lives

returned to atone to settle to purge to transcend
the haunted identity that life to life
strings the soul along its wormtrack through time--

young flesh seen to slow decline
by deterioration that recalls its own brusque fullness--

seen along the eternal avenues of violet twilights
and shadows and merest wisps of whispers


the World          different in each eye

for some it's 'never too late to mend'
for others it's 'too late to learn'

and others for yet other outcomes
all valid  all in the fact of their being

along the way to holding in
miraculous sight all the

different worlds            in One Eye


totally back in the world

a life played
the shot taken
the result
     final as conception

and unloaded
from the slouched shoulder

totally back in the world
only to leave the way I entered

ass first stumbling through
the portal that is

my swath in the earth...

                        Content (c) 2008-2009 Philip Milito.

Wednesday, July 1, 2009

In no way happy to play the fool again--

I don't even have to try to be done down--
I'm a magnet for morons--

but oh they get theirs for doing me    don't they?

                                                 Content (c) 2008-2009 Philip Milito.