LAWD (AND I MEAN LAWD)

sometimes being in the earth enrages me...


the realization that God will be of no help

and His vengeance will punish even our stumbling attempts

at atonement because nothing we'll ever do is good enough


never lifting a finger to aid us but ever ready to punish...

to gouge every whit of the price and to damn us if we dare

tell this truth and protest...like all gangsters he loves Power


even though He is the only Power there is...

and there is no care for our hurts and wounds...

just obey in the flaming farce of free choice


and even then suffer (do you think Elijah was spared

for feeding Jezabel to the dogs? she returned as Salome

and he as John the Baptist...head dancing on her plate...)


no one is spared...no one seems to be forgiven...

but you suck in the hurt and you trudge on

and it's not even your business


whether or not you're forgiven

so if God can't even pardon us for awakening to the truth

as He designed it what hell will he unleash on us


for not finding it? why shouldn't I or anyone rage


when they find out this is what it means to suffer

in the earth?






Content (c) 2008-2014 Philip Milito. All rights reserved.

oh people agonize about the end of their physical lives

and think some prayer to an imaginary "god of love and forgiveness"

will put them right in a static future once-for-all heaven


oh and that too is part of the comedy...

we who live forever thinking we can bargain

for some idea of immortality


and when the end comes we follow the tunnel to the Light

realizing what fools we've been here in the earth to think anything ended....






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Jesus


I can't go out for more than fifteen minutes

without having to whip out my cock

and water the concrete in some parking lot


all men my age know what I'm talking about...

prostate...a prostate as big as a grapefruit


Yeats once wrote a poem about

what makes old men wild and crazy and now I know...


it's not the low flame of lust and desire flaring up

when a young summer-clad beauty flounces by...


it's the broken sleep patterns of getting up

two or three times a night to flush water through the hose


REM cycles obliterated...bleary-eyed regard

of shadows in the night as a dribble delivers itself


let women complain of their yeast infections

an appropriate payback for their years of cunning

to ensure their Queen-Bee status while we old drones


lay aside dead with bladders released of their purpose at last...

urine-stained corpses of once-healthy workers....






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I'm not afraid but am perplexed

about the conditions I'm headed to next


I know I'll be me with the same

awful struggles and fleeting ironic commentary


I'll still be dealing with all I here handled and claim

the same bewilderment at my effort's futility


but in the comedy of doing my best

it'll be the One who'll finally clean up my mess





Content (c) 2008-2014 Philip Milito. All rights reserved.

judgment is a sentence upon ourselves


we have (or should have) nothing to say

about how others live their lives


each reality is distinct and unique

and not subject to some Mass Mind hysteria


substituting Kool-Aid for the Blood of the Lamb...

mind your own business and you will have


only yourself to judge...weighty as that alone can be....







Content (c) 2008-2014 Philip Milito. All rights reserved.

I am punished for a sin of anger

even satire cannot excuse


and yet when I try to make amends

when I try to change my ways


no ways are ever good enough

and I cannot endure or prolong


the agony and stay strong

until some turning point is reached


and some forgiveness and atonement

can set in...oh...do not tell me of the One


ever ready to judge and punish but never to lift

a finger to help or to forgive


the only thing worse than the sin of anger

is the judgment of the One







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DEPENDS...

that all his endeavors have come to naught

is a hard thing for any man to take


while his woman hides a smirk in a shoulder rub

nonetheless respecting his regret and loving him


as Christian of the Pilgrim's Progress found

the Valley of Humiliation all thorns


Christina came to the same Valley and found  it

white and sweet with lilies





Content (c) 2008-2014 Philip Milito. All rights reserved.

surprise yourself


give up your crazed ambitions

and get what you want


by indirection

by selflessness


by every mode you disdained

because you did not understand


the true nature of power....






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the hungry stay strong and cunning


beware them

once they get what they want


they grow weak and sated...wanting more....








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we're never stagnant

we always move

away from what we've learned to love

and on to where we're afraid to go


never stake your life on what you meant

it's a thing you can never prove

just leave it behind when you've had enough

and are on your way to where...you don't know....





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I may not have much time left in this skin


but god damn it

I'll rock it while I have it


com'ere you sweet hot thing

let grandpa teach you something


I'll let myself go and talk level

to your face and I won't care


with so little time left in this skin....





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creator and creation

ineffable pigshit


do the right thing and die

do the wrong thing and be adored


do what you know is right

and don't think about it


you only have the instant in which you live

and those who refuse become frightened or bored






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already they come pouring out

words I can no longer believe


their certainty dwindling into doubt

that pave the way by which I'll leave





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I have you where I want you


beholden to powers

greater than us


who'll teach you your

pettiness regarding vocation


and me to not make too much

of what is only temporary


earthly work we scorn for different reasons....





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oh so kind and oh so cruel

I care for you but I play the fool


there must be a better way than this...

some heartache not cured by a faithless kiss....





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tell someone they did alright


and you'll encourage them to make

the same mistake over and over






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you have done so much


and that will leave you wishing

you could do more


perhaps it's for the best you're overridden

not knowing when enough is enough








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are you sure you're finished?


you're still living...still active...

and just because you've exhausted

your idea of what you should be doing

doesn't mean you've done it...or that

you should...


the daily toil continues past this sojourn


work when you have to and rest when you can....





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if I knew the future

I'd shoot the wad...or not...

depending on the outcome


but that is not given to us to know

(even clairvoyants get it wrong

sometimes)


keep your money off the table


I did...and came out ahead....





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I always ask "what next?" or "now what?"


don't know why I do this...


the second I say anything...something has passed away

and something new is already playing havoc....





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breasts ass and legs


oh women...enticing...astounding...

women...who focus all powers of life

through their desires...but ah


I've done this before...

I can sit back and watch my successors

make fools of themselves...


it's their turn....





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I THOUGHT I UNDERSTOOD

I thought I understood

the stars and wheeling galaxies

and I did

but not in the way I imagined I did


a mental image made me think

of beautiful nebulae

and our souls as wisps of dust and gas

swirling through the vastness with them


the truth is more like our earthly bodies

diminishing with age as we watch the heavens

and rejoin them as the particles

with which we came into being


I understand now too well as part of the process

the shine of our ambulatory moment....





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in the procession of generations

each family member wags a righteous finger

at each other trying to explains worlds

the others never knew


universes at one dinner table

resolving or not

the differences they share

that make them one....








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oh such high sentence

from such a low ignorant brain


my religion all these years

has been my imagination


projected onto a backdrop

of stars and moonlight and blades of clouds


slicing the night sky with wrongly attributed

purpose reflecting our own hopes of salvation







Content (c) 2008-2014 Philip Milito. All rights reserved.

now I must start all over again


as if cursing the universe

would changes the laws of being


and satisfy the puny egos

we launch against the cosmos churning


of matter and energy that force and manifest

the powers of creation that sign us


with our responsibility to adhere and conform

and be funnels for this power


while each of us are consumed in these processes

and any notion of power is subsumed in the grief


of our misalignment and even as we pass from our forms

our forms reconstitute in the very actuality we grieve


starting all over as if anything of our hope mattered






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just what we need...


another prayer lost in a muffled sky

crowded with the yammerings


of the superstitious...

wait all you like


but you wait in vain

no salvation will pour on you like rain


unless you cup your own hands to gather it....






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OPERA AS USUAL

a new  direction forming from the rubble-covered roads that lead to this point

and if I knew where it were to go…I’d still have nothing to show for the waste of my deluded effort to discern

in the awareness-scattering pain of the lesson I should learn…
oh were it as fair to bespeak my intent and show remorse for the errors my limited

consciousness have engendered in my efforts…I’d stumble on my tongue to express what I meant and of course take refuge in the excuse of ignorance that could

only affirm how little I had going for me from the start…
ah pained and dubious heart…I believe it is better to repent of my pride and start

over again…in flowing in that shift…that re-channeling down the gunnels of my habit of which some monumental upheaval has changed trajectory

I am still the fool who must follow the way that opens and slide like sludge down a chute to some metaphysical foundry that will forge me new and make me tumble

like rubble down some new way that opened without knowing where I go….





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AVE ATQUE SOMETHING OR OTHER

oh such sweet musings

after the sour reality


being reminded death

does not automatically


raise one to sainthood…

oh the bastard you loved


and hated may have found

some peace with Jesus in his own mind


but his actions will tell on him

standing naked in the light of his own actuality…


the One not as easily swayed as we’d be

who grit our teeth and clinch


the fist remembering

the betrayals…the dirty deal…the convenient lie


born of malice or fear or shame…

but each of us has his own mess to straighten


and if guilt not paralyze the contrition

then time will dissolve the angry memories


and bring forward the good

(no matter how much breast-beating


it was never all bad) and after things

as they are exact their precise compensation


then oh how sweet the musings for all

that was good and hopeful


facing what we are as we morph

into what we will become….




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inches away

from incredible dreams


my mind falls

into itself


and vivid jangling worlds rip

holes in the various airs


while my body

snores near the window of stars





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BEEN A BLAST, AIN'T IT?

vibrant as salt in the face at the shore

composed

almost automatic

a mastery of act and thought

conducting ourselves through

our lives...


gleaming in the sun

every move casting reflections


and in this fullness

the wicked

realization

that we are

most alive

near the end of that life....






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THE PEACE

the peace of twilight


I'll miss it when I'm gone from here

the soft coal blue of the sky

and the first evening stars

glimmering into sight


recalling when the morning stars sang

and our way was set through the long day of the world


now we reach an ending

a turning in the way


and in the last violet light

comes down the sweet absorption of the night







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SUMMER SUNSET

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SUNSET WALL

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see you on the other side

and again on this one

of that I'm sure


the world the same

no matter what changes

time and sin rearranges


nothing's over until it's done

we're all One but dear God which one?






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I'd talk myself blue

but it's no use

people are crazy

and running loose


and they will be

'til the end of time

we're all One

but each thinks I've got mine


so I'll cease my talk

and go my own way

oh I'll run into these others

some future day


leave it to God whose Will ensures

it's His Will not mine or yours






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BLOOMSDAY (AND SCREW THE REST OF YOU IF YOU DON'T LIKE IT!!!)

June 16!!!!


how could we forget it's Bloomsday?


is the Great Modern Epic Joyce bequeathed us

so soon forgotten?


(I still have a Perfect Molly Bloom in my mind

making my spirit come eternally!!!!!)


oh wise meek kind-hearted Leopold

you are still among us


though assholes like the Patriot

still multiplied to unacceptable numbers


and we bear the heart of one perfect day

always in that eternal now






Content (c) 2008-2014 Philip Milito. All rights reserved.

think again

before you try to conquer the world


you're up against the ruins

others like you have made of things







Content (c) 2008-2014 Philip Milito. All rights reserved.

it is so hard to stay straight

when all we have around us


are our loves and and hopes

each as dicey as ice in spring


even if you fall a bit

it's better than doing nothing


at least you can learn and go forward

rather than stay stuck where you don't want to be






Content (c) 2008-2014 Philip Milito. All rights reserved.

only our responses to life

are within our control


the rest is a bombardment

of our past sins or fresh hell


from assholes who'll never get it

and take as many down into


their own hells as they can manage

and those of us who know better


agonize because we know how easy

it is to slip and fall from an unconsidered action


an emotional reaction that will undo

all we've striven to make fundamental...


begin to amend with what is immediately at hand

and leave the rest to resolve itself....






Content (c) 2008-2014 Philip Milito. All rights reserved.

RUSSELL CLAY

oh he was a hard case...

stubborn and a trial to his loved ones

but true to his vision for it...


great (and I mean GREAT) poet

gourmet cook

and a great teacher...ever at his best

in the middle of a circle

guiding the discussion back

to each speaker so they may

gauge the fullest of their contribution


oh...infuriatingly...he has left this sphere

difficult his own demons

and sadly they howl in triumph...but fuck them...

they brought him down

but they didn't kill him nor could they ever destroy the work


he has left for the rest of us

I take the liberty of posting here one of his poems


he is not here any longer...but he is not gone....


GOODBYE TO KINDLING AND SOUL - Russell Clay

I am alone the bottle, my precious glass

Is gone among papers flying circles around me

In the wind, but I am warm against the

Bleachers of the Lemon Street stadium


And not long for this world, not long

For the night that hides my hand from my eye.

This is my corner of the world, my bed

Singing me back to Kentucky and

Horses to tend.


I followed the cry of pain in the night-

A black mare stumbled and broke her foot

Birthing a foal that ran as soon as it stood

And blew the breath of her ghost to the moon

With the shot of a pistol in her head.


That is the song. I sing the bottle dry

Splitting hickory over on Church Street for

Bus fare home in the morning.

This is my last night beneath the stars,


Good-bye!

To kindling and soul, and asking why.




RIP Brother....




Content (c) 2008=2014 Philip Milito. All rights reserved.

how glad I am you're still with me


I could not live without the

fragrance of your being


filling my nose every time

my tongue worms its way


into your moist hairy cave

and laps at the mortal juices


of our pleasure and surest delight

how bittersweet in the hazy summer


afternoon to lie with you

and know all the misery of living


passing for the instant as we plunge into

the source of our immortality


and lie sated in the passing of this instant....







Content (c) 2008-2014 Philip Milito. All rights reserved.

sometimes the sight

of a pretty young thing


makes me remember

how hot I was for


their grandmothers

(good God ...yes I've become


that old) and the nonsense is the same

woman is the magnet for the male's iron rod








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whoever is the One we wait for

that waiting is in vain


the One is also with us

and it is our wondering that separates us again








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I have many stays against

my understanding


a earthly lifetime

of idiotic beliefs that led me into further


entanglements with illusion...

even if I try to unify myself


with some degree of our Oneness

each unique personality


is a reality to be considered...

so pity each who struggle...


even the preacher who thinks his

beliefs are paramount and correct...


the reality is far beyond our comprehension

and is played in the chaos of our trying....





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loading up on the earth

as long as we have time on the earth


the serious workings

of our earnest attempts


to come to terms with our existences

and all the imperatives of which


we have no knowledge...coming

as they do from understand our agendas


our specific ideas of what the what is

but we don't know and we don't care


as long as we have no greater understanding

of where we've been that determine


where we're at...we guess and hope

we near to getting something right....





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I turn to spirit

because my aging body

cannot taste of flesh

any longer


I wish I could say

I've had my time

and sit in an outdoor cafe

blessing the young'uns trying it on


but as the pleasure of youth

only come once a lifetime

the defeat and surrender of age

also come once in a life


immortal as we have it in us to be

until we disregard these fleeting states we're not free

and all the worse for me

for still loving the sweet treachery


of desire and all the intimations of paradise

a woman's flesh portrays...(said the old romantic


from his own view of embraces and spiraling galaxies)






Conte4nt (c) 2008-2014 Philip Milito. All rights reserved.








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desolate under a golden sun

awakening is bittersweet


you know you're not going to die

but you'll be damned if you know


how you're going to live








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I am unstoppable


all of us are unstoppable


the charades of life go on

past the skins we inhabit


and it is ever thus

it is ever thus


we are what we are and do what we do


and it continues beyond any end we could name....







Content (c) 2008-2014 Philip Milito. All rigvhts reserved.

LAST VIEW

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FRIDAY MORNING, JUNE 13, 2014 7

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FRIDAY MORNING, JUNE 13, 2014 6

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FRIDAY MORNING, JUNE 13, 2014 5

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FRIDAY MORNING, JUNE 13, 2014 4

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FRIDAY MORNING, JUNE 13, 2014 3

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FRIDAY MORNING, JUNE 13, 2014 2

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FRIDAY MORNING, JUNE 13, 2014 1

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some are helpful and but then are gone

some are useless but linger on


I depend on myself and keep my own counsel

and I'm still in shit but without more hassle


call me friend or call me foe

I'll tell you exactly where to go


especially if in friendship's name

you'll try to drag me down with you in shame


this is where the waters part

the choices made

the repentance starts


and before the next round of living begins

as the past begins to fade

you'll see which angel smiles and which demon grins







Content (c) 2008-2014 Philip Milito. All rights reserved.

BESEECHING

let everyone in creation

face their own shit


if you're involved

do what you must and leave them

to their misery


you can love others

but you can't make them love you


we all tend to our own business

and we do it without hope

of mercy or grace


that is how the things designed

that's the way it works


let God judge and if He's unsatisfied

leave it on Him...you did your best sincerely


and if that's not good enough

let remember it is God who cannot forgive

let Him gouge the price


He demands obedience

He will not be mocked

He will flush your best intent


let All or Nothing be the One's Way

the rest of us are fed up with the tyranny

and are happy to let Love do the rest...


what say you oh fitfully Mighty One

who lost heart to perfection

even while proclaiming that perfection

is the expression of this mercy?


enough with your vengeance...

if You truly love

then in the name of all that's allegedly holy

help us!!!


even if it is only for us to make our own way....





Content (c) 2008-2014 Philip Milito. All rights reserved.

it's thankless

to make amends

when the damage is done

and no one afflicted

(including the One Itself)

has any mercy

or compassion or forgiveness


to hell with the ones you've hurt


you struggled to make things right

and if they can't forgive

it's on them


and if the One cares more

for vengeance than for amends and forgiveness


then let the raving gangster gouge the pound of flesh


not my will but Thine


like it or not....





Content (c) 2008-2014 Philip Milito. All rights reserved.

ZOMBIE ON DISPLAY*

*This installation was taken a few months ago at a showing in Long Island City, NY for young artists working in Queens; I am missing the information regarding the artist. Should anyone recognize this work, please contact me through 'Comments' and rightful attribution will be made.





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PROMENADE ON A HOT AFTERNOON

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you do what you do

in blindness and ignorance


because only after the fact

does knowledge come....





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PENANCE DU JOUR

each sin weighs less

the longer you haul it

because it will

make you so strong


that when you've

atoned for that sin

it will off of you

without you noticing....





Content (c) 2008-2014 Philip Milito. All rights reserved.

darkness and light

are two sides of a single reality


you cannot embrace one

without admitting the other


so when you're in darkness

and your eyes adjust


and you see things you never

before imagined


think of when you looked

into the light


and saw brightness so intense

it was as a darkness


and agonized over the blindness

your soul received as consequence





Content (c) 2008-2014 Philip Milito. All rights reserved.

so what if I believe

in the Life Eternal


we're still living in this worldly

dispensation


and enduring the vicissitudes

of this condition


and that's a whole 'nother story...

if you think believing is all it takes


you're in for a sad shock....






Content (c) 2008-2014 Philip Milito. All rights reserved.

I've had an illumination


it seems we have it backwards


it is Death that is brief

and Life that goes on endlessly








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I end

on a note

of dismissing

all these

useless prayers


all well to say

disconnect

from your past

and leave your

karma behind

and go forward


but how when the past

has made you

all you are now

and divine vengeance

will not forgive you

your fate

even onto wrecking

every amendment

going...as they say...forward?


I end on this note

knowing however we

may judge ourselves

Another has the final word always


we'd all do better to accept

than impossibly challenge

what is only

our own fever dreams....





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SOON ENOUGH

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earthly time

has raised its pitch

so utterly


it is

as though

it no longer

exists


and in this

perpetual present

all rise

and all fall


and didn't you

just celebrate a birth day

like...a minute or two ago?





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fossils of mollusks

480 million years old

in a stone quarry in Vermont

near Lake Champlain


the dirt beneath our very feet

billions of years old


I sway with vertigo

as if a rupture in the air

revealed vasts beyond

comprehension or bearing


looking at these things

and realizing the import


why isn't everyone swooning

instead of arguing from their brief tiny passings?





Content (c) 2008-2014 Philip Milito. All rights reserved.

careful

so careful

that withdrawing

from the world

isn't another

evasion

of what I must face

in this life


it's far too big

and much too wide

to consider what

you think you have to do

even what the knowing

will ever exceed your mind





Content (c) 2008-2014 Philip Milito. All rights reserved.

I thought better

of confronting you


your view of reality

different than mine


in every aspect except

the fact that we share


some external material plane

where all hope is encased


in the stone of its consequence

and we are also just objects


joustling across a landscape

littered with broken illusions


from confrontations wherein each party

fought to each's detriment




Content (c) 2008-2014 Philip Milito. All rights reserved.

better to leave

well enough alone


any amends or repair

you attempt


will botch things further

and make you regret


trying to figure what right

action is when nothing is right





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I am too serious

to get the joke


and so am my own jest

ponderous to a fool's point


you knew I must be delirious

when you heard the words I spoke


so we both think it for the best

to leave the unresolvable out of joint






Content (c) 2008-2014 Philip Milito. All rights reserved.

you know you meant

to talk and talk


and talk and talk

and talk and talk


and talk and talk

as if mere words


could fix any wrong

or increase it by driving


everyone in earshot away....





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AN URGENT MESSAGE

messages float in from everywhere


I hear one coming through now


it says shut up!

Sincerely, Meher Baba






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ANOTHER STRANGE DREAM

weird


a dream (a drama?) begins with

a muscle-bound jerk

slapping me

I punch him in the face

and we tangle


...which dissolves to being kept

out of a party going on

in my family's house (not the actual old home)

but gifts are pushed out to me

through a huge hole

in the window screen


then inside this house

upstairs

you and I talking

smoking cigarettes

lying fully clothed

on the bed

stroking each other

as music and chatter

and cooking smells wafe up to us

as if we were children in our room

while the grown-ups partied downstairs


the as if watching a movie

one man confronts another

pulling a large machete from his pants


then a shot of a body

lying face down in the blood

from where his arm was cut off


the a shot of a dead baby

sliced neatly in two


and my voice saying as if in a theater

commenting on the action in the movie

"looks like murdering babies

is the latest atrocity to gain favor

with the psychopaths..."


 this dream coming a few days after

a report from East New York

about some maniac who butcher two little children

in an elevator


as for you and I conflated into this horrific dream

who knows...thoughts of yearnings

for you I may never realize

or realize poorly?


even if I had the slightest inkling

of an understanding

of what dreams are saying to us

(not even sure now if they were separate

or part of one long sequence)


I'd still find myself saying upon awakening

what the hell was THAT?






Content (c) 2008-2014 Philip Milito. All rights reserved.

each moment

more vivid than the last


brightness and darkness

each have a gleaming edge


...and oh shit...here comes

someone who will pull me back


into the world....







Content (c) 2008-2014 Philip Milito. All rights reserved.

the universe vibrates

under my feet

around my hands

within my mind


no wonder

people are careful

around me

I've must have become impossible


to be with lately




Content (c) 2008-2014 Philip Milito. all rights reserved.

everyone

wants to save me


from what

for what


they'll never find

a cure for what I've got...


longing for the enlightenment

that shall release me


from longing...

that's for me to do alone....





Content (c) 2008-2014 Philip Milito. All rights reserved

the bird did not answer

a call from its kind


no need to coo and moan

little mourning dove


it now flies in higher

space awaiting its mate


lifting from where ruffled

crushed feathers lay on the ground


and from where you too shall fly

some day....








Content (c) 2008-2014 Philip Milito. all rights reserved.

WHAT IS GIVEN

what is given

is never taken away


it is lost only

by lack of appreciation







Content (c) 2008-2014 Philip Milito. All rights reserved.

AFTERNOON

Content (c) 2008-2014 Philip Milito. All rights reserved.

NOONDAY HEAT

Content (c) 2008-2014 Philip Milito. All rights reserved.