once again I face a day when the idea of God's love is a cruel joke--

but hey--the joke is on God and anyone else

who thinks they'll dissuade me from what I know is right--

(and what a gray area that is--)

no one knows anything--and we all spoil this saving grave

when we presume to explain blindness to the blind--

now excuse me while I hide from the neighbors--

their love will certainly be the death of me--

Content (c) 2008-2010 Philip Milito.

too late too late for so many things--

and far too soon for others

*

there must be Grace--

I'm still alive and standing--

*

MATTER is the matter...

*

I must say the sky is beautiful tonight

pitch black field of glittering stars

and a cold wind giving voice to the branches

another year in a diminishing round

yet another summer coming

for me and for the rest of the world

yet another of many summers for the world

but how many left for me?

*

answer all riddles

with riddles

let the limpid pool reflect

itself

Content 2008-2010 Philip Milito.

I've had it with all of you assholes--

fuck all of you for the hell you've made of the earth--

fuck all of you for your pride--

and to hell with the god who allows you your mendacity--

I'd put you all into the hells you deserve if I could

but why lower myself? I'm waiting for the end--

and glad of it--

Content (c) 2008-2010 Philip Milito.

*Note: I've experimented with what I called 'spontaneously preceived' poetry (not that much different from the Surrealists or Kerouac's 'solos') in this blog, but have really lost the taste for it--and for poetry generally. Good poetry was always hard to come across, and today's herd of academic 'vase-makers' is more vapid than any previous generation of which I could think, off hand. And, to be frank, this 'first thought, best thought' type of unmeditated writing has a tendency to ruin one's instrument (again, witness Ti-Jean's later works.) After reading over the above, I've decided the course has been run, and the world has no further need of crap like this; it's obvious the democratization of the arts is an agenda fulfilled so long ago, that it become slack to the point of emptiness. If any more poetry comes to me, I'll work it the 'old-fashioned' way (and have words of far greater import than 'fuck you assholes';) and if I continue with this blog, it will be more of a typical blog, addressing matters spiritual/mentally/emotional/political with words, and visuals, and and verbally--just an average blog--and why not? If you want to communicate with others, a mandarin attitude with never do; besides, how much of a fool can one be over a lifetime? I'm not into setting a record in that department, thank you very much. So, we'll see what we see when we see it--even the greatest minds that ever lived couldn't add much more of substance. I think. I hope.

it's the Second Coming!!!!--

NO!

it's an invasion of intergalactic aliens!!!!--

NO!

it's Planet X coming around to shake everything up!!!!

NO!

it's hysteria and panic at something bigger than us

coming after us!!!!--

NO!

it's just death--who knows when and how it comes--

cancer heartattack stroke combustion hit by a bust crushed

by a rouge elephant--what does it matter?

it will come when and as it will

then death will be yet another matter altogether--

how your spirit will laugh at your earthbound notions--or not--

how there will be an eternal life--or not--but what matter?

life is like death in that it is what it is--

so figure it for yourself--you're alive in the instant--

Content (c) 2008-2010 Philip Milito.

an age takes form

beginning its circuit

through the sign

that will energize it

oh ruins will be razed

and new shelter installed

(at least until time comes

for them to be recalled)

and people will work

on a higher level

while each body fights

its own crooked devil

pulling it down into

the karma it'd transcend

if it were up to its own

will to ascend

in short all new

yet all the same

this tritest truth

the wisdom of the Name

this world ever

the proving ground

to show how short we fall

whimpering without a sound

Oh One this will continue

until only you know when

so would occasionally you intercede

to stop us from killing yet again

Content (c) 2008-2010 Philip Milito.

well--the assholes have won again--

they always win here on the earth--

and there's no bigger asshole

than the would-be Jeremiah who denounces

this world and its mendacity--

pro or con--God is no respecter of persons

and God would as soon screw his followers

as He would turn a blind eye

to the savages who run the world and giving them

a pass to wreck everything for the sake of their own glory--

oh evil fool I was to believe--to care--

if the source of life is love and if love is this terrible

then what mercy? what forgiveness? what grace?

I give up--fuck the Divine--I'm going to get drunk

and perform bestiality with a stripper in some back room--

you think I'm mad? you think I'm not at peace?

I envy you simpletons--I worry about holy things

and play the fool every time I do--while the rest of you

cheat lie--even murder--and walk around happy (but sometimes

pissed off that no one will bless you and acknowledge your Kingship)--

oh miserable creatures that destroy everything they touch

with God's implicit blessing--thank you for making a hell of the earth--

you do God's work of justice and retribution--and my only happiness

in this is knowing 'trouble comes to all--but woe

to the one who brings it) you wicked fools--you evil simpletons--

you God-blessed jackasses and your misbegotten right to live--

I cannot wait to die--I cannot wait to pass--I will miss the physical beauty

of this wonderful earth (also dying under your vicious ignorance)

but I will not miss the world--the hell we stupidly call living--

and if God wants to punish me for this--let Him--

I'd rather die in the sadness of an endlessly broken heart

than live in the false hope of a crazed God's sick definition of love...

Content (c) 2008-2010 Philip Milito.

against spites of god

and delusions of autonomy

no one can prevail....

*

vast and dull

perfection is the substitution

for joyous becoming

*

alive...

that's all to being

alive

*

for those who want visions so badly I say

dream them for yourself and stop expecting

the artist or the saint to do the heavy lifting for you

*

what? point out the

beautiful in you and be mocked as fool?

gad! what do you take me for--?

I'll give you jingles--at least

they resemble you--

Content (c) 2008-2010 Philip Milito.