Wednesday, August 09, 2006


Like laying in a slow moving river,
And letting the mosquitoes feast
On your flesh because you’re exactly
where you want to be under the moon.

One name is galaxies superior to
One thousand ointments and touches
My eyes aren’t satisfied with seeing
But thoughts don’t flow that smoothly

If wanting two mutually exclusive
Things at the same time is neurotic,
I’m neurotic as fuck. (These thoughts
are making too much sense to me right now.

I might keep on typing because you just
May learn something about yourself)
Accepting sequential something is usually
a heaven mist of angelic self-portraits

Opposing poles keep an illimitable
Balance. For what lies between, but
Only one world magnified through Balzac
Tendencies and dignity in this informality

I thought of cream thick eyes doused
In absinth drenched thoughts of late—
Night balconies. Perfect for deep sea
Jeans as they collide in plasma soaked bursts

This may be a smoke closed calamity
Of unnerved introspective nothingness
But then again if I were to diagnose a
Malignity it would be a lesser comprehension

Of love. It’s all too draining in an unnatural
Blaze. I don’t think it possible to multiply
All that one knows in a night flower haze
Of explosions through pistols of your smile.


Blogger bert moth said...

I fear I'm getting too sappy in my young age, but this is the shit that happens when the lust for adventure is quelled by momentarily reality.

2:24 AM  
Blogger Prerona said...

both these words: "If wanting two mutually exclusive Things at the same time is neurotic, I’m neurotic" and your comment here i could so identify with. considering a course that will change my life forever. i want somethings that lay on that path and i want something that lay on the one i'm now trodding ... tough choice :)

5:22 AM  
Blogger Rappaccini's Daughter said...

How well you've captured that semi-fluid state of contentment and its discontents.

And finding that perfect place under the moon. Hard to do when she tends to sleepwalk.

Then there is your fiery end. Where I see Millay in those flames.

8:04 PM  
Blogger bert moth said...

prerona - Yep. Crossroads are always sneaking up. Sometimes suddenly, calculatingly, or otherwise. It's wondeful to just know there are choices.

rappaccini's daughter - New name. Same lips. Millay? Not sure who that is, but that's why god invented wikipedia. And thanks.

12:24 AM  
Blogger Rappaccini's Daughter said...

Yes. Edna St. Vincent Millay. "First Fig." Where she writes of the short lived blaze of life. And love. And lust. And the quandry. It is highlighted in Wiki.

12:32 AM  
Blogger Inkblot said...

a few beers, cuppa wine and some tequila- what the blazes when you have a mind like that.

1:48 AM  
Blogger Cocaine Jesus said...

better and better. like watching an evolving planet blossom and bloom.

3:29 AM  
Blogger bert moth said...

rappaccini's daughter - Got it. "My candle burns at both ends..." Indeed.

inkblot - samguinessbudbushmillsgreygoosejamesonredredwine

Sometimes. I was a bit cut up when I wrote this. Thank you.

cj - Thanks, buddy. It's funny, I just wrote something about a planet moving into a ken.

8:37 PM  
Blogger Jon Cox said...

This is AWESOME!!! You always write such wonderful & meaningful poems! GREAT WORK!!! Extremely creative! :o) Thank you so much for your comment, as well as all of your support & encouragement! It truly means more to me than you know! :o)

2:04 AM  
Blogger Free Spirit said...

I want to say it's beautiful, but I'm afraid you just might shoot me. :D

12:22 AM  
Blogger GEL said...

Lately your poems have sounded so loving while simulaneously intensly introspective. May I ask if you are contemplating life changes?...

Word choices reflect your marvelous vocabulary and intellect.
Your usage evokes a tenderness and also a ying yang that pulls me back here like the tides.

2:10 AM  
Blogger Stormy Zephyr said...

This is a poem that fills the senses. I am sorry that I didn't come here sooner than the turn of events let me. I like this one stanza
"I thought of cream thick eyes doused
In absinth drenched thoughts of late—
Night balconies. Perfect for deep sea
Jeans as they collide in plasma soaked bursts".
They are some of the best lines and images and smells that I have read in your blog. There is the feeling of distant yearning, biting at times, lovingly more biting at other times. Great work man.

9:18 PM  
Blogger bert moth said...

jon - Thanks a lot.

Visiting your site is my pleasure. I always enjoy taking in the new characters.

free spirit - Heh. Neurotic, not psychotic.

**silvermOOn** - Probably not any major life changes right now. I'd never intended for this attorney gig to last forever. We'll see what happens. Thank you.

stormy zephyr - Life happens. Your comments are always appreciated. Thank you.

6:33 PM  

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