Non-Feminine Version:
The treacherous dishabille of an inquisition
ensembles of emotions that fill their own delights
living on desires beyond the bounds
depths of a soul dwelling in a dark dream
wandering on streets that fashioned him...
In an awkward optimism and an angled smile
softening cynicism with sentimental love
of a fragile innocence that weary men seek
endeavoring hard for an astringent edge
in all the odd pages of their lives
their material selves claimed by society
grotesque artists with salient deformities
breeding success at the altar of originality
to the point of circus...
Reluctant submission beautifully rendered
in veins assuaged by propaganda
sacrificing love for responsibility
understanding beyond that of a scribe
culture catapulted by the art
entirely seductive in visions and only slightly absurd...
Resonating in pop-idol pastiche
an eerie regale of sitcoms and news
blips of TV and advertisements
spiraling in a white noise of consumerism
for a culture turned to directionless irreverence...
Their formative years of dynamic exploration
deliquescing into identity angst
unwilling to admit selfishness
representative of bizarre parenting
fractured, palpable, lost, poignant
with impetuous pleas to shed the garlands
and the strearine victuals of a mock left
surfeiting on cloying catch phrases
and delusions divorced from relevant ideals
calling for change in self deportment
in order to appease unmentioned prejudice
with venially convoluted deconstructions
and confessions of guilt...
Lifeless sermons and oleaginous beliefs
contriving attitudes under the guise of compassion
obfuscated by sincerely muddled emotions
robed in preformed attitudes and second-hand thoughts
parading half-naked in misapplications of freedom
like pimps and rogues of a burning ghetto
insidiously attractive, yet enslaved to power
in a communal rush to brute force
self-flagellated to invoke pity
for being unworthy to carry the banners
raised in clearer, more purposeful times
when real evil existed...
Socialist leanings, the corruption of power
relishing attention, immune from punishment
out of communion with their masses
existing in a purlieu solitude that is savored
like narcissistic Greco Roman gods
in captious disagreement with their ideas
so desperately sought and so cunningly avoided
which they cannot live without but cannot live within
their weaknesses driven by deeper attractions
where the affliction pervades the panacea
and servility becomes their prescription of choice...
In eloquence astringently coming to wonder
a hubris perpetuated by prevalent lassitude
having little effect on the self-indulgent
who seek cheap congratulatories of their liberalisms
reading only to don the masks of new attitudes
and to create new facades
giving intelligence an infirmity...
A heart in conflict with itself
and its rare ability to reassess
in passionate surges of linguisticisms
where author and reader settle on a dusty shelf
resonating only in rumination
and acrimonious pedagogy
and, in the most seminal cases
finding empathy with dancing bears conjuring pity from the stars...
A puerile adventure of relevance,
devious gods, bloody revenge
the women given plenty of attention
the wives cleverer than the husbands
all brave, innocent, and attractively enchanting
yet in the fierce storytelling mode of a Southerner
rebelling against post modernism and gay men...
Felicity dampened by such detachment
and lack of permanence, in their momentary fog
coughed up by a cigarette, framed by a photograph
in a heap of obligations spawned by anarchists
out of contrived importance in an oblivion of obsession
a bildungsroman of character regression
amid grand and sweeping metaphors...
The clever detective is constantly reminded
that the focus lies in elevator maintenance
of parallelepipeds dashed out in broad strokes
and supercharged with numbers in a dystopian environment
a means to a chaotic end where love is spurned
and walls demolished that keep out nightmarish scenes
of lobotomies and mechanized citizens
suffering from schizophrenic madnesses
that deem industrial efficiency crazy
living in a trope of science fiction romance
idealizing irrational numbers where rationality reigns
for a world so far outside of reality
that it feels like it could come to exist
via a myriad of haphazard human-mind associations
in a sophist’s delirium driven by ideas...
Feminine Version:
Treacherous dishabille of an inquisition
ensembles of emotions that nurture their own delights
gliding on desires beyond the bounds
depths of a soul caressing a dark dream
wandering on street that gave him birth...
In a naked optimism and an undressed smile
softening cynicism with the sentimental glow
of fragile innocence that weary men seek
yearning hard for an astringent edge
in all the odd pages of their lives
their material selves clutched by society
grotesque artists with salient deformities
breeding success at the altar of originality
to the point of mad circus...
Reluctant submission of beauty rendered
in veins assuaged by soft propaganda
sacrificing love for responsibility
understanding beyond the kiss of a scribe
culture catapulted by the art of suggestion
seductive in visions and only slightly absurd...
Resonating in eyeliner pop-idol pastiche
eerie with sitcoms and the evening news
blips of TV and advertisements
spiraling in a whirl wild of the white noise of consumerism
for a culture embraced in directionless irreverence...
The formative years of dynamic exploration
deliquescing into identity angst
unwilling to admit such selfishness
representative of bizarre parenting
fractured, palpable, lost, poignant
touched with impetuous pleas to shed the garlands
and the strearine victuals of a mock left
surfeited on cloying catch phrases
and delusions divorced from relevant ideals
moaning for a change in self deportment
in order to appease unmentionable prejudice
with venially convoluted deconstructions
and confessions of morning-after guilt...
Lifeless sermons married to oleaginous beliefs
contriving attitudes swallowing the guise of compassion
obfuscated by sincerity in muddled emotions
robed in preformed attitudes and second-hand thoughts
parading half-naked in misapplications of freedom
like pimps and rogues of a smouldering ghetto
insidiously attractive, lust enslaved to power
in a communal rush to dominate with brute force
self-flagellated to invoke pity
for being unworthy to carry the banners
raised in clearer, more purposeful times
when evil existed manifest...
Socialist leanings, the seduction of power
relishing attention, suckling immunity from punishment
completely out of communion with their masses
existing in a purlieu solitude that is savored
like narcissistic Greco Roman gods
in captious disagreement with their ideas
so desperately sought, so cunningly avoided
which they cannot live without and cannot live within
their weaknesses driven by deeper attractions
where their affliction pervades the panacea
and servitude becomes the prescription of choice...
Sweet eloquence astringently arriving to wonder
a hubris dripping with prevalent lassitude
licking with effect the self-indulgent
seeking cheap congratulatories of their liberalisms
reading only to don the masks of new attitudes
and to create the lure of new facades
giving their intelligence an infirmity...
Hearts in conflict with themselves
and their rare abilities to reassess
two in passionate surges of linguistisisms
like an author and her reader settled on a dusty shelf
resonating in dim-lit ruminations
presented in acrimonious pedagogy
and, in the most searing cases
finding empathy with dancing bears conjuring pity from the stars...
A puerile adventure of relevance
in womanhood and masculinity
like devious gods in bloody revenge
woman given plenty of attention
the wives always cleverer than their husbands
brave, innocent, and attractively enchanting
in the fierce storytelling mode of a Southerner
rebelling against post modernism and gay men...
My felicity is dampened by such detachment
and lack of permanence, in their momentary fogs
coughed up by cigarettes, framed by photographs
in a heap of obligations spawned by anarchists
out of contrived importance, an oblivion of obsession
a bildungsroman of character regression
amid grand and sweeping suggestive metaphors...
The clever detective constantly reminded
that the focus lies in elevator maintenance
by sunflower-adorned bare feet
the parallelepipeds dashed out in broad strokes
and supercharged with numbers in a dystopian environment
a means to a chaotic end with affection spurned
and walls demolished that keep out nightmarish feelings
of lobotomies and mechanized citizens
suffering from schizophrenic madnesses
that deem industrial efficiency an insanity
living in a trope of science fiction romance
of irrational numbers where rationality reigns
for a world so far outside of the bosom of reality
that it feels like it could come to exist
via a myriad of haphazard human-heart associations
in a sophist’s delirium driven by passionate ideas...
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