| // Dull Stories, Perky Nipples // Here they come down the way three ladies half dressed in very little looking down I see my old shoes and torn pants and the sweethearts keep coming down with their dumb purses dull stories and perky nipples I just watch them stroll by cataloging the details for future reference on lonely nights while they walk by laughing not knowing I'm alive ©Ananda Osel 2007 |
| // Here (I Am) // At birth, I could read any tongue, and resolve a hail of grains from my tomb. Immense, bottomless, and echoing life's ample passages off stony walls. Repetition drowned the perpetual universe, as my skull cultivated my skin. I was taught of love, the rapture, my nativity, and a lovely superiority. I inherited an awe-less identity, everlasting rightness, a white mind, and code. In the achievable bars of the orb all remained touchable and gratified. Before the mud began to encroach I barely noticed, the echoing had departed. The black ground ascended. The silence was damned loud, the sun charred my skin. My bones unraveled and collapsed. And when I finally passed the yellow verge, I did so in a glorified shallow fracture. ©Ananda Osel 2007 |
| // Laymen Of History // once a man of suchness made the choice that nothing was current, and he would never turn towards the future eyes directed only at the past at the history of man the history of it all and what we have seen as one event after another the man of suchness has seen as one continual event an unbroken cycle of human psychosis and as we turned outward the man of suchness never turned his back still to us facing history and at his feet piled human defilement and as ruin blocked out the sun the man of suchness breathed out and then in never knowing of history (previously published by identity theory) ©Ananda Osel 2007 |
