run’n on’n’on so always arrive’n right here . . . (a tonal drawing written in poetic form)

run’n on’n’on so always arrive’n right here
(the trick of re-wrapping the box) 

our sleight-of-hand dissipationers
are serpentine’n philistine’n degenerators
bait’n with the charms of vicarious arms
hook’n’us on the habit of being run’n
and running like we’re running away
and jump’n up’n’down’n’spin’n‘round
and ‘round and ‘round and ‘round so
making believe we here shedding
this me we aint want’n to be wear’n
that we always trying to trade in for
a brand new used used somebody else
who’s doing the same thing too . . .
everything’s the same old ruminationing
like news   nothing’s never ever be’n chewd
everybody’s some body who’s just bobbing
treading water just like we’re being told
in this addicticationing lap of the blues . . .
so wantonly we’re fawningly begging
scream’n and scheme’n for more’n’more
hypnotically methodically chase’n
this same old me we’re being told
is some brand new delivery
we’re here being sold . . .
and we’re always kept right here
numbing on run’n on’n’on in place
and never ever ever ever realizing
how rabidly we’re just actualizing
as enthralling vagabonding vagabonds
fumbling stumbling and bumbling on
in’a on and on and endless on’n’on
to this mythical never never ever
to which we must always be on our way
so we can never ever be arriving

Copyright © 2020 Asili Ya Nadhiri

 

[/audio

 

please . . . help me get out of my way

i’m running in here
watching you watching me
running in here watching you
feeling me aimlessly bobbing
in this swirling pool of dispair
scared of even pondering why
claws of hover’n premonitions
are slowly enfolding me on
in my stubbornly holding on
to this stubbornly holding on

i’m denying i’m trying to no avail
to be hiding my hiding my hiding
that’s always betraying the rusing
of my patented smile announcing
the yearning in this guile
that i’m want’n so bad to be chancing
and daring to be daring again dancing
swilling all the sonorous feelings
in the rapture of enrapturing again

so i’m desperately keep’n on jogging
and jogging and jogging and jogging
canonizing illusory realizing
in immersing perspirating fantasizing
there’s no longer a need for pretending
‘cause do’n this i’m believe’n i’m believe’n
there’s really no need for anything more

Copyright © 2020 Asili Ya Nadhiri

 

we all keeping on holding onto this night . . . (a tonal drawing written in poetic form)

we all keeping on holding onto this night
(‘cause there aint no Rorschaching in the dark) 

and we’re all still here scared
just like there in ancestral wombs
march’n ‘hind a ME !shout’n louder! than you
and here kneeling down all up underneath
the fabling duplicitationing of these same
elected self-annoint’n alternative ME’S
and still fancing ourselves just like them as
the real cornerstones of some mythical now
spin’n ‘round ‘n‘round so to be look’n
like we aint just here marking time
obediently gumm’n the rime of this spiel
so we’re never ever seeing why the
syncopate’n bray’n of perennial jackasses
is always chiming with such appeal
—existential eviscerationing
abominating adjudicationing—
we’re sleepwalk’n stalls meander’n in malls
see’n us in one another!but it’s so damn dark!
we aint never seeing nothing at all
“so what are we suppose to be doing . . .
take’n ownership of just what!
somebody who we long sick’n’tired
of being long sick and tired of . . .
or chewing tobacca dipping snuff
martini mesmeriz’n fantasiz’n and stuff
here snort’n coke so i’m feel’n no pain or
neck’n naked on beaches with no damn shame
rock’n’rollin git’n down vandalizing in the guile
of sanctify’n reality shoutings in palatial aisles:
“!!WE AINT OUR FAULT IT’S THEMMM!!
‘cause all i’m doing’s still  just all about !ME!” 

Copyright © 2019 Asili Ya Nadhiri

 

prestidigitationing (a tonal drawing written in poetic form)

 

*prestidigitationing 

lips they hawking deceitful wiles
stalk’n here in most all our plastic grins
serpentining subverse-nationings
so many of us snake’n in the grass
‘round ‘n round so swallowing our ass
shuffling hands they dealing real slow
‘cause most the eyes they closing so tight
we just aint caring aint caring no mo’
‘less we ‘bout to be missing a reality show

aint raising no children ‘cept for show’n
them suckling on cold synthetic titties
drowning in the arms of gadgets
in the laps of parental mannequins
as they keep on jump’n in front
of our loud snoring trains
they’re already zombie’n automatons
like them geriatric ones ejaculating
on elected stools in full chamber halls

we’re methodically ambushing ourselves
in the floodings of addicting venues
tailgating rendevous and country blues
slow rainbow hump’n souls in tennis shoes
holy coliseums raffling heavenly pews
stock markets scat’n like hee-hawing mules
they jerk’n the strings of our emptying lives
with the same old same old braying
of our high school pep rallying cries

puppies we just keep’n on run’n behind
our perpetually self-anointing magicians
who always drawing cards from decks
that aint never be having no markings
us so long here show’n what we know’n
we get’n mo’n’mo use to abusing ourselves
while all the while just still here being used

*Audio available at https://www.dropbox.com/s/gfmpbbelvh3g4i1/prestidigitationing.m4a?dl=0            Copyright (c) 2019 Asili Ya Nadhiri

hubrisationing masking (a tonal drawing written in poetic form)

hubrisationing masking

and why are we anxiously submitting
to this living so little as such!
hailing devious nibblers as so mighty much
‘cause they shouting “how great i am!”
claiming this is just what we need’n
so us being just like this here again

 and this stalking putrid bubbling
in the babbling of our whining solipsist
is making flapping lips puckering up
sprue-ing the pungenating odor
of this ancient and bilious coaxing
turning us on into animated “it”-ics
so algorithming us all into clinical addicts

no trust no where no need requesting
desperately want’n this some other else
so what’s left accept all we’re missing
that’s still right here for us waiting
but we go on cloning our same old selves
the ones who that we don’t wanna be
strutting scared in this longing alone
and in after all our loud  petty jesting
we cling’n onto this porous pretending
erosionate’n numbies march’n on behesting
arm and arm wearing our opiating norms

so many of us are cleverly surrendering
sloshing around in acting just like it aint so
injecting ourselves with convoluting absurds
trying to conjure up notions of a win
in this surrogating game we’re playing
by fudging serpentining constipationing
with erotic mathematizing ruse-a-nationing

Copyright © 2017 Asili Ya Nadhiri

 

why come you doing me like this (a tonal drawing written in poetic form)

you just waste’n yo’ damn time
‘cause i aint gon be this who
you always showing here for me
‘cause this sho aint the one i’m want’n
running around acting like it’s me

*why come you doing me like this 

how come you there laughing at me
wearing all these different kinda faces
huddling here in the pockets of my eyes
that i keep try’n on one after another
‘cause none of ‘em aint making
aint none of ‘em making me their size
this why i’m always running on
to the next one i’m git’n memorized

and i’m !hate’n! the one
you always having here for me
—this ugly damn face that’s mine
just there wait’n here in behind
that splashing loud addicting glittering
of all them sponsored synthetic druthers
so you spiteful old cheap piece of glass
you can kiss my goddamn ass!
‘cause this one you be showing here
sho as hell aint what i wanna see
i’m-going-out-some-where-right-now!
‘n find a new ‘nother other for this sham
a one who at least for today
i gon be make’n like it them
who i am

Copyright © 2016 Asili Ya Nadhiri

we all keeping holding onto this night . . . (a tonal drawing written in poetic form)

[/audio

we all keeping on holding onto this night
(‘cause there aint no Rorschaching in the dark)

and we’re all still here scared
just like there in ancestral wombs
march’n ‘hind a ME !shout’n louder! than you
and here kneeling down all up underneath
elected self-annoint’n alternative ME’S
and still fancing ourselves just like them as
the real cornerstones of some mythical now
spin’n ‘round ‘n‘round so to be look’n
like we aint just here marking time
obediently gumm’n the rime of this spiel
so we’re never ever seeing why the
syncopate’n bray’n of perennial jackasses
is always chiming with such appeal
—existential eviscerationing
abominating adjudicationing—
we’re sleepwalk’n stalls meander’n in malls
see’n us in one another!but it’s so damn dark!
we aint never seeing nothing at all
so what are we suppose to be doing . . .
take’n ownership of just what!
somebody who we long sick’n’tired
of being long sick and tired of . . .
or chewing tobacca dipping snuff
martini mesmeriz’n fantasiz’n and stuff
here snort’n coke so i’m feel’n no pain or
neck’n naked on beaches with no damn shame
}rock’n’rollin git’n down vandalizing in the guile
of sanctify’n reality shoutings in palatial aisles:
“!!WE AINT OUR FAULT IT’S THEMMM!!
‘cause all i’m doing’s still  just all about !ME!” 

Copyright © 2019 Asili Ya Nadhiri

 

please . . . help me get out of my way (a tonal drawing written in poetic form)

please . . . help me get out of my way

and i’m just watching you
watching me aimlessly bobbling
in the tenuring pools of tears
and skies of hovering premonitions
ever slowly seducing me on
with the tonal moaning groans
of my stubbornly holding on
to this tiring desperationing
of just stubbornly holding on

and i’m trying so cleverly
all to no avail
to be hiding my hiding my hiding
but my longing aloning so long
is always traitorously pleading
betraying the stoic rusing of my smile
and announcing the yearning in my guile
. . . i’m wanting so bad to be dancing
and daring . . . to be daring again
sipping the glorious feeling of feeling
the enrapturing of enrapturing when

so i’m making me keeping on jogging
dripping the purging perspirationing
of fantasizing in every stride
that i’m believing that now i’m believing
i’m no longer needing to be pretending
that i aint wanting no more
for anything more

Copyright © 2020 Asili Ya Nadhiri

IMPOVERISHINGED-ING (the summary of a forthcoming novel)

 IMPOVERISHINGED-ING:the sunging of the preying mantis

 

as we’re blindly stumbling on

I’m feeling a cold wind blowing
and taking what little there’s left
for us to wrap here around us

I’m seeing wet glossy eyes trying to cry
and long empty arms reaching out for themselves
and words lost here in the echoes

I’m smelling the oily odor of unwashed lives
doused in perfumes costumes and mobile tombs
filed in cold and lonely rooms

I’m lamenting the many times in temperate climes
when those things warm and easily won
are tossed away and left undone 

Copyright © 1988, 2020 Asili Ya Nadhiri

The suffix ‘ing-ed-ing’ is a linguistic construct  specific to the literary genre called “Tonal Drawings Written in Poetic Form.” The term Impoverishinged-ing is a sketch describing the manner in which we humans so are robotically and enthrallingly cultivating our spiritual, moral, and intellectual demise: how the manner in which we are always acting upon, being acted upon, and always in the horizon of becoming is decisively invisiblizing/extinguishing us.

Imitating and emulating one another is a means by which we assist our social evolution; and a very important agent in this endeavor. But, this behavior like all our others is also essential in our existential invisiblizing, when it is being clung to as a  primary means by which we are able to avoid taking ownership of the person whose reflection we are seeing in the mirror—and the eyes of our fellow beings. Now, we are allowing ourselves to be enthralled by a few others (THEMMMS) who are designating themselves as the ordained models for this most diabolical camouflaging. Of course, we are those THEMMMs through whose lives we are so slavishly trying to be vicariously living, are, in fact, doing the same thing, too—and just as desperately.

Beginning very early in our childhood we naturally engage in this imitating of others most enthusiastically; and, normally, expect and insist as we mature that this normal propensity is diminishing as our biological tenue on earth is doing likewise. Why then, are we are so persistently and desperately trying to be obsessively holding onto and aggressively propagating this behavior on and on ad infinitum?

the prey is always
preying too
swallowing one’s tail
is never through
and not the answer
for what to do

       We are always in the crosshairs of our choosing. Everything is always everythinging: always drummming in the rhythming of what everything else is drummming. By means of ourselves, we’re always revealing the human dynamics generating impoverishinged-ing. This novel is attempting to lay bare the dynamics of this aggressively and progressively developing swallowing human proclivity.

The setting is a small southern coastal tobacco town we’re calling Abidenton. This is a small society, wherein, there is a much smaller society, wherein, is there are much smaller societies. Abidenton society, as a whole, is ensconcing mind, body, and soul in a geographical region boasting the cultural dynamics of the progressingly larger municipalities of which is is a part—albeit with a little drawl ya’ll. But, do not fall prey to the notion that small towns are nothing vis-à-vis large metropolitian areas: This notion is valid only if we are focussed on population and area. By means of this milieu, drawing is trying to lay bare the dynamics of this aggressively and progressively consuming existential reality we are calling IMPOVERISHINGED-ING.

Copyright © 2019 Asili Ya NadhiriI