humani-vore-ing (a tonal drawing written in poetic form)

humani-vore-ing

“HEY YOU!!! yeah !YOU!”
“what’s the matter friend”
“you gnaw’n on’me FOOL! dat’s what
and i aint yo’ damn friend”
“what you mean i’m gnawing on you!”
“!what the fuck you think i’m meaning!”
“you’re just imagining things
so what’s really the matter with you”
“i aint imagining a goddamn thing!
and i aint here begging for no hand-out”
“excuse me but i really don’t know what . . .”
“LOOK AT DIS SHIT RIGHT HERE!
!!!I’M ALREADY BLEED’N!!!”
“no way . . . this simply cannot be happening!”
“dis sho’ aint no damn ketchup!”
“all right just just . . . just calm down
i’m going to tell you what to do”
“who duh fuck you think you is”
“sssh! please . . . you need to listen . . .
bright and early in the morning
when you standing there in your mirror”
“how i gon be doing that!”
“will you just be quiet and listen”
“how some body gon be somewhere
standing in dey goddamn mirror!”
“anyway just tell me what you’re seeing”
“‘spose i say i aint seeing nothing
you aint gon be there
so how you gon know i aint lying!”
“what else can all of us in here be saying”
“WHAT IN DUH HELL YOU TALK’N ‘BOUT!”
“NOTHING!!! motherfucker !!NOTHING!!
because you caint be saying nothing
‘bout nothing except nothing!”

drowning on in themm’d themmings . . . (a tonal drawing written in poetic form)

**drowning on in themm’d themmings
(ensconcing inside this blurring obscuring)

them themms keep on themming mo’ themms
who strutting on out the mouth of this womb
pompously adorning their anxious disdaining
of oracular warning of proverbial sins
they perpetrating with themm’d themms they
offering when to themm covetting themms
who callously moulding and coldly pouring on
through vicariousing veins of other themms
social matrixationing so for libating our thrones

themms fenestrating venderers jes like themm’ds
run’n scared trying to hide from what them too
pandering vitiating hustlers as heroic themms
who blowing slow low mo’ mo’ humping sounds
resounding in the holds of emptying arms
whining bags fulling on pretensifying mimes
self-cowarding pawns so prostrating in place
‘fore rusing algorithming pixillated rhymes
pervert’n on in the blues like themm’d themms

just surling swirling desperating redoundings
as this ever deepening invasive fingering
is enthralling us deeper on here inside
of our own swallow’n invisiblizing
swaggerly staggering arm-in-arm
invisiblizinglying invisiblizing
babbling mesmerizing mesmerizers
so ’cause all we all is just themms

**Nothing in this creation is in isolation. If one mentally isolates a small piece, that person will be able to decipher it, almost, in any manner desired. Needless to say, herein lies a most fertile grounding for desperately holding on to excusings.

glancing om here dancinged on (a tonal drawing written in poetic form)

rolling eyes seamlessly drifting always shifting
fondling syllabating edges mumbling in our daring
bumping up against themselves grabbing for ballast
in rounding corners of this darkening-ness
they wilting repetitions chewing social-lations
from shuffling prisms of somebody’s else-ing
’round’n’round in the emptying arms
of our furthering impoundings

glancing om here dancinged on

robotic people warehousing sundownings
everyone ‘head of being ‘hind of the other
strutting on well-worn catwalks prancing
on out of the closets opening-up all around us
placebos colliding and too scared to stop talking
pushing this serpentining rubric accelerating on
trying to hide here behind these old undergrounds

this desperationing behind our prosthetic grinning
is terrorizing in the waving of its souring breath
digitizing pupils consecrated on altars of stealth
the rabid spinning of this limbo-nic prowling
is spreading here shrouding over all us all
herding us on in numbing re-runnings
swallowing us all on down inside
our desecrating caverning
of all us all

paste-tings paste-ting paste-tings (a tonal drawing written in poetic form)

paste-tings paste-ting paste-tings

the laughing
is posturingly looking
at the fear crawling here in our faces
formulating these few visceralizings
so make it being just like “we all this!”
like they all be world synergizings

we strutt’n ’round n ’round here tweetering
in barren arrogationings swelling
greedily ravishing our bleeding tail
in depravening cogitationing swallowings
of the long bony malversationing arms
in this bemusingly numbing
serpentine-ing be-ruse-ing

so tediously we choreographing desperating
to smearing hands cheering in public ejaculationings
we hypnotically wallowing and rolling on up
in this festering debauching seductively spawning
in the pixellating tongue-ings of our m-oxy-morons

dry mouths are drying exacerbating carnivoring
just cofflying so ever so correctlying
we acting just like all this it aint even being so
sanctifying the longing of our wanton groan
we’re wonderings here in wanderings
ducking in and out each one another’s clones
crashing into ourselves just becausing
becausing because we unknowns

touching is . . . (a tonal drawing written in poetic form)

*touching is
a longing alouding
of whispering soliloquies
softlying enfleshing
with no trespassing
a sensuous promising
gracefully consuming
nearly ever swallowing
a hungering caressing
wantingly entangling on
with no fingerprinting

**In a quantum/cosmological context, entangling is a most beautifully elegant and timeless concept

*audio available at http://www.nadhiriwrites.com

the all impoverishing arms of legacy chasing (a tonal drawing written in poetic form)

the all impoverishing arms of legacy chasing

we’re just flies disguising here
laying eggs in this parasitic abiding
wooing on in the fawning eyes begging
of those echoing all around we all
hanging on to us here
like us doing to them and us too
inflationating everything we’re doing
swelling up but never growing at all
except here in our desperate exclaiming
“I’M this special one”
who auctionating other souls like me
into new little shiny old what-nots

politely embalming seditious thoughts
of another some ‘nother body else
sitting here magistrating after me
if this is no more i’ll have nothing left
“but what about us who propping you up
by grabbing on close all up around you
we gon be left here hymning by our self
‘til the next they coming along like you”

it doesn’t matter this how we gon stay
floating like straws scattering everyday
clinging on to whomever’s drifting by
dutifully touching-up my fading smile
on chanting pallets of your mouths
‘cause we aint letting you be forgetting
how you knowing this what you knowing
“all you ALL YOU supposed to be
is just grateful little memorials to ME”

waiting and tomorrow . . . (a tonal drawing written in poetic form)

waiting and tomorrow
(are pregnant with eternal costs)

everything else is always
wantingly conjugating conjugations
hungrily synergizing synergizings
embracing in a boundless beholding
mutually enfolding unfolding on
in with all the other things
. . . and we’re here wantonly aloning
burrowing up under some bottom line
of our own obsessing orchestrating
and imploding wallowing here
so busily serpentine-ing in the ruse
of all our purpled red midnight rougings
rolling vitiationinged souls in tabloid news
and surging swirling dirgings of the blues
scrolling faster’n’faster’n’faster’n’faster!!
shooting up snorting smoking it all
try’n to make like this aint what it seeming
and pretending so vulgarly loud!dinning
vicariously dancing marchinged on
desperately transmorphing our selves
absconding on inside the schisms
of serially perversive legislationings
we’re desperately hustling in between
and coffling on in the corrosive arms of
our own self deluding excusings
as we’re rapidly erasing ourselves
“but if i spread my wings and fly
which whom will i touch
and which one will touch me
what then will i do and
then what will be done to me”

lonely-ing-ness (a tonal drawing written in poetic form)

lonely-ing-ness

for way long too long
you been never impounding
those pleasing surrogations
teasing in the lap of your wanting
that keeping on sipping you slowly
from the same cracked cup
of all your stone grey mornings

en-wantonly
you’ve went going bemusing on
in desperate machinations of momentary ruses
as cold armbouchures of this numbing reposing
they swallowing you up erasing you on
in dark vicarious doses
of fondling schemata

and you abiding a little less
each time than before
regressing over and over
in your own behesting
there wrapping up inside all
your pretended pretendings
of what you thought
was meant for you

you all alone in there
in all by yourself
with nobody else
not even you

now then in here wave-ing here when (a tonal drawing written in poetic form)

if when is then
and then is when
and now is on and on
what then is now
what now is when
and when is ever then
and where in when and in what then
do stories we tell they all begin
and do they ever ever end
and what is it they all intend

now then in here wave-ing here when

in here i’m bound then for most never found
‘mongst a public litter that’s more renown
and this numbing i’m feeling in here when
keeps being spreading on out all over
dissipating your children aborting them now
raping us all on deeper mo’ deeper mo’ deeper
in the languishing retard of vicarious simulations
and you keeping on marching on just like you told
never minding ‘bout this somethin
you done’n’nicknamed it me

crowded in crowds you aloned aloning all alone
syncopated hallucinating in your own plastic arms
advertising patronizing emboldened perverse-nations
leeched you leaking on into a same one another
you wanting other but you scared you so scared!
of the feeling little left that you feeling it’s leaving
and you never ever ever make’it so you be seeing
what you wanting i’m always waiting in here waiting

but you keep on sucking on them-ed used sugar titties
cunningly consumed in the daunting consumption
of your own hypnotic and callous-ive consuming
you hallowing the hustlers desecrating your time
swelling your heads with masturbating rhymes
auctionating in palladiums of a popular clime
and you erasing me on mo’ furthering on away
smothering in spells of a boundless dismay
then sewing up into things of animated clay
as nows and thens and ever whens
keep keeping right on entangling

what who is this that i being (a tonal drawing written in poetic form)

“i’ve lost the way
of what there’s left
of me that i brung
in them ship how i come
in this room it dark
caint see where my face
caint tell who this is
caint find where this place
how far is i from
this here where i come
how long i must go
‘fore will i never gon know”

what who is this that i being

who is this i say’n is me
the one outside through whom i see’n
or somebody else i wish’n i am
what’s this i feeling i cannot see
this hole it here inside of me
is i the fault for what i being
or this scared wrapp’n here
all around my knees
and what can i supposing to do
if nobody see’n nobody in here
not even me
who dat gon come and rub me warm
when there aint no yesterday
so how come it i always have’n to cry
why come it never nobody else ‘sides me
who’s the one that supposed to die