PAST POEMS OF THE WEEK
Warning: you'd be well advised to use your browser's back button than rely on any of the internal links within these past fixes.With the help of Disaster Man, we are working on a more automated (though hopefully as user-friendly) which will draw on the 8,000+ "entries" in Anno's "archive"(horrible word). Most of the links to original scans within the fixes should still work - if they don't, please let me know at: laurenticwave@aol.com
Fix 22: June 13th
Say Goodbye
Fix 21: June 6th
Moments of Eternity
Fix #20: May 30th
Sail to the I LandFix #19: May 23rd
My lips have turned blackFix #18: May 16th
Why do you hate me in my head?Fix #17: May 9th
He FeltFix #16: April 18th
Dear ReaderFix #15: April 11th
BlameFix #14: April 4th
Red River______________________________________________________________________________
I haven't yet gotten around to recreating the earlier pages - hopefully Disaster Man's program will replace what follows:
[Fix #1: January 4th]
She hangs on perfect pitch.
She moves like liquid music with
the soft assuredness of swallows flying East.
The beast in all things bows, and falls,
and crawls beneath your feet,
and rolls in sweet defeat and speaks...
“I love you”
And all things proud and cruel across the
universe fall silent and subside.
I hide my sorrow from your love
because you chase it from me.
In your depth I’m free from all
the horrid vestiges of man.
I am. I am for you and I ask
no more question of a god
who gives me this.
Who gives me but one kiss
upon the lips of His most
perfect incarnation.AB 472, c2000
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[Fix #2: January 11th]
Watch me try to sanctify my soul.
Every second I get older,
I get colder and more heavy.
As I get closer to my enemy,
my energy gets looser,
and my structure doesn't stay well so defended.
The horizon ate the sight of my ambition,
and once affirmed decisions
now are doubtful.
I'm shouting with my mouth full
I'm shouting eclectic nonsense,
and the more I try, the denser I become.
The harder it's become to fool
the foolish with these water guns.
The ghoulish whom you ought to
fear are running from light.
AB471, c2000
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[Fix #3: January 18th]
You’re my mirror, you’re my muse,
you’re everything I cannot keep.
You’re a window...
You’re a flight of madness,
and I wish to float out here forever,
to fall with you wherever moments please,
to ease myself inside you like a knife
and stifle in your sanctuary,
to bury devils at your feet,
to search your soul for precious metal
and instil it in my heart.
The part of me that’s cautious
is the part that wants you most.
I’m roasting in the shadow of your love,
waiting on the line of your totality.
AB 488, c2000______________________________________________________________________________________________________________
[Fix #4: January 25th]
No matter how much I write,
can't write enough.
Got this convolution in my gut –
You're cramping in my soul!
Fingers turn my face to gold,
And all the time the song you sang to me
is folded in upon my heart.
Can't write enough!
I could write a bible
with the words you won't have time to read.
Need you on my fingers,
in my nose, on my clothes
and in my head.
Need you on my breath from 6 to 6.
Build a house of silver bricks and hang me on the wall,
Ornamental – promise me you'll play your songs
where I can hear and smell you,
Put a spell on me –
please forget how to reverse it,
And just hope to God the chains that bind me hold.
Watch the silver air turn gold,
and suffocate my bold, voracious heart.
AB 182, July, 1998
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[Fix #5: February 1st]
Once again the swallows gather on my voice,
and dreams of summer linger – somewhat lost –
and endless fires we follow rage across
this moist and fleshy, temporary self.
I'm hopeful for this odd configuration,
this strange conglomeration of my horror
and my pride.
The only things you know, you know inside
and know at birth.
Then slowly we forget throughout our lives.
The symbols stunt perspective,
and the colours kill our eyes,
and the noises send us deaf with definition.
I cease to exist with you.
I opened up my energy to you.
I'll never know the boldness of your burden,
and you'll never know the sudden surge of truth
becoming whole.
A sky like warm blood.
I'd be honest, but I don't know to be honest about.AB 462, September, 1999
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[Fix #6: February 8th]
There’s a shadow, there’s an angel and she’s homeless.
She realized no creator, nor no heaven lay in wait.
She took the baited, barbed, serrated silver
hook and swallowed whole, without a look -
without a glance - and she mistook her blood for gold,
and her ignorance for faith.
She realized that it’s all on one assumption,
and presumptions are always wrong.
She thought herself a sanctioned single entity,
and she rationed her mind and the sin that she fed it.
She sectioned herself from the devils and misfits,
and stray bits of people that sleep on the street.
She gave them a stare - once - not long -
just a beat - and
She realized that it’s all on one assumption,
and assumptions can be wrong.
And she noticed there were things that lived inside her -
that their wars and symphonies composed her,
that their differences define her.
She knows now that she's more than all these things -
at once she's all these things and not.
AB454, July 1999
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[Fix #7: February 15th]
You make me so free.
You make me so crazy and dependent.
Resplendent and helpless.
Marvellous self-indulgence runs between my two selves.
You are my purest conciseness,
the one thing being the both;
the both becoming the one.
You’re my edifice …
my opening to ancient things.
The sticky crags of heaven hang above us
and the rains collect below beneath the gibbet.
No demons here inhibit,
no God need here inspirit …
My insular nature is lost,
and now I’m inherent in everything ever and always.
I never imagined a world so succinct and precise.
I never imagined a feeling so dense and concise.
I remember you totally …
Openly I will receive and reduce,
and infest all the universe blessed with the curse
of your love.
Like a murderer’s glove,
like an idiot’s hearse, riding flat out to
nowhere, on nothing, with no one,
and everything falling away in our wake.
Fully aware in my waking,
breaking the morning with hammers,
digging up yesterday’s bones,
building thrones with the skulls of those
dead at our feet,
those dying a second or two off the beat …
out of sync.
Still linked to the shackles of Maya.
The strings of desire are plucked by
hands of a higher anointment.
AB524, March 2000
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[Fix #8: February 22nd]
Why do you talk of ending,
of boundaries and beginnings?
There is no nothingness.
The orchestra is improvising,
but they know their notes.
Why search for fate?
Why wish for an ending?
This journey is one never-ending.
The journey is all.
I'm part of it all.
I'm the heart of it all,
and it is my heart.
It gives me my air and my tears.
I'm born of it.
I'll die to it.
Its hand’s always on me.
It’s words carry me.
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[Fix #9: March 1st]
Blurred and weighted, lazy vision –
won't you please excuse me from the prison of my senses?
With bars of colour, walls and sound of texture,
leave the wreckage and confusion of my mind perplexed,
and vexed at having lost control:
at having lost its hold on Mr Ego.
This poppy alchemist has turned my stomach into gold,
and wed me to the instant –
– To this gloriously finite moment,
spent in solitary ecstasy.
God has thrown a hex on me –
I wear it like a gown, pristine and wrapped beneath
my crown of silk and silver teeth,
in mourning for the cold and naked rose
that lost them to this careless love,
or to this misanthropic child
who thinks he knows, and wants too much.
He wants a blessing, and the touch of Gods to mould his life.
AB220, September 1998
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[Fix #10: March 7th]
Wet Roses
I’m weak, don’t wake me from this wonder.
The thunder of the world has died away,
and left a crazy, fiery hunger in its place...
I waited, watching, anticipating God.
We made the kill. I lost my will.
Her words were words of wisdom,
and of kingdoms and horizons,
and of islands and of art...
She seemed to say as we embarked –
Let it out your head and let it in your heart.
She’s always lurking in my system,
like some illness with no cure and knowing that there’s no resolve...
I waited, watching, anticipating God.
I wait there still ...
and hold my will, and hold my breath.
She left wet roses in my room and left.
AB354, April 1999
Anno wrote 5 drafts of "Wet Roses", one of them titled "Antiphony".
It was written as a song,but no recording has yet to be found.To view the originals, CLICK HERE
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[Fix #11: March 14th]
Craven Image #1
Rabid angel, you're in trouble with your God –
there isn't time to clear your name.
Rabid angel wield the hate you have been given,
there are no consequences –
Don't be afraid to lose control.
And somewhere deep inside of me,
a piece of craven imagery
lies dormant with no name.
I can relate and yet – I don't know why.
Rabid angel took a turning in her life
and look, she left herself behind.
Ain't it funny when the rain comes and the
light has lost its way, the water burns your eyes.
"Don't be afraid to let me go... "
And somewhere deep inside of me,
a piece of craven imagery
lies dormant with no name,
I can relate and yet – I don't know why.
Now say farewell
then butterfly – live so you can die,
don't fly in circles.
It's funny how the sad ones never cry.
AB 254, November 1998
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[Fix #12: March 21st]
Craven Image #2
Rabid angel, you're in trouble with your god –
there isn't time to clear your name.
Savage angel, wield the hate you have hidden –
there is no consequence.
Don't be afraid to lose control.
Got your sex stuck in my nose,
and your opinion is my own –
are yours the arms that enfold... ?
Savage angel, what's your pretext for this murder?
Where's your faith in what you know?
Scented angel, sow the seeds to your black roses
that you know will never grow –
you know will never glow...
you know will never...
Don't be afraid to know you're dead.
Got your sex stuck in my soul,
and your opinion is my own –
are yours the arms that enfold...?
Now say farewell
then butterfly –
flutter by my head, don't tread in circles.
It's funny how the sad can never cry.
{AB254a, Spring 1999}
To view originals of Craven Image #1 and #2 , CLICK HERE
To download Craven Image, CLICK HERE
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[Fix #13: March 28th]
I know all, and know nothing,
and the thumping inside, that I took as the
beat of my heart,
I found was the drum of the earth.
And the drum beats more slowly now.
So slow that I’m scared it might stop.
I hope things are well on and off the shoot.
I think I left some bits and pieces
of myself, so if you find them,
kindly put them somewhere safe.
We have to get this non-locality.
=====To read up on non-locality, CLICK HERE - highly recommended!
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