Solaris Hymn 40

This mortal earth
aside
the millionaire denies it,
the egotist claims her
and in missing the light,
shadows,
and calculus
of Solaris,
the revelation of suffering
avoids them.

So they only pass,
leaving unloved children
to repeat their wrath
and continue
the cycles of mortals.

O hold up you high
Piraeus’ glass at midday
and know
the wealth of nothingness.

Socrates is there
with wild hair
on the bed made by slaves
still dreaming.

Sappho is dead, just dead.
Her corpse wrapped in
loins.

Poetry from tewkMehrtin.com

As Molt The Superlands

In the first 100 days
we welcomed you as bone

through the corridor of the white temple,

next we enter the brown one,
for era
and its sunlight.

The beige cities pass on the way
and you walk the outskirts of the crowded districts,

like tourists, you count your days there,

but harvesters with celestial migrations bring
crops, dust, and pollinators
in from the orbitals

until at the last changing of color
you throw away your ribcage,

as you no longer need it,

pressed and known into terrestrial soil,
been done and dispersed in the rain.

Clouds come and go like spaceships
for the bodies
in the journey through the temples.

SuperNations are inconsequential,
as are Kingdoms and SuperLeaders,
encoded information.

The orb is everexistent.

The word is priyama,
the body priyamay.

The deliverance has been delivered.
The breath is threshed.
The stars are ponies.

– Poetry by Wes tewkMehrtin
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A Tempori

Ten years become twenty.
Twenty years become thirty.
Thirty years become fifty.
Fifty becomes one hundred.
One hundred becomes three hundred.
Three hundred becomes a thousand.

The bones of humans are salt and fade
and the beach is as new as the sky.

The thing that I purchased was bone.

un-hundred is doing best the duty

so is un-thousand, for you, your ego accept

we
left
purchasing
the
birds
feed
on
far
understandings


– Poetry by Wes tewkMehrtin
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A Heart Of Elasticity

I’m building a heart,
building a heart,
building a heart of elasticity.

With olive oil, heartbreak,
stress and disease,
smoking and running,
failure and fiendism,
I’m building a heart of
elasticity.

A net of the universe,
a fabric of breath,
a bender of molecules,

I build a new heart
and the old heart
inside of me,
the same singing heart
and the super-heart ringing
in the net
of the beat.


– Poetry by Wes tewkMehrtin
READ POETRY tewkMehrtin animated gif image

Θνησιμότητα

We’re all going to die.

The Universe will decide.

Will it decide?

Or will it just do?

Do what it does to our cells.

Do what it does on days

when our best friends die,
when we eat grilled meat on a stick,
smoke cigarettes,
read about maniacal politicians,
or lay down to sleep.

We all go away,

in one way or another,

forgotten in anonymity
after twenty-five
or
ten thousand years,

our purpose extinguished,
our intentions vanished,

weathered down in ceremonial
stone,

so some pompous asshole
can say,

“I know what they meant.”

– Poetry by Wes tewkMehrtin
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Krixba Star

Fruit in the night
by my solitary self
is freedom
the nationed ones cannot know

the nationed ones look to windows
to know
counting through filters
what one is to be told

revive the baptisms of the satellites

the nationless does know
the fruit in the night
and
what love can spell

how love knows to hold bones
or tell them
the truth of
what home is

The Disciples Have Taken

Seldom
is
the daybreak
seen
by people
who need
to see it.

May
the city-dweller
rise
from
their TV dream
and be afflicted.

May
their veins
give up on the wine
the Roman Catholics
have given them.

At least meet me
in a heroin clinic
if you want to talk
about the Buddha.

– Poetry by Wes tewkMehrtin
from:
lovers of the century thumbnail image Lovers Of The Century (poetry book)