Chris Robideaux grew up in Washington State, where he was educated.
He currently lives and works as a freelance writer in Mesa, Arizona,
where he periodically reads his work at The Anthology Cafe. His current
preoccupation is Thanatopaeia, a modern epic, or "verse documentary"
which has already been serialized, in part, in Muse Apprentice Guild
(University of San Diego). He expects to publish the first edition of this
long-compiled work by early 2006. His first collection of poetry, entitled
Pet Myths, was a contender for the Agnes Lynch Starrett Prize organised
by the University of Pittsburgh in 2002. He has also had poems appear in
Tin Lustre Mobile's Poetic Inhalation, sidereality, and The Melic Review.
He would love you to contact him at firstname.lastname@example.org.
Ashes of a Medusan pyre molder there on her pate, the skeptician -
As the table vies up w/ its thinkers for the great answers.
The parsimony of saints is silence, as their god nods in the same.
Like as the living would the milk of death drink;
Unto early moribund weeks, or in the pink of life
Strange stillness take inside suffering's bland sphere;
The wrong office meant for life's golden afternoon
Visits the fearing brain scrofulously, pitiless.
Like as the living would the milk of death drink;
The rage within the storm shears what it had loved
For tides of action 'gainst the long-beating drum, to final grin.
Dark! Dark! & this atrophous fatigue, even as I slope for
Sleep's quicker sluice, what or who sees a pen rebel w/ abject
Lines late seen?
(now comes the violent show, sour and foul...
Pentathalons grazing, dream raping me with executions /
beefcake nightmare fraud - cavalry huntdown, extremism's last party...
Lizard-eye diamond winking at my disregard (I've had close calls before,
but not this way, not like this)
Scales of strife weighed down with all my tries call my yesteryears
Out from behind the silvery mirrors, which bend at my countenance,
frown with me...
Breeze of a vague desert hides notions of rebellion
Softly as living sucks me away...
Sinister geopolitics rubs the fur of karma wrong - & I(we) am (are)
Two puppets blasted each other & the world is hinging upon it? (these
moments, bits, databytes shredded of honest intensity, propped up by
monomaniacal billboard audacity, fall hard -)
Has any screw of TRUTH not fallen out? What keeps the door on its hinge?
(A liar holds it there with his jagged finger, arthritic w/ perfidy)
& He puffs up defensive, striken dumb. And we all are, for letting him run.
Vidal is vital to this guessing
As nights draw us apart with presences.
I cannot make an answer if I do not feel it.
Vidal presses on, strange as the world pushing his head to the floor.
To all the dying, the song of life plays on. And for this we must rise.
What does my stringy heart know? My aural call seeks its way
from odd rooms, and from this destiny crowding in, I fall silent...
. . .
S u b a t o m i cs u b t l e t i e s
Let us elect a leader who cares. Hooks 'n such!
eversphere colonious watcher spreading eaglewings
Olympuswise must carefully thoughtthread this trek &
musethank humbly as shifting stars lantern the way;
splitting mind wakes the day from the fraternal REM
that failed motherly roofs aching under future rain.
Tossed older, mute w/tea & sandy isles molder. Write
all things in. Aspire. God did this man make a model
improved from industrial decay. Henchmen get no bag.
Chirp cautious, winterbird, this safe we have no more
than now, & nows sent now & then do stay awhile to
undo pain; but no gloss could make a Van Gogh smile
like his paintchild. A lifetime it gives, a lifetime
Deepcrib courage preamble notice the tv lightstrange
moves goodmen to kill, so we lie to children.
So we sing a freeway song w/ insanechorus, meld a
mighty cartoon tide!
& help-rig paid!
Yeesee messaloma(nia) hightree dwindle bought
& death &life entangled, their sweat drops to seas I
wish on -
Spotnow lifesee & you're here to hear and make a
sound & uplook originate fabulous
A burgeoning world of CEOs caresnot & you keep buying.
When's our takeover?
Sacred&profane upsidedownturned ratios spreadsheets
have got yer
& now you tunneldown. Boston's a metaphor better.
Beantown burrows & parkmakes so - troubadours! Do your
truthsong magic corewise & fill the urbanair
w/ jets of hope.
Heavyhanded Harry will one day see / that an unfearing
thing boils the boardroom warroom hair to balding!
(a vacation is a stab at truth.)
Let's all get in the shopwindows & sell love. All
maddrunk w/ Dionysus & make even the walls obey.
Let's give bush so much music he drowns like a fecal
pig, endshocked. Then we'll feast for real!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
Democritus's dog wandered away, & so can we.
evict the great New York fifthavenue bird
naturespawning in madness' midst (!!!),
for it drops a bad splat here&there (?);
away, away, great bird of prey! This is the end of
your naturedwelling self as well the world's, with
nowhere but up to go and no getting there.
Here your nest goes! Swump!
I awoke to a frumbday, from the outloud dream speeding
me in copcar from sanity and Dimebag's lost clear'f
his life, executed he on the angry stage,
as I out on the nightroad a rarething wander the
instep of lonliness' lonliest rag. Dimebag and ODB -
out in the dungeonhouse of insane Hadean minstrelsy
worldwasted no reason a bleak rain settles over a
downing place, all working t'words a death. We should
prepare for it like a college, the great graduation,
learn it, master it, study that door's lines & grow
the tree of life instead of just one leaf & master our
seasons ‘till the final breath says "elsewhere."
& MacLow, Van Duyn w/ 'em in the anteroom, - they're
falling like flies out there, signals stronger, humans
weaker, progress endchange delirious panic smarts
lunge abstracts makes a group emotionless who once
swung life's swingset sugarsmiley sweet; no matter -
we're all going to the deathroom our ghosts await like sheets.
& mock me not but who's buying the vise to increase
all pains? Why widen the crevasse, when comes the
exodus marketplaceward, drinking own tears for troops
shoot the wrong brains: trade Iraq for Sudan & stop
global catastrophe but no, 'tis what THEY the creeps
want & merry merry Christmas dumby, happy Chanukah
Chaka Khan chalk farms exchequer saints asleep...
For my favorite flow gobs me not & flies like the
celebrated bird & why not - rich evilsuck its now
official & vile...
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