Tome Of Tomes - Kevin Max

I dislike a lot of things

The mundane certainty of things

The backstabbing circle of friends

The agent with a career to kill

The policeman with a quota to fill

A lover with a secret to spill

The constant feverish delusion of millions reaching for something beyond

themselves wanting a larger home

The sudden rush of success

Celebrity

A new body

A new face

A new chance at the proverbial game

The shortcuts to experience

From behind a computer screen

The anxious typing of empty dreams

The constant narcissism in ugly images through the filter of compromise

The fake mask to a lowered standard of living no sense of forgiving

Only groveling for empty affections

Senseless directions

And an abysmal assimilation of personal style because a lot of things

Come down to taste

And taste is found through

Decades of wandering

Off the path

Looking for something beyond

The mundane certainty of things

Here is where I write it down:

Tome Of Tomes

Hollowed out bones

Ready to be filled

With the crush of discovery

What is there that we haven’t found?

What is beyond the bend of a border town?

restless winds

The downtown underground

Or the country walkabout behind the veil of any landscape soundscape

Skyscraper

Theatre stage

Cemetery gate

Cathedral door

The pulsating desire for something more Tome Of Tomes

Millions of poems

Spewed forth and poured over

By centuries of former masters

The wilting tress of seasonal change

The blanching birds and cavernous crawlies the glowing angels

And sweating whores

The deviant pastors

And righteous farmers

All diving into the deep

Unresolved notion of eternity…

Walt Whitman

And his pure white beard William Blake

And his naked fears Baulderlaire

And his fleshly affliction Edgar Allen Poe

Spoke the truth about the death of us all

The palace of wisdom

Is only the rust of the skin the shriveling of the mind the limited sex

Disturbed rest

Of gut wrenching pestilent mortality

God sees all and knows all and is all being all beyond

It

There lay

Nothing at all

Unless we are together through it all

A combined mass

Of the heavenly bodies something supernatural and uncompromising speeding

towards the endless cosmos

Of endless dreams

And endless beginnings of endless endings

And endless beings

Of endless seeings

Of endless freedom

Tome Of Tomes

Hollowed out bones

Of intellectual garbage

The rubbish of the soul

The scars from growing old

The mundane certainty of things the backstabbing circle of friends the

unfulfilled marriage bed

We are the dreamers of the constant now we are the life blood and the know how

I love you more than I ever have I am lucky to have lived this life the way we

did

Romance

Mystery

Children

And grace

There are better things

Out there than the knowledge of eternity

And the construct of a victorian heaven

Lie down

Rest

Eat until you are spent

Gorge yourself on spiritual content run towards the sun

Walk naked in the rain

Dream underneath broad trees the visions of

Angels and demons

Struggling to fathom

The human race

Tome Of Tomes Hollowed Out Bones The Rome of the future was built by a

microchip and a stolen apple