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Phil Smith

The Complete Fragment

deep inside the darkest moment
there is a sudden burst of light movement
that illuminates ignorance beyond disbelief
at the same time
the sky breaks its promise to heaven
and falls
the black sun tries to re-ignite
when out of the blue
the weather changes to dust
re-action figures were born
from between the digital rubble
of a negativity scene
a small number of extremes
learned to fly real bullets
into the sleeping body of knowledge
ten underground stories
unravel the human conditions
that have collapsed under the enormous wait
it takes our breath away
when these finite decreases of potential
bend at the knees and pray for support
the recovery begins to uncover
a family of dead galaxies
counting their unlucky stars
in a daze the fuzzy night
opens its eyes on a reflection
of a memory of things to come
in the aftermath of subtraction
the truth is, that it was
and the mechanics of time
get stuck in this amazement
now that it is not all here
the absence takes on new meaning
defining nothing indefinitely
"please forgive me
for listening for airplanes
and hiding inside my routines
but I am ready to deposit myself
in my internal bank and slowly withdraw"
oversized nuances keep track
of where the train of thought travels
taking life or taking it too seriously
oddly evens out in the end
keep attention parked
along the curbing of emotion
and sit still in the center of your villa
take the wheel, the circle
and drive each moment home
with a thoughtless kiss
on the forehead of the next brainchild
apropos of an apology
pent up inside of repentance
the religious righteousness
is certain to be wrong
the chemistry of disbelief
compounds the conundrums
making rhythmic mistakes
that correctly dance backstage
“go ahead
keep me in the dark
where the light of not knowing
burns with a lack of anticipation
and makes the present
a warm place to be
in the near future”
of primary concern
is the first inclination
on a mountain of hills
where to go
where to come from
where to stand firm
inroads explode with tears
holes made out of whole cloth
a fabric of insubstantial substance
that passes through an invisible door
the success of the bombs trips up and falls
darkness crawls into the caves
and innocence crosses the borderlines
“scared to death
I make believe
that I believe
that my life is sacred”
this dis-ease is a feverish
distance between contraction
and cure
to exclaim that “this is really happening”
is reserved for that exact moment
between life and death
the antidote for this moment
is a chance encounter
with coincidence
but if it fails and falls
to sleep in bedlam with forever
then life avoids our eyes
until we suddenly remember
to disappear
the in between
is the constant
and where we are
is the dream
“if life after life
is the primary afterthought
then why is it so important
to decompose the music
of innocence”
at the center of the epidemic
there are sirens luring
the unexpected to the forefront
carrying ripped and infected presence
to the afterbirth of misinterpretation
only the rulers survive
the scrutinized measurements
that give you stature
the subjects of the sentence
object to the verbal pummeling
of a vengeful defense
at last everyone loses
which at first makes us equally lost
and then bulges with disparities
myths disintegrate
to become disconnected truths
that dictate and draw enemy lines
the crucifix breaks
the transfixed horizon rotates 90°
11 structures split in two
releasing a symbolic dynamo
that increases the panting anticipation
of destruction
biology loses its grip on creation
and intentionally becomes deadly
drowning the oceans in self pity
“all of a sudden
nothing stands for everything
absence stands for presence
next stands for before
and now cannot stand it
and quietly sits in the corner
waiting for the past”
when all is clear
the light blinds the window
so we shade our mirrors
and make shadows
we distance the close calls
with stuttering pre-dictions
words before language
explosions before bombshells
doors burn shut as we enter the future
ceilings expose their flaws
walking forward is an exercise in futility
muscles contract weakness and withdraw
we can feel the standstills in our bones
a photograph of the only moment that still is
the odor of smoldering temples
throb in the heads of state
the people are left behind in the dust
to inhale particles of the endgame
“nothing has changed
everything has changed
all else remains
the same
as the universe
awaits our small issues
with open black holes
the whole emptiness
is filled with a space
that is full of objects and subjects”
all saints mask our indifference
which is the difference between
trick or treat and yes or no
and in between we sit trembling
in the wake of a sleepy whisper
the words spread to the mailroom
where all the messages are uneasy
and this disease shakes the foundation
of every motto and cliché
the hard cold taste of our own words
curdle in a scream of overripe nightmares
they fall up from the sky’s limit
and break down all our traditions
pieces of aimless wanderings
fly off into the sunset
motionless, they go through the motions
undetected, they continue like there’s no tomorrow