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MICHAEL MCGUIRE – NEW JERUSALEM MACHINERY

admin — Wed, 28 Jul 2010 17:32:00 +0000

And then the pulpit of the eclipse device, the mystical chant from the
wizard of paradise, the hum of unlearned languages stifle tongues,
breathing beauty’s perfumed soul conquers lungs, the order of the
planets behind heavens eyes, lead to the fertile valley of a thousand
why’s, Corinthian columns of the palace challenge every bluff, deities
of the bone for the love of star built stuff, and the futures ghost
caught in the lure of the landlords weather, and a broken bird trying to
learn to forgive the feather, the whirling whining grind of viable
motion, metabolic engine turning gears of devotion, the placebo of
chance puts an ache in the exhaust, magnificently moving in the
direction of lost, the heat of a light drains the blood of a shadow, as
soft cylinders sing the lament of the fuel flow, and the road doesn’t
know how to mirror the map, so the key to the kingdom is the
blueprint of the trap, scaffold of the night; construction staggers
clockwise, the organic fabric of myth to mechanize.
And then the burden of the bone laden spirit, only the lay of the
landscape to steer it, manifested monument; the life of deeds, the sex
in the schism of the world that breeds, the hero claims a vision to
shape his blindness, but the gods deny the mortal coil this kindness,
so in the twilight the colors merge to muck and magic, and the earth
recites the engine of the tragic, ancient rivers baptize the reborn rain,
as clouds of wonder advertise their bane, the hum increasing to an
infinite primal roar, piston plays the martyr to motions whore,
enchanted and lust driven by her supple destination, and so the genius
of hunger makes a meal of temptation, abstract motive in search of the
concrete cure, thoughts incognito the stage props of action pure,
waiting is a hunger that will forever feed, the loins of harvest and the
god city seed, blond hair and white dress; accidental goddess frame,
the way back to glory thru the wreckage of this shame.
And then the madness of the moon descending jury, the laws amended
by the engines fury, running like watercolors into a desperate rainbow,
the sky whispers omens of what the earth will never know, compass or
clock is it a place or a time, judge of engineers meddle in the Eden of
crime, real estate angels lead the holy to the dead, false prophet
bankers invest in god’s shrunken head, bibles and bullets of atomic
renaissance waste, the rider a fast victim of where the road has been
placed, as the serpent glides thru the graveyard of antique
constellations, the cartographer of souls traces dead end destinations,
back to the origin the seed the seminal alter of ego, the eye of the
sacrifice the knife influenced by moon glow, and now beauty the blood
of a memory ebbs out of season, the engine rebuilt by the
bloodstained hands of reason, anonymous epitaphs await the
unanimous ode, now all circuits are tied and tangled in bootleggers
code, new Jerusalem machinery choking on bone and rust, the city the
engine the rider united in dust.

MICHAEL MCGUIRE – CASUAL VENUS

admin — Mon, 26 Jul 2010 15:14:00 +0000

She washed up on the shore just as he was contemplating the sea, she
had the shape of the now and the sense of what could be, she took her
stride down the beech; her verbatim beauty unaware, her eyes never
betrayed her direction but she knew he was there, the sky seemed to
fawn; the world a snake to her will, the temptation he nourished hurt
bad enough to cauterize the kill, so he tracked the aching arch of her
footprints to the palace of her flesh, bit into the rotten apple of the
world and the fruit of her tongue made it fresh. With all the wonder it
takes to bring the moon into her eyes of Eden, your heart could leak
from your soul before you even knew you were bleeding, now time is
out of sync and season with the habit of his plans, but he gets the frst
taste of his pride as he sees her body strolling down the street of any
mans, she moves like some new direction that has never seen the ruin
of travel, distance is the price you pay for this motion as you watch her
myth unravel, but he suffers the dreamless regions of this orbit for this
perigeal ecstasy, this defeat is like a childhood it conquers so casually.
And he stumbles dances falls and flies, performs a dream behind her
closed eyes, attends the banquet of her gourmet sighs.
A rush of stars form a galaxy by her laws, where he’s careful to avoid
the trick of her claws, destiny disfigured in his passions pause.
Her beauty could cure the very nature of disease, but it’s just a sky
draped in a rainbows tease, definitively innocent of the brutal art to
please.
She is ordained by the ministers of his desire, to turn the voice of his
conscience into a liar, certain that burning is the logic of fire.
He gave up his bed of solid earth for her interpretation of his dream,
she turned the water of his wine into the heat of his steam, she taught
his unschooled passion the nature of it’s calling, she resolved his fear
of flight with an angels dread of falling. He has been inside of her; seen
thru her eyes; spent his flame and fury in her grace, washed her feet in
scents and oils and cracked the mirror of her face, filtered light and
focused shadow anticipating; the next exit wound he can leave in, he
treats his belief in her like a toy; seeks her savage kiss when in need of
something to believe in.

MICHAEL MCGUIRE – BALLAD OF THE UNCERTAIN SALESMAN

admin — Sun, 25 Jul 2010 08:31:00 +0000

He knocks on the door as timid as a saint wakes temptation, his nemesis
answers the door with generic sensation, hello sir I represent the Every
Man corporation, and I am prepared to offer you the wings of your
elevation.
He balked over the next line and felt so phony, looked down at his hands;
fingers so bony, ok pull yourself together you need this sell, don

MICHAEL MCGUIRE – FAITH X 9

admin — Thu, 22 Jul 2010 06:59:00 +0000

There’s rain heading in from a memory, I don’t know if its the weather
or if its just me, You cant tame the wind you just let it blow, you just
try to believe when you don’t know.
Love in the darkness I cant find your hand, prop me up on a skeleton
stand, is there room in heaven for god and man, I feel as small as a
grain of sand.
The maid poured poison it tasted like wine, her face melted away I
thought it was a sign, but underneath was the black veil of death, she
bent for a kiss and drew my breath.
Love in the darkness I cant find your hand, prop me up on a skeleton
stand, is there room in heaven for god and man, I feel as small as a
grain of sand.
In the living of it I just don’t know, the life of it seems to die, color
rains on the black and white, and still the painter knows not why.
Life in your light I cant find my head, I follow the ways of what memory
said, good and evil dream like truth in my bed, is there room on earth
for the life of the dead.
So now as I try to see you clearly, well maybe I love you dearly, rose
petals fall instead of rain, but they just add fragrance to the pain, this
vision is caused by a like of sight, hope rises then falls nothing more
than blight, but I’ll love you if out of nothing but spite, your darkest
shadows are caused by your light.

MICHAEL MCGUIRE – SIGNS AND SYMBOLS

admin — Wed, 21 Jul 2010 05:28:00 +0000

ELECTRIC BABYLON
PREFACE
Some when (perhaps the present has already planned its future), We
step into the life of a young man who is perplexed at what he sees as a
world fashioned for the art of self destruction. There are rumors, there
is death predominantly in the guise of what has become known as the
chirp because of the high pitched wheezing that accompanies the
illness. No one knows. Authority declines comment. Meanwhile most of
the populous carries on business as usual although there are sporadic
protests and riots in which the participants call for the immediate shut
down of all industry and transportation and anything else deemed
harmful to the environment. The people who take part in these riots
have come to be called poets because of their seemingly quixotic
ideals. Another group (unofficially led by a radio personality named
Russ Lawler) called the red church is militantly opposed to any
interference with what seems to be happening because they see it as
god

MICHAEL MCGUIRE – WILD BLUE

admin — Tue, 20 Jul 2010 13:27:00 +0000

In the river of time, where the water flows for the wine, in the sacred
stream, the loin will share this dream.
All things move with the flowing, wisdom comes with the knowing, all
motion moves toward the center, one day peace will come.
In thew tower of rain. the martyrs pray in vain, the light that leaves us
blind, in the darkness of our mind.
All things live with the season, life itself is the reason, falling bodies move
with the sense, one day peace will come.
In the color of wild blue, the cosmos calls to you, the blood of beauty’s
beast, the fool tends wisdoms feast.
All things move with the flowing, wisdom comes from the knowing, thats
just Prometheus dreaming, one day peace will come.
In the river of time, where the water flows to the sea of wine, all things
keep in peace, one day all worlds shall cease.

MICHAEL MCGUIRE – UNDERNEATH THE BOTTOM

admin — Thu, 27 May 2010 08:24:00 +0000

Underneath The Bottom

UNDERNEATH THE BOTTOM

MICHAEL MCGUIRE – RAGING RIVER

admin — Sun, 23 May 2010 06:15:00 +0000

The flowing water the wild days, the future of motion where memory
plays, the killing the dying the born again blues, the contact where bone
and blind talk fuse, I am the ghost of the haunting chord, I am the true
end god farm lord, river pushed blood in the artery, healing wound
oozing cement poetry.
Raging river.
Fixed life wavelength paradise pulse, man in armor for a women’s waltz,
gun shits bullets at a target trap, the holes in his sky bleed on the map,
anger behind the wheel drunk on pride and joy, tears left on the floor a
day old toy, breath in sound exhale words, test with science the religion
of birds.
Raging river.
Metamorphic design dark bottom feeder, impotent painter blank canvas
dealer, careful drowning in the casual flood, heartbeat dam holds water
from blood, all is loaded with heaven scent, but fortunes sleep in money
spent, medicine of days disease of nights, for star drenched seas the river
fights.
Raging river.

MICHAEL MCGUIRE – WHITE HORSE

admin — Thu, 20 May 2010 09:56:00 +0000

A salesman riding on the devils back, opens a black canvas bag full of
little dolls of me, I tell him I don’t want to buy one and he pulls a gun, and
says you cant buy them they’re free, when I look up again I’m not where I
thought I was, I look down at my feet and my shoes look like coffins, then
I panic because I cant remember what money sounds like, then a sudden
rain and the meaning softens.
There is some kind of electronic hum in my ear, the echo of an alarm
clock; now is a place, events try to sell you the rumor of time, memory is
deified; a b-movie version of grace, I snap out of my reverie and pick up
one of the little dolls, it is wearing a black tee shirt with that has white
horse on it, which is kind of strange because I’m wearing a white Jockey
tee shirt, you cant even but these things they’re free but I don’t even want
it.

MICHAEL MCGUIRE – RIVER WITH NO NAME

admin — Thu, 20 May 2010 08:21:00 +0000

Mornings bathed in suicidal showers, adrift upon the bone bending hours,
mirror cast an impersonation of me, even I don’t know what I’m supposed
to see.
My life is a river with no name.
Meaning in function and flow, rhetorical death rattle whines the little
know, is the appetite reconstruction or ruin, we just feed the void with
this habit of doing.
My life is a river with no name.
In silent cathedrals of hope I lay my sacred pain, travel skies of many
days; the river pushed by the rain, eternity is just god blinking and the
machine goes soft, and the cell of a dream and a ghost in the flight of an
angel aloft.
Deliverance of static motion, the dead end of the unknown ocean,
fathoms in this god guessing game, drowning in a river with no name.