AG Aftermath

There was nothing more devastating than finding out that the poetry project was, essentially, over. My connection with Allen (I can call him Allen now right?) has become deeper, so deep, like the Mariana Trench, I can’t pull myself out. So much, so much admiration, the portrayal of him in various guises (Radcliffe, Franco), they all make me more devoted. This connection was something fabricated by an official project, with a number attached to it, a grade, something quantitative. But know I find the problem of overcoming this vapid need to excel at a school paper, I mean it’s something that I expended many hours developing, but in the end, the paper (and project) didn’t matter. It doesn’t matter, because whatever happens, this assignment was a starting point. GROUND ZERO, of my own formulation. Of ideas, my philosophy, moral code, just the ability to express all these is my only obstacle now. Indeed, a powerful opponent, self-improvement will either come gradually, or unbelievably fast. Probably the latter, in any case, come it will. To speed it up, I need to divulge my own self—to the world! Just like Ginsberg, I don’t want to be a “grotesque” creature anymore, skulking in the back alleys of my lucid mind. I have to live this lifestyle, my own beliefs-asserted onto reality. The reverberation will be shocking. I can’t find myself now though, without the help of continued reading, researching, studying, exploration. Even this week, the next—a perpetual stream of journeys into the unknown and specious-knowns. GROUND ZERO will always be this project, the things that came with it, all the stuff, will be cataloged. The information; the bios, critiques, love for this poet. The movies. I don’t know if I’ve become anything other than a fanatic, but the labels don’t phase me. Or maybe they do, “don’t hide the madness”. “Howl” is a prophecy, his legacy, YOUR legacy, Allen, has become eternal. Even so long after your death, a year before my conception, you impact the youth today. Me, someone else, the actors of Kill Your Darlings, the actors in Howl, the people associated with these productions. Lovely people, scattered all over the nation, with hidden faces-not hidden. I feel for their blazing hearts, my yearning heart, to relate and make love, to form relations. For in my societal impression, I am lonely. Inward and outward, these things are the same. So I can make myself happy=? But happiness is overrated (Chris Ware) and life is but a passage between those two doors. Eclipsed with a SLAM or gentle -click-….on the linoleum floor, -click-, -clack-, -click-, -clack-, and the ballet slippers slip slop slide down the corridor. Without a sound, no one knows where it goes-to the street, or out of town. I can’t tell, for I don’t know, this special place, I linger towards.

Intelligent and grounded, these two words stuck out of the five used to describe Dan by Dane. And I could see that. They laughed as the halcyon atmosphere took me in. They talked about Keats, Keats and Vonnegut (Dane’s) and I thought of Shelley. Only because of the elegy-read in KYD. 

and you just breath, it comes easily

it rhymes, or not

with spaces, so like the pie

cherry i feel disconnected, nowhere to go-

but onward

societial netwinteraction

There’s a dent in my mind, the quiet place that heeds slumbering masters of the disease of the of d meaningful dentention centers of America. In front of almighty figure-like sums in gestural in larking seed parts loom it. I indented on all walls from door to door coast to coast across the nation in a single stride. #atronald

we seek no empowering forces to strengthen anything-of the pot on trial. Stand and shake hands the corporal said to us lazy marks. Don’t let the paint dry because it can and will leak in abundance leaving streaks of maneuver-ments in our crouch-areas. Don’t being the commentary. Large baby suits in plastic neon wraps inverted on the table/the sky losing medication slipping altogether, seeing bright lights lance in slowmotion through flaming hoops of divinity enshrined – can’t make a lazy doll biehtout the necessary ingredients Ifeel the slight disturbance and it’s only outside towards the working nation

on race, raciness and cum

NSFW – on race, raciness and cum

on masturbation, infantilism and the courage to cum (lol)

on cum, c(um)oming out and closeting oneself

When I cum, I come into my own dissolution of power. When I cum I scream, out loud, to the chorus of wondering lights, a chorus mute as oceans – violent as seas. When I cum I see an immaterial material — shot through, half-stricken, by the foment from which its foam forms – I see – I see . When I cum. Cum comes, like exertion pulling a cartless burden, sum unto nothing, flat likened

Nguyen imagines their cum as a key from, not out of, the closet – a liquid manifestation of polysyllabic symphonies, connotating nothing, but the violence at the schism between truth and, as they state it, exertion.