Tag Archives: soul

Song of Hope

Posted on May 27, 2018 by John Biscello

They kill poets in these parts don’t they? When I got here I saw Walt Whitman’s wizened head out back impaled on a stake flies buzzing round its concomitant rot and stench I heard one of the locals say it … Continue reading →

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Print

Posted on May 27, 2018 by John Biscello

We, the intermediaries, the gilded abeyance, between holy fire and dreamless wake, we, each and every one, corpuscles, tendered to print in God’s colossal palm.

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10:47pm

Posted on May 26, 2018 by John Biscello

It is times like this when I feel as if I’m on fire on the inside that I want to give a live play by play on process raw and unfiltered before it has a chance to cool off and … Continue reading →

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Ocean Song

Posted on May 26, 2018 by John Biscello

If you cut out my tongue I will grow a new one I have done it a dozen times before, if you deign to curse and steal my eyes go right ahead innervision has a long history of citing the … Continue reading →

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Childhood’s Wake

Posted on May 25, 2018 by John Biscello

You can feel it in the air, a razory sheen, all the childhoods that were lost or stolen or seized or buried to model catacombs and secret lairs, are returning to the surface bigtime, the reclaimants growing new teeth and … Continue reading →

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Torch Song

Posted on May 24, 2018 by John Biscello

Nature does not express opinions, she asserts herself with whatever force is necessary to explode the billion screaming hearts tendered from her wellsprung artistry. Nature does not engage in philosophy or debates, she, unbridled, the husbandless pagan, teems and throbs … Continue reading →

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Blossoms

Posted on May 24, 2018 by John Biscello

There is no secret, no magic this or that, or know-how manual to guide the process to betterment, it is, I believe, simply a matter of paying attention, to people, flowers, sand, stones, dolls, puddles, dreams, souls, first and foremost … Continue reading →

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I See Myself

Posted on May 24, 2018 by John Biscello

I always saw the humanity behind his thick-lidded eyes, the small child, begging for a banquet of golden crumbs to appease the motherache churning in his heart and stomach. A thousand lions pitted against a studded chainsmoking beergutted gladiator, I … Continue reading →

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Conscripture

Posted on May 20, 2018 by John Biscello

It is not me you are looking for, it is you. We dress and undress as mirrors, conscripting images to burn and cherish, to reveal and reflect the many sides of a lighted front, a sideways turn, modeling love in … Continue reading →

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Orphan

Posted on May 20, 2018 by John Biscello

The greatest lies I learned as a child seperated my soul from its choir, a violent breaching that took the littlest me to the far ends of my self, where I found, in dwelling, Beauty, untrammeled, opening her palm to … Continue reading →

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