The Exodus of Clemence ( Prosopagnosi & Anesthesia)

Technologystackedagainstmysoul3

 

O. Clemence. O.

Is the line planted through these Kingdoms

 

Birth

Death.

 

Wrappers.

Skin over blood.

 

Blood ovens.

Where the flying ended.

 

I have no magic monsters. Left.

They were stolen from my shelves before I lay curd upon them.

 

My veins sizzle. Like hypothermia.

To die

 

And walk into the mist where nothing is mistaken.

And I want peace.

 

I am horse dead.

Exhausted like bridges.

 

No one can be trusted.

Lift me to the ghosts. (They are often sexual.)

 

Deathflyer.

We shall go.

 

Dear Clemence.

Let me turn

 

Towards him.

The son of a son.

 

The

Iron Tree.

 

When he went by by

I went too.

 

Paraas

 

O. Clemence.O.

The journey wants to kill me.

 

O. Clemence. O.

At the hand bath.

 

The angels

Wore

 

Gloves.

The greatest of them.

 

Did they notice themselves?

An individual wearing gloves.

 

Lifting me up

Lifting me down.

 

A slime in the sermon.

Weather

 

Is to be rich

Is to be poor.

 

Fields of man.

A bad crop.

 

I walked away like a pushing against the bone.

I walked away with a broken limb.

 

Love is loving me.

And my lips shall never part

 

To speak

Of your whereabouts.

 

O. Clemence. O

I love thee.

 

At the grapevines

Where I write to you on the glass.

 

In the morning as it prays.

Over my Judaic body.

 

I wake the machinery.

To mull about.

 

They sliced your bread.

But I sewed it back for you.

 

Whole.

With threads from my fraying black skirt

 

Which faced the seas, time and time again,

Of

 

Him.

Him.

 

Him.

Him.

 

Parandy

 

O. Clemence. O.

God is blue like Dahlia.

 

And a mouth

Like turnips.

 

Omens in the fro.

Bless you and your life.

 

O. Clemence. O.

The greed of nations  are passages.

 

Passage speak.

Why speak around like a ghost without a kitten.

 

Speak and get it over with.

Every year is a spitting year.

 

Cattle they wander

In the broken cities

 

The empty

Palm of the farmers.

 

Accept the warnings.

You are warned.

 

The revolt will ravage

The revoltors.

 

Belief is not in the cold streets.

But in my righteous stone baby.

 

Baby.

Baby.

 

Baby.

Baby.

 

Syria’s Slaughter.

Massacre’s Masquerade

 

Mecca's

Midnight Ball.

 

Send no one to the streets.

The Brotherhood is as bad as what was had.

 

You are better off throwing

The chandeliers into Bullet Boulevard.

 

O.Clemence. O.

He who follows me

 

Will live a life of Rose’s Remorse.

(Not a bad life.)

 

Parafaceinpinkie

O. Clemence. O.

I am mystic.

 

With a cloud bouquet

Over the groom.

 

I rained

On a poet’s husband.

 

O. Clemence. O.

How delicate the men I find within.

 

My love is sacred.

And my love fell to slumber.

 

I brought him to the eternal fame fortune.

And his widow

 

Shall

Never be without.

 

O. Clemence. O.

I am mystically chasing a snake in the garden of Eden because it is entertaining and the snake is not sexual to me.

 

Mountainfakekachinadollisdoneman

 

I have seen the morning rise on the foreheads of the dead.

I have lunged into the rotting bodies for safety and to be fed.

 

I was. I was.

Stronger.

 

Than

He.

 

O. Clemence. O.

Beyond the real and imaginary break walls.

 

He bangs his oars against the rock

Of

 

All walls.

He calls

 

My name.

My name.

 

In a wooden row vessel.

Whose light

 

Is lit

With the blood of Goats.

 

He bangs the laughing tides

Into love songs.

 

From  memory.

There is a way to him.

 

Predominance.

He arches his body.

 

To the drumming dusk.

What can the light

 

Of things

Promise.

 

How did I inherit him?

When I was ill

 

And in the Valley of Blood

Promises where thrown away.

 

My loves is a villa root.

I have decided.

 

When. Exactly.

And the most beautiful words I have ever read were written in French.

 

I wanted to remain still and chilled like a tombstone.

Unopened.

 

To the material of the world.

Where

 

Death

Consists.

 

If I continue this mourning

For him for him.

 

I will fall in love with mourning

Him.

 

Here is the plate.

I did not know he would carry it.

 

Over

The Composition's  Compass Cinders

 

Comets

Crying.

 

Death is the sexual turn on

Of all times.

 

Amen.

 

Paraloid

 

O.Clemence.O.

The leaves are lovers.

 

Write me the most astounding love letter

One could receive.

 

Tell in sentences

What your blood smells like.

 

Tell in sentences

What your neck does when you are pleasured.

 

Parabrowndone

 

O. Clemence.O.

I did get through scraps of metal.

 

Where my hunger

Bent time and space.

 

Muscle Brain Fat.

The Nest of Holiness.

 

You are the wisdom of Silence.

You are the wisdom of Science.

 

Colours on my ivory shirt.

Art will not die in my hands.

 

Do you think about it?

Do you?

 

My God

Will you see me or waste at the look out?

 

Zurprospheredone

 

O.Clemence.O.

I went to the secret shores.

 

Dreaming to be restored.

I looked into the Black tide pools

 

And found

A surfer's broken board.

 

My how the rainbows in everyone's life time

Is consumed

 

By the dream of justice.

Justice is a factory.

 

And puffs out its amount of

Smoke into the sky.

 

And I was in line.

At its closed doors.

 

With serious accusations and implications.

Others Among.

 

Is it Borneo said the Englishman

Sitting in a stained chair

 

In the dangerous lands.

Well. It is Borneo.

 

Although

I did not know what he was talking about.

 

 

Perhaps.

The blossoms of Borneo.

 

Blossoms Borneo Breathtaking

SPAN.

 

5 Years.

Either Sides.

 

They all died.

Killed and Killed Back.

 

O.Clemence. O.

Cover my body.

 

Hungry Here

No stranger to poverty.

 

O.Clemence.O.

Cover my body.

 

Deed Disputes.

Rulers Die.

 

But.

Ruled die too.

 

I am shaking

From my own hunger history.

 

Artist that are bread now

In beds of shared graves.

 

A shared meal

A congealed cadaver cafeteria

 

For the Birds of Borneo.

Plans.

 

A signature. A mark.

Yours.

 

Parared

 

O.Clemence. O.

I am tall with claws.

 

Vermeer Vermeer

Broke

 

Down with tears

When he tried to bid me

 

Farewell.

Farewell.

 

Come here. Come here.

Don't be afraid. Girl. Don't be afraid.

 

I cannot paint you now.

This is between us.

 

The seas you will break

In 2.

 

With words in the water of your mouth.

And you shall write

 

On the ocean's surface.

The echoes of swells.

 

Whatisoldisinthegardendone

Be well my child

When I expire

 

There will be so few

Who will take to you.

 

My brushes are bundled.

My paints are corked.

 

My canvases are rolled.

Address my window of light

 

With pulled Damask.

And wrap yourself well.

 

Choose any direction.

For I am dying young.

 

Not having saved you a guilder.

And they will slay you

 

With rejection.

There shall be no rose method for you.

 

So. Seek shelter

With Genghis Khan.

 

In his secret tomb.

Drink his coffee

 

But do not become his virgin.

And do not forget

 

To rise again.

As always and as the way things do become

 

You will continue to eat your meals on pots lids

In the room where they slaughter the Boars.

 

My dear

Do not let this put you away.

 

All will tire of themselves.

And look

 

Quite

Like Boar Heads.

 

My darling darling darling

Brown daughter.

 

Theimperialbomberdone-1

 

O.Clemence.O.

They are holding the mirror to close to their faces.

 

Arsenic Gardens

Was the place I walked into.

 

Heavenly Creatures as Sudden Blue Grew

There.

 

And pink cotton balls catch in your throat.

When you were over hearing me

 

Did anything

I say

 

Go home to your soul.

Move you.

 

Like nursed milk

In an early morning

 

Barn's Bitter Beams. Straining

Tears.

 

(I saw Van Morrison in the back of the barn under a soft light bulb hung to a rafter

Encircled by dust singing 'Blue Diamonds'.)

 

In Michael's fields

Hold a mirror to your soul.

 

And

The mourn is not useless.

 

Paramanwomaninpoolsnow

 

I am.

In separation. A better person.

 

Sad.

But better.

 

O.Clemence. O.

It is something like Africa

 

And a newspaper writer at the door.

Now days.

 

The aparition of my life as it films.

The people here have exhausted me.

 

You can tell.

I am not knocking down ladders of emotion with anyone.

 

Here.

I am numb to this geography.

 

I am not one of the uncalled.

I do know that going is gain.

 

Giving is Godly.

Getting is Greed.

 

Hearing is

The most exhaustive gas to inhale.

 

(There a man in the square.

Think I might want to go there.)

 

Chair number 2.

Near the get a way door.

Thewigclub4

Delmoreschwartzchairwitsf1

 

Forget-Me-Nots

Twisted around the child who had woken before sunrise.

 

 

As she rolled like a corn cob

Embraced or embracing in the earth early eyes

 

East and turning.

Turning for independence from the matter.

 

Consciously and not so

Involved

 

In

The

 

Return.

Dog House Chambers of a questionable womb.

 

She stabbed the colored pencils into the earth, the summer Nebraskan earth.

Quacking and flirting with cats that followed so far.

 

Why is it cosmic,

The evolution of extinct.

 

Begins.

A little girl watching.

 

And burying

Corsets and high heels

 

For the reefs of centipedes.

This is real. I mean, there is a hand in some condition in the glove.

 

O.Clemence. O.

This is it.

 

He passed by I

Did not notice and forgot his name.

 

I do not remember you.

Maybe a smell or a sound.

 

God did have mercy on me.

He let me forget everyone.

 

Wejustranoutoftime6li1-1

 

O. Clemence. O.

I am squeaking by as part of the people.(Snikers.)

 

And the smells of their echoing

Verbs and Urine.

 

Is not fitting their size

Of  history.

 

O. Clemence. O.

There is the most imaginable feeling

 

In the sky.

In the sky my husband gives himself

 

To the perfect prophet of open doors.

I have conversations of confidantes.

 

With him.

And. Them.

 

The Pear Torso Trees

Could fall into the winter.

 

What is the formation of

These birds?

 

How do they mean to me?

There was a pink chair

 

In the smoke

Of Rubbish.

 

O. Clemence. O.

This is the last leg.

 

The Legs of Legs.

Hags & Hens.

 

Only bare things

Need to be packed.

 

This is the East

Journey.

 

All

Gets Undone.

 

I will never return.

Lowered candles might be left behind.

 

The view towards the eastern sea will remain

But not the seer.

 

Else in the fire pits along the shore of obedience.

And the carving in the black rocks will remain for all time.

Glasstops

 

 

I am leaving

And no wharf could hold me.

 

No heart was offered

To love me.

 

As I should be loved.

No room

 

Beckoned Beautiful Balconies

For the words strikes of light sounds

 

Of

My life.

 

Nothing could hold me.

Not the Wizards

 

Not the Book of Spells

Not the Book of Speeds.

 

Not the Heads of the Mudangs.

Not the Oils of Voodoo.

 

Not the Cats of Midnight.

Nothing could hold me.

 

So exits were made.

And now evanescent.

 

The paranoia dreams elegance in fantasy

The construction of a very fine performance.

 

Arobotdressdone1-1

 

O. Clemence.O.

And so the ending

 

Is a collection.

Of

 

Sanity.

Once. More.

 

I was never a mausoleum , a place for visitors to leave

Their tokens of self grief

 

Gratitude.

I know I knew and I knew and I knew.

 

What I was waiting for

Fur in the motion.

 

Soul gone.

Oceans.

 

A few

Faces in the blindness of faces.

 

My names is my name.

Whatever it is to you.

 

The folly in memories

I am being reimbursed for.

 

O. Clemence. O.

Every one here is a coward.

 

None.

Rose above.

 

And what did

Did not

 

Do it here.

None.

 

And what did

Did

 

In the Cuban Channels

Crawling 26 miles

 

From Florida

At midnight.

 

Exhaustion is exhaustion.

It has to do with how close

 

To death

We come.

 

The twins of the Underwood

Were killed in the Irish.

 

My children are dead, Clemence.

All 3 of them.

 

The last 4th

Is safe

 

For

Eternity.

 

And from

Eternity.

 

Things People.

Have a way of serving their purpose.

 

How could I love

The Birth Place of Beasts?

 

I worded harder than Gods

For these

 

Resurrections.

Resurrections.

 

O. Clemence. O.

The reason for the rest

 

Is the reason of the dangerous journey.

It was real rain falling and it

 

Rained more than  water.

Choirs in chairs died.

 

And so I learned.

To Walk Around Dead People.

 

Amen.

And luck be in our lungs.

 

Parastairdonewithstars

 

(Excerpt from an over written piece. Thank you facebook for your notes. Satchel Tate Cornstalk)