Unrelated Thoughts

Poems that are not in The End of the Word as We Know It, by Wes Unruh

Category Archives: poet

Unwaba’s Eucharist

previously published in eXpressions Journal

Am I too slow?
This world moves though I do not,
        (sit here, ponder my fleshings, my merely mortal after all,
        think through the mid-morning afterglow)
I can only sit here, panicking, about the passage of time for so long
before I have to piss
here I lie fain, fallow
shed my lizard skin go I

fear my company, fear my companion, fear more alongside
fear harmonizing, enticing, Pan tug panic tugging fain (ever so faint)
…fabricated, frail, fraught with more than is destined, that
   only so much is entitled, is bequeathed, that heritage is
   something passed, like language, like gas
   cultural belch, the spirit
   digested, expelled…Betray
   in its sweat, its passing
for others, there I see behind
for others, there I
for others, there

but for the drifts of gog and
drifts of magog go I


January First, Two Thousand and Seven

Ten minutes, a day, the calendar
revolves. Spell hearts, enchant
minds, drag knuckles all primal

can we not be the formless

it doesn’t happen
unless it’s out and in the open
three days of formless

Fuck that noise you open
each codex and grasp for meaning

when the meaning may simply be bornless

knowing the semaphore
instinctual, to know
that there is a code there

opens these
and through it, step gently
we could build an entire world
out of bluster
sleeping three to a bed
against these women
I lay my head
and I can trust here.

what if these found you
what are you Willing

in in in!
deeper, in!
In iteration and internalized
in the refurbishing
what is it in & of itself?

Ask up? Chunk! deeper
to peel the layer
shake – & quiver

Fighting to maintain
Situational Awareness

taken by force

in seed you control
need you control it
seed it you control
you need control is

mine is
not yours
not taken by fierce
mind own this controvert

your time
strained meaningessly
by fierceness take
by strength conquer

you are fire
are heart, spread light
no mind this night taken
by flight
by lies,

higher and farther
you stake out the future

we’re blue blood, gene
and to console, perhaps this moves again
and perhaps mortal,
stare deeper, stay
longer each taken
desire, you
absolve control


Count The Other

(Listen to this Count The Other (read by the author, background sound by Ikipr))

score lifts neither nor
the poorer, this injustice
lifts the sullen dour through to floor
as if it were
obvious, somehow, this inbetween
a quick
moment two – stroke cyclical
a concubine – deathstroke
foursquares and sent to beg
what hour? what lunchbox?
can things spin rings through spaces
seen in dreams, worlds chained by halls
of karma
Gads, throwbacks, old hats
in the business, altars
treasured by the witness
& testified
we formed by cold
are stone, marble
thoughts, stricken
and run down, precise
and tumble dry – ghosts
from worlds we devour,
our hour,
our hour…
twilight. Golden night.
up throne to harness
as if at goddess this
one last innocence is
given kiss and flight
to brave anew
though stranger
twist visage to highlight
task – to stranger hues
from colour changes
through the muse this
guides my hand
as if
and when this
is twisted back
together, braid
the golden chain
from weathered
Here is now as given
tether through
weirder weather left
stenciled in again
is there never
any colorer
paying deeper
attention: Trust me I know
when there are deeper
agendas, the war
is ever omnipresent
the casualties
are ploys
devised to improvise
these thorns aside,
through brush
torn thrust
and signify
in calling
the walls, these walls,
break stronger laws
by stalling.
Make of this
what you will
send along song sung same
sadness, life is drastic, conspire
thorn, desire, precipice
was ten grand enough
wasted often, dropped
swagger step, drunken
neither nor, a sullen
of the other often
a decade gone
like flashlights
lightening up the place
drab stone cold
in the will made shell
encased – heart
what. More?
saddle back the glance
ride purgatory in the teeth
kick, kick
those eventualities
obey yes, your word was spit
in a handshake owe me your soul
if you break that kind of gypsy deal
by fire or by blood
she would – try loss,
trial blood then be she
free thee – seedling,
a thirty year oath
grown weak, wet around
the fringes
keep twilight a godsend
star twaddle, ground solder
took wire
took spake thus
and other spake
than that sparkle
It was et al
nothing at all

Count The Other
from ‘The End of the Word As We Know It’
Paperback: 48 pages
Publisher: Weaponized (2011)
Language: English
ISBN-10: 1907810129
ISBN-13: 978-1907810121
Product Dimensions: 11 x 8.5 x 0.1 inches

Available now in paperbackor kindle.

‘The End of the Word as We Know It’ Published by @Weaponized Coming June 2011 « Wes Unruh


London, May 17 – Weaponized is proud to announce the publication of ‘The End of the Word as We Know It’, a cycle of poetry composed by Wes Unruh.
In this work Wes Unruh writes about our relationship to text, tied as it is into the restlessness, of the unburied dead and the impressions our words leave on the as yet unborn. Contained in these pages is a poetry cycle wrapped in the neither/nor initiation of self as an event and consciousness as a cascade.

%d bloggers like this: