Polyester

Dear polyester, I just wanted to say how weird it is that the sky is the limit.  I am one hundred and five and you literally are the dust in my eyes.  You are such a daily component of life that your rubbing to wear degradation has now been such a persistent infiltrator of human biology that you are a component of every breath.  Your advancements to modern medicine have inspired such dyslexia, deformity and wrinkle free face, that we love you.  We can't live without you.  We can't live without you even if we tried.  We feed you to our food animals on purpose.  Your efficacy is immeasurable, you are designed by a manufacturer to be biologically toxic.  Love.  Your greatest influences are yet to be achieved.  I herald the day when your omnipresence in the human biology comes to fruition and becomes necessary like minerals.  We will be your polyester babies, enduring, within our very being, our own prophylactic eternal existence.  We won't decay, we will endure, mounding upon ourselves, slipping around one another in our polyester bodies; our cosmic undoing.

Efforts

Efforts plus.
Secret prayers skirt the dream
and direct anew a kindred unborn, because light
is measurable immensely.
Fragments of splattered grease only mean
that the penetration was sloppily attempted.
You're a broken bicycle chain
to a mechanically inclined hippie
with no tools.
Even if I were attempting to be
Earth-friendly
I'd be grit to your cogs.
Fore the forlorned twere
the utmost mostest of the desperate desperates.
A struggles fight just might bite
a hole in the clouds,
tearing a hole in the schismatic idea of Jesus.
Why is your orgasmic euphoria a euphemism
for tightly tubed toothpaste
that I expectedly and only desire
to expectorate down a drain
because a swirling drain is the specific depiction
that allows you to specifically draw my efforts from me.
With my cryingly or recidivist odious crippled humor
dill and cucumbers
do not make a pickle.

Chad Linder

02/04/2015 10pm

Dust

It is, was, were and will always be a filthy place.

Please don't... try.

Pump me full of drugs and

things to remove my lucidity.

beat on me, use me and remove my facade

crumbled and crumpled on the ground

I cry so long that six feet tempts me.

And then I damn you to Hell for the hell you placed me in,

I curse you and you strike me and drug me and remove

my lucidity

Cast-offs, hand-me-downs, waters-under-the-bridge

bitter Spirit, the spirits burn... as one by one they go down.

Churning, they are burning.

My piece is my peace and your final resting place.

Indignant, you may know too much, but is...

there such thing.

I'm so old now, so lesser, a lesser being, beginning to reach towards my end.

No one remembers, except the dust in my filthy place

however, it has promised not to tell.

Written 11 pm -ish December 31, 2014.
Written by Chad Linder
In order for four-fourths of everything.

Bi-bi double trouble

bi-closeted they said so, to do it

I drink to touch you... and him

I drink to touch him... and you

I suck because I suck, you suck,

I suck him... I, I fuck you, I don't make love to you

I'm gay, I'm not, with a murder looming I thought

that I'm not, I'm not, I'm not, I'm not into you

and you are not into what I am because

you rest comfortable in bigotry and pomp

and all of pomp's circumstance.

Bump after bump, clearly you are not my drug of choice

your voice is ire and stills my choice.

Your noise is boys and oh dear gaud yes sir!

Yank, your doodle... dandy, because-I-am-a-dandy-

and-Mandy u-r-a c.r.i.m.i.n.a.l.

It is all so surreal for an appeal.

For your judgement.

Angst, ire and grime it is now time to be in...

double trouble

Inspiration and muse

I opened you up to a treasure that

in immediacy was incomprehensible

but when you opened yourself up to

your reality you made my gift

seem sand grain, mustard seed, infantile.

Be a magic that can sustain those you reach to

bathe in a light multitudinal and monumental.

Be genuine and magnanimous except with those

who will use your light or attempt to dally with your

spiritual elevation.

Be forever and transient

Light, love and us

for I'll be there on a sunny day and

in the light of a street lamp.

Please dream of me, because I do dream of you.

Fun in the Sun

I went flying through space

Tired of my terrestrial pace

Past the planets

Towards the sun

Time for a little fun

Around the fiery star I flew

Amazed by the magnitude

I felt renewed

Solar flares swirling ‘round head

How ‘bout a quick dip

Before I head to bed

I fly straight in for a boiling splash down

I take a big mouthful of the boiling

Plasma and spit it out towards space

My solar flare splattered back on my face

I swim down a few meters and

Am pushed back up by the boiling turbulence

My splashing arms at the surface

Have not made the slightest disturbance

To this mighty beast

I fly up from the surface of the sun

Done with my fun

I grow colder flying through space

Back to my terrestrial place

And a slower earth bound pace

Reluctant

I have the answers

The walls have heard me proselytizing

Many times

I bite the drywall to encourage a reply

Many times

Chalky dust in my mouth and mind ‘tis mesmerizing

Many times

The discontinued interest will belie the feigned insistence

Will you listen now so you can at least claim

That you were not listening then;

A conversation where you can chatter

To avoid a nervous silence.

I am white head to toe.