Healing W/O Patient Suffering (For Virginal Sole Distinction)

By John Patrick Acevedo

An ascetic romantic, John Patrick Acevedo began his quest for God and love while he was a freshman at Clemson University. As he showed up rather nervously to his very first college course, he was quite stunned to see a beautiful professor, Amanda Dyer, who would prove to be instrumental to his writing. During his sophomore year at Boston University, he started to “write poetry that was exactly the same as the Holy Bible.” It was only after graduating after Boston, however, that he committed to writing poetry.

In 1995, he began a twenty-year career in Best Buy, becoming a top-margin producer across all its departments as he continued his love of poetry.

His family is originally from Lares, Puerto Rico. His grandfather, a Trump-like salesman, and his father, John Acevedo Maldonado, who was a loyal MIT student of physics, inspired the author at a young age. Acevedo went to accompany his father almost every other year to MIT’s Annual Weekends. His father died in an unfortunate cardiac arrest in one of the leadership conferences at MIT, a day after saying in a final text to his son, “All is well.”

Since Acevedo did not want to die when he lost his father, from 2014 onward, he went on to publish five more books, launch his own web page, and shoot several video poems shared on YouTube. He continues to find a degree of sadness and a degree of bliss as he explores his own writing.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Xlibris US
• Release date: Mar 30, 2019
• ISBN: 9781796023473

Book preview

Healing w/o Patient Suffering

(for Virginal Sole Distinction)

More Ethos by

JOHN PATRICK ACEVEDO

Copyright © 2019 by John Patrick Acevedo.

Library of Congress Control Number:        2019903519

ISBN:                    Hardcover                      978-1-7960-2349-7

Softcover                       978-1-7960-2348-0

                             eBook                            978-1-7960-2347-3

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the copyright owner.

Any people depicted in stock imagery provided by Getty Images are models, and such images are being used for illustrative purposes only.

Certain stock imagery © Getty Images.

Rev. date: 03/30/2019

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CONTENTS

CURVES WIN FROM IN BETWEEN

Foreword

I. Omphalic Osmosis

Mineral Medicines for Hailed Taxi Pools

Our Quality Dropping Off Inn

Defogging the Monsters of Shamrock

Weighing-In Authority´s Conversion Spin

Maternal Egalitarianism & El Capitán

Soda Time

The Self-Order of Janus Meets

A Flanders December of Silent Speech

Silk-Skinned Weekends Forty Job Revelations

Finding My Religion

When the Microwaves Cookie Your Mother’s Present

Manteo’s Mood for Puzzle Peace

Window Warming Epiphany

Deer of the Crossing Last Ones

Ice A.D. Apex Delivery

Waterloo Awakenings

Finding Zen in the Carolina Clay

A Reason for Nothing

Market Perks the Grieving Town

Behold the Silver Lining

Bogart’s Bar Menu Brews 22

Spiders in the Fly Room

Before Red Ray-Ban Skies

Gina´s Jesus

Salmon Memory

Shelling Loyalty´s Wishbone Break

Walking Raging Dog´s Flying Itch

Even Odds Redial More Than Once

Crowds Tadpole Clouds Over Ohaine

Philosophy at the MVA

Tipping Grail

Dogs Smack Gums in Cockroach Laurel

Fishing to Keep from Drinking

Breaking Hard in Allentown

Burning Sheets for Earthquake Slates

Unfolding Handkerchiefs of the Grave

No One Can Serve Anyone

Roses on Valentine´s Day

The Benefit of Being Old

Taking Unknown Second Chances

Volcanic Gravity

Siren Song

Static Cling Across the Basement Rug

Nurturing the Sobriety Within

Stripping Coal´s Gold

Dad´s Christmas Glass

Finite Significance

Sacred Fog

Emoji Love Call-Out Time

Newlyweds Unknot Ties in Hazelton

Absence Fills the Eyes of Restlessness

Beacon Street

Moth in my Mouth´s Derision

Skeleton Swing

Twelve Forty-Four Won’t Do

HAPPY TO JUDGE AND UNHAPPY W/O MERCY

Author’s Preface

II. Pan-Sexual June Jesus

Mushroom Cloud Metamorphosis

Holy Heaven´s Deep

Kundalini´s Karma Resurrection

Insatiable Frolic Hesitation

I Laughed, I Cried

Forget to Stand Still

Gray May, Gloom June

The Nature of Things to Come

Milk Money

Jogging in Place

Picnic Posterity

Deserve Getting

Nantucket Vice

Penultimate Precipitance

Beauty and the Beast

Solitary Sunday

Suffering w/o Other Healing

Fond Memories

Casper´s Summer Ghost

What Hearts Get Told

Schizophrenic Spiral

What is a Man

Quixote´s Witness

Seminal Closure

Woman Measure Man

The Passing of Twelve

Tea Time

Eve´s Dropping

Tripping Singularity´s Hiatus Breaker

Easing Belief´s Convenience Factor

Pondering Muhammadan Hieroglyphics

Playing the Probable Protagonist

Driving Snow Day

Doing Trucks

Framing Gnostic Luck Eden

Sea Alarm Baby

Wasted Runs Over Broken Records

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Conceptual Illustration Copyright© 2019

by John Patrick Acevedo

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She Has Yet To Be

Papá used to smile when he spoke of his so-called charity.

You’ve never seen me competitive, he once said of work.

I survived by conviction not as victim.

I live w/o eviction wrong.

Deny the Logos strong. Rely on your Khan, not the Con.

The weekend will bend the working man’s spared rod.

I begin in Columbia Heights NW, 14th & Irving Street.

Something to state.

I begin again…

But now she’s too far

and I’m in the win-wedding state

for the off chance she’d wed-win again.

I know my issues.

But it’s the had state I’m in

that makes me want to be bad.

The glad vape of friends against friends.

I once saw her smile like I was a mile

away from her entourage of soft-stooled pigeons.

That’s what her gut-headaches said.

She was like a child of the Eleventh Hour.

She smelled like dying flowers.

I was so happy to soak up her wind.

Now I’m without her

and with the women she’ll never outbid.

Still it’s just the win state I’m in

that helps me find a better Id.

Here alone in my bedroom did,

she’ll never wed.

Because I’ve climbed El Capitán already.

I’ve been written off by Best Buy Yin.

I’ve forgotten how the Country’s Tin.

I’ve running over cell progress Bling’s.

It’s not about them…

It’s not about you…

It’s about the win– what real men want instead.

I’ve gotten over the wed winnings she’s never been.

She has yet to be a woman who loves me.

She has yet to find inside a hope that creates a decree.

She has yet to find the answers that lay within

the bird’s egg, its hate of the entire Animal Kingdom.

She has yet to be just my friend

for an hour or five hundred hours without sexuality,

a woman who must continue to love me.

She has yet to be a child who looks up with tears,

yet still laughs at how ridiculous it is to rush into things.

She has yet to be the vegetable of crushed dignity.

She has yet to be the quicksand teeth that wait and wait,

like a dog watches your shocking calamity chew up

a poem that becomes the woman you’ll never be.

Still I love you more than this song I begin to sing.

Something no one can soft-stool pigeon me in,

like a child walking into signs of his own feelings.

Like a gut-headache winning by the pain unknown other kin.

I end by stating this as an overrated feeling she begins again.

I walk to Carriage House in Adam’s Morgan with dessert.

My wallet gets stuck, I smile as a Bohemian smiles at my pants.

That’s what happens whenever women carry women, she says.

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BOOK PUBLICATIONS BY JOHN PATRICK ACEVEDO:

Healing w/o Patient Suffering (for Virginal Sole Distinction): More Ethos by John Patrick Acevedo (Xlibris Press, 2019)

We’re Watching Her Show (For Bathroom Sails of the Starched Collar): The Ethos of John Patrick Acevedo (Xlibris Press, 2018)

Godzilla and Human Radiation: Global Poems (2012 – 2017)

(Mill City Press, 2017)

Moral Authority: The Poems (2012 – 2016) A Gnostic Outsider Sociology

(Mill City Press eBook, 2017)

Zen and The Carolina Clay: The Collective Poetry of John Patrick Acevedo (2016)

Waterloo Awakenings: The Gospel Stories of the Poetry of John Patrick Acevedo (2015)

Ice A.D. Apex Delivery: More Outsider Stories of the Poetry of John

Patrick Acevedo (2015)

Weighing-In Authority´s Conversion Spin: More Outsider Stories of the

Poetry of John Patrick Acevedo (2014)

Deer of the Crossing Last Ones: More Outsider Stories of the Poetry of

John Patrick Acevedo (2013)

Bad Technology and Poor Weather: The Outsider Stories of the Poetry

of John Patrick Acevedo (2012)

Bubblegum, Slime, and Electro Man (original comic book, 2011)

Foreword, author’s preface, and all contained poetry previously published by John Patrick Acevedo under Synergy Press.

All author photos in Cheverly, MD and Manteo, NC courtesy of John Patrick Acevedo.

For

the objective reality of callous and cruel dreams of inhumanity and to careless and uncompromising human nature, the Lost Colony of survival, the growling coffeemaker, and to my late-father

Mr. John Acevedo Maldonado and mother Carol S. deGraffenreid.

The story of the Gay family’s heart attack, not the Gaye mystery, is that Marvin Pentz Gaye lived and died in America, preached and threatened Father in Belgium under the hospice care of an Moere Masseuse, and under AIDS care passed away in London. In his recovery, before 1981, Gaye had visited via the custody of the late-Freddy Cousaert in Ostend and Ohaine, Belgium, created Midnight Love, recorded for CBS (Columbia), with Motown rehab roommate Odell Brown’s musical composition Gaye titled Sexual Healing following his solicitation of lyrical help from Rolling Stone magazine journalist and Gaye biographer David Ritz, got his mind back through the support of first ex Anna Gordy Gaye and remorse over the death of duet partner Tammi Terrell. Perhaps, Gaye longed to be remembered as a poet above all else, the reason he betrayed all, including famous Motown singer and songwriter Smokey Robinson.

-John Patrick Acevedo, Poet., March 7th, 2019, 8:07 a.m.,

Arundel Mills, Maryland.

CURVES WIN FROM IN BETWEEN

Foreword

by JOHN PATRICK ACEVEDO

Sitting inside the in-between’s of the curves we otherwise misunderstand, I sit on a balcony plastic above a relief high above waves that circumference the curve that is chosen’s active give and passive take and passion’s passive give and active take.

Yet, there is another quick fix, another relief, that comes like a Gojira or Kong. A relief that comes after one has shared his gnosis, after another struggles to get to know exactly what you really mean. I have seen their eyes squinting as I remember the joy of chaos shortly afterwards as they learn it, as we watch the confusion of longing drops its veil as the others begin to crowd around us with wondrous weight and disbelief.

Sunlight slaps its rays over my naked face, arms, and neck here in Kitty Hawk around Three A.M.. Brave boys and girls run briskly into the incoming sea straddling their surfboards as network jackals show off their Gap jeans from underneath its pier, as I understand the have-not desires they must possess to give away all that they really need for those, like me, who only feel guilt as we try to absorb and eliminate what we don’t really want.

Want, unlike critical needs, begins and ends with something simple.

I felt the omphalic June heat burn me slowly up from within first and last in January 1991, while at the end of my faith in a plush porch rented room with boxes and a bed spring still on the ground. How I came to not fly into Gojira’s light, how I came to clench my mind into Proverbial fists, I cannot say. Yet just as Harley Quinn convinced The Batman to try a little harder to win, I convinced my God that I would survive, not die a victim, despite my drowning pride over an English Professor’s deification of my need to express my Superman repression, express her curves that rise and fall, break like lightning waves as wet sands cry like Fay Wray.

It is her that I long to see, below the Kitty Hawk balcony, its marvelous high relief.

Is it not near my perch that the crosswinds begin, where man first learned how to fly? Perhaps it’s pride divine that both ends and begins. I know Gojira, Kong. I know the spider that slowly makes Superman lose his brave face. I am grateful to be with you now to show you my own curves, my gradually grown courage and intelligence. I am underestimating myself, overestimating you. Yet,