~Many people rely on the convenient, easy ways of living in this age of fast food, plastic packaging and rapid development. Most people do not care to see why they live the way they do or what it takes to live in such a way. Toxic pollutants leaching into our earth and water should not be worth the convenience! Third world women working in dusty, cramped factories to make designer purses for fifteen year old girls. Garbage is America’s biggest export and it ends up in China, on the coast of Somalia... anywhere that American citizens won’t be bothered to see it.

~What does it mean to buy a pack of plastic razors? Some metal, some chemicals, some plastic, more plastic for packaging. Use a razor a few times and toss it in the garbage. Somewhere, maybe at La Chureca, someone will pull the rusted metal and plastic from the landfill. They might make one US dollar per day collecting scraps of aluminum, glass, plastic and other scrap metals. What does it mean to wear deodorant? The plastic stick isn’t reusable. The ingredients are highly toxic. Aluminum-based antiperspirants have been linked to Alzheimer's and cancer. Soap comes in plastic bottles, coffee makers made of plastic, water bottles made of plastic… hell, my plastic shower curtain came wrapped in plastic packaging.

~Americans are lucky. Indoor plumbing with quality water. Green lawns and exotic flower beds. Buy and use, throw away and repeat. Big corporations pay off politicians to pollute. Industrial waste, land erosion, low air quality, pesticides. Why are we so quick to trust an artificial sweetener being promoted by a company that makes poison? They call you a hippy, a conspiracy theorist. They tell you that you only live once and to stop being so worried about it all. I ask them, how can you look away? Deforestation and destruction are all around. Those that profit are not concerned with what happens to the land after the loggers and miners have left the ground scarred and desolate.

~Modern living is a hoax. Yeah, you get around quick in your car but at what cost? Carbon dioxide, greenhouse gasses choking us and everything alive that lives with us and cannot speak. Can’t you walk to the corner store? Can’t you grow a few things in the garden or in the windowsill? When was the last time you saw a sunset and didn’t take a picture of it? Dairy cows packed together so tight they can’t turn around for your glass of milk. The disconnect is everywhere. Overpopulation. Overconsumption. People don’t care.

~They can choose. They can choose paper over plastic. They can buy a water filter instead of 20 plastic bottles. They can bike to work. Anyone can lessen their impact, anyone can think more deeply and live more sustainably. But we’ve made it so easy to be lazy. We’ve become so dependent that we’re forgetting to use technological gains to make the way we do things better. We’ve come so far that we’re forgetting what brought us here.

~

‘We are slaves in the sense that we depend for our daily survival upon an expand-or-expire agro-industrial empire – a crackpot machine – that the specialists cannot comprehend and the managers cannot manage. Which is, furthermore, devouring world resources at an exponential rate.’ Edward Abbey

‘In the developing world, the problem of population is seen less as a matter of human numbers than of western overconsumption. Yet within the development community, the only solution to the problems of the developing world is to export the same unsustainable economic model fuelling the overconsumption of the West.’ Kavita Ramdas

‘Water and air, the two essential fluids on which all life depends, have become global garbage cans.’ Jacques-Yves Cousteau

‘Globalisation, which attempts to amalgamate every local, regional, and national economy into a single world system, requires homogenising locally adapted forms of agriculture, replacing them with an industrial system – centrally managed, pesticide-intensive, one-crop production for export – designed to deliver a narrow range of transportable foods to the world market.’Helena Norberg-Hodge

‘Throughout history human exploitation of the earth has produced this progression: colonise-destroy-move on.’ Garrett Hardin

us humans haven't quite cleaned up
everyday we send nasty chemicals spiraling up
which invariably stuffs the ozone layer up

our polluting of this rim of protection
continually goes on we're not holding the pollutants in retention
which shows we're damaging its convention

there needs to be more
innovative ideas developed
to subdue the ***** air
                                     which we humans
                                     keep overly producing
                                     here and everywhere

so as the ultra violet streams
don't not become too extreme
they do irreparable harm
and give cause for alarm  

we humans have an obligation
to our planet's ozone cover
by not sullying its protective sheath  
with tons of polluting smother

(And I've been picking dandelions)

The rush of wind chases a wayward cloud
Over the foliage's luscious green mounds
It billows on its good fortune allowed
Feeding flowers leave stock's
roots underground

Petals bloom; centered bud's pollinations
The sun burdens and caresses at once
The bumble lost its edge to pollutants
Overcome in the tepid meadows grace

The seasons start to grow long and narrow
Encompassing the changing of our times
within their altering breadths; to and fro
It's shown upon the rocks face's in tides

She's beauty, ruffling with sents of sweet dew
And in her pluck, spring has become renewed

Currently there are:
Thousands of cars zooming down the highway at breakneck speeds,
Millions of lights illuminating the dreary road,
With the power of a hundred valiant steeds,
Causing the cement to corrode and erode,
Thousands of fossil fuels burnt merely to transport other fossil fuels,
Pollutants filling the air and altering our environment,
But these are the worlds most precious jewels,
All to feel the capitalist tyrant.
But hey... At least I have air conditioning in my F150 while heading to set off Chinese fireworks while celebrating the 4th of July.
The American Dream.

have you ever made a spider a Palestinian? i have, today, refreshing the paint-job on the back of my house, a whole family strutting away from fresh paint being applied (poets cure boredom, they simply don't know it), the cardigans erase & rewind, my uncle would be perfect with his age to work out the demographics - my age circuit, 30 and listening to the palette of those in full-throttle of the 1990s - anyway, refreshing the paint on the back of my house, not for dough, but for the sweat of my brow - learning i succumb to acrophobia on the ladder - but i did it anyway... i love phobias, they're not the fear, they're like a box of chocolates... you never know what will make you startle... it's not permanent, phobias shouldn't be considered permanent, they're too reflexive... and we all know that nibbling them in the reflective realm immediately suggests irrationality, not to a reaction, but to a continuum of a reaction: a ladder, a giant spider to boot. but i never watched a spider eat fresh paint... watched the ******* do the nibble on paint... ***** - a getty cardinal spider shooting paint pollutants with its leg, eating the Chernobyl cocktail, the rainbow melt in a puddle of oil spill... junkies everywhere; so that done, a beer and a quick look at the Olympics...

if table tennis was as relevant as table tennis -
i prefer table tennis,
judo is too cool too - classic Greek wrestling
with feet to match the hands -
i think in terms of the Olympics we're in
the Gobi desert - so many sports are shown only
once every 4 years, the once that don't make the dough...
i'd prefer the Olympics without the pop culture
exponents that keep us hungry for spectacles
during the 4 years apart -
hand-ball, Romania thrashed by Angola -
ladies first, of course,
and weight-lifting, weighs in at 48kg and lifts
80+kg... well Jihad John versus G.I. Jane...
a pretty match up... look, i came from a certain background
i won't be making politically correct statements,
if it weren't for my personal initiative i'd be scooping
grub from an industrial flat surface roof like my father...
i don't mind getting paid... i just love the fact that i will
and if ending up homeless, i have enough heart already
to start a religion, or something.
of course i'll miss my personal library of books and albums,
who wouldn't? i'll join the divorcee crew and it'll be
like it always was supposed to be.
but am i really that ridiculous? think about it,
i use ridiculous words in my vocabulary, after all i went
to a catholic school, it was bound to happen -
not true secular cool, sorry -
but is my usage of certain words completely penniless
more ridiculous in the form of an oligarch buying
a pearl entombed in a custard pie? of a yacht for a month
at Monte Carlo? seriously? if i utilise the words
Paraclete or Antichrist after just skimmed rereading of
a psychiatrist's religious venture in Jung's *answer to Job
am i as ridiculous as those barons?
i don't think so... i read that book like Flaubert instructed
concerning all books: read in order to live it -
a book is a transplant, some leave a heart, come a ****,
some a brain, some a pint of blood with a book...
i hope to leave the worm of hell licking your ear for a sloppy
Jim - read Jung... almost atypical German Christian
intelligentsia byproduct, neutral Swiss just after the second
world war... Freud read Nietzsche and so did Mussolini...
****** was very much Jung... it's a strange book...
we all know that the Greeks hijacked Judaism...
the Romans were like: whatever that meant...
shoved it into a cauldron of the prefix omni-
and attributed to the prefix geographies and geometries
all inclusive (herr deutsche came along though) -
but the Greeks hijacked the oddity of Judea at that
special time because they had scientific inclinations
rather than aesthetic inclinations of the Romans,
and they wanted answers... got **** all...
it's not the Jews that thought the Greek involvement
ridiculous, it was the Romans... hence the omni-
and -presence, -potency, etc. - the Greeks just had
those mythical names for ****... Logos, Sophia...
that's the funny thing with mythology and history -
the book of Revelation by the looks of it simply looks
like a redemption of Oedipus... mythology is a logic
of history where either none was recorded on papyrus
since no one required hush-hush intrigue talk and people
spoke to each other face to face rather than to a profile -
mugs and mustard seeds -
you can always buy the book, C. G. Jung answer to Job,
it's peppered with too much Greek, and very little
Roman care... the theological addition of a globalised world
(under monotheism, failed and thriving, whichever)
is bound to play the montage of omni- and simply add -
God = omnivocab - i have my limitations of words -
i had to censor or rather select a vocabulary in order
to process the interchanges to reach a conclusive churning
without an ultimate goal other than to preserve a continuum,
like Balzac boring everybody with the 19th instalment of
the human comedy. so after reading this book on religious
matters by a psychiatrists i'm sorta bothered...
i'm tripping... obviously not seeing any hyper-geometry
of your choice... i just think the Greeks did the most horrid
hoarding and looting know to man... which reflected
the looting of Byzantium and never reaching the Holy Land...
the barbarians never cared to be honest, they only
started caring when they started to castrate the boys
for the "holy" choir rather than circumcise them...
then they went Berserk... the book of revelation can only
mean the quantum mechanics of history, bound to
mythology - Oedipus was very real... the blackened
heart of Greeks even though Aristotle, Socrates, Plato...
that intellectual import and expression didn't help...
after all Eddie Gein gave birth to the latter part of the 20th
century pop culture... Texas Chainsaw... Haemorrhoid Hannibal,
House of a 1000 Corpses.. history and journalism
dismisses mythology, i dismiss journalism as simply
a hyper-sensitivity that keeps dialectics out of the picture,
a monologue of opinions... mythology just doesn't seem
that insensible given our perspective into history with Darwin
and millions of years ago with the sea-turtles... you know
how gossip works... it sooth the reality of it had happened...
because we prefer oysters and chicken thighs to digest than
the tales of Eddie, oh yeah... Fe Maiden... d'uh!
the Greeks looted the Hebrews to purge themselves of
Oedipus... the weakness came by keeping estranged with
Narcissus and iconoclasm... you want an extract?
bombshell blonde at your bidding -
assumptio mariae: mary as the bride is united with the son
in the heavenly-chamber, and as sophia, with the godhead.
basically Mary is a schizophrenic ****-child of lust
for a Roman centurion who makes the story of a ****** birth
her wish to bed-wet her son (Jesus) into joining **** John
and Toe into her ****** (***** *****, like her already)
in heaven - she thinks her body will **** her "******-birth"
son and her wisdom (Sophia is her alias, or nickname)
will **** god in the head. oh hell this is sacrilege -
i'm not afraid of it... boo! ha! caught you mouth dry with the
boogie man. so this is a psychiatrist reasoning his religion...
as i said, the Greeks had no omni- Roman put the **** back
into his boots before he starts river-dancing...
all these quizzical ultra-mythical words that the Greeks
used starting with the Logos and Hippocrates were attached
to the failed Platonism of the unconverted Damocles principle
and the tyrant succumbing to drink and never bound to
a sober wish for anything more - (i'm guessing his intentions
were laid with Nietzsche as source of discipleship) - in short
let's just say that Platonism failed in practice,
and it needed a populist movement, a redemption from
the curse of Oedipus came from Hebrew with the schizoid-birth,
Joseph bin Adam was: better bite that ****** of the cow-fruit
and remind her of the stoning practices around here -
oh it's all pretty much Eastenders around here, it's
not the ******* Vatican marble corridors, we're talking
Gaza dust sneezing while whipping the donkey's *** to
move along... split-mind: beautiful metaphor... premature
dementia, obviously misunderstood... if premature "dementia"
while so much creativity among the split-minded...
it's like all the zodiac signs became jealous of Gemini,
incorporating Gemini-Solipsism... well, i have a neck like a bull
and a *****-count like a charging bull... but the thinking
behind the 3.a.m. is kinda staggering... oh right, you want
more quirky clues from Jung's book:
- silvia loret
- maritza mendez
- aria giovanni             (get a hybrid and i'll believe in Disneyland) -
****, that ain't what i was going to write, never mind,
you get a chance to see the palette of what's fudge for
fucky-fucky sized 16+ and what the Renaissance men
knew would be better than duck-feathers in pillows;
- meister eckhart: gott ist selig in der seele
- puer aeternus: vultu mutabilis albus et ater
    (of changeful countenance, both white and black)
- pius XII's apostolic constitution (munificentissimus dei)
   words like muni-imus really make you train in
    grammatical arithmetic, don't they? playing doctor with
   them as to where to cut them for a aqua format of rivers
   is quiet like reciting a 5x table up to 30 (sometimes)
- oportebat sponsam, quam pater desponsaverat, in θalmis caelestibus habitare (the bride whom the father had espoused had to abide in the heavenly bridal-chambers): st. john damascene (encomium in dormitionem);

summa summarum?
Nietzsche answered Job... this is my answer to Jung as also an answer to Lot - **** your daughters, your wife turns into a pillar of salt... and i equate that as a precursor to the man of sorrows on the ****** crucifix - salt is a metaphor for misery (that's etymology for you); and the Roman phonetic encoding survived over the fates of Egyptian and Babylonian is precisely why the adopted son of Caesar later made his uncle's adopted nephew his successor - as with the four dogma canon gospels, we're replicas of the tetragrammaton... well... i was never confirmed, i'm one short of joining the god-men that came out from catholic school after choosing a name for themselves they could have changed not having wished to be known by the two names given to them by their parents... few did... i just ended up an acronym of Einstein: M C E.

Six-armed things of Asiatic trances,
temple belles entwined in temple dances:
mantra in one hand, the other holds naan.
One holding chutney and the other, paan.
Two hands left (befitting of deity):
one offers curry, one incense.  Aseity
signifies self-contented wonderment.
(One wonders as well what that mantra meant...)

Note the third eye in the figure's forehead:
a spare one in case left or right go dead?
But really—how freakish these idols look:
a ******-pantheon from a nightmare book.
(Outdone only by the Aztecs for fright
along with demons born of tribal night.)

Cobra-crowned elephant-headed mutants
sickly-sweet incense, divine pollutants
mix in with the stench of bodies burning
alongside the filthy Ganges churning
flowing with ashes from funeral ghats
excrement, corpses of humans and rats
that swarmed humble hovels of Hindustan
where gods are mass-produced for fallen man.

Maidens in saris with red tinted lips;
glossy vulgarity, loose at the hips
now growing more arms; an insect vision
enough to make one gag on religion.
The ubiquitous trident looms, a sign:
the eternally present un-divine.
Instead, it ought to stick some sacred cow
in its bovine buttocks, and so allow
beef curry for a hungry avatar
craving fresh meat in his juggernaut car.

Turn from this antediluvian scene
in sincerity, ask: what does it mean?
Were you created in these gods' image?
Is anything real behind their visage?
Blue skin and sick smiles, anointed with ghee:
exotic... but wrong theologically.
Till lingams are yonis I'll spell it out;
these Aryan idols should merit your doubt.
Such weirdness deserves some analysis
(as did old Diana of Ephesus).

Would you tingle if such a god showed up
and offered to refill your soma cup,
sending siddhis up your spinal column
with you in full lotus, clueless, solemn.
Would you offer puja in their temple,
bedeck your soul in a robe to sample
veggie-masalas, chapatis and dal,
peruse the Upanishads, and enthrall
your mind with the mystic old Rig-Vedas
fall for idolatrous sin conveyed
as spiritual truth when it's just a big lie...
bow before a multi-armed freak?  Not I.
Not for all the visions in Satan's world.
Better to call B.S. than to be hurled
to hell for living and loving this lie
embracing monstrosities. By and by
the books will be opened. The Lord will judge.
Consider this your transcendental nudge
toward something less false, less fearfully fake
than the idols Antichrist nations make.

My pen and I sit and write by the River Thames,
The London Eye clear despite gazing through a haze.
Questions rise, amazed am I, by my silent pen.
Try do I, so why can’t I follow other men?

Mulling now on thoughts and how they form inside the mind.
Do they come with time, or like Holmes must one go find?
Or have I overlooked a simply queer idea?
What if thoughts collect like the staid hands of Leah?

Famous poems, here were born-- but hordes have also died.
All these words go unheard by many bards that tried.
Trapped in Limbo words remain ‘til they recompense—
Freed by one whose work’s undone, still unsure from whence.

Never fret if an idea you ever forget,
For here it remains, at the River Thames, in set.
Waiting to be writ by a pen and hand so kind,
For poets can clean the pollutants of the mind.

When you sauntered through the pub
I knew my life had changed;
No longer concerned to save the world,
I needed to pull resources to save my heart.

The light through your auburn hair
The exact colour of magnificent conflagrations;
Those intense wildfires evermore common
Due to shifting climate patterns.
And, like a bushfire threatening lives and homes,
No man was untouched -
All were scorched by your radiant beauty.

Your pearly whites'
Whiter than the bleached bones
Of countless drought-stricken livestock;
Whiter, still, than bleached reefs,
Luminous in their death-throes.

And those intense green eyes -
More glowing than a radio-active
Atoll seen from space.

And your voice, when you asked to sit,
Had the harmonic cascade of a thousand extinct species,
Each singing their death song in salute to corporate success:
It made my knees tremble and my wallet itch!

Your ******* as well proportioned
As those majestic ****-heaps of open-cut mines.

The little paunch you wear so proud,
Is more cute and inviting of attention
Than all the distended stomachs of starving African children.

As I explored further into nether regions,
I was delighted to discover
You'd taken the Brazilian to heart -
Clear-felling all but a remnant;
A tuft in tribute to a once great forest -
A forest of mystery and exotic, ****** adventure,
Now open for tourism!

Your scent more intoxicating
Than a million factory flues
Spewing out toxic pollutants
To fix our corporate wants.

When you invaded my heart
It was as devastating as the "shock and awe" tactics
Of a military Superpower unleashing its might
On a hapless oil-rich and strategically significant,
But unco-operative, dissident regime.

Your plump, glossy, cherry-red lips
More succulent than a genetically-modified tomato
Grown on a corporate farm, maximising profits.

And even though you're more vacuous
Than a bovine skull after the hydraulic rod
Has rendered the animal fit for hamburgers and processed foods,
You've still captured my heart
Like a sentimental story broadcast
On a slow news day with advertiser's approval.

Gaia can look after Herself,
I'll not defend Her - I'm on the shelf;
Captured by a product of modern media,
I'm in Love with a global Arcadia!

icecaps come undone
crushing into the ocean
as she sheds her frozen tears
penguins and p0lar bears shudder
as their habitats recede
like the snows of Kilimanjaro

volcanoes explode
spewing smoke and ash like billowing pillows
into the stratosphere
diffusing sunshine's heat
like a cold compress
floes of lava melt glaciers
rivers of mud cause flooded folks to flee

fissures crack and snap from her pressure
towns and countrysides split
floors rumble and roll like the ocean
walls tumble, crumble and roar
bells toll an all too familiar melody
families cry out, wailing and ranting
chanting dirges of great loss
an inconsolable cacophony
rubbled lives lying in ruin

but she is not to blame
the earth is a no fault state
this is our doing
ecology's consequence
greenhouse gasses and other pollutants
have given her a fever
her pores are opening to vent the warming
she is not angry or vindictive
punishment is not her goal
and evil has not played its hand
the planet is just cooling herself
it's how Gaia gets her groove back

A beautiful world, it needs some cuddles,
All around, the world of struggles,
Plants all over are gasping,
While chemicals pollutants are grasping,
Fur, feathers and fish are becoming extinct,
As their habitats can no longer exist,
Then there's plebs in Earth, who struggle,
Overpopulation--maybe too many cuddles,
Soon for air we'll all be gasping,
While the powers--that-be go on grasping,
All around a world of struggles,
Our beautiful world needs a cuddle.

The oceans flow and bring with them hope.
The tide comes and washes our sins away.
A means of finding a way to cope.
I hope this waters are calm enough to stay.

A levee is built to hold back the flood.
But still some sediments seep through.
The pollutants build up like contaminants in blood.
Flowing toxins deep inside of you.

I look up for a moment and notice a cloud,
The sky and the ocean are one in the same.
Both with tremendous ability to burst aloud,
While suppressing it's power in a matter that's tame.

I look back down as I drift to sea,
And a smile comes across my face.
I realize that everything within me,
Is a possession of this enchanted place.

Most people lost in trance,
No moral No virtue, none taking stance,
Corporations, profiling the masses for profit,
Wisdom, a lost art, never a conversation topic,

Most people  lost in trance,
Thinking, intellect seems active...  but at glance,
The masses follow but a single or many devils dance,
Compassion forbidden, ignorance in forever expanse.

Wickedness spreading even in a happy song,
The Path of Ancients, forgotten, what has gone wrong?
Spirituality always seen as an unscientific farce,
A pure state of consciousness, truly: a lost Art.

As a the masses defile, few seek purity,
All with masks on, fearing true reality,
Fools fooling fools, a vicious cycle,
Kings and pawns, dreaming of power and titles.

Lost in trance, for others amusement,
Greed seekers doing even the devil's recruitment,
Pollutants in all, mind, heart and body,
Lost in trance, devoid of potentiality.

A few fools, feeding on ignorance for money,
Truly, lost in trance, a lost humanity.

My life's an anagram scrambled on the daily by the toddler tendencies of a **** drunk humanity

Single handedly scribbling lines into the sands of my sanity

like a sapling wrathfully thumbing it's hancock through the dew drops atop my glass canopy

I quit
Cause you are not worth
The sea of salted tears
That spill
Assaulting me
You are not worth
The red elixir
That feeds
Your distorted
Vampire needs

I retire
Before my will expires
Because I am tired
Of seeing spires
Of factories
Smoking pollutants
Choking all humans

I am through
With claiming
That the truth
Will set us free
When all I see
Is a bubonic plague
Festering and growing
Tumorous cities
Of infinite stupidity

I am finished
There is not enough spinach
To Popeye my way out
So I exit stage
Flesh and rage
Pull back those skin pages
That life was written on
Letting strangers carryon
As the carrions come
To devour me

Cause I am ******* done

Industry hides under a cunning guise
in which we are blinded
gorgonized
They certainly aren't for you and yours
priorities are set on higher scores
Lost we are
in the wake of corporate greed
in which bottom feeders
fufill and satisfy the belly of this beast
Which pumps out plastics,toxins,and pollutants
in return for our dollar
Killing mother's purity
obscene individual study proves to be
and we overindulge for their prosperity
What a shame,a disgrace,a great pity
that we sell out to this unmerciful machine
I say we let mother be
just let her be
Dont let it be

Watch the video for this word splurge here: https://youtu.be/7Cf6AFrOJ7w

Once upon a new day's coming of age,
We see beyond the mirages of these planes.  Knowing that as a component, Eye am the brave mage with energy off the page - Setting stages with graceful patience Paying attention to the placement of the arrangements."
Even though we want to rage against the machine
One must remember we can be lucid in this dream
Ah yes, the God of your Being, casting & crafting the current reality you're seeing.
Recently We've seemed to have lost touch with our delicate sense of feeling
So why not, Jump into our true emotions to induce our own potions of healing
25 percent, at 552 pm.
Our temples came from distant galaxies
So Ain't No use in getting worn down following drowning crowns spoutting fallacies
I mean..
The Stardust carbon rush in this body may be temporary
But what if I told you you've existed since the dawn of eternity?
Would you feel like you could give up some of that tight-gripped uncertainty?
Realise the lessons, blessings, and signs from what didn't go "perfectly"?
We tend to get hung up on our heads
And take it all personally,
And in doing so forget our powers other-worldly

A little bitta insight keeps us mindful
Backwards down the line
My bright flame was quite low. Right now though my soul glows, so to wherever there is lifeflow, peace.

For this moment's first time
Let the connection begin again
Show your color's intention and let some self love sink in, take it to the brink of your existence - Switching perspectives via timetravel on synaptic memory highways positioned, to tune into an opportunity to listen.  You will always be in the right place, so long as you can learn to believe.  
At the depths of my own mortality I was reminded I can still smile and breathe
Once we clear the cloudiness
All is illuminated to see
The star's light's mighty bright tonight yet
Pollutants still roam free
Some might call that a travesty, duality, or something in between
I know of both light and dark
I feel former in the latter as we speak.  My heart strings our tied in writing spells called poetry.. Which has saved me inside times of need.
Add 1 more little release,
To help me better be
In this moment
I am able, I am grateful, and at ease

A little bitta insight keeps us mindful
Backwards down the line
My bright flame was quite low.
Right now though my soul glows, so to wherever there is lifeflow, peace.

Let's fly and rise higher than our skies.  Really try, for there is purpose where there's life.  Sure the body will but the memories won't die.  Communicate to a source of the design, keeping the prized wide-eyed alive
A toast of tea to everything, and I choose to sea life as divine.  Those seeking control will scratch and hold as you climb.  Stuck in an old mold as the unconscious mind's bind prevents the sight to ask why.  
They still have the the power to heal and make right.  Left with nothing but a reflection behind closed eyes.  One with experience keeping the beat of heart as a platform for the next line's rhyme.  I'm just a thought, brought to you by you, and this scene is just another peak on this ride knowing a drop will come soon.  There's been such a growing number of those I know told "RIP", but maybe they're the ones waking up from the dream.  Maybe the only change is how we perceive.  Our weather patterns can freeze or be a gentle warm breeze.  No matter the conditions we choose to live in, may we all rise in peace.

*A little bitta insight keeps us mindful
Backwards down the line
My bright flame was quite low.
Right now though my soul glows, so to wherever there is lifeflow, peace.

i can hear your hesitant silence
louder than an
atom bomb

and the sliverous little
glances
that weave between the
minds

i counted them
once before

when the wind
blew out your
lashes,

when your
fumbly words
and jumpy fingers
gave away
all
your secrets.

show me the string
that unravels the thing
ive been
hunting all day
in search for -

the mirror in the rain
that collects all the pain
for gain
that
ive been waiting
my life
for.

'bunch of student
pollutants,
faces sooted
in black,
fingers
grimey and sticky,
snatching the little
i got.

all ive ever wanted
has been a
simple enough dream:

to be happy

and sappy
with my lover,
my cream,
to play my part
and finish out
what i
started,

to exist on this earth -
serene

but there's this itch
i can't get
to succumb to a
verdict.

this is it.

are you coming
or going?

As I shut my eyes and close the doors of this world,
I lay in my bed and like a caterpillar I curled,
Nestled between the soft clean white sheets,
Last thing I know I have feel asleep as I hear the rush of cars on the busy streets,
I suddenly escape and enter into a world never seen before,
A world of beauty delight, and the purist of scenery,
The skyline as it sets from a teal blue to a golden yellow,
The roaring vibrant orange fading into a pink,
I am sitting on logs, laying my head upon wood chips,
One hand behind my head as I fill my lungs with the fresh air,
The air I can breath in without the fear of pollutants,
Before my very eyes I see a rocket of shooting stars,
My eyes glitter seeing them as they pass,
I shout to my mates as they run to lay and watch with me as mesmerized as I,
Violently shook, was the instant ticket from that world,
Seeing the tasseled white sheets, my vision blurred,
And like that suddenly within an eyes blink,
Not for a moment was I to think,
I was back to the same crummy thing I call life.
This world right here is a strife.

Two hours wasn't enough to write "Twigs".

I'm not even close enough to the fire to feel it's dying heat.
When the party moves away I'll dance around and through and behind the flames so I can really feel it.
Unfortunately it would appear, dancing through a twig fire isn't nearly enough for one's life to disappear.

The twigs burn for only minutes and I'll dance as long as I can for it's the only time that I have.
While I'm still alone just enjoy silence and that the cold stares of stars are being hidden by my fiery pollutants.
Judge people and opinions and facts, decide what is right then call it wrong because everything is neither.

When the party returns I'll slink off to find the kindling and ponder upon the fires inklings.
Gathering the twigs for poems and flames is better than watching my fire die surely?
Shame it's such a monotonous ******* trek, but monotony is the core of life, don't treat it too harshly.

And it's not like these twigs are ever entirely useless if one has but the curiosity to think about it.
Flames glimmer on beer bottles and the embered ends can light cigarettes.
If these pathetic flames won't burn me alive at least they'll help **** me slowly.

Would you believe this is where I came to write about love, lust and loneliness?
The greater themes of the past won't light my fire now unless one believes time is simultaneous.
Though that belief seems to offer no help whatsoever in the fight against freezing.

All good things must die as the wise men would tell me when I asked them for further closure.
But words don't burn unless you've written them on your forearm far too close to the light of open flames.
I began to write "Twigs" that night.

Two crates of beer, One pen found in the side of my car, Forty-three smokes, One pile of logs, Two significantly larger piles of twigs, Seven people, One left arm, Five stubborn bumps below the wheels of my barrow, A hat on a mannequin, Three bottles of wine, A sometimes blazing sometimes failing inferno and Fourteen long ******* hours...

Was not enough to write "Twigs"

Why did I think 2 hours would do it now?

I see people float on like leaves.
Gliding, soaring, humming about,
not a care in the world.
Glorious reds and yellows,
triumphant, even in the knowledge
that they will all end.
And so I drift along as well,
but not with a whisking of the wind like others.
I slowly make my way in the
murk of a puddle, rolling through
mud and the accumulated pollutants of
what ifs and slow eating depression.
What I would give to fly.
What I would give not to feel.

We all need to wise up, to learn from the mistakes of the past.  Look at the conditions of our land; how long do you think it will last?
Our Oceans are polluted, because of the carelessness of man.  To speak out against such abuse, someone need to take a stand!
The air is filled with pollutants, we can hardly breathe.  All of this come as a result, of those involved in greed.
Our streets are filled with the homeless; they have no place to go.  When they ask for assistance, they
have to search high and low.
Instead of building more Prisons, instill in them the things that's right.  Encourage them at an early age; speak positive words day and night.
Build more Vocational Schools, for those who desire a trade.  Allow their confidence to increase, as their self esteem is raised.
By, Sandra Juanita Nailing

As I read the news today
The papers all are sad
They're starving in Bombay
Bombing in Iraq

People seeking shelter
From Communist Regimes
Back home is not much better
Brother shooting brother in the street

They're turning blue in Red China
With the pollutants that they breath
A population in the waiting
With millions in the street

Jumping off rooftops in Japan
Rather than disappoint
Growing Poppies in Afghanistan
To fill Americas needs and wants

Ebola ravaging Nations
In the heart of Africa
As race relations crumble
In the bowels of America

They say no news is good news
That rings so true today
As I crumble up the paper
Toss it in the trash and walk away...

All my fondest memories are dreams.
Days I've painted over and re-written.
Like that time we spent all night talking and,
I had to sneak in before my parents woke up.
Or that time he took me to the city and,
We held hands as we walked the golden gate.
Or that time we went up on the parkway and,
He kept me warm as we looked at the stars.
Such pretty scraps of paper for my keep-sake box.

Today is foggy with sleep and underuse.
I'm an old toy that got lost and then everyone forgot about.
I can breathe in fresh air until my lungs ache,
But that wont clense me of my need for numbing pollutants;
I can soak up sunshine until my skin is black,
But that wont rid me of my unquenchable thirst for rain.
Yesterday's smile isn't getting me through today;
I slept too long last night.

Tomorrow, tomorrow
is just another day I'll spend asleep,
Waiting, always waiting
for my ship to come in,
So I can go sailing.
But that doesn't really add up.
And I know ships don't even have sails.

Tomorrow,
Kasey will pick me up around noon.
And he will save my life,
                                                 for a day.

never once
did I stop
and seriously consider
the Lilly…
I am what the kids call
a ‘macro’ thinker
when a school shooting happens
I never think about the victims
or the perpetrators,
instead I contemplate our violet society
and wonder at the surprise of my
fellow countrymen
landslides, floods, forest fries
not once do I stop and worry for the homes
or the individual memories
I reflect on 100 years of industrial pollutants
and the effect they are having on our
fragile ecosystem…
remember the O.J. trial....
I didn’t care if he was guilty or innocent
only that fame and wealth equate
freedom from legality –
from time to time this
attitude gives my closest
friends and family, pause
I was raised in a compassionate household
by near-hippy’s looking to help the community
was given public education and love
the deal is
not all sociopaths
are violent or dangerous,
some of us
just don’t care the same way –

I'll smoke pollutants from our atmosphere just to save Earth's hemisphere, I'm losing control I can't steer, instead I see corruption flash before my eyes, come to my surprise I realize we living in an era of lies, suited up tucked in disguise, I'm here to make a difference not show some ignorance, so rethink my message before you go dissin it, cause you can't handle the truth if you had bitten it, instead you'd complain that there's a stem in it, branching off to control a nation that was founded for the people, end their sequel of eternal control, before you find your grandchildren livin without a North Pole

I'd describe it as turbulent beyond silence, an unedited, untouched sequence that spills like blood from the pen.
Unintentional wounds to minds as feelings are played with like Barbie dolls in a 5 year olds prime.
Unrelenting and unpredictive thoughts lash out viciously in sweet melodic pulses.
Da DUM   .   .   .   DA BURST
Who is really the first to drown?
The living or the sea?
Deeper down and disturbingly fluent; the wash of words become clearer, stuttering.
You forget what really needs to be learnt once you start learning.
So much becomes lost the moment you are influenced.
But who writes the rule books on which rhythms take control?
Easily said but not easily discussed.
Choked by a thousand thoughts a minute, we lose track.
Healthy are those un brainwashed and remaining at 68% anarchist, still refusing pollutants fed straight into our veins.
4 jabs a day is the recommended dosage.
Desensitisers, artificial frontal lobotomy replacements, constant comatose states; you breathe for yourself but who thinks for you?
Whose mind do you have?

four forty five and it was chilling cold,
drank a cup of coffee, two eggs in a row.
eyes have been dizzy I’ve reaped what i sowed
yesterdays midnight still up in a glow.

waiting for a ride, check the stereos inside,
pollutants in my way, they have turned the tide.
30 minutes away, u-huh the crowd,
everyone greeted each other too loud.

jump start the engine , and switch the keys
I’ll work hard  to pay the fees
am i on the shore, yeah i think you got it
all the way until the dawn puts on it.

its almost time yeah roll out outside,
traffic jam-headache, bringing the dark side.
thinking of her, thinkin’ of dinner,
thinking for tomorrow, i need a fake healer.

messaged someone, yeah I’m home,
it pours on my shoulder, i got heavy bones.
rest is a must-have, the day’s on a fin,
i hope to see you in my dreams.

I get to look at self, through messages you conveyed
A higher meaning that resonates with each song played
So I would like to take this opportunity to give thanks
Before I walk the plank to take another dip in this think tank

Okay.

When I was just a little me I noticed those around living unhappily.
It was something I knew I never wanted to be
But now I sit, blindsided by my misery
Drearily demeaning, cigarette breathing
Heating up the glass til it cracks
With no admittance, cuz that requires taking off the mask.
Haphazardly grappling, maybe it's better to be bashing the image
Livin with a grimace, wondering how long until this timeline is finished.
Dinner was delicious but I'm sick of eating the dead.
Makes you wonder how that haunted biology ***** with your head.
Quit my job, and now I rarely leave the house.  Quiet as a mouse until ego decides to come around.  No verbal notions but words bounce off my skull.  How did I decide to let my light get this dull?  The reservoir is full, but the pollutants keep it from being used.
Much like a body that's been abused and refuses to stand despite having the chance.
A delicate dance between what's real and what's not.  You behavior can directly grow or shrink blood clots.  Lost the plot in a Milwaukee pothole, only realized now I had forgotten.  Healthy seeds were dropped
But I stopped taking care of self and grew some tainted crops.  Just wanna talk to pops, and other like minds that will cry realizing their own props to the stage subconsciously set.  Blessed to have made it to this point, but on the opposite side of the coin we're closer to death.  Cousin of sleep cousin of sleep, haven't found any happiness even inside my dreams.  Inaudible screams, beam into my brain.  The house has been extra noisey lately that or I'm going insane.  I fear not.
Forward into the unknown
We'll find home even if we go it alone.
So long as you remember you're more than your bones.
"Do you feel better now?"
I don't know