There was a moment when he knew he had to make a decision.

He had left London that February evening on the ****** Velo Train to the South West. As the two hour journey got underway darkness had descended quickly; it was soon only his reflected face he could see in the window. He’d been rehearsing most of the afternoon so it was only now he could take out the manuscript book, its pages full of working notes on the piece he was to play the following afternoon. His I-Mind implant could have stored these but he chose to circumvent this thought-transcribing technology; there was still the physical trace on the cream-coloured paper with his mother’s propelling pencil that forever conjured up his journey from the teenage composer to the jazz musician he now was. This thought surrounded him with a certain warmth on this Friday evening train full of those returning to their country homes and distant families.

It was a difficulty he had sensed from the moment he perceived a distant gap in the flow of information streaming onto the mind page

At the outset the Mind Notation project had seemed harmless, playful in fact. He allowed himself to enter into the early experiments because he knew and trusted the research team. He got paid handsomely for his time, and later for his performance work.  It was a valuable complement to his ill-paid day-to-day work as a jazz pianist constantly touring the clubs, making occasional festival appearances with is quintet, hawking his recordings around small labels, and always ‘being available’. Mind Notation was something quite outside that traditional scene. In short periods it would have a relentless intensity about it, but it was hard to dismiss because he soon realised he had been hard-wired to different persona. Over a period of several years he was now dealing with four separate I-Mind folders, four distinct musical identities.

Tomorrow he would pull out the latest manifestation of a composer whose creative mind he had known for 10 years, playing the experimental edge of his music whilst still at college. There had been others since, but J was different, and so consistent. J never interfered; there were never decisive interventions, only an explicit confidence in his ability to interpret J’s music. There had been occasional discussion, but always loose; over coffee, a walk to a restaurant; never in the lab or at rehearsals.

In performance (and particularly when J was present) J’s own mind-thought was so rich, so wide-ranging it could have been drug-induced. Every musical inference was surrounded by such intensity and power he had had to learn to ride on it as he imagined a surfer would ride on a powerful wave. She was always there - embedded in everything J seemed to think about, everything J projected. He wondered how J could live with what seemed to him to be an obsession. Perhaps this was love, and so what he played was love like a wilderness river flowing endlessly across the mind-page.

J seemed careful when he was with her. J tried hard not to let his attentiveness, this gaze of love, allow others to enter the public folders of his I-Mind space (so full of images of her and the sounds of her light, entrancing voice). But he knew, he knew when he glanced at them together in darkened concert halls, her hand on J’s left arm stroking, gently stroking, that J’s most brilliant and affecting music flowed from this source.

He could feel the pattern of his breathing change, he shifted himself in his chair, the keyboard swam under his gaze, he was playing fast and light, playing arpeggios like falling water, a waterfall of notes, cascades of extended tonalities falling into the darkness beyond his left hand, but there it was, in twenty seconds he would have to*

It had begun quite accidentally with a lab experiment. J had for some years been researching the telematics of composing and performing by encapsulating the physical musical score onto a computer screen. The ‘moist media’ of telematics offered the performer different views of a composition, and not just the end result but the journey taken to obtain that result. From there to an interest in neuroscience had been a small step. J persuaded him to visit the lab to experience playing a duet with his own brain waves.

Wearing a sensor cap he had allowed his brainwaves to be transmitted through a BCMI to a synthesiser – as he played the piano. After a few hours he realised he could control the resultant sounds. In fact, he could control them very well. He had played with computer interaction before, but there was always a preparatory stage, hours of designing and programming, then the inevitable critical feedback of the recording or glitch in performance. He soon realised he had no patience for it and so relied on a programmer, a sonic artist as assistant, as collaborator when circumstances required it.

When J’s colleagues developed an ‘app’ for the I-Mind it meant he could receive J’s instant thoughts, but thoughts translated into virtual ‘active’ music notation, a notation that flowed across the screen of his inner eye. It was astonishing; more astonishing because J didn’t have to be physically there for it to happen: he could record I-Mind files of his thought compositions.

The reference pre-score at the top of the mind page was gradually enlarging to a point where pitches were just visible and this gap, a gap with no stave, a gap of silence, a gap with no action, a gap with repeat signs was probably 30 seconds away

In the early days (was it really just 10 years ago?) the music was delivered to him embedded in a network of experiences, locations, spiritual and philosophical ideas. J had found ways to extend the idea of the notated score to allow the performer to explore the very thoughts and techniques that made each piece – usually complete hidden from the performer. He would assemble groups of miniatures lasting no more than a couple of minutes each, each miniature carrying, as J had once told him, ‘one thought and one thought only’.  But this description only referred to the musical material because each piece was loaded with a web of associations. From the outset the music employed scales and tonalities so far away from the conventions of jazz that when he played and then extended the pieces it seemed like he was visiting a different universe; though surprisingly he had little trouble working these new and different patterns of pitches into his fingers. It was uncanny the ‘fit’.

Along with the music there was always rich, often startling images she conjured up for J’s compositions. At the beginning of their association J initiated these. He had been long been seeking ways to integrate the visual image with musical discourse. After toying with the idea of devising his own images for music he conceived the notion of computer animation of textile layers. J had discovered and then encouraged the work and vision of a young woman on the brink of what was to become recognised as a major talent. When he could he supported her artistically, revelling in the keenness of her observation of the natural world and her ability to complement what J conceived. He became her lover and she his muse; he remodelled his life and his work around her, her life and her work.

When performing the most complex of music it always seemed to him that the relative time of music and the clock time of reality met in strange conjunctions of stasis. Quite suddenly clock time became suspended and musical time enveloped reality. He found he could be thinking something quite differently from what he was playing.

Further projects followed, and as they did he realised a change had begun to occur in J’s creative rationale. He seemed to adopt different personae. Outwardly he was J. Inside his musical thought he began to invent other composers, musical avatars, complete minds with different musical and personal histories that he imagined making new work.

J had manipulated him into working on a new project that had appeared to be by a composer completely unknown to him. L was Canadian, a composer who had conceived a score that adhered to the DOGME movie production manifesto, but translated into music. The composition, the visuals, the text, the technological environment and the performance had to be conceived in realtime and in one location. A live performance meant a live ‘making’, and this meant he became involved in all aspects of the production. It became a popular and celebrated festival event with each production captured in its entirety and presented in multi-dimensional strands on the web. The viewer / listener became an editor able to move between the simultaneous creative activity, weaving his or her own ‘cut’ like some art house computer game. L never appeared in person at these ‘remakings’, but via a computer link. It was only after half a dozen performances that the thought entered his mind that L was possibly not a 24-year-old woman from Toronto complete with a lively Facebook persona.

Then, with the I-Mind, he woke up to the fact that J had already prepared musical scenarios that could take immediate advantage of this technology. A BBC Promenade Concert commission for a work for piano and orchestra provided an opportunity. J somehow persuaded Tom Service the Proms supremo to programme this new work as a collaborative composition by a team created specially for the premiere. J hid inside this team and devised a fresh persona. He also hid his new I-Mind technology from public view. The orchestra was to be self-directed but featured section leaders who, as established colleagues of J’s had already experienced his work and, sworn to secrecy, agreed to the I-Mind implant.

After the premiere there were rumours about how the extraordinary synchronicities in the play of musical sections had been achieved and there was much critical debate. J immediately withdrew the score to the BBC’s consternation. A minion in the contracts department had a most uncomfortable meeting with Mr Service and the Controller of Radio 3.

With the end of this phrase he would hit the gap  . . . what was he to do? Simply lift his hands from the keyboard? Wait for some sign from the I-Mind system to intervene? His audience might applaud thinking the piece finished? Would the immersive visuals with its  18.1 Surround Sound continue on the five screens or simply disappear?

His hands left the keyboard. The screens went white except for the two repeats signs in red facing one another. Then in the blank bar letter-by-letter this short text appeared . . .


Here Silence gathers
thoughts of you

Letters shall never
spell your grace

No melody could
describe your face

No rhythm dance
the way you move

Only Silence can
express my love

ever yours ever
yours ever yours


He then realised what the date was . . . and slowly let his hands fall to his lap.

Quintessential charmer, libidinous crow pheasant, has an eye on him,
thinly disguised mating calls disclose her keenness of intention,
protruding derriere, provocative walk, her amour leaves
nothing to guess, 'what you fancy is my desire' her acts yell out to him.

a pentagon study
determined that putin
is an anti-social control freak
kind of vermin

(really? this required a genius
kind of keenness? really?)

darpa should stick to cool things
like the internet and invisibility cloaks
and drones armed with pork parts


a rodina rodent in the grain
needs spankin'
with more than just sanctions

cuz knocking out their incisors
doesn't make them any nicer

- a rat with no teeth
is still a rat.

I will bring fire to thee.

Euripides.—’Androm’.

‘Eiros’.

Why do you call me Eiros?

‘Charmion’.

So henceforward will you always be called. You must forget,
too, my earthly name, and speak to me as Charmion.

‘Eiros’.

This is indeed no dream!

‘Charmion’.

Dreams are with us no more;—but of these mysteries
anon. I rejoice to see you looking life-like and rational.
The film of the shadow has already passed from off your
eyes. Be of heart, and fear nothing. Your allotted days of
stupor have expired, and to-morrow I will myself induct you
into the full joys and wonders of your novel existence.

‘Eiros’.

True—I feel no stupor—none at all. The wild
sickness and the terrible darkness have left me, and I hear
no longer that mad, rushing, horrible sound, like the “voice
of many waters.” Yet my senses are bewildered, Charmion,
with the keenness of their perception of the new.

‘Charmion’.

A few days will remove all this;—but I fully
understand you, and feel for you. It is now ten earthly
years since I underwent what you undergo—yet the
remembrance of it hangs by me still. You have now suffered
all of pain, however, which you will suffer in Aidenn.

‘Eiros’.

In Aidenn?

‘Charmion’.

In Aidenn.

‘Eiros’.

O God!—pity me, Charmion!—I am overburthened
with the majesty of all things—of the unknown now
known—of the speculative Future merged in the august
and certain Present.

‘Charmion’.

Grapple not now with such thoughts. To-morrow we will speak
of this. Your mind wavers, and its agitation will find
relief in the exercise of simple memories. Look not around,
nor forward—but back. I am burning with anxiety to
hear the details of that stupendous event which threw you
among us. Tell me of it. Let us converse of familiar things,
in the old familiar language of the world which has so
fearfully perished.

‘Eiros’.

Most fearfully, fearfully!—this is indeed no dream.

‘Charmion’.

Dreams are no more. Was I much mourned, my Eiros?

‘Eiros’.

Mourned, Charmion?—oh, deeply. To that last hour of
all there hung a cloud of intense gloom and devout sorrow
over your household.

‘Charmion’.

And that last hour—speak of it. Remember that, beyond
the naked fact of the catastrophe itself, I know nothing.
When, coming out from among mankind, I passed into Night
through the Grave—at that period, if I remember
aright, the calamity which overwhelmed you was utterly
unanticipated. But, indeed, I knew little of the speculative
philosophy of the day.

‘Eiros’.

The individual calamity was, as you say, entirely
unanticipated; but analogous misfortunes had been long a
subject of discussion with astronomers. I need scarce tell
you, my friend, that, even when you left us, men had agreed
to understand those passages in the most holy writings which
speak of the final destruction of all things by fire as
having reference to the orb of the earth alone, But in
regard to the immediate agency of the ruin, speculation had
been at fault from that epoch in astronomical knowledge in
which the comets were divested of the terrors of flame. The
very moderate density of these bodies had been well
established. They had been observed to pass among the
satellites of Jupiter without bringing about any sensible
alteration either in the masses or in the orbits of these
secondary planets. We had long regarded the wanderers as
vapory creations of inconceivable tenuity, and as altogether
incapable of doing injury to our substantial globe, even in
the event of contact. But contact was not in any degree
dreaded; for the elements of all the comets were accurately
known. That among them we should look for the agency
of the threatened fiery destruction had been for many years
considered an inadmissible idea. But wonders and wild
fancies had been of late days strangely rife among mankind;
and, although it was only with a few of the ignorant that
actual apprehension prevailed, upon the announcement by
astronomers of a new comet, yet this announcement was
generally received with I know not what of agitation and
mistrust.

The elements of the strange orb were immediately calculated,
and it was at once conceded by all observers that its path,
at perihelion would bring it into very close proximity with
the earth. There were two or three astronomers of secondary
note who resolutely maintained that a contact was
inevitable. I cannot very well express to you the effect of
this intelligence upon the people. For a few short days they
would not believe an assertion which their intellect, so
long employed among worldly considerations, could not in any
manner grasp. But the truth of a vitally important fact soon
makes its way into the understanding of even the most
stolid. Finally, all men saw that astronomical knowledge
lies not, and they awaited the comet. Its approach was not
at first seemingly rapid, nor was its appearance of very
unusual character. It was of a dull red, and had little
perceptible train. For seven or eight days we saw no
material increase in its apparent diameter, and but a
partial alteration in its color. Meantime, the ordinary
affairs of men were discarded, and all interest absorbed in
a growing discussion instituted by the philosophic in
respect to the cometary nature. Even the grossly ignorant
aroused their sluggish capacities to such considerations.
The learned now gave their intellect—their
soul—to no such points as the allaying of fear, or to
the sustenance of loved theory. They sought—they
panted for right views. They groaned for perfected
knowledge. Truth arose in the purity of her strength
and exceeding majesty, and the wise bowed down and adored.

That material injury to our globe or to its inhabitants
would result from the apprehended contact was an opinion
which hourly lost ground among the wise; and the wise were
now freely permitted to rule the reason and the fancy of the
crowd. It was demonstrated that the density of the comet’s
nucleus was far less than that of our rarest gas; and
the harmless passage of a similar visitor among the
satellites of Jupiter was a point strongly insisted upon,
and which served greatly to allay terror. Theologists, with
an earnestness fear-enkindled, dwelt upon the biblical
prophecies, and expounded them to the people with a
directness and simplicity of which no previous instance had
been known. That the final destruction of the earth must be
brought about by the agency of fire, was urged with a spirit
that enforced everywhere conviction; and that the comets
were of no fiery nature (as all men now knew) was a truth
which relieved all, in a great measure, from the
apprehension of the great calamity foretold. It is
noticeable that the popular prejudices and ****** errors in
regard to pestilences and wars—errors which were wont
to prevail upon every appearance of a comet—were now
altogether unknown, as if by some sudden convulsive exertion
reason had at once hurled superstition from her throne. The
feeblest intellect had derived vigor from excessive
interest.

What minor evils might arise from the contact were points of
elaborate question. The learned spoke of slight geological
disturbances, of probable alterations in climate, and
consequently in vegetation; of possible magnetic and
electric influences. Many held that no visible or
perceptible effect would in any manner be produced. While
such discussions were going on, their subject gradually
approached, growing larger in apparent diameter, and of a
more brilliant lustre. Mankind grew paler as it came. All
human operations were suspended.

There was an epoch in the course of the general sentiment
when the comet had attained, at length, a size surpassing
that of any previously recorded visitation. The people now,
dismissing any lingering hope that the astronomers were
wrong, experienced all the certainty of evil. The chimerical
aspect of their terror was gone. The hearts of the stoutest
of our race beat violently within their bosoms. A very few
days suffered, however, to merge even such feelings in
sentiments more unendurable. We could no longer apply to the
strange orb any accustomed thoughts. Its
historical attributes had disappeared. It oppressed us
with a hideous novelty of emotion. We saw it not as
an astronomical phenomenon in the heavens, but as an incubus
upon our hearts and a shadow upon our brains. It had taken,
with unconceivable rapidity, the character of a gigantic
mantle of rare flame, extending from horizon to horizon.

Yet a day, and men breathed with greater freedom. It was
clear that we were already within the influence of the
comet; yet we lived. We even felt an unusual elasticity of
frame and vivacity of mind. The exceeding tenuity of the
object of our dread was apparent; for all heavenly objects
were plainly visible through it. Meantime, our vegetation
had perceptibly altered; and we gained faith, from this
predicted circumstance, in the foresight of the wise. A wild
luxuriance of foliage, utterly unknown before, burst out
upon every vegetable thing.

Yet another day—and the evil was not altogether upon
us. It was now evident that its nucleus would first reach
us. A wild change had come over all men; and the first sense
of pain was the wild signal for general lamentation
and horror. The first sense of pain lay in a rigorous
construction of the breast and lungs, and an insufferable
dryness of the skin. It could not be denied that our
atmosphere was radically affected; the conformation of this
atmosphere and the possible modifications to which it might
be subjected, were now the topics of discussion. The result
of investigation sent an electric thrill of the intensest
terror through the universal heart of man.

It had been long known that the air which encircled us was a
compound of oxygen and nitrogen gases, in the proportion of
twenty-one measures of oxygen and seventy-nine of nitrogen
in every one hundred of the atmosphere. Oxygen, which was
the principle of combustion, and the vehicle of heat, was
absolutely necessary to the support of animal life, and was
the most powerful and energetic agent in nature. Nitrogen,
on the contrary, was incapable of supporting either animal
life or flame. An unnatural excess of oxygen would result,
it had been ascertained, in just such an elevation of the
animal spirits as we had latterly experienced. It was the
pursuit, the extension of the idea, which had engendered
awe. What would be the result of a total extraction of
the nitrogen? A combustion irresistible, all-devouring,
omni-prevalent, immediate;—the entire fulfilment, in
all their minute and terrible details, of the fiery and
horror-inspiring denunciations of the prophecies of the Holy
Book.

Why need I paint, Charmion, the now disenchained frenzy of
mankind? That tenuity in the comet which had previously
inspired us with hope, was now the source of the bitterness
of despair. In its impalpable gaseous character we clearly
perceived the consummation of Fate. Meantime a day again
passed—bearing away with it the last shadow of Hope.
We gasped in the rapid modification of the air. The red
blood bounded tumultuously through its strict channels. A
furious delirium possessed all men; and with arms rigidly
outstretched towards the threatening heavens, they trembled
and shrieked aloud. But the nucleus of the destroyer was now
upon us;—even here in Aidenn I shudder while I speak.
Let me be brief—brief as the ruin that overwhelmed.
For a moment there was a wild lurid light alone, visiting
and penetrating all things. Then—let us bow down,
Charmion, before the excessive majesty of the great
God!—then, there came a shouting and pervading sound,
as if from the mouth itself of HIM; while the whole
incumbent mass of ether in which we existed, burst at once
into a species of intense flame, for whose surpassing
brilliancy and all-fervid heat even the angels in the high
Heaven of pure knowledge have no name. Thus ended all.

to me? Real with a certified S.King filtered -ly mod,
by god,
as the oh myers say. On Writing sans Shining.
Needful fiction,
Liars prosper. Okeh. Thus,
the poor we have with us, always.

Truth t' tell.

Entshallah allathat, OMG samesame
good mastah willin' creeks don't rise

Do the work. Come Sunday, someday,
we, all us, say.

You ever finish your own work one day and jest

sit back lax - lacks a daisy, taken easy,
laxative action,
gut synapse
synch-up, cinch that saddle on my wildest
old Nightmare, beat my plow
back to a oil drum,

set some feats t'dancin' in some ol'lady minds.

old man's angels seen t'be jiggin' on
the head o' some pen
in the hand

worth two in the bush.

Who know what ever mean, okeh.

period. point made signal.
that was said and it's writ.

set it aside, let it dry

crumble to dust and be scattered to the five great gyres
to settle
as sands
ifiable quant, to mortal mind, weighable
any worth assigned as
sought or ought,
a grain,
a mote,
as seen with five gee augmented
lenses
prestandards beeing raised in the buzz
from Utah

as an erranded boy's sail bike lifts into if
from the saline shore.
Bike tires adhered to passive-ly

by molecular
memories of being
in truth, as if
once and ever,
salt of the earth, see in the distance,
Lot's wife

as tiny as can be

Na and CL, for ever,
deja wuwuish it were possible… dream… or die…

no don't. There is a reason. I for get it can not right now but these
keys can be

used right by the sober one in the batch.
God, I love this process. This is the work. Living.
You can do it as long as you can pay attention…

selah

then it, the algorithm, I'll go rhythm, pauses,
Spelchkovian spells masters seem sorry we ever agreed she'd
leave me leavened as dust
lying around
on white linen
in the streets of Laredo, as cold as the clay,

back in the day,
we sang that song in school. We sang
in movie theaters, along with a
bouncing ball and other people,

big bio jump here. My step-brother was murdered,
and it never seemed relative…

my father married a wombed man with one leg,
whose family sang along with Mitch,

and played Spit in the Ocean.

Such experiences ificate possibilities few knew
some survive.
There could be a contributory flow…

This ever lasting book of life.
See, a shore, sand bar
snag a thought rainbowing true to you

hang-ups from way back

Any boomer bubble popped too soon. Manifest at will.
P-pickup from scratch and
make a point
to infect the next pun unknoticing kid,

old -time slow hand-eye coordination special ed, Big Ern,
kicking chalk dust in far right field, noticing
patterns
in the leftmost vector straight home--

grand children, for the joy of knowing they happened,
caused,
to all outward appearance,
by my survival of several unbelievable

periences ex nihilo only
if "It don't mean nothing".

link link link something has broken, what do we con tribute tributary flow
too dammed salty, got to puddle around

waiting. waiting. waiting for one point
to be made
edged on all angles, to each mea culpa assured
quantifiability of reason,

inquizical sequence surpast
glistering

whetted and furbished for ever,

the keenness
the cut, precision decision

and how swiftly forms the scab,
a touch,

capillary seals, the grain, at HD,
one pixelish crystallin charge

change that,
by taking thought. It does nothing to your stature,

think allusive butterflies of lifenshit

it gets tiresome. A body wants some rest from ever
meaning ever and never was known
or heard
a dis cora zone age word, like

troglodyte or luddite Denisovan bracelet breaker,
ropemaker union with certain silky
threads
to which a little leaven always sticks
as would caterpillar spit.

Meandering, right, it's the play. My role.
I manifest the dance
as seen on the surface, from Jim's POV,

then my own POV,
then my own rivers of no return,
tribute

'ary a day goes by I don't re call that feeling,

flow is moving paster and paster the walls are
higher
shade deeper
colder'n'hell fersher, rapids.
Ah,

Kern River, I remember this.
Almond trees, Columbus clouds…
Hey, readerman, paperbackwriter wannabe,

we survived. What'sa-hell, right's right.

clap. there is a - an  STD joke there.
But those aren't funny

right,
standup guy says right's right, does a
Johnny Unitas stiff arm
and gets a case of
clap from the left, worse than meaningless

neo **** non clapping on the right.
Repent or perish.
****** if it don't feel good to say that.
It's true, once you know,

Gertrude Stein, I got it from her. Lesbian Jewish leaven
in passover brownies dipped in Mogen David,
she made me stand and say a rosary.

By any other name,

a rose is a rose and so on

How countlessly they congregate
  O’er our tumultuous snow,
Which flows in shapes as tall as trees
  When wintry winds do blow!—

As if with keenness for our fate,
  Our faltering few steps on
To white rest, and a place of rest
  Invisible at dawn,—

And yet with neither love nor hate,
  Those stars like some snow-white
Minerva’s snow-white marble eyes
  Without the gift of sight.

When the seed of  enmity is sown…
Shocked mind dawdles  
    Anger takes its  seat
Startled brain malfunctions
   Germ of jealousy sets in
Pained heart  cries
   Hatred  straps  relations
Interest  fades away
   Vengeance  creeps in
Zeal dies away  
   Cunningness takes its position
Curiosity  passes off  
    Disillusionment  walks in
Passion loses identity
     Rivalry  spoils  relation
Keenness  to knowledge dwindles
     Harsh words  have no wisdom
Actions  become meaningless
    Despair leads to madness…

When the seed of love is scattered …
Words gain  wisdom
   Compassion binds the relation
Spirit of pride looks up  
    Actions have aim
Friendship and brotherhood grows
    Zeal and passion intensify
Progeny adds value to life
    Parentage gets importance.
Everything around looks colorful
  Life becomes meaningful…

So its for you and me to decide
Which seed to be chosen  ….
Seed of enmity or love
To make life worthy to live …

That girl held dearly,
Soon crawling  in the yard;
Eating grasshoppers like Einstein,
Might change our world.

That boy slurping soup
With no thought of seasoning,
Spooning ferociously.
He'd pass Edison's test of reasoning.

Your teen may dwell on video screens
With keenness as he shoots;
Fischer was the same, I hear,
When mating his pursuits.

Our youth mould with nuance
Unknown or heard;
Like Beatles when they sang their story,
Changed our world with words.

You see that child with quiet demeanour,
Shy, wise and independent;
Misunderstood and fiercely inner,
Strong-willed and confident:
How could that child hurt himself!
She might think of suicide!
What is it that we recognize
Only when they've died.

Sometimes the precocious go on display,
The kind kind, not the snide,
They reason well, abstractly think,
Still, they're lacking pride.
Although this child loves the test,
She'll play piano with the best.

Nose in the shelves or cheering,
Joining clubs or donning jerseys,
This one belongs to many groups,
Can “stand one” in the pub.
Friends get a wink or inside joke.
Their loyalty counts when they vote.

The flower vender didn't know
When selling flowers to Van Gogh,
His flowers would always grow.

The orchard worker had a flaw,
He left the apples far too long.
Now we've Newton's Law.

In the bar fight, glass was broken,
Swept out with the rubble.
Copernicus saw that glass that day
Now we have the Hubble.

We know parents rarely see
The true presence of a genius;
But we live in fortunate times
We get it when we see it.
Like sitting in a Hawking's lecture,
Having Cohen sing to us;
Some who voted for Gandhi,
Can still watch Messi play.
Old men fish with Hemingway
When they read his book,
We can watch a Hitchcock,
When brave enough to look.
We sit through Lear
And hear Shakespeare,
Or tour St. Paul's with Wren;
Stand and stare at  Dali
Until the world unbends.
Or just walk Rome.
You may even find one
Sitting at home.

Rely on natural ability.
Persistence precedes reputation;
Provide the extras and common sense,
And love will lead to eminence.

Children breathe our same air,
But  exhale differently;
Genius can be found right here,
Before posterity.

If you wish to win your man’s heart somehow
Show interest rolling your admiring eyes,
As he raves over the pet subjects of his choice,
Occasionally responding to what he says

Simulate keenness, though you don’t have it
When he prates over his job and its challenges
Pep up his confidence through words of concern
Make him feel, you are there to share his tensions

A wife’s pleasing demeanor and care
Can ease a man’s life and his blues
As filtering sunlight melts the mists
That hides the meadow’s lovely blooms

Know his favorite food and the cuisine he loves
Prepare them oftener than he can expect
The easiest way to get into a man’s heart
Is through gratifying and titillating his palate

Though he may show disinterest in flattery
Compliment him over the ‘great things’ he has done
You’ll see his former stance suddenly changed
Through praise, sure, his heart you have won

In the privacy of your closet on cool, starlit nights
Lie closer to him, even feigning false passion
As a flower bares its perfumed heart to the bee
Give yourself completely to him sans restriction

Thus win him through the magic of wooing
Delight him with your soft whispers of crooning
Never forget to take care of your grooming
And sure, day by day you will see your love blooming

But roses are indeed red.
Usually because my wandering hands doubt the keenness of their thorns.
Similar to how I doubt the sharpness of my love.
Red with passion, then with pain.

Still, beautiful.

The Easel and the Tripod

She created from paints his capturing was done through a camera lens from the towering canyons of
New York to the windswept desert their love and fame grew proportionately how large can love grow

When it has such backdrops and talents fused together the height and strength of New York’s
Skyscrapers to the vastness and richness of New Mexico’s desert that is missed by most but through the

Eyes of Georgia O Keefe the dead items took on a vibrancy and life and through her husband Alfred
Stieglitz she was revealed as artist and beloved only as a man giving full vent to his heart and the

Emotions that were found there oh heart shine through this prism of painting and photography the
Lucid the albescence of pretext with brush and pallet and the keenness of eye to see into the depths

Give expression then adjust it in a minor way then capture on glass plates the indescribable desire that
Lies hidden but is the center of emotions intent none so inclined will ever weary this well tells of

Never ending depths a stranger will ever only be able to scratch the surface because the power of love
Truly is mysterious beyond compare to look upon another release all restrictions give command to

Decrement the probe will find only the enlightened exquisite inner and outer collusions that occur
Briefly but are ever after defined by that moment the merging of two into one by common interest

You have crossed the unknown unchartered waters but in them are found the most accomplished life
That can ever be found an easel and a tripod is a silent witness and a grounding point that energy is

Released across the span of the earth and touches the Cosmos and will call infinity home love started
Of truth will never be extinguished by time or eternity so therefore go into your own gallery of the mind

Stand at the headwaters of bliss it is time to celebrate undying love

It's the strangest
thing.
All my senses are
alive, ablaze with
ultra keenness.
My brain is
sweetly burned,
and my eyes are
on fire.

I can taste the
cotton candy clouds,
snd the cab that
I'm riding in smells
of coconut and
honeysuckle.

Those ravens have
mustaches like Poe,
and those raccoons
look just like
Bukowski.
I hear an Opera by
Wagner in the wind,
and my footsteps sound
like the very
pulse of life

I’m at the acorn, a coffee shop, trying to write a poem but my mind is blank. I got here early enough to get one of the comfy chairs - yeah, I’m a self-indulgent monster - and I’m not getting up until my having to *** becomes a medical emergency.

What rhymes with blank.. Spank? THAT would take this poem in a WHOLE new direction - maybe it needs a new direction. Why does coffee that comes with latte-art, which costs 20 times more than what you can have in your dorm room, taste so much better?

A “Hi,” reveals a man standing in front of me, looking down and smiling - I assume he’s smiling because we’re all masked. I look up, blinking, and give him a questioning look and a head tilt - because we are masked. People at tables and chairs near us look up from their zoo of electronic devices to give us the onceover. There’s a keenness to him that makes me want him to go away and I begin to feel a nagging trepidation.

“Apparently I didn’t make much of an impression,” he says. He’s right and frankly, I’m thinking we should keep it that way. “We met at the Pundits party a couple of weeks ago?” He says, the inflection of his whole sentence rising, like a question.

Some background…

To her friends, Lisa being gorgeous is everyday and unremarkable, but take her out somewhere and she draws all eyes, like you drove up in a growling, fluorescent red Ferrari. She’s invited everywhere (she calls them “shiny ornament” invites) and one afternoon, as we’re coming back to the dorm a girl comes up to us - to her - hands her a ½ slip of paper and strikes up a conversation.

She introduces herself and runs through the usual, “What year are you in, where ya from.. bla bla. Then she asks, “Would you ever consider attending a naked party - have you heard of them?” To my surprise, Lisa smiles, brushes the hair out of her face and says, “I’d think about it,” which makes me laugh nervously, “You would?” I interrupt. The girl says that the paper is an open invitation from “The Pundits”, and that there’s a URL on it with details. “Just bring the slip,” she says, touching the paper in Lisa’s hand.

Guess where I “met” this guy? In an instant, I’m tense, and if I were a fox, I’d gnaw-off my paw to get out of there.

Told me the company you hang around together with and even I'll try to tell you all about those feelings. Sounds very unlikely? Appeal to celine bags. You observe, we sometimes accept the emotions, doings and then attitudes of such we tend to meet up with. For example, for example you now have the pal and / or colleague that's invariably filing a complaint. She actually is talks unfavorable approximately her own figure, the job, their family relationships plus her lifetime. This girl anticipates spending time with you because the device grants the girl to be able to port to get relief. And once she has by using, she likes to lightweight, freer and capable to take your ex moment. Your sweetheart really likes talking to most people for the reason that you're very good show goers Hermes Outlet, providing him / her to get read and also valued. That work well to be but just how sometimes you may feel? You truly feel exhausted, deflated plus uninspired. Despite the fact that any intention was to turn into a close family friend, while you started to be included with your in your own colleagues negative opinions, you are produced all the way down together. At this point on the other hand, for instance you will have intentions to visit a colleague who might be jovial, zealous and embraces everyday life by way of keenness and even zeal. Simply pondering the companion offers a grin with your ****** area once you find out you'll certainly be enjoying yourselves not to mention taking part in one another's company. When your energy and time together with each other, that you are thinking about your other afternoon. You should record every single minute and watch all of the magnificence which may be you live with. Your acquaintance might not have by design got down to alter your wondering however the good process and even disposition had been transmittable. In which individual is better for your health? Research has revealed which optimistic thinkers have got a 55% decrease danger of demise from all results in together with 23% smaller probability of passing with heart inability. This is simply not to speak about the fact that the more positive man or women doesn't practical experience just about anything disagreeable. The truth is, the confident, upbeat personal perhaps have seasoned much more sad cases when compared to the poor, negative personal. The result of these kind of experiences however departs all of the impressive thinker with a higher respect, opinion together with perception of enjoyment. They are really glad for the purpose individuals look at while having because they could quite possibly have an item not as much fulfilling to be able to it all together with. Once they encounter a stressful problem, they are for tactics to elevate it opposed to letting it use them all. Where a difficulty rears its ugly head, they do business with being a way to consider the correct alternative, other than house and even magnification most of it is removed bad Cheap Hermes. The actual bad guy will work substantially specially. They be expecting damaging effects and while it happens, a couple of seconds verifies just what on many occasions they'd in actual fact projected. They are surely handy evaluating, gossiping and also criticizing because inserting some others affordable provides them with some relief using their company discomfort. This bad man or woman handles the role regarding "victim" in the software the girl with penned pertaining to themselves. She feels other artists lead to your girlfriend "lot found in life" and often works by using this as reason to settle wherever the woman with. Around everyone is often a wide variety for thoughts.

An excellent optimist won't just experience satisfaction and then the pessimist doesn't only adventure lack of enthusiasm. It is merely the fact that the optimist wants one can anticipate happiness, success as well as entertainment also, that maybe what they can acquire. That pessimist prefers to make sure you replay negativeness which usually give you unfavorable success. That's a determination. We elect how you like to believe that, truly feel along with function. While aren't turn out to be taught to assume and also start up a certain way, as we do not like the outcomes it will be our own decision to shift. That's for what reason any time were working hard in the direction of adjusting the way you presume, really feel and also start up, you should be thoughtful in regards to the families that you are spending your effort by means of. Try to look for like-minded people that help and support, stimulate and encourage an individual. Restriction your time with normal folks who exactly drain pipe Hermes Bags, ticked-off as well as frustrate everyone. Heres your existence. You are the motorist of one's car with respect to happiness, bigger motive and even peace.

Even when there could be a large number of detours, you possess the chance maneuver yourself on what ever path you prefer to set off. Should you want to feel good, guide yourself toward having a positive perspective and allow your partnerships help support the bring about. Before you choose negativity, distress prefers organization and you will find lots of people comfortable an individual inside their adverse organization. Much more simple an outing and we will not journey only. Who're one getting in your experience?
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I gingerly place my hands on your silk back
as you climb aboard the
maypole
but is this right?
is this
True?

What is True?
why does my gentle heart flutter at the thought
of your
naked
Body
on top of mine?

Will you stop me?
will you help me save my honor?
I can only be so chivalrous
my steed can only gallop so many miles

Why does my wicked mind turn to the image
of you
with round—bare
eyes staring into mine
as our lips
Interlock
in a Loving embrace?

I wish—
I wish to walk side by side
with you
along the ocean shore
a beautiful bay steed for us both
I want that to be reality

Deep in my lifeforce
I only desire to defend you
with my mystical sword
for I have no desire to wield my organic sword
it has the power to betray and harm
as it did for Lancelot

Should the spirits take me
will you stop and assist me
in maintaining my honor?
if they take us both
shall we fall off the Edge of the World?
shall we approach the Gates of Oblivion
along the shores of Acheron and Styx?

Why must my mind and heart be
in constant warfare?  
the Barbarians against the Gallant Knights.
whom shall win?
My knights are indeed heroic
but the base passions of the barbarians
give keenness to their axes and spears

And what about you milady?
will you stop yourself
knowing
my honor?
I pray that you will kiss me
and Love shall take
Us
along a pleasant path.
but - forgive me
I cannot
trust
you yet.

I long for the day when I can
Feel
Your hands
intertwined-in-mine-like-vines
as you smile into my eyes
not as a lover
but as a
Companion

Why should I entomb my hatchet
     after so much toil in the honing?
After all its blade excels alls measures
     for heft and keenness
and no finer tool can be had
     to strike the ultimate blow -
except perhaps the one you're holding.

So here we stand my friend
     ensnared by pride's inertia
with everything to lose
     but one or another's demise
within our imminent grasp.

Then without a sign or preamble,
     our eyes meet as if by chance
and in that unsought instant,
      the shame of forgiveness
saps our strength and sinew.
     Our weapons clang to the pavement.

Unless we're history's fools
     we know it seldom ends this way.
How much must we sacrifice
     before the worst we have been
can give up its sorry shade
     to the best our souls demand?

They set out together a long time ago
there was a keenness to their gait
whatever was going to be thrown at them
they’d take in their stride and then leave to fate.

They made many new friends along the way
with hearts so stout and true
and some friends are with them still today
’cause they’re good people through and through.

Their journey took them far and wide
it has been one hell of a ride
there were hardships aplenty along the road
but they never left each other’s side.

And now they are here in the twilight years
the journey’s not over for them yet
the gait is less keen and they have their fears
but they've got plenty of mileage in them yet.

©Joe Wilson – Keep going…2014

Clay circles that allows
my hands to almost touch
ribbed startle of your
Soul in flight

That permits my breath
snake's tongue
to probe inside echoes
of a time you weren't so
sad and mocking

Wing tips brushing
floating face down
in keenness
of memory
I join lines running rivers
of peyote
stretch skin across a
stone sphinx
silently relive the
enigma

Please share the warm embrace of my new Poetry book:
108 Bhakti Kisses, The Ecstatic Poetry of a Modern Day Gopi
http://amzn.com/0984787216

Enter the Dragon

Black trouble enters your world and circumstances in whatever form it primary purpose is to assail to
Become this worse than dark energy that forms a cloud and in its throes you are caused to walk in
Confusion clarity and true vision are suspended in the moment the light of possibility the power of
Consideration is demoralized all that you thought before with insight and wisdom has been driven to
The far borders of the mind try as you might they remain distant the sharp keenness that cut through
Messy and tangled thoughts fell from your hand into the darkness try as you may feeling around your
Feet nothing but empty will be found stop falling further into the trap your help and deliverance is in
your ability to Cast you mind backwards has the dragon gone no but he is in a definable dimension one
important thing
Has happened before I tell you I could say tell jokes cry run even those work but they still have you on
Defense casting your mind backwards breaks the grip gives you the upper hand while writing about
Hands do this literally or in your mind reach out and take the hand of a small child instant peace
Innocence passes to your mind a sea change big steel machines large cold buildings are now wagons
Cuddly toes a child picks one up and seems to automatically brighten and smile and giggle buildings
Are fair castles with fun loving kings and knights that are shiny and bright they do the bidding of the king
And they have slain their fair amount of dragons you are now too in a land without peril no weapon has
Been formed that can long battle truth and stalwartness and too you have entered through times
Portal when you again were at odds with life but in that instance you struggled and prevailed the dark
Dragon depends on the suspected the illusion that he has tossed into your mind you are supposed to be
helpless why fight its hopeless when he sees the light coming to your eyes as you are back there where you stepped from poverty to the rich
Knowledge you were made to be a winner your kingdom holds forth truths and facts that are common
With children your hard edge blocked out the very thoughts that were racing to your rescue we fret
Unduly in the brightest sun light its invigorating rays make us strong the enemy confers us to look at the
Dark where subtle twists and turns speak with meanings that are to be subterfuge while all the while his
Superiority is to be believed as strong and unbreakable what victory rules when adults deny the
Strongholds where faith and truth and love were not expedients in life but the power source unalterable
Unerring they dislodged the erroneous the audacity that someone less than He that is Holy could come
and long rule over the very children of God what lunacy step up march you have a birthright that gleams
to the end of time and then only grows brighter never kneel before trouble stand up march toward it
the coward behind it will flee

Does time suddenly come to a stand still?
At certain times, time just feels like a concept
that has no meaning, even going backwards!

She parks her car and sashays out, as if she
has never been frustrated with her life!
Dressed in a boldly patterned dress, she waits.
She looks more like a fixture in nature, a sculpture
that stood so long in a public place, not adulated,
bearing beating sun, snow and rain, yet so fresh
as if newly made, pleasant in a way illusory
her marked chutzpah,evidently intact.

At the park gate he stands, in a past he is lost,
peering at her face from afar, with a keenness
that doesn't seem to be normal, he hesitates
time has turned it's wheel s much yet it seems
a stand still to him,"Would one learn from life?"
he mulls over  as he invites a smile on his face
while walking over to meet her, the moment
of epiphany, he is sure and wants to cherish it for ever.

Someone called me a scorpion today
Scorpions are spirit animals representing determination
So thank you.

Someone called me a scorpion today
Scorpions don’t go into attack mode unprovoked
So thank you.

Someone called me a scorpion today
Scorpions have magical virtues of fortitude, grit, mental keenness and willpower
So thank you.

Someone called me a scorpion today
Go ** yourself.

I feel the immediacy of things. The imminence of objects. I feel the keenness of a glass in my hands. The instantaneous dribble of condensation over a knuckle. The spontaneous aroma of a summer night. I am enthralled and enraptured by the crisp mint of toothpaste, after a barely slept night. I feel the rough twill of a garment and I am in love with it. I extend my hands into the rapid amber slats of the streetlamps on my dash, as I speed beneath them. I watch them wash over my hands and I feel somehow indescribable.

I am in love with beautiful women who pass me on the street. Every one them pretty. Every one of them a neat mystery. Every one of them in skin as lovely and soft as breath off the ocean. I know myself least when I kiss. I know myself best when I am kissed.

I feel myself in the world and I feel IT in me. I love my friends and my family. I love the rough smell of fire. I love the wisp of spring, grown into the verdant pulse of summer's heat. I love to sweat and feel the movement of my body through open space. I love the sharp itch of a tattooer's vibrant needle. The splay of colors. The tang of my blood.

I look at men and I see boys playing at what they think a man is supposed to be. I see excess, increase, and birth. I see leanness, erosion, and death. I somehow know that neither is life a beginning or death an ending. I know it as I know the tip of my finger. I know it as I know the taste of sweat and hairspray and sunscreen, distilled in the instant of a drunk kiss, in a tent just inside of Idaho.

I am for life. I am for pain as I am for pleasure. For I know that one is nothing without the either. I wish to be known and to say myself. I wish to know you and to hear yourself, said by, yourself. I am simply. I am a man. I am just what I am.

I may die tomorrow. I urge you to love those dear to you and to say it everyday. I only try to do that. I only try.

Denials fears receipts
Lies betrayals deceits

Expectations loss resentments
Perception destruction commitments

Adoration longing craving
Yielding accepting braving

Politics labor expense
Logic confusion dispense

Care concern keenness
New life new world seamless

Divinity concealment hate
Regret trust late

Forgiving losing retake
Patience understanding heartbreak

Dealing retracing abiding
Life God residing

Emotions thoughts dissent
Judgments wisdom repent

Memories traces slaughter
Heart soul fodder

Empathy retraction deafness
Body mind breathless

Oxygen air amiss
Blood veins remiss

Promises sensations overlook
Death sadness overtook

Redemption reprisal regret
Untreated unlearned unmet

your mouth is a beauty
whose word i long to pronounce
whose keenness is marigold in summer
whose almost too fragile a slit
makes the fragrance of desire
whose language is heavy and soft
and suddenly across
your face it slices
more pink than bubble gum
and more sweetly to taste
more sugared and awefull
more impossibly resisted
your mouth is too delicate a flowering
destroying sound
of which i long to pronounce

Drink over drugs
Was always my preference
Why? You say
Well drugs have a large price to pay
Drink may **** my liver
And make  my conscience quiver
But it's about mastering your pace
With drugs it's a constant race

It taunts and teases
Pretending it pleases

How fast can you lose yourself?
How long can you keep reality on a shelf?

It leads you to a darkness
Hidden away deep in your mind
Something with thorns an loves forlorn
No it's not kind

Drink can ease my pain
In time of weakness
But drugs have a keenness
To devour you

So pour yourself a glass
Have a cry and a laugh
And bask in the rain
That your still sane.

the you the

      that

the

       totally

(which intensely does)                  Curve


upon curving
the twist of
some adamantine
hips collapsed
in one fatal crushing
of hushed nudeness                        Arrive

by mute girlness
of parting self

(where sleeps faultless
legions of boyness to kiss
with the waxing
of their paired moon
some wet keenness of bliss)

I begged,

On bent knee, my palm gently kissing her hand.

If I needed to smith a sword she was my searing heat.

If I needed to craft a ship she was my impenetrable weld.

If I needed to fly she was the wind beneath my wings.

I had never been able to do anything without her.

Once again I beseeched her to lend herself to me.

Her dark brown eyes probed mine in keenness

Discerning the nobility of my plea, if to heed

If I am to set sail amidst the flooding waves of life

I’d need her as my anchor

If I am to brave the fog and the winter cold

I’d need her to radiate against my skin

If I am to fashion a generation of impeccable humans

I’d need only her to be.

Once again I entreated her to lend herself to me.

Her eyes came out of my deeps, sparkling with satisfaction

And a curve of her lips preceded the calm in her answer

No
I give myself to you!

In case you are wondering, to whom I am addressing
I’ll clear that part for you, so you won’t have to be guessing

Aiming at the racist ones, words are my sole arsenal
And if you’re like them too, go ahead and take it personal

What I will emphasize may look to y’all as history
From humanity’s standpoint; it’s a big shame and mystery

It sure happened in the past, this ain’t a current topic
Or it’s maybe still around, hurtful and traumatic

Man was treated as goods, traded in public auctions
Disgrace was all over with no sign of conscience

Body wasn’t enough, you also wanted mind and soul
Wow! You must’ve paid a fortune to buy ’em all

Please answer me, Dear Sirs. What happened to empathy?
Do you know what the word refers? Taking the fifth already?

You never thought of yourself in the body of color
Yet gave long-*** speeches on dignity and honor

You were rough on the surface, to make them obey
Who knows how rotten in inside. And all that was okay

Captivated a race and gave them the stupid belief
That they were secondary and all they deserved was grief

Motivation was obvious; millions of things to take care
Slaves cost less than anything. You couldn’t even compare

Don’t run away now, we just heated the subject
He is a human being Mister, not a ******* object

Oh, I see, you don’t wanna face the sheer fact
That indeed your cruel ancestors attacked

These innocent African tribes for no good reason
In a barefaced manner despite the Age of Reason

And you’re not ready to redeem their deadly sin
Alright! Stand up and admit then. All humans are close kin

It’s **** important. Do you even know why?
That is to say to residues of racism bye-bye

Opportunity gap, project houses, ****** education
Are the real meanings of the word discrimination

Biased justice with never ending prejudice on Blacks
Are updated slavery forms deserving a good smack

You are mostly haughty for the things you didn’t earn
Race and color are given, but you have yet to learn

No man’s a property for your royal dynasty
Facing and accepting this takes a lot of honesty

Freedom was vague when society was stratified
Where the aristocracy were safely identified

By color, neighborhood, and school in the whole nation
In ******* good-old-days, during segregation

Do me a favor and don’t give me the cliché
That all **** sapiens had an equal say

It is not the truth even nowadays
Let alone back in those dark days

For all the years they have chosen to be violent
Slave owners don’t have the right to remain silent

Before giving me the crap on Afro-American’s wrongdoings
Let’s put you in their shoes and see how you’re doing

It’s not like Blacks need a defense from this ground
To see how they get even with you, just look around

Jazz, rap, hip hop, soul, reggae and blues for that matter
Non-black pants below waist, what a cross-cultural endeavor

Look at youngsters’ hands, when they’re saluting each other
Trust me, there is nothing white, it’s all from Black brother

In return is belittlement, denial, tyranny and attack
All while they are transforming and painting you solid Black

It all began in New York with the Harlem Renaissance
Artistic, rebellious and witty. Possibly the best response

I know what I’m talking about with absolute faith
Once my home address was 135th and 8th

Stop pompously calling this junk as modernity
It’s in fact nothing but big fat white sovereignty

Nonetheless you are more than welcome to anticipate
That in fact communities of color will emancipate

You from yourself in time, if you know what I mean
Too deep to grasp, huh? For what you have been

I can almost hear that you’re constantly asking me
While me being white, oh sorry. A brown maybe

Why on earth am I now irritating the past?
Like what happened back then is not manifest

I’m not even black, right. But in all fairness
I question the past to raise some awareness

I suppose it’s both because of my aching heart
Feeling in the history for this vile part

And also because of my Turkish nationality
That’s Europe’s Black these days, with Asian paternity

Add to that as well a keenness for reality
Truth needs to be cried out, it’s my personality

This way or that way, what difference does it make
Ignore who says it. Embrace the truth for God’s sake

Most great thinkers felt deeply for the human
With their vast and perpetual acumen

It’s not a duty assigned to philosophers only
We must do the same, so no race becomes lonely

There is no other way to the salvation of mankind
Notice it already! Don’t insist on being blind

If you’ve yet to realize what matters the most
It’s your efforts to solve the problem we diagnosed

Make no mistake, we don’t cry over spilt milk here
Action must speak louder than the words to clear

This longstanding injustice along with insincerity
A bleeding wound that is blocking solidarity

Here’s your chance to make it all right again
Treat people equally, I bet you’ll get an Amen

Kindly stop acting like nothing happened in the past
Labyrinth’s says it’s time for understanding at last

March 12th, 2019
labyrinth

Two months past and you didn't consume my mind
Despite the lust I kept hidden inside
Until once again you hijacked my dream
I wish I knew what it all means
Why is it impossible to read your vibes
You give me an inch but I want miles
Showing keenness has never been my style
But how you press your lips together and smile sends me wild
How the sides grey and the front strands stray
How your eyes say more than you intend them to say
Or maybe my thoughts leading me astray
Surely you're aware of your teasing way

Said the sword as the eye,
"My edge is the sharpest,
Quickest maker of greatest numbers."

So the squid said:
"Oblivion is the lip of my beak,"
And he was the sharper.

The eye, as the sword, set to the forge,
Forfeit to visions of keenness,

And became claimant to a wicked edge
Which shaved him of shame;
Which loved most the whetstone,
So he set back to sharpening,
Growing so fine as to slice the stone in twain.

In recoil, he knocked upon his plane
And cut himself from his steadfast cradle,
And was pulled silently
Into timeless unbecoming.

Over forgotten dreams... In which
a verdict could seem so
simple and beautiful, as the death that'd
ensue. Per guillotine, or

electricity, - merely the substance
that'd make my heart stop. A sig-
nature at the bottom of a sheet by which I
showed my keenness, for her.

On this day, that I could wish
for her wisdom, with the choice to go
or not. Therein I’d simply nothing to
lose; she couldn’t entice me. But a

hand holds onto me, so that I’ll not
become lost in the depths. And there’s the
face of the one who’s strung a cord into
my heart. In moments unprecious

to me I wished I could cut her, and so
be freed from this imprisoning pact
with this earth. To sink, and then after
the near drowning be lifted

out once more. With open eyes and mouth
the same. Rebirth through the water that kept
me confined at first. God, that there’ll be a
day that I don’t need it.

© 2006

I trip into your path, machinations
of bright smiles and a kindness drawn
only with pleasing you.

The first time we met I dreamt myself
into your bed, sly moves of a body
you did not want to resist.

Eagerly I hover on the edge of your
life, content to steal company whenever
it is permitted.

He is rapture defined, solid substance
with self-abrasive smiles; a keenness
that cuts when I stand too near.

I wonder if he has other girls to
whom he also extends invites,
to accompany him but for awhile.

I wonder if he likes it. And I wonder
of the dwindling kindled hope that
enrages my skin - and his?

I'm one step closer to
Losing my ****, I say,
Knowing very well that
I'll need more than prayers
To keep me in a state of contempt.

Am I too much to handle?
Socrates once questioned
His own existence, so
Why can't I? There'll be
Nothing left of this page
If I speak my mind
And scatter my brain matter
Onto these overnight fears  --
Not in a literal sense, unfortunately,
But in a way only I can see.

When I think about the times I
Ever had a true sense of keenness,
All I see is a notepad with
As much emptiness as
The ideas inside of my cranium --
But look at the **** you'r--
Can I be any more clear? This ****
Is nothing but another daily reminder
We tell ourselves each day; don't
Act like you haven't thought this way.

When I've found the answer,
I can say that my abstract outbalanced
The complex and my bad outweighed
The good, because what else can't
A 16-year-old boy keep to himself?