Shadows rest upon this page
Mocking works of others
Stale and empty, a product of age
They sound so smooth and right
Twisting your feelings
Like ropes of pleasure, delight
But I dare not call them mine
I stole their ideas from another
From other authors with skills so fine
An imitation you might say
Striving to learn your craft
This but only one more way.
Innumerable worlds in Milky Way words,
spoken into being,
bending reality with consciousness
such is the state of our minds,
the god creationist in us all
but what do we manifest?
Boredom, dissatisfaction, anxiety,
Tiredness, hurt, jealously,
all with quick fixes
designed by archaic designers.
But what about us?
At our best we are
visionaries, poets, artists
designers, engineers, scientists.
Why not manifest our own
We have the skills
and the passion,
so let our new generation
manifest love, understanding,
peace, happiness, satisfaction,
connection, energy, courage.
We are the innovators of now,
Think it, do it,
bring love into being
and hate will fade away.
We can design our lives
to energize ourselves,
and the world, the only
barrier is our caged minds,
free yourselves from your culture
and start to create your own.
Take a piece of your skull out of your head; it’s time to put in new tiling. Our organization skills seem petty when the maid forcing our hands is peering over our shoulder. That makes it third person. However, you must put yourself in the first person. “Stay in the moment to stay alive” they say. The mess in your room spreads into sections and within sections, objects, each of those objects reminding you of a different time or segment of your life. Past, present and future tenses are assimilated into each object’s aesthetic power. That power forces reconciliation upon your mind that lifts you out of the moment, or as some would put it, drags you down into the hole away from the moment. That’s why we made the sunroof, get some light in this dark room we use to store our cluttered thoughts. Not only that, but now we can lift ourselves out. Fuck the moment, I’m a messy dude.
enormous elephant in the room
his fat ass blocking the shrooms
i can't see the fucking moon
ahh this is that
finger that tap taps at the scaled skins
on the shapely layered fins
of the crated barreled tins
of my dainty figured limbs
that cross bows into the muscle
that beats a hollow hustle
a rhythmic monotonic tussle
that in which keeps this alive
this thing i call the enigmatic tide
this wussy like mind
this funk-du-funky found
that that idiotic lice that lied
in which I figure is the only thing left to kill
the mind that is not the vicarious blinds
that cover the truth in various skills
to which I cannot shallnot reveal in lines
In life we often experience illusions,
later revealed as passing delusions:
they’ll beguile us with complexities,
further subjecting us to perplexities,
as to what we actually witnessed?
In sleep we suffer diverse illusions:
dreams that effect exotic delusions!
Seldom recalled when we’re awake,
unsure as to which view we take,
and frustration is often expressed.
In life we can suffer fanciful illusions
when we’re extended pseudo allusions
of grandeur, flattered by words of praise
offered us by others, we’re lost in a daze,
and by false illusions, become obsessed!
Entertained by sleight of hand illusions
an audience displays mixed conclusions
as practised skills keep them entranced.
When an explanation is later advanced,
their gullibility leaves some depressed.
Beware the deception of perceived illusions,
when you’re faced with unwanted intrusions,
and anomalies, that defy logical explanation.
As such they cause angst and consternation,
and you might find yourself overly stressed.
Rhymer. December 6th, 2013
Nothing shall be
Lost in the desert,
brow beat and empty
Marching the beat
of an old drummers song
Clutching the sand
in a hand I imagine
Thirsting for all
only finding it wrong
the shore of a nightmare
Angry moon’s claws
find my heart tender, bare
Slowly but surely
with skills of a surgeon
Ripping my dreams
with the slightest of tears
Daring the day light
to rest on my shoulders
Cast of my eyes
in this heart broken dawn
Hearing the echoes
of seashells that whisper
“fall to your knees,
you are merely a pawn”
Scanning the heavens
for only a flicker,
eyes that I seek
staring down on my face
For soon of this shadow
nothing shall be
no, not even a trace
Mockery in the streets .
With each atom disintegrating.
With a fierce rage Of defeating while chasing
Without blood shedding
Be it Said that the Saints who Persevere
Would by Virtues help their Sour Minds Change
Then Surpass most Laws deny Love Sincere
Yet Shred all Passions in Variance and Range
Be it Known if Such Life we Seek to Own
Pamper those Millions Hope then Disappoint
Still that Love Real Sake set their Claws blown
Then Accept your Temple to Re-Anoint
Virtue's Bless our Smiles we would much Confer
That Past Nineteen we would Focus your Sport
And let your Governess maintain your Prefer
Then Scold the Lusty Janitor's Report.
I Sense by such Love your Trained Skills excel
Such be your Nature which you have done Well.
You can hear the voices of our peers being silenced, ignored, shunned and distorted.
Staggering out of their bedroom doorways to the street corner to score a dime bag.
Bright, insightful kandi kids freezing in search of warmth from something to believe in that will make them look forward to see another day.
Where our economy has made financial prudence clear when talking about education, yet price tags of university tuitions skyrocket.
The refused, the ones with hope but no money or scholarships; tread the streets with the echoes of electro house pulsing in their skulls.
Those who strip themselves down and shred their own morals to scraps just to find themselves and to see their own limitations.
Searching for answers to the unknown, to ascertain what they are, who they are and why.
Timid in high school, pushed along with nothing and no one to put their creative vigor into.
The squeakiest wheels that were never even considered to be given a good greasing.
Faculties giving them lethargic hellos on the first day of school, bestowing celebrated goodbyes to them on graduation day, diplomas in hand.
Now are the ones slumped over in a lackadaisical position contemplating how they can afford an education.
They work eight to ten at seven twenty five an hour Monday to Friday and weekends staying in as not to blow their earnings.
Those who commute to university and balance a job with it, I applaud you.
The bewilderment of adulthood, the abundance of pressure and responsibility.
Awakened from nightmares of lost opportunities, missed trains and lost contacts.
To step out of bed and splash water onto a severely distressed face and staring into a mirror with a despairing look.
Then hoping a bus to Garfield to bring back weight for all the embryonic smokers not yet at the point of make or break, just save up enough to pave my own way.
Gazing at the town on a roof top, chugging down the tenth…no…twelfth beer of the night wondering how this all happened.
Wild sensations of kissing an attractive stranger, the rush of touching on things never felt, tasting pleasures only the lucky have known.
The passionate, yet dissolute yearning for that ever eluding orgasmic adrenaline. Pounding, Pounding, Pounding until the culmination of energy has come.
Flip sided to those dizzying, tear jerking thoughts of suicide, annihilation of ones being, the contradictions of their faith in themselves and the people around them.
Unexplainable waves of anxiety crashing onto the shore of a diminutive island of optimism
Striving to look past the panic, the gloominess and fury that may or may not be present. But to remain composed and press forward to what awaits them.
Coffee keeps them going. Cup after cup, late night cramming every bit they can; into their caffeine driven psyches until the indisputable crash and failure.
Packs and packs of menthol cigarettes to calm their rattling nerves but at the same time killing them slowly. Their lives will seem shorter than the time it took to finish one bogey when death is near.
Marijuana induced ventures to run down burger shacks, laughing hysterical in the car ride, eyes heavy with a most ridiculous elastic grim extending from ear to ear. While inside millions of thoughts and realizations of consciously simple thoughts and troubles become clear and unproblematic. So the joy is mirrored outside in.
LSD trips in Petruska dancing and singing in the rain! Making music, making love; playing pretend and creating art. Becoming a family while kicking back under the warmth of an illuminated tree.
MDMA streaming through the body, everything is as it should be, beautiful, lovely to touch, wondrous to stroke, marvelous to move. To contact and connect, converse and converge with the dwelling desire to share what you feel with everyone for it would be selfish and unpleasant to keep it in.
Mushrooms oh the emotional overflow I need not say more but damn.
The there are over the counter candies, oxycodone, oxycotin and codone. Xanax, painkillers and antidepressants. Ups, downs, side ways and backwards.
Selling addiction and dependency legally to kids. Making heroine, cocaine and speed easily obtainable to kids. Changing the names and giving out prescriptions so that the kids parents can feel like their actually helping their children but are subconsciously making it easier on them because they cannot handle they way their children actually are. Some parents actually do want help their kids and feel it is the only way, I wish it wasn’t so. Becoming zombies, mindless addicts before they even start to mature into puberty.
Oh, the monotonous, mundane rituals and agendas of our lives. School, work, sleep eat, the sluggish schedules and repetitions of yesterdays conversations and redundancy of itineraries we had plotted months prior.
Same people, the constant faces of boredom, groans of apathy and the fear of complacency.
We talk about how hum drum out lives have become and what we could to put some color in our world but don’t.
We speak of how unfair the system us but ultimately confuse ourselves and everyone else due to lack or organization and detcation so nothing is changed.
We speak of breath taking women we want to share sexual fantasies with but can’t even muster enough courage to send a trivial friend request.
Texting away for hours trying to court those who now occupy our minds and possess our hearts hoping they may allow us to acquire their attention and affection. Calling them only to receive futile dial tones knowing they are being evaded.
Weeping on and on for seemingly endless time frames of a dilapidated relationship that was so strained that a miniscule breeze could cause it to collapse but still clinging to every memory as if they were vital hieroglyphics depicting your very essence.
Brilliant theories blurted out in a drunken stupor.
Ingenious hypothesis shrouded in marijuana smoked out room.
Remembrance of friends long gone.
The marines, the navy.
The casualties of drug addiction.
The conquerors or their afflictions.
The insane locked away on the flight deck never to be seen again.
Teenage mothers unsure of themselves, abandoned by their families for they believe that they brought fictional shame upon the family’s name. The fate of the child is unclear but the mother’s everlasting love shines through any obscurities in its way.
Dear mother of the new born winter’s moon may the aura of life protect you and your baby.
The father gone without a trace.
He will never know his daughter.
And it will haunt him forever.
Parents bringing up their kids with values and morals, god fearing, devil worshiping, mantras and meditation. Psalms, the Holy Quran, The Bhagavad Gita. Islamic anecdotes and Jewish parables.
The names all different
The message the same
The stories unlike
Kabala, scientology and wiccans
Amish and Mormons
All spate paths that intertwine and runoff each other then pool into the plateau of eternal life.
But do we have faith in our country, our government?
They do not have faith in us. Cameras on every street corner, FBI agents staling social media, recordings of our personal lives. 4th amendment where have you gone?
We say farewell to Oresko the last veteran of the last great war. And revisit the Arab spring, Al-Assad’s soldiers opening fire on innocent protester, one hundred fifteen thousand lay dead. Bin laden dead, Hussein hanged, Gaddafi received every ounce of his comeuppance. War, terrorism, the fear of being attacked or is it an excuse to deplete these countries of their natural resources like we’ve done our own? Throwing trillions of dollars to keep the murder machine cranking away, taxes, pensions, credit scores, insurance and annuities all cogs in the convoluted contraptions plight.
My dear friend contemplates this every night laying in bed, fetal position; the anxiety if having to be a part of this.
Falling apart on the inside but on the outside, an Adonis, playboy, Casanova wanna be. Who worshiped the almighty dollar, gripping it so tightly until it made change, drank until he had his fill falling face first into the snow. The guy who lead on legions of clueless girls wearing their hearts on their sleeves not knowing he had a girlfriend the entire time. Arranging secret meetings in hidden gardens, streaking into the early morning. Driving to Ewing in his yellow Mustang to woo a sado masochistic girl. The chains and whips do nothing to him he is already numbed by the thrill. Then he comes home, lays in bed until one, with no job and having people pay for his meals.
He knows what he does and who he is wrong. He recites and regurgitates excuses endlessly. He cries because he knows he is weak, he knows he must fix himself. I sit on the edge of myself with my fingers crossed hoping maybe, maybe he will set himself straight.
My chum who can talk his way out of any confrontation and into a woman’s panties. Multitudes of amorous affairs in backrooms, backseats, front rows of movies theaters. Selfish, boastful and ignorant, yet woman fling themselves at him like catapulted boulders over a medieval battle field just to say hello. These girls blind to see what going on, for their eyes were taken by low self esteem. A need to be accepted, to feel wanted even only for fifteen minutes. Poor self image, daddy issues, anorexic razor blade slicing sirens screaming on about counted calories and social status. Their uncontrollable mental breakdowns and emotional collapse. Their uncles who raped them, their parents who split up and confusing their definition of love and loyalty for the rest of their lives. Broken homes, domestic abuse and raised voices, sending jolts of fright into the young girl’s fragile minds. I send my sorrows to you ladies, to see such beautiful creatures suffer then be used and thrown away with the condom that was just thrust deep into their loins.
Then I see women and men of marvelous stature, romantic in the streets holding everyone and everything in high regards. Finding beauty in anything and anyone. Enjoying every second as if the rapture was over head eating exotic foods from unheard of countries and cultures. Bouncing to the sound of whimsical , reverb ricochets and sense stimulating music. Huffing inspiration to creative something out of thin air. Dancing to retired jazz and swing albums as if no time had past since their conception. Wearing bold colors and patterns, thrifty leather shoes or suede.
Dawning pre-owned blazers because why spend hundreds of dollars on new clothes just to look good but feel uncomfortable with a hole in your pocket. Dressing up but dressing down, so class yet urban I love it, chino, pea coats and flannels so simple but chic.
At night they go to underground dens, sweaty bodies, loud music and freedom. Expressive manifestations glowing fueled with MDMA and other substances to further their enjoyment of the dark glorious occasion. Sporting colorful bracelets, not watches for time is of no concern to them, they have all eternity they know that.
Going to book stores, coffee shops just to have some peace of mind and a moment of silence to themselves so that can weave the tapestry of imaginative innovation. Writing their own versions of the same story, endless doors of perception, reading news papers and taking it with a grain of salt. Watching the news on TV with a hand full of salt. Searching for the real story so they can know if the world they all live in is actually safe.
She who made her own way breaking hearts, rolling blunts and making deals. The flower child of the modern age, left the Rainey days in search of radiant sunshine, idealistic. Reality was subjective, purple dyed hair, multicolored sweater with sandals on her feet. A ten inch bowl with bud from California packed in tightly. Coming from Dumont to Bergenfeild then on to Philly to Mount Vernon. Off to Astoria and the Heights. Now to Sweden laying in the grassy plains below the mountains. Good for you my friend whom I have loved, may fortunes of unsullied joy come to you and all you meet.
Since you’ve left I have encountered drunken burley firemen just trying to have a good time. Pounding down Pabst Blue Ribbon as if it were water; as if it were good tasting beer. But heroes none the less.
EMTs, young eighteen years old high school graduates, saving lives reviving people who are a mere one inch close to death.
Sport stars getting scholarships thanks to their superior skills and strength.
Striking beauty school students who are into making the people of this world a little bit more beautiful on the outside.
All these people, successful, doing things. Departing to their desired destinations. I see inside them, they carry baggage, loneliness and insecurities. I can feel their guilt slowing them down. All have their loads but it’s the way they carry them that shows who they really are. And to me their all gems.
Not far in Paterson I watch the junkies limping across busy winding street, perusing a severely needed fix. “Diesel!” they shout to no one, asking for spare change and if bold enough a ride to a shady sketchy place. I give them a dollar and politely decline. They’ll die without it, it’s like eating glass it does no good for any of us anyway. Vomiting up bile and blood, twitches and shivers are all you feel when it’s not in you. They cannot stop, they need help. Why not help them instead of “assisting” those who are homosexual? Cleansing so they can be granted entry to the kingdom of God. Looking down on people who have found love and understanding and a deep attraction to others who just so happen to share alike genitals.
Narrow minded uproars about the spread of AIDS, nonsense! The puritanical onslaught of those who want nothing more than the rest of us, love. Gay, homo, faggot, queer, how about kind, funny, genuine human being? The right to be married and divorce should be an option for everyone to enjoy. The strains and hardships of matrimony are yours if you want them. If you don’t agree don’t hate or harm just allow them to be peacefully. Same goes for anything for that matter, Jehovahs going door to door, Mormons from Burbanks. New ideas are never a bad thing, they’re not a waste of time. On average you have about eighty years to mull over your options.
Some people don’t live long enough to do so, cancer is on the rise, blood diseases, sexual diseases, natural disasters coming right out of left field and blindsiding the innocent bystanders of both hemispheres. Some go through life handicapped, autism is apparent these days. Schizophrenia, asperburgers, ADD and ADHD. Some lose their golden memories of their many valuable years or some cant remember whatever transpired only a few moments ago. Some go through life delusional or bipolar. Some cant even sleep at night but they still carry one. And if assistance is needed it is our job as a race to help our brothers and sisters, no one deserves to be excluded from the gala of life. The be denied by society and pumped with brightly colored pills from doctors promising a cure but prescribing a crutch.
Finding solace in sincerity.
The serendipity of it all hasn’t been uncovered and that keeps me going.
“Radiate boundless love towards the entire world above, below and across. Un hindered without ill will without enmity.” Oh Buddha the truth as it ever was.
Who is he who keeps these thoughts from the conscious minds of the population?
Who is it that distracts us from the humbling beauty and overwhelming devastation of this place of existence we’re in?
It’s they who do under the table parlor trick behind our backs.
Those who broadcast mind numbing so called reality TV shows without an underlying value or meaning.
Those who produce music, proclaiming extravagance to be the end all be all gluttonous goal we all should aim to achieve.
And those who turn noble causes into money making scams and defile pure ideas.
And of course those who give false promises of easily obtained bright futures, those who don’t care, those who steal, kill, curse, bad mouth and lie. But still manage to get elected into positions that more or less decide out fates. Monsters, demons, banshees howling inconsequential worries and leaving us deaf to hear the real issues.
The heartless selfish people who make the thoughtless decision to have abortions because they lacked the self control to take the time to get protection and do not want to deal with their consequences, feeling no guilt throwing away what is the very make up of life and love they had created themselves! Although there are those who do so for they cannot support what they have created and give it a life they deserve, I can understand but I still weep but I empathize with such tragic forked road decisions.
Mystery men raping innocent home walkers and killing them or leaving them to live their lives in pain and shame. We can make our own trouble but we can also undo them. No one has a right o put hardships upon us and if so at least I will fight.
Who are the ones to look for when guidance and facts are needed? Look to the poor, the unfortunate poverty stricken open eyed weary ones. They’ll tell you how things look at from t he bottom of the hill. Ask the ravers and hipsters, college students they tell you how it is when climbing the hill. Joyous, miraculous realizations illuminating the visions of the mind. Growing fields of love and dreams. Weeding out the falsehoods with ease.
Ask the children, so innocent and naïve, giving a simple yet meaningful perspective. Same as the geriatric wise ones who time wears thin. Both have intrinsic values and wants.
Talk to the lustful lovers they can tell you how in one moment a tangent can be created in one foul swoop. Or the leathered whip weilding, dominant/submissive practitioners of pain. They’ll show you the exquisiteness of pain and bondage, domination and twisted, alternative pleasures. The nine to fivers commuting as if their lives depend on it…and it does! They’ll tell you how precious every minute of every day is. The drug dealers, the drunks have outlandish perspectives, yes but they have merit all their own.
The mentally unstable, chemically unbalanced children of the sun.
The soldiers, parents of struggle. Or go to the metaphysical; God, Ganesh, Vishnu, Shiva, Gahandi, the Dali Llama. Ancient prophecies shed light on your darkest days.
Travelers have been to many places, come across many persons, seen many things. Interview a man from Munich, see what he has to say.
Confront a delinquent or a deviant, they have voices too.
We all come together in this wild weird universe where everything is relative. Where everything happens for a reason but without a single motive. A place where explanations and ambiguity go hand in hand. To achieve balance, understanding, self awareness, self confidence and control of emotion and thought; endless unconditional love and the notion to stand up for ones self must be acquired. Equality and tranquility flowing effervescently across the cosmos. No separation or bigotry no thought of color, race or creed, color and background. With all our senses heightened to see all the truth in the world, to smell the sweet aroma of familiar places, to feel the cool wind on a warm day, to taste the sweet and sour flavors that make up a day. And to hear all the wondrous sounds around us music, laughter, crying, honesty, lies and to distinguish between them without having to look.
The ability to articulate all you’ve seen and heard. Everything you’ve tasted and smelled and touched. The emotions felt, the thoughts you’ve gone over and over time after time. The eradication of grief and suffering. Heartbreak, loss and demolishing surprise. All the memories and people you’ve met there. The places you’ve traveled to, the relationships built and destroyed. The lessons learned or forgotten or maybe the ones haven’t grasped just yet they are you! They are us! All the same yet different to create a mixture of assorted frequencies and combinations of destines and the trails that take us their! So rise my friends Rise! RISE!
I could not believe the thoughts I was having. I was so lost as to how it all backfired. I've never been such a stable person but at this point I felt downright disgusting. I gave in and even said I love you after. What is love? What does that terrible word mean? Because you dear, give it a bizarre and twisted meaning. My mind was racing to keep up with my heart. I have never felt such a cliche feeling. I wanted all the pain and weakness to go away. I stopped eating. I stopped sleeping. I stopped showering. The only thing I could not stop was feeling. I took the bottle and slowly began a procedure I knew I would later not be present to regret. They were red, red little circles, I popped each one slowly. After about five I realized I could not go back.When I got to about twelve I stopped. I cried for a little, but got mad at myself for feeling this self infuriating pity. Then my mind went off like a fire alarm. I tried to think about what I had to live for but I got to numb to think. At this point I could not think of one damn reason. I just wanted someone to need me like I needed them. I thought about what I had been through and why everything has to be so fucked up. My mind flashed to images of scars on my arms. All the times I had just wasted my life away. I though of a time I locked my door and my dad was pounding on the door screaming at me not to hurt my young self. I thought of when my mom and I wrestled over a bottle of pills. I thought of a time my sister told me I was looking for attention and my other sister screaming I was hurting everyone mentally by hurting myself physically. The bad memories stabbed at my gut and I felt like I was choking on red blood. In reality, the only red stuck in me was the pills. All those coping skills, all the missed weeks of school for therapy were done. All the times my hands touched the tender keys of my piano were done. All the times my mom kissed me and said i "were beautiful" were done. All the times I would touch and hold that beautiful boy were gone. I never wanted to feel that fucking thing called love again and now I officially never would. Every time I was depressed and lonely I would think of a way out of this mad world and how to say goodbye. Now, I found a way out but I had no idea how to say goodbye. I anxiously grabbed my phone and called my father. I began starting a speech I never truly thought I would have to give. How did this happen to me? Why? I'm only fourteen. I put on the song such small hands and listened as the phone rang. Once I heard his voice, I cracked. I snapped out of my goodbye thoughts and choked out, "i love you." I became so manic, i'm fourteen. This shit does not happen to fourteen year olds. I was now sobbing like it was the last time I would ever cry. I honestly thought it would be. My mom raced out of the kitchen and into my room. I assumed my dad had called her, confused and concerned. All I could say was, "i did something" over and over again. Then as my lips began to swell from the cough medicine I used to wash down the red tablets, it hit me. This is the end. Why is this the end? I don't want to die! I don't want to fucking die ! I needed to confess, holyshit, what if it is was too late. I screamed at my mom what it was that I had done. She frantically picked up the phone and called, 911. When the sirens began and the small town assumed the sirens were going to a different town because nothing happened here, I panicked. I got an iv stuck into my arm and and I was forced to chug charcoal. I held my nose and drank the charcoal. The most terrible taste that has ever entered my body. It was like drinking whine, maple syrup, whiskey, and literal tar from the ground. If I did not drink this I would have to get my stomach pumped which frightened me considering I was conscious. As my sisters entered the room, I kept my eyes closed. I was not ready to see those beautiful faces look so glum. When I pulled myself together, I opened my eyes . All they could say was, " rough day?" Their eyes were swollen so much, it looked like they got stung by bees. I think this is what the were always afraid of. After they left the room I thought of everyones faces and what the hell I just tried to do. That is when the weight of my young naive world had hit me.
This should have been the worst day of my life but it was the best. It opened my eyes to what I could not see. I learned what it feels like to want something so bad it could physically kill you. I had wanted back the boy who hurt me to the point where sadness could not escape me. Now, I wanted something so much more, I wanted to live. I don't think anyone can truly understand this until they have encountered a situation that is close to death. Life never appears to be so beautiful until it is almost gone. I do not regret a single moment of this day and I never will.