Lately
I don’t feel close
to poetry.
It feels elusive.
Unfamiliar.
Once it spoke to me.
But now it’s mute.
It sits back
and doesn’t look
at me.
If I call out
it doesn’t hear.
Lately poetry is
like that demon
I used to want
to reappear.
Sep 29, 2018
Sep 29, 2018 at 2:34 AM UTC
I used to believe- No,
I used to preach:
Everything happens for a reason
Or as I prefer to say
There is no coincidence.
Then you showed up.
Why you of all people?
Why now?
Why?
Because if coincidence didn't exist
then there is meaning to my smile;
And the way I watch you dance in my peripheral
like a flower in the wind.
I think I like you,
I think I truly like you more than I have anyone in...
God knows how long.
Yet I'm leaving-
And so what the **** does that mean?
It's All tables and no chairs
May 26, 2017
May 26, 2017 at 2:49 AM UTC
A Verse In Time: A Trickster’s Alchemical Approach to Memory in Three Waves
(Warning: The following collection contains depictions of three waves
of the psychedelic experience—particularly with God’s allies, Los Aliados, the mushrooms—and like the psychedelic experience each wave possesses its own waves within itself. Ride with discretion.)
.
Wave I: The Allies’ Nursery Rhyme
The Allies
came to visit
and take me
on a trip.
No need for boat
or bus
or plane
or even rocket ship.
The galaxy, as they explained
resides inside your mind,
The portals to the universe
are windows you call eyes.
Instead of always looking out
you should try to look within.
The ending you have always feared
is exactly where you begin.
Yes, all the spans of time and space
exist in you behind your face
and yet you cannot understand
that nothing is a race.
Oh wait, please be careful with that mirror
when we are here and you draw nearer.
Don’t let the face of everyone replace your face with fear.
You are Horus, Mary, Jesus Christ, Cervantes, and Shakespeare,
and all the men from beast to mice, from oceans down to tears.
And so they pried behind my face
and pushed me on through outer space
and soon enough I understood
there never was a race.
It all exists right here, right now—
the past, the future, the grass, the cow,
the vast, the nature, the cash, the house,
the king and the savior
the beast and the mouse
are all your creation,
your relation,
your spouse,
your Path,
your Bible,
your ‘Gita,
your Tao.
It is all
of your moment,
It is all
of your now.
For you are the mystery
of that which you seek.
You invented the minutes, the hours, the weeks,
the deserts, the rivers, the valleys, and peaks,
your digits, extremities, elbows, and knees.
You created the cure, you invent the disease.
The labyrinth is you and
You defeat it with ease.
To master the Minotaur just follow the string
Discover the dinosaur, discover the king,
discover this grandiose song that you sing,
and uncover the truth of the message you bring
when you ring bells or
Stroke piano keys
and make the doctor sweat.
The pranksters shifting shapes again,
it’s time to make a bet.
With silly laws of threes and fives, this riddle I repeat, replies
that by the time the rhyme is over, the trickster will arrive.
Gliding up in cycles by, the prankster grins and winks his eye.
He fabricates a fluffy fix with fuzzy snow white lies
to bring the doctor to a six then down to four inside
and bring the tempest to a wave
on which the four can ride.
Do we glide?
Do we slide?
Do we fly really high?
Do we bobble and sink
with the rise of the tide?
I remember the brink
the cellular stride, the following leap,
the primitive mind
I remember the dirt, the water, the fire,
the wind and the ether,
the passion, desire.
I remember that art
can never expire.
Do we depart?
Do we retire?
The answer is yes,
The answer is no,
The answer’s the same wherever you go.
It’s never too fast,
it’s never too slow
and you are never the last to not really know.
For the sun always shines,
the moon always glows,
the old always die,
the young always grow,
The seeds that you plant
are the trees that you sow,
from the bees and the ants
to the bulls and
black holes.
It is all
in your stance.
It is all
in your
soul,
When you follow your dance
the bliss
takes control.
Take your place
in the play
and master
your role.
The Aum
is your home
it’s inside
of your dome,
Whatever
you wonder,
Wherever
you roam.
And so it flows behind my face
the universe of time and space
Now I understand that time
is invented as the race
Yes, you are Borges, and Buddha, and Krishna,
and Lorca, and Vishnu, Dickinson, Lennon,
Eliot, Gandhi, Marley, McKenna,
Campbell, Picasso, Alpha, Omega.
You are your enemy,
your stranger,
your neighbor.
You are the peasant,
the king,
and the savior,
the mandala man,
the cosmic ********
You are the taste
You are the flavor
and you are
the wave
the unwavering
Creator
Even us
as they explained
merely extend from you
A mirror to the macrocosm
for you to gaze into.
So when you get lost
within your lies
and cannot find
your rhyme,
Gather inside with your
Allies
and master
the maze
of
time.
Wave II: Contemplating The Allies’ Advice
Thunderbolts of cackling giggles
shutter through your vitals, shaking shoulders
and squirting tears from squinting eyes.
Exciting when dimensions hidden creep into your line of vision,
morphing mapping iridescence with a fleeting fuzzy phosphorescent
undulating elfin presence following your every contemplation.
Concentrating on a caterpillar crawling up the wall
how curious, this furry beast has fingers not to fall.
He folds into his fuzzy form, a sleeping bag to keep him warm,
a little home as still as lead. He hibernates and contemplates,
waits and waits and transmutates into a gilded butterfly
that flutters through my head.
Violet translucent landscapes bleed through grass and trees,
focus on a precise place of time and space and witness the birth of the human race. Projections made in fuzzy fourth dimensions quickly fade
if your gaze should wander. Positioned to ponder,
you plunge into prepubescent wonder as a shooting star splits the sky wide open revealing heaven and everything under the sun is tune and the sun is eclipsed by the moon. And once again, the music comments chronologically on your moments, as if all these notes and lyrics were cataloged to sync with the scenes of your epic voyage.
Destroying contemplation again, the sea ***** the wind through the trees
and blows a blue marine breeze through your hair.
Do you dare take the time to recognize the punctuality of the gale?
Should your frail and fragile mind be dangled from a line
to flap and fluff and figure out the nature of the rhyme of our mother?
You are your brother, your keeper, and your lover.
All the lines align and oscillate in cadenced flow,
the more you see with your mind the more your mind will know.
A ****** brain may strain and throw a fit
if faced with the tricky truth of the third eye
Surprise! Who knew that Jesus Christ could sprout from cow ****
Can you believe it? Wow, Bob, wow.
Where do you think we got: holy **** and holy cow?
Heaven is the here and now
and every time you try to leave
you lose what you have found.
(* All words in italics come from
various songs, films, works of
literature, etc. and are not the words
of the author.)
Wave III: Los Aliados Wake
An apple carries a story deeper than the tree,
More nourishing than the luscious skin,
More central than the seed.
for the apple gave original sin
and knowledge from within
and fell upon the head, announcing gravity.
Have you ever heard the tale of Johnny Melon seed?
(The apple is global, so I wonder why,
what could be patriotic of pie?
Is it not just a strudel,
a pastry disguised?)
The colors we create
distort. manipulate.
The fools who follow fear
are doomed to find their fate
between their ears
where the colors seem
to blend and stream
and almost disappear.
To wonder why we’re here
all colors must appear
and merge into the blinding light
that obliterates our fear.
All your dreams, your fantasies, your symbols, and beliefs,
all a compass pointing you to endless mystery.
The treasure that you seek
resides inside the Self,
A jewel within the rock,
A book upon the shelf.
I bought the ticket,
I’m taking the ride.
I’m spiraling miles through the bowels of time.
I’m spinning and laughing
and losing my mind
and finding
it always returns
just in time.
It’s right where it left me,
so I’ll leave it behind
and return when
I’m ready
to relish the ride
with a bite
from the apple
of my
holy
third
eye.
May 26, 2017
May 26, 2017 at 2:21 AM UTC
I remember my moms cups of coffee as a child.
A hazelnut aroma rising out of her travel mug --
a gift she got as an underpaid teacher who had to get her boost on-the-go
--filling the car like steam from a hot shower fills a bathroom.
I remember that smell ironically always headed to school.
I remember the first time I was offered a sip of coffee.
Not nearly as sweet as it smelled.
Bitter liquid that terminated taste buds like water extinguishes flame as it billowed across the tongue and down the hatch.
I remember that taste vowing never to have to again.
I remember when my sister started working at a "coffee shop".
The one that competes with itself across street-ways,
and still has lines filled with downward looking drones despite being in Paris.
I wouldn't even eat the pastries she brought home
knowing the aroma entwined around them long enough for osmosis.
And sitting now, in the office of my retail store at 23,
Staring into my travel mug,
which looks like an above ground pool version of the black lagoon,
These are the memories that come to mind
as caffeine blocks adenosine from their receptors in my brain.
Apr 3, 2017
Apr 3, 2017 at 5:45 PM UTC
It was a Monday afternoon.
I decided,
after months of putting off,
to finally give blood.
Red Cross had only been
emailing me for months now.
They were in bad need for blood,
desperate need for mine: O-
The man who took my information
was furrowed, leathery, and tired.
The opportunity time provided was conversation,
and the benefit of meeting Jesus.
Now the woman who took my blood,
was not only the unanimously decided tired,
but also sad.
The eyes gave it away.
The entire time I gave blood I listened,
and somehow made sure I didn't open up.
She sat there quietly counting the minutes,
While I denied her a chance to meet Jesus.
I treated her well.
I'm genuinely kind
as I know anyone can tell.
But is that enough?
And I'm questioning now with her memory in mind,
"What if that was Jesus?"
"What if He gave me the chance to better His day?"
And that's where I know I'm wrong-
For I know she was Jesus.
Feb 6, 2017
Feb 6, 2017 at 7:03 PM UTC
"Why? Why do you love me so much? Why won't you just let me go?" She stared at me while wiping away her tears. I couldn't tell if she was frustrated because she was crying or if she was frustrated at me. It seemed silly to get mad at someone for loving you, but there was a fifty-fifty chance that it was happening right now.
I reached out my hand lead by the extended tip of my index, driving away the tears beading around her eyes so she could see me clearly when I said, "one day I'm going to die, and I'm going to hate myself for that because I'll no longer be able to love you. So I love you with the unrelenting fervor I bring because if I had it my way, I would never have to stop."
Feb 6, 2017
Feb 6, 2017 at 11:47 AM UTC
Where do we draw the line
Between the difference of wanting something,
And when it's time you need that something?
I'm not unhappy,
Yet the latter is slowly fading.
And as I feel this through I remember,
There's a reason it's called a pursuit.
I don't know if I'm ready
But I know that I want you.
I know that I'm ready,
For that.
Dec 31, 2016
Dec 31, 2016 at 12:03 AM UTC
I've never been big on second chances,
And yet on night like these-
I wish I was
Dec 28, 2016
Dec 28, 2016 at 11:13 PM UTC
I turned to tarot last night in search for answers.
Answers regarding you.
Which only ever lead me to questions,
about me.
Dec 27, 2016
Dec 27, 2016 at 4:12 PM UTC