We outlasted the moon!
In a timeless place we did it!
The pull of the moon and the rise of the sun irrelevant!
A group of warriors who couldn’t be more different, as I see myself
in grey —faded color, colors that will never cease to exist!
A rapper from south Africa, a student fluent in Chinese music, a girl with no bounds from down the road, a cyclist from Manhattan, a quiet devil from Belfast, and two girls who could be twins from Mexico all of us surived!
The famous campus— empty a bond forever, only the flies
dance with me!The pizza crust from what
feels like eternity or last week at this point fresh on the table,
still two hours before the day begins, eyes droopy, faces baggy no idea
where the sun is a blink sleeping, eternity awake the music on and off replacing conversation occionsally tossing condoms a laugh, talk of favorite memories.
only sif (not sure what that was) hours ago pitch dark, lost with a welcome room
Sleepy travelers some head off needing the destination and rest wanting to jump offand hit the ground running, we made it walking as a bottle cap falls from an open window at three four disappear as the night lights turn off around me.
The ones who left early no less brilliant, I owe them all so much.
I will not begin to describe them because they could all take up a book of memories.
Funny stories then sad ones as it becomes clear to the tellers that one is in the making all it was, ice cream followed by a half hour, thrilled at company to Ashelies ice cream
after farewell song.
Reality chugs along.
A door opens, nobody comes along.
At three in the afternoon dizzy as light starts to claim the clock-tower.
Dizzy sick and unable to think in the afternoon the prophet before hand calls straight-mistake, (the first N4 alcoholic hungover never another drink I swear before drinking )
At ten that night out of the timeless room it’s one hour then fifteen minutes then another then thirty disappear.
Dancing on the table music and stories. Later that night or morning, at our lowest bit of energy. pumping iron. Pulling back together with a friend from the other side of the planet falling back letting go getting sprung up in the famous campus. Dancing on a tread mill shirtless together in the dimly lit gym.
Is there anything more divine?!
Then quite in the timeless room, at 3 in the afternoon sick missing the talk of a life claiming “there is no love without sacafrice", at 6 in the night I’m sleeping debating heading home on that paved road opting instead for "who knows?!" At six in the morning, out of the timeless room, I’m the only one out, writing this as the drone of the song continues from the windows of fellow warriors, briefly drowned out by a helicopter. The beloved campus dead quite even birds asleep. Before the iron deep in the morning pool and talk of maybe being social accidentally sinking the 8 ball. At twelve in the alleged dead of night a room trashed unknown and the words spread a half mile out and brings the head honchos down to the timeless room, at three saved from sleep by a prior story of farting in sleepers faces woke me just in time in the timeless room. At sometime the door opposite the timeless room opened and a long narrow stroll around leads back to the timeless room, at some time time in the timeless home my presence maybe anxiously sought or ignored. The ecstasy and disbelief to see the sun, running back to the warriors who I just wished well at the sun! The same planets with vibrant colors. I will never forget the warriors but maybe their names.
I swat at a fly that was never on my arm.
I think of the infinities of time I will miss later.
My hearing worn thin with my sight, the birds songs lost their fullness
though in our business it’s very likely for the better
as I look to see the clock tower fully conquered,
I wonder if my parents will assume intoxication,
it is impossible to do this tail justice, though it will likely
end in the same spot: dizzy complaints of exhaustion
getting sick and bliss before the end.
I have known the warriors for 3 days, yet I know them better than family.
Outside the timeless room I learn partying means drinking with others
to bad dance music, the kind that kept me awake, as the smoke of
others cigars enter my lungs and the take truly ends in the same spot I trying to survive the eternal earthquakes after a long journey to say good-bye and in the timeless room,
the light stays the same. Some foosball in a timeless place in reality its a language or
a wreck room, in truth the room was always spinning, as my head is now.
Aug 7, 2015
Aug 7, 2015 at 12:25 PM UTC
I have learned that the best way to avoid punishment is to break
yourself.
Snap yourself fast, when the cops get to the scene you already
have given yourself a ****** nose,
justice never goes overboard and given how much punishment
you need you can change it.
Internal bleeding is impossible to measure.
No bull crap it needs to hurt.
When they leave you know exactly where the pieces are and put them back
no issues.
It takes the sting out of a shot to give it where ever you like.
I can’t tell if it’s because I broke myself so many times or
because I have sold myself or because I know my weak spots,
the pain shoots straight into my veins.
I’m no glass soldier.
If needed I could do combat with the greatest gods,
I have already seen the surface of the sun, surfed on a cloud
above the tallest mountain, been messaged by Jesus in a steam-bath
had the president treat me as equal all without earning half of it,
yet I did some kick-ass ****
How much of what I did is only because of what came before me?
I would not have seen the things I have seen without my teachers
and saints. How much of a race is getting you to the line in
near flawless conditions?
Is the reason why my parents considering divorce doesn’t bother me
because— I or my parents or whatever combo have made me have a
bullet proof form or because I have never lost big enough to get scared?
Is the reason why I’m not scared because I have taken heavy punishment or nowhere
near enough or because punishment has always been a hit and run?
I often too modest often fake modest often genuine
do you know how hard it is to be tell your own authenticy —
even in that question— when you know at once of your
brillance and that you lost your social security card at first chance?
Perhaps I’m just a tad dramatic, forgive me but I feel this all
I apolgize.
Aug 7, 2015
Aug 7, 2015 at 1:10 AM UTC
This **** is so confusing.
My head is in this fog, I don’t notice the cop and
they pull me over got my address birthday and name
does that mean I will get a ticket?
Like is the universe worthwhile?
What? Why? How? And all that other b.s asked ten billion times
I was bored before so I watched youtube now I question the entirety of the universe
and if this can be considered poetry?
Can the flow of the universe be considered poetry? Magic? Science?
If many of us had a dollar for every minute we where alive many of us
would be shockingly low on funds.
Freedom is the greatest bout of ******** since equality.
Is a pet parrot free cause it gets to pick the time it *****
We are free, so free when you get arrested for walking through a
door that some guy— cause let’s face it the world is ****** up and sexist—
said you no, yet the alternative is far worse where every door is open
yet where is the middle ground is everything bounded to be perputally ******
up?
Are the police always going to be ******** who we can’t live without?
Are they gonna be the ****** who cross the lines to yell at others who cross the lines
or who bring tanks where words worked?
Are robots gonna **** up everything?
Is science going to discover that heaven is five hundred million miles
away yet still a place?
Is science going to prove that the universe was created by a god
watching over five thousand galaxies?
I feel like goverments would bond over their desire
to conquer god, claiming he she or whatever the **** it is
is after us?
I bet that’s how the world ends:
Nation states bicker over what to do with god
and some idiot in a control room will hit the wrong button
causing world war’s three, four and five.
Then we will move to space and **** up mars
and mars bars will finally get exposed.
Jul 22, 2015
Jul 22, 2015 at 4:27 PM UTC
The following is what you make of a stranger’s ramblings
Now the cop
who ignores the lights is out the next day giving tickets
the sky does not turn black with an honest **** in a hit and run
the sky starts to melt when you and I refuse to think cause survival!
We are so busy trying to survive that we let everyone else die!
Are we given enough problems to only be able to carry for so many of others?
The doctor earning boat loads of money needs to make sure
that he can survive on his retirement funds!
Why are our problems blown up so much,
I get it they are close so the look big but the sky is falling and we
are busy looking for the remote!
Was the world designed in a way where learning of others problems
is always the straw that snaps the camels back?
Where we always have enough problems to only be able to
carry so many of others?
I’m no Titan.
I have seen myself flattened against the sky and ground
hearing stories of cruel smiles and I have minimal problems
that I can honestly claim as my own or as problems.
The world is going to explode and we will be bickering about who
should have been guarding the gate as a trigger is pressed against our face!
It’s not too late or I would have killed myself or made love then killed myself.
Our problems are not even the center of an atom.
They are often the same one, so instead of looking at them individually why not
attack the chain?
It is hard to believe in non-violence.
Honestly is humanity slowly turning the earth from something
that could have been the back-drop of heaven into the welcome gate for hell?
Strangers are what you make them to be!
Stop hating each other! You don’t need like each other
just know that they are humans so they have encountered magic
a magic that would have lit up your world the way fireworks explode
against the city-scape.
Also know that you and I and the stranger down the street
have all embodied a devil at it’s worst and a saint all
without being fully aware.
An angel never knew it was an angel only others did
a devil can see themself.
This is a call to arms just not guns
this a call to boycott, to call others to march with you
a lone marcher is a crazy a thousand lone marchers together we are
something.
The time to hit the gas was years ago.
Your own problems might get worse but they die and defeating
others problems is immortal.
This was what you make a stranger’s ramblings.
Jul 4, 2015
Jul 4, 2015 at 6:28 PM UTC
I’m sorry if this sounds creepy
I just want to say thank you.
You have changed me in ways that few can or will.
You embody everything I wanted in a person but knew that was far too much.
You are a perfect purple pink sunset, suddenly
the stars seem a little closer, you give me reason to chase the sun,
the energy to take last step after last step.
I will never forget the moment, a timeless room past midnight you
talking with this hypnotic mix of innocence blended with this ackcute knowledge of
mountains of ****
of the horrors of hospitals with this immortal love of life.
The only way to live a good life is to live a life.
You are a protecter of a life.
You will spin the wheel in the circle of life.
Thank you.
I have met gods among us and heroes yet none as pure as your spirit.
You fight poison without ever taking a step against it,
subelty was never my strong suite.
I don’t want to sing a song that even deaf people have memorized
yet how many different takes on one emotion can we get?
You are brilliant like the way the traffic lights reflects a green into
the green tree in a park at night but only fifty times more stunning.
Your voice, flows yet the direction never certain.
We have the same gods it’s just you are making heaven
a nicer place.
We could share a seat, driving different directions
but close enough to love.
You dance so stunningly yet make the floor feel even.
I don’t really know what to write but
if you ever want a new boyfriend please let me know.
Jul 4, 2015
Jul 4, 2015 at 5:26 PM UTC
We live and breath off death, can you not smell
the corpses in your stomach?
The touch of worthlessness in your stomach?
Would you like to ****
Is it better that death is wrapped up in all natural anti-botic free?
Is death better with food coloring to make it look real?
Does the word wholesome satisfy your whole love of life?
One of our lives takes an average of 10,000 others,
is it worth it?
The fleeting savagery of feeling natural?
Of ripping into ribs, just think you are eating a lung.
Nature also is starving.
Life is in flux but certainly the grilled chicken with olive oil
does not know that, would you like to see a picture of the creature you killed?
We talk of life being small in labeled and reverend boxes if our dust is
small what should we make of the animals killed and shipped all over
never named, life a cost to be minimized.
Where forests burnt alongside the coal for the barbecue
is it worth it?
A cow is to many what puppies are to us
yet we enjoy burgers and cry with the dying dogs.
Life given to cows for the sole purpose’s of being rapped
chained down and killed, a burger is a stomp of approval.
A carton of milk at fairway an hour ****
heavily processed.
Jul 4, 2015
Jul 4, 2015 at 12:26 PM UTC
You see videos mean jack ****
Videos don’t play the atmosphere in the air
tinged gently with **** from the nearby toilette
videos don’t play how it started.
They don’t hear the pounding of the dragon flies wings in the air
and the Walt Whitman you read before you arrived or
the amazing or ****** day the camera man had.
The tension of the air between two warriors as they fought
in good fun or for good riddance.
Videos do just as great a job as the person who watches
a minute of a debate and confidentially declares the winner.
Granted there is no such thing as what actually happened
everything I write beyond this is opinion declared to be fact.
Jun 23, 2015
Jun 23, 2015 at 12:45 AM UTC
Love
is well traveled, for a blind deaf spirit it is rather infinite.
A spirit that has stumbled through life so often, can
hear the passing of the torch from thousands of miles away,
can describe the blue pink sky with streaks of orange
as a jet flies unnoticed against the back ground
hidden by itself for eternity or at least until it touches ground.
Love knows the clear deep pool, reflecting a passerby’s face as
love sleeps warm on the mud floor.
Love knows the concrete floor so often skimmed over
yet love is certain of nothing.
Love knows the same nothingness that you and I both preach.
This is a love poem just not to a lover.
An ode to songs sung and songs that are leaving singers mouths
and songs that are yet to be seen.
Love takes up less than space but gives us reason for space.
It passes in the voice of a father telling his father dinner is ready.
The indistinguishable clear invisible force sweeps not
with the power of a truck but with the handshake and a new doctor.
The moment never ends.
Somewhere a long long time ago green landscape bodies strewn, a mother gives birth,
a child is born, life celebrated,
the young boy’s life football, celebrates language singing,
about the game he loves.
The boy’s birth evolves with life.
Somewhere long ago the man becomes a father.
The moment keeps moving with life.
The kids learned love and the moment grows up with his children.
In a peaceful home a little bit ago his body gives out, life is celebrated.
The moment keeps evolving with his family.
Jun 21, 2015
Jun 21, 2015 at 11:29 PM UTC
I remember when you were my friend, when we talked about the future
and our plans. I wanted to get one good dose of life and went to the mountains.
You wanted safety of your survival and went to exchange your rights
for extra harnesses.
You began to search for survival and found the highway.
The neon blue signs
advertising just that.
You will feel comfortable, very comfy cause when you see the same
things at 10mph at 100mph what’s the rush?
You will survive for a long time never too long what you claim,
happy to see where the world goes.
The bug on your windshield will be your biggest problem.
Your foot will begin to slip and you will turn off the highway.
Yet the bumps on the exit ramps will be more than bumps,
slowly flattening your tires, destroying the and you leave worse than when you
turned off.
Not the ramps fault it’s just things were designed this way you saywith a shrug.
Slowly your organs will start to show and you will survive for a long time
but nothing more.
You will see how ugly a heart really is, a blob of red keeping you alive.
You will see your mortality in the mirror.
You will feel the harnesses, once so comforting begin to dig into your skin.
The lines from the harness more clear than clothing.
You will have food, water and a place to hang your hat
but it will never be your home but you will survive for a long long time,
too long.
The suicide nets prevent the last line of control and you will survive for
a very long time, far too long.
You will bounce off the nets and be gently be taken back to the highway.
Jun 12, 2015
Jun 12, 2015 at 8:27 PM UTC
Why is it so much easier to be disillusioned
about the lush forest than it is to see the
flowers that really exist?
Why is it easier to feel the vastness of a desert than it is
to feel the vastness of a life/ rainforest?
Sure no **** we don’t live in an oasis but that does not mean
trees taller than building don’t exist,
it does not mean we live in the middle of a desert with
time frozen and sand liquid.
Sure there are snakes in the sand but they are not the only animals.
Monkeys, lizards octopi whales, humans all of us exist.
We live among deserts and oasis’s.
So for gods sake while deserts are big can we not champion the oceans
that are a little bigger?!
May 22, 2015
May 22, 2015 at 12:44 PM UTC