hello this is a friend of mine. name is remember, remember has a hat, black hat,

jumps into the hat --> watch carefully.....

wow remember disappeared!!! bet you can't figure out if it ever actually happened, ay?!

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It's like the long lonely shadows on an arid land sunset that dance and wander over the ups and the downs of the dunes,
when the escapee feelings creep in and out of me.

There they sneak and catch me upon the back of my shoulders like long melenki pale boney fingers all tickly and cold and sharp and tip toeing like needles and nails up my neck and into the locks and dark curly strands of my hair with all the ants and the spiders that follow along to make the shivers of ghost go through me.

A smokey dark grasp on my guts and in my breath and in my eyes that be made of all the things from every other else where and made of the lights that shine into my eyes but lights are only for looking way way past.

Its the cold blue white chill creeping up from my ankles to quicken my exiting steps and the comfortable familiar suffocating air that awakens me to the drowning in my surroundings.

At that time,
when be we all of me here,
then at that time,
it may be the beginning of yellow paves and ruby reds - to oh so slowly go - out to the there and back again.

I want a tree to grow around me and hug me to dark.
I want the universe to break me into atoms and spread me across space like a dandelion.

Will-o-wisps of wonderment
For sure they dance around
Then, too, be there strings of twine
To leash obsidien'd crown

Things went worse
Like you said
When I left 'the talking person'
And went back to 'work'
You needed food
You needed a roof
I did the best I knew
Instead of what I wanted
I wanted 'home'
Where help for US was
I want to be good
For nobody
But I wanted to be good
For you, the once upon a time.

Look out across at the standing masses, see.
Stagnant twinkled smiles, goldless false shine.
Homeless standing upon wastelands.
Playing games, wasting time with this and that as it were.
While here from atop mountains.
This here is for the real time walkers.
Walking forward with shadows abreast and fires astern.
Here is the den where lions lie.
Here be dragons

Smiles are nice. Sometimes smiles are made from big beautiful strong happy cheeks. Sometimes they seem to burst out like popping corks. And sometimes they're just warm and quiet and all fuzzy like inside your chest. Smiles have teeth lots, but lots not too. They can be scrunchy noses sometimes or bitey lips. Some smiles run all the way up your back and tickle your neck before they land. Smiles can all of a sudden be a jumping whole body excite. Eyes have the nicest smiles, I think.
Here's wishing you some smiles, just because they're nice to have.

Blinding morning silhouettes
All the distractions per day
Strangled me like jungle vines
Smoky haze grew over my path
Dawn's battle against red beeping numbers
And a life of hollow work
My days ended when I woke
But began when I came home
I sought rescue at the end of my driveway
The only life I ever really wanted
Lived in the hours between "hello" and "goodnight".
That life, like breath, exhaled.
A leaf on a river, my pages are wet.

Sometimes people tell me my hair looks like a big nug of bud and they wanna smoke that **** but it doesn’t smell like rainforest when it burns and they also burn it when it is on my head so my young Rodger Moore looks turn expressly to exaggerated horror at the physical and emotional pain. When faced with such pain I often laps into an imaginary state where my unreality is built up by a self-supporting paranoid delusion from which there is little escape and often real life awakenings land me in the most extraordinary situations. The most recent of which was when I found myself tied to the under carriage of the Ghan train suspended by gaff tape and with a mankeeny blindfolding me. At the next train stop I ran from the troop of floberjack monsters and made a potion out of emu foot prints to give me magical protection from those monsters. Then I went to sleep in a painted cave and woke up from the gentle tickle of ants between my toes . I can never hear what ants are talking about because I am a bit deaf but I always like to know what they are saying about me behind my back so I poured honey in my ear and they went inside my brain. I realised that ant communicate by chemical smell and not sound so I let them crawl through the canals that go to my nasals and was able to smell their talking. After some weeks of difficulty in translations we were about to create a hybrid form of communication they assured me that they had only good intentions and desired only to consume my flesh from the inside out when survival strictly required and would stop when there was opportunity to collect the teeth from non-indigenous creatures. I found that they breaded a particular hate from the introduction of the cane toad and they intend to irradiate all the population of a very common variety of red rose bush in a 300 square meter area of Melbourne I told them I would take them if they didn’t mind going to the grand prix and this amplified their intents.  I don’t like the grand prix I was just lying and so when I left the cave I did a big sneeze on purpose and flew home on my special magic grass matt that is woven from red rose roots. After that I slept in the shed for around 45 mins and bathed my hands in petrol and told my wife I was just working on the motor bike so as to quell any suspicion she may have of me existing within a self-supporting paranoid delusional state.

There thems all is
Thems messy white sticks
All twisty and waving
All bowing and bobbing
Waving like silly funny straws
With toes like long roots
Standing on tops of hills
Stretching nowhere near me
Beating to wind's rhythms
But their wings never fly

Won't see graffiti on my side of a wall.
Only reflections in eyes if dare I fix gaze.
A pill serves each end to dull spinning pictures.
I still huddle to one side of night's dreaming.