It is all fake sadness
Without cups, no sprite to collect the rains
We are an endless rolling fog
on the edge of the terrain.

We are foxes living in the suburbs
we are sneaky creatures not meant for fluorescent light-bulbs
and streetlamps
We are the oldest vulpines alive

I had been asked about symbology-- about flags and shapes and geometric plagues
I had to recollect the places in my head, London was a dime, Berlin was a teeter-totter
U.S.A was a great big long balloon snake

There wasn't anything left to say in the barbershop,
the razor blades dully buzzing,
no songs but the buzzing
of satellite radio

I got a removal done,
my deforested head could feel the wind caress it
I was a new and reemerged cocoon with a lacking self-confidence
I studied books and computers at Best Buy

You were a yet unknown quantity
you were god in the skies of San Ramon Valley High
Or perhaps the other prestige of some other village dream
You emerged and contained within the largest fib

Give me one good reason why
You deserve any more of god than the earth.

To count upon my woe
and prostrate myself at your command
Lips ruminate the words
The powdered skin of slushy snow

And is he only man
With passions gone of last I heard
To all the moments never known
The last of which would fell the ******

Though mortal sighs were solemn dirge
Anticipate the breaths you blow
Inside the shaking grip of hands
Clasps the sudden, hidden urge

To count upon my thoughtless woe,
The last of which would raze the land.

You had asked me once,
If I was in love again
If I had found another box for god to rest in

I answered,

Not then.

I have heard the god in you, the death that creeps behind your porcelain shoulders
I have heard the anxiety of life that guides your eyes to mine
At the one point you were afraid and seeking some gravel to place your shoes
you let the grains shift, licking your soles

There isn't a place here where the smallest atomic twinge of regret will not forever imbibe me
I am inextricable and intimately a child with the universe
I will forget to remember you then, and you will be the way all loved ones are dead to me
I will be alive and away

Love is a camellia blossom, she is the dream of the rosepetal
she is the envy of stems
She is a figment of the fractal dimension
she is tangential and perpendicular

I am a substrate
I am the loam and the cold damp earth
a dream of mother soils
the derided character of an oxygenated heaven
I die to give you birth

Awake, the empty chamber of my mind
Calls out to paired and endless sky
The thought of you, a galloped course
The heels of your palm, struck with force
I cannot claim the earth as mine,
Just as she do flee the pick of eye
To wallow in sorrows of course divine
Calls out my heart, with verses hoarse.

I have but land to wander soon,
My passions held in heaven's sent
The ancient glass of sky full hue
The earth's embrace a lover's swoon
The soft edges of aluminium bent
These are the ways I'll remember you.

I said it'd be idealistic
the way I would meet someone
but I can't tell with you
If it's lust or something else
There's a strange stirring
The diamonds on your finger
there's something real about you
and it disarms me completely

How slowly it crept on me
a deadly poison
I drank the brackish liquid
nestled in the dunes of my mind
and realized again
what it felt like
to be in love

It makes no sense
you don't say a word
I laugh at every single thing you say
you're the best thing I've ever heard

I stare into your eyes and I am a child
I am lost without myself, my mind wanders
It does not seem real and I am unable to even speak
I cannot tell you
What it means to feel again
How you've so gently warmed my heart
how you've given me hope, a thing, a reason
I want to thank you and It's not even you

A little less than two
Days
Weeks
glances between history books
Dewey Decimals
You dreaming between the leaves
resting in the earth
Waking you up to the divine eather
and being comfortable with our dying bodies
loving the treasures
searching for time

I will sprial into alcoholism
or Marajuanaism
or Lysergicical Mental capacitationalism
I want to connect with god on this earth
selfishly
and lovingly

I am showing you how god works in one way
I cannot help but think, speak, dream,
Holding life as a box of chocolates
and wanting badly to poison the dog

the bugging, nagging, aching thing
the ballbusting nature of loneliness
of solitation
"salutations, sweet girl
I am one of the many males."

We don't pick our breakfasts
We have to fight for them
because we ate a crabapple
with our balanced scripture
Now we're Mars' Barred.

I want to touch the vessel that holds you
I want to touch it gently, molding it as clay
your cheeks, rosy, adobe,
the same red as the old
Your eyes the colors of amber before it was made
The subtle breath of turquoise
The diamond-speckled rings
I want to be the emptiness that gives you form
I want to be the innate human function
I want to kiss you because you are god
and you are god that speaks.

I want to kiss your soul,
I want to feel your light
because the aesthetic of you:
A Cole Thomas in the gallery
Rhapsody in Blue, the love theme
A swan in the early autumn, seeking herself
in the reflections on the pond

I want to be the god back
The spoken voice that gave you chills
the same way you shiver on a lonely night,
staring at the enumerate stars, lining up into couples
via perspective parsecs dancing across your eyes
and pulling each follicle closer, closer--

Darling the high likelihood is that we will pass each other by
I will wave goodbye to god, pay my tab,
stumble outside
Maybe watch you disappear
listen to Adagio as the engine begins to explode
controllable
Knowing this will all happen again until it doesn't.

Grievous

I hold you as the chameleon with his spring-trigger bone
Holds his tongue
And I will catch you as a fist
I will lick the stench from your odor sacks
as a skunk

All those creepy little fragments
bugs in the system;glitched codes
they are shackled souls in a microsecond arc-length
of the universal
Prodding the dirt
and the worms
as stars

How about all the spice trees?
The many different species of food glitter
they make the buds sparkle, they are thinking of the taste
of umami, of sour, of patchwork gaze
the cooked vestibules of bone
the marrow, seeping into the stew
The pepper trees are smoked
equinoctial bonfires
You and I are yet to be cooked through


A taxi in the trader joes parking lot
Big repetitive 7's splattered across its paneling
I won't forget when i'm drunk or inebriated somehow
The tree in the center of town is lit up with LEDs
Branches curling like worms

You are Pharos, you are the great celestial beam
you are the crescent moon, thin as a sleeve
and the hot taste of batter on your breath
the way you let my Guinness cool off next to the space-heater
and give me yogurt from the local townsfolk
Everything is creamy, you said.

But i don't like to hear that
It's a steel rod into my brain, that.
I am a simple Vishnu Hare Brahma
I do not have any purpose but to be enlightened
and worshiped for my powerful odors
and a four-chambered bowel
that makes the turn easier for worms.

2

Pitiful

You are the hopeless pod
the many wildebeest, crossing their annuals
through twirling water-crocs,
Lion Prides
Leopards shifting within the brush
Bacterial infections from ***** tusks
Strange metal boxes
No 7's on this side

I want to blow the ******* skulls off of anything
that aims for you, sweet mare
45-70
Will literally send chunks of it into orbit
Lion or Turtle or window or Children
The most godly thing is a bullet
And the streams of blood that will seed a new ravine
and seep the next feed of riverrun

Will you be mine, then?

The loving puddle in the gutter off market street-- the one that fills with dirt and **** and damp newspaper, plastic soda cup, strange indecipherable Chinese pamphlets with bleeding characters. She smiles at the sun and renders its visions on her face, and with great tension attempts to demonstrate her willingness, her blushing consent to being totally subsumed by its whims. Of course she trembles at the diurnal stampede of feet, but is not afraid-- for she too speaks in eternity. She has evaporated before-- she has kissed the incessant sky over Marrakesh in the soft morning and dreams of the sparkling mountainsides in the night, when she is divided by callous rubber tires or cast below by competing distant rains. Yet she has always found her way back home; Nestled in the subtle indentation of road besides the brickway near Battery.

"Dewdrop, let me cleanse
in your brief
sweet waters . . .
These dark hands of life"

It was one of the waning days of winter, in the blurred haze of rains, when we left the coast and began our journey home. As she drove, I watched the pebbled streaks roll across the window into great vertical streams, to be cast off indistinct along the stationary road. Upon all our sides, Even the black-toothed mountain tops lost their grandiose summits into the fog. Off the road, next to the sagging remains of a gas station, a man sat beneath the naked fist of an old willow tree. He, with a teal umbrella, twirled the nylon circle so that the collecting sheen of water spun and spiraled centrifugal out into the bombarding camaraderie of fellow drops. The damp fields sat empty of life behind him, casting into evanescent black oceans of dirt. As we hurried past, I turned back-- and following him with my own watering eyes, I watched for as long as I could--until he too faded silently into the mist.

Sweetlove let me chase your hair like fairies through the mist

Let me kiss the lip of honey

and lick the sweet bliss


I have never wanted to be consumed more than anything

than by you


Your mind, your soul

I see the verdant glow in your eyes

the answers that lie inside the sleepy meadow

the endlessly surreal nights

getting to feel you.


Because when we're together

the steel spires decline

the roads emerge with floral hues

the city bows her youth to you


you are the old soul

the honest truth

the searchlight casting a deep rose

through the fog to land on

those blackrock shores


Let me chase you through the days

let me have you in every way

I have been a man of possessions few

I'll give away each day with you.

C'mon out to the rattled caves
the deep-sea malaise
rested in the grey metamorphs
of an ancient coastal chain

Where Sisyphean slips of tectonic rifts
pull the molding clay
like play-dough
and old rock that turns anew
churned into
great catacomb stele
Babylonian towers far away
from the great
Mesopotamic
interstate

Surrounded by the immumerous trees
the military sharpness of their pine
quills writing their mark in the dirt
for a hundred turns or so
only to be rearranged
into the great intercontinental soil
Truly
multisolipsistual

And on the aggregate
held open the mists
of the vast expanse of ocean
beyond L.A
and stole the fruits of the tiny parceled condominium rainwater
from distance far away
angry men shouting--
"Give us back our life blood, ******* YOU!"

Filling the tanks of their fleshomobiles
running around and sweating it out
trading it for cloth and wiping their brow on
brown shirts
perturbed and disobeyed

But that great man with the chin muscatche
brought the rough riders out of their dome
into the frontier, riding trains
Off they go!
Seeking paradise in the sands
and the trees
and the coastal breeze
dreaming
of a world owned and seen
by the world
by man
and by all these things

It would be grand

But that rock has been seen before
in Luarentian islands long ago
or perhaps a great FUJI-SAN of the west coast
worshiped by critters and dinosaurs
You are late to the game, sweet dreamers, you!
These monuments give to honor due
not you,
no sir did you build these things?
did you mold these things
with the patience of a father
with the consequentiality
of the womb
and a motherly affection
for all things true?
the gift is for you,
remember your father's gifts
sweet princes of the earth
because they will outlive you.





And I walk along the stream
stepping upon these little bits of Yosemite
Pulverized mountain rocks
Renal Stones of the diseased
to which the water flushed out deeply
and cured the grey things from all that left them
displeased
hoping for more than just selfies
and sticking it to god's face
laughing at half-dome
climbing it and getting the better of ourselves
Believing we have achieved bliss

When in reality,
there is nothing to this which we can reach.

And now there would come a time
a swift sharp clock on the bed
Blaring its little chime in between the hard bells
Like an angry little arm
Charming if not for the alarm

And everyday I slap the face of it
Like an unwanted *****
And she is silenced
Quick unlike
Said chick

But I am a cruel guy and have no sense of wet and dry
Nor cool or heat
There's nothing bothering me

Time just ticks off and I laugh at it

But my cells divide and turn into little old protoplasmic men
And yet I am not called upon them
Because they are stupidly designed and I have no sympathy for arts and crafts
No masterman
who failing to raise his hand
Clams up
With such poor artwork

Slap that ***** in the dilapidated sistan

Now In San Francisco
Where the alley streets stink of ***
And the European facades are just that
Crumbling
Poopy
And full of ****
And what yet are they dreaming to be?

The church that survived fire
Great conflagration
God didn't make a rainbow at the end of that,
Now did he?

He's a water-sign
Dolt
And water only jolts your mind
When it scatters true light,
Ain't that right?

But it's all the same
Just different hues
And the news
Isn't new
Just Blaring and yelling
And speeding television crews
Riding their stories
Up and down the many stories
Trying to build a city of angels
On a bituminous hill

Shills

No life skills

And I walk the city streets with a ugly old leather
Brief
Casing the joints and rolling my own
Unhappy and alone
Kerouac and the dreams on the monangular input where the triangular avenues meet
And he has no road

While airplanes shake their jets on the tarmac and trebuchet into the air
Going god knows where
Seeing a new piece of the sculpted pinball
Perpetually trapped in the machine

How bout Nippon
Or Hangujin
Or Han Chinese
Or Berlin
Anywhere but when
A little ways along the state
Of "in"

All these strange things

A normal kind of guy
Just the guy
No cosmologist
Sans Christian
******* the droplet suns
Distant in the blackened sky

Gotta 'and'er some
The bristled gristle
The cryogenic iris
Steel teeth gnashing
Right-toe left
Ardent in an autobiography

Good man
Soft man

Locomoted his GMC
to the Sea
Thought maybe
With precise aim he
could undertow away
paradise.

No pick-me-ups
In copper-channels
That Ionized the pick-up-truck
With archaea iron
that ugly duck
Reminiscent of the man
In all but--

A castaway
Stowaway
The man who never hesitates
Bop upon the interstate
Lost within
concritical maze

Shoring up
Going home
Giving up
Turned to stone
Marble chin
Solumn grin
Chlidren sing
Seeking wings
How'd he know
Where to go
Will he see
What it means?

He's the guy
The one with the lollipop lap
Licking the syrup off the lip
Of a sweet polished sapphire
Gin
And the kids
My god
They think he
ODYSSEUS
And his dog not yet
Dead but depressive in the gloom
Howling into the midnight grass
And the creatures that stalk
With their ******* youth

Soon their weight will hit the deck
And like a noose,
Break the joints
The planks of which would stress
And bend his eyes upon his head.

God willing
Should he be exhumed
His energies excape to the river
And float,
Penultimate,
into the sea.

It is early.

and the world hangs silent, but the birds chirping their chime,

An angelic choir of vibratos
And tenor beaks
humming sweet
to the early tangerine crest of sun
slivers a powerful bar of light over the peaks
to a newly brilliant horizon.

Sweeping the dredges of darkness away
as the stars fade
like coal dust
back again, packed into their cupboard of night
one by one,
lanterns snuffed and sent
into the vibrating blue
as if the whole sky should erupt into fire
azure, hallowed morning pyre

Encircled by the gradient hues
of coral pink and castille yellow
Mediterranean teal
A symphonic
cacophonic
**** of birth

Good Day, Sweet mother earth.

Squeezed through the valleys
canals
allies
every nook and forlorn cranny
kissed with her blissful photonic army
And the infantile creatures cry with glee.
The dewdrops clutch the blades
the tender palasade
of petals
remembering their darkened escapades
slipping tender rain
to feed the dirt,
the lonely detritus
elixirs of the lovely night.

And the world bursts into a veritable
kaleidoscope of life
With a trillion pairs of eyes
accessing the mother dream

In the linoleum dungeon
Sparkling swiffer creature
Squirts the floor
Calls polyphemic odors
Opening

And the crazy stench of allspice
Biting lime and draconian breath
Burning the nostril coins
Copper shield bending the cilia
Oven mitts plastered with narcotic grease and decomposing meals
Of yesteryear
Unclear
She speaks between steaming inspirations

Hoo-huh

Exhale the fire

It's'a hotta pasta lasagna
As the helicopters flap their handy rotories
Fast fractal birds
In circumfereferential motion
Cool down our mouths
Ice cubes in the juice
Plop a shot of gin
With that silly child's grin

And the room slowly cants
Begins to spin
As we laugh at the spots we cannot
Pin

Staring at the stellar mountain chains
Thrusted stone
Busted metal
Stabbing up into the sky
Competition

Where is the home beyond the horizon
Where we ate good meals
Not made alone
With parental guidance
As the days were stolen
By the erosive time
That spinning wheel

Well,

It's deep in us now
And the cells metastasized
Realized
That heaven is hell.

She and me
Kick our legs over the cliff
Watching the water pound in steep
Crests of mist,
Awash the quaking stone.

Drinking through the daze
Withering and coastal
Happy with every day
that drips
And growing older
Sedimentary
Seeking the simple deaths of life.

And when we sang our songs to the flocks of gulls
And they called saline
Eating fishbones
Circling like biplanes
Above the coast
We wondered what wandrous
Raptors out ran the oilpan
And instead became this.

We eat our picnic meats
And settle down for a long daydream
Staring at the overcast blanket
Seeing streaks of Grey dispersed between
Feeling
Warm and a little bit loved by the sea.

Me and she
There was no stopping
Her questions, flying hot lead at my
Brain
Dripping gall juice inside the spleen
Infected and hungry
Waiting to engorge our final meal
A bunch of microscopes in the petri
Dished out and left to drift
Amongst the lapping waves.

Assuredly,
When those gulls flapped their lazy way
Heading down the coast
Searching for simple meals
And calling family in the sky
They wondered to god
about solitary
You and I
And just what was our deal?

I can tell you what heaven is;

Heaven is

Sitting on a metal bench

With friends

And a rat pack of Samuel Adams.

Lung tree
Drink me
Take in that consequential
Energy
And please
Touch the sun with buds and dance
Perpetually
Until the day is said and done

Concrete
Upon what day will you melt to butter?
In what age will you split
Asunder
And our squishy nubs will touch
The naked land
Of younger
To caress trampled memory

Great comet
Of the heated sky
Roll chariots to the marble
Castle far by
Draw the ceiling and cast alight
The endless view of the constant night
Great God of mine.

In the photobooth
We do a silly face
Clicking the parsecs back into focal
View
And drawing upon that inflationary
Balloon
To which we ride
A darling damselfly
Old and full of chitionous youth

Old dirt
Move softly your mother
And place her dead things upon the nether
To compress into flaking chert
And ****** from the depths
An exhibit of great feature
The future of us
Lost within
The earth

Great road
I see not where your terminus goes
I know not from what strange township
You built the mountains and tumbled abyss
But when we shall be missed
And the world will roll on with constant bliss
Forgetful of the citation of our greatest works
And the obliteration of everything
Timeless.

Amid the verbose magicians
Seeking kinships
And sailing deep into their arduous mists
Watching them peddle their afternoon
To a handful of smiling children holding their breath
Amazed in gentle body trick

The older men of age
Leaning deep into their creased chins
Stroking the grizzled fat
Blinding light of soul
Staring down the barrel of life
Striking the enemy one last time
And yet smiling
sober,
Met of match,
taking care of their kids.

Then there's the cold-clocked dudes
On the phone pushing buttons
In a button-up raglan
Lost indistinct
the promised land
The golden shores swept away by
inconvenient time
Left shopping in an auto mall
"Won't you look at the time?"
7.07 APR
Boy what a steal!
And Steve maddened and screamed
As the lines blurred instinctual between opposing teams
And the oven dinged a great alabaster slant
Leaning towards the new millenitants

Rise up!
***** the wheel
Turn the axel from pistons
To alkaline metal
And doubt with great monumental
Quality
That the machine borders all
And we cannot retreat

And while I sift bouyantly between the waves
Searching the puzzle piece within the molecules
Reconnecting with the things
And representing
dreams on a 66 hertz screen
I call rather failing
Towards a black rocked shore
Towards the sweet Dorigen
Of my dreams
Finding an integral of time
And space

And calculating the intangible *****
Of my desmise
With the imaginary constiutent
Of that lighted mind.

Barking along the seething sea
Tethys sparkling
Sans Pellagrino
Bubbled up with volcanic
Albido
And it exposed the cragged shores
Of a incessantly compiling
Or
Completely snuffed
Mountain
Bored and drilled by time
Sharper than a dying dimond
Cooked and left to rest
A Dinar plate
To which an all you can eat
Buffet
Played out pleasently
From antiquity
To present
A gift to an aging child
To be which pure joy can behold.

Today it is home of the Croats
The ancient Frontier of a meiotic Rome
And over small-grain time
Made coats
Of arms and animal manes
To give a name
To the nameless

To give a place
To the missed

That old Tethys barks like a fish
Beyond the Odoacerean boot, Scylla and Charybdis
Where the whales float
And great souls
Stolen deep within
wishing to find god
Fumbling in the dark
Searching for Alexandria
The flame of life
Become great stories to be told
And nothing more.

Odysseus
Hug the shore
Follow the land of the mysterious Croats
Do not venture beyond the threshold
Or you will be consumed by time
And lost to her Circedean jealous pines
Do not anger the constant love of
Helios

No,
These Croats have never croaked
They know not of amphibiotes
And the sharpened clades of life
Made and tailored bespoke
Sowed
In the fractals
Of the quiet word of
Eloah.

Fold you up like unwanted fat
cook you into a rocky stew
placed beneath a mantle of ice
far enough away to be misconstrued

You are old laminated time
And pillowed rock of incomprehensible
Earlier than any lime
Or sand, or sediment, or any kind
You are the grandfather rock
of mine

When I step with my inconsequential feet
living but transiently
I cannot help but be erased
that even you hath but one resting place

All the plants
and sands
and ever since the very first
we have always been ******
to this earth
walking upon your bones
I am sorry we cannot do more
but you know your creator
Speak in the same language
in amalgamators
of which we have forgot
and for that I can say
we are envious; are we naught?

Build softly, and carry us upon your thick
crust like pizza dough, cooking
and you let it sit
Let us win, set us up
drift us apart, leave us crushed
build us,
make us,
break us,
fill us

I want to be restored into your
stony belt and be redeemed
I want to become my own atomic fossil
to connect with the universe through long-lost
plotholes
and once again
hear the story
as a young lad
the way it was meant to be told

I want to eat dinner with my grandfather again
my real sweet stony-chiseled cheeked
father again
to be loved a boy
and a girl
and the whole world
a soul touched back into the deep
left unshackled
by a ***** or a queen
please,
take me back soon
rather than let me turn into

Laurentia
or Baltica
or Gondwana
alack
smacked into new rock to form
Urals
and Tetons
and Moher
back

Carbonate or Silicate,
and the end its the same
It won't be the end
for that fate rearranged

Shackled to the very depths,
precariously situated
on the very precipice
of the end

where I can lasso the edges
and bring them back together
whipping the world back
some disseminatory yo-yo
excreting silky rut
rocks that bumble up
from hell and turn to lush
green,
belts of world for sand and dust
to which we have been gleaned.

I could hear them calling deep inside
that colossal of Rhodinia
an ancient land that will never be heard
except for the left
over play dough
left in the sand
Hidden under ice
I will dig until my fingers burn

The animals all taste like chicken
we hide beneath the rocks
fallen angels
left to run for our lives
constantly
constantly
constantly
constantly
constantly

and­ then
Flash
We are together again
the chickens cluck
and I fetch them a water pail
to wash away the fire in their gut
time to eat
time to grow
time to move
time to know

And the Himilayas dance into the sky
and florida's mosquita nets are dry
and the ice
and the creatures
given to the earth
move ever onward
and then
us.


But what does it mean?
I am but dust
and elemental stuff
and atomic configurations
on a tectonic bluff
unknown to the geometry
except for what I see
opaque eyeball
in its cage rolling
Searching for something in the static of dreams
in between the here and then
the now and when
the constant end
that drags the rocks
like slaves
towards constant
never
end.

Here we are, awoke
Turning the effervescent wheel's
Lively spoke
And speaking of which,
Dreaming through the day
I sit awake and with God I
Note

"where have you been?"

In shining stars and spectrography
My surveying eyes alight to watch the
Topography
Shift and fizzle and burn and cook
To turn and dance towards a thousand ends.

Time a laughable wire severed
To hone the momentary soul
And yet
Let go towards the endless drone of ever
Lasting beyond the melting bones

It is a beautiful flower of a thing
The last through the door for rite of spring
Swinging, arms out on the galactic road
Aiming for all at that great unknown

And yet,
I stare up at a beautiful powder-coated sky
Watching the clouds curl and saunter by
Knowing this truth, never seeing the same thing anew,
And hoping somehow to be indemnified

Of what?

Again,
We speak the same
To reiterate the revolutive turn in all but name
The earth owes naught but dust and dirt,
To all which is and ever earned.

To not forget that which we come,
To not mistake the hand of fate;
That all that is shall once be done,
Then faith of life is ours to take.

I got an award
For being the stupidest young boy
With a wax soul
And impressionable.

I thought I'd find something
Nestled here amidst the trees
And I did,
But in no halls but the hall of god
Speaking to me
Dancing between the leaves
Singing with every whispered breeze
And yet when I stepped
Past the threshold and into the
"real world"
I was sold
A maniac of utter delinquency.

Everybody there
Waiting for their turn
Auditioning for the favor of hearts
They'll never win
Can't see
Laughing and wondering
Reading without comprehension
Sticking their *** in the face of the classics
Lap dogs licking the milk from
Professed *******
Thinking they'll be next

Its not resentment--
Is it fair to be bent
Towards dollars that've never been spent?

All those silly parks
Divided from the civilized lands
Frontiers of the past
Left to be little staging areas
For that invisible hand

Kids go on spring break
Take pictures between the towns
Maybe a stop along
On the way
To Vegas
Deep in the desert where it'd **** any other day

I cannot escape the unfathomable beauty of that place,
Living off the world in a way God said
To toil and love the pain
In a way nobody does

I am guilty of pride and
Stuffed like a pie full of anger
Cooking it into solid joy
And trying hard to scrape the cancerous crust away
All the dark sides we avoid

But screaming the heat away is good
Thermal induction is the name of the game
Entropic fizzlements like bubbles in the wind
Sublimating all that ever stood.

Yet soon enough I'll be born anew
And what I leave behind
Lifted up
Nautoloid shell
With a sparkling abalone interior
Someone will place on their shelf
And think,

"I wonder where that thing had been."

And I will make sure that if anything were to happen,
It would do little to affect you.

It's not everyday
You find a goose that lays eggs
With speckled jewels and golden flakes

The world is full of incongruity
And there's no doubt about the certainty
That something bad may happen,
And we don't want that, do we?

So listen carefully.


The world is a giant carboniferous spicule
Hanging in a nest of hydroxic gas and particulae
Spinning within the gaps of a blackened dome
Of limitless space and out of control
There is no telling what way it will go
There is no prediction that has fortold
Any number of moments in this tumbling slumber
Between the darkest hell and the further horizon

I so deftly advise you with all certification
To please place your bets and fly by echolocation
Your eyes will mislead, your ears will displease
And there is no way we can refund divine warranties

This machinery
has a half life of quarks
And energies that vibrate into other orbits
Trajectories
Retaining the spin and informative piece
Of that golden goose let loose amongst the canopy
Of dark,
off into neverland, straight on
Till new morning,
Beyond the stars

So please good sir don't migrate away from me
I have so much to give and such pain I have seen

Those that fatten their goose with **** till it quacks,
Those ravenous souls who ate their gift for a snack,
And when life finally cuts them down to their last,
They will howl and yowl and pray that goose back.

This is a game,
Have a good little laugh
Don't waste your time or your money
On a daffy Aflack

Policy that keeps you policed to the earth,
No way to fly,
Stuck in the dirt.
That is no way to live in the dream,
That is no way to let death trickle in

So please, pretty please, make sure you have coverages
And a couple extra dollars in the pocket of those jeans
Wander freely, you great big atomic bomb, you.
Do catastrophic damages and I'll pay your dues.

Ride the road coast to coast,
Fly a bird 'round the world,
Take a truck till you're home,
Find a love you can trust.
Find a place where your egg
And your legs seek nowhere else
Lay down those roots,
It's Eden or bust.

Art is opinion masquerading as truth.

When I draw a city, I am drawing the city of my dreams, just as the city that is does not exist.

Putting policy into words in the hopes of having yourself heard is not the point of the philosopher,

and should not be the end of the penman.

When I attempt to make the world see, I manufacture my enemy. We should seek instead to illuminate gracefully, to speak the words beyond the void of flesh, and to touch emotions that swim with depth

It will get us nowhere to make art political, of which it is propaganda and employed many an artist in the past;

whose dreams of good deeds became hung in a museum for all the wrong reasons, leaving a remnant of an unforseen circumstance hanging dry on an empty tour-guide phonecall

Descriptive yet lies

Argue the dialectic of truth than the present purfume of lies that is fumigated from the salivary discharge of a cetaceous yearning of ******* of thought, that leftover dream of God

That all things should be the same, that all minds should think that way-- if they were, we'd be done with the experiment.

And they are attractive little bunches
Holding themselves together with lightshows and
Hanging over stucco ledges
Until they are replaced
In the dead of night with nobody but the janitor's
Wrinkled gaze
Pruning and yanking
their dry roots
To replace with something new.

The Fibbonacci stories spiral downstairs like infinity
And a reflecting pool looks like the domed firmament of some great sistine

I could see for a moment in my upturned gut
The draw towards infinity that lies at the end of that hollowed mosque
And which holds me firm in trust

There are no stairs, oddly enough
Only a polished high speed elevator
With fancy buttons that light up
And bring us down to ground
Floors that once were above

I stared at my face in between
The metal doors and wondered
When the time would come
For me to be something more

Wake and bake you ****** flake!
There's nowhere else than here for you,
How dare you think you could get outta this,
No sir, this ain't something you can miss!

Go go go we're on a roll
I'm gonna drop you out the back like fresh cargo
Out the deep blue sea of air that beats and steams
Smacks you flat across those baby cheeks

It'll eat you alive, there's nowhere to hide
Life has a gun in her mouth and runs wild with her dice
She'll roll you in-- a winner or loser,
And can already tell which one you'll be.

This ain't sunshine and rainbows!
This is war
This ain't eden,
This is the floor!
A trillion miles left to heaven,
And hell separated into this long ago
So heft your baggy saddle
And go

That is, only if you want it to be
You can heat your meat with the Furnace of dreams
Exchange your bones into gold,
Let the rain melt to snow
Trust the gun and the run and don't forget to have fun
You'll really get me then, boy I'll have nothing left to say,
Once you turn life onto broil that day

It's good to let your blood pump and boil,
There is no soil for which doesn't toil
And churn and burn and yearn to learn
To experience the uninterrupted turning of the earth

We're on our way, you and I, plummeting
Searching for some incomprehensible summit
Of trust in the ticking hand of life
As she holds our souls in her palm so tight
We can hardly tell we're slipping away
Pumping and jumping and having fine days
To which one of those, bundled,
we will fade away
And life will smile, wide on her face,
Knowing she hit the jackpot of the age
And as we fall to the playing table,
Dust of chance and left to spin
Well, that's when we'll know for sure we win.

And I have seen paradise before
It was a heaven of ideological
proportions
located
on the junction
of childhood and interstates
of man and youth, with marble floors
and distant speakers echoing drops off of
cell phone booths
and older people
selling things for us to buy
to find ourselves happy in the moment
deep cascading waterfalls

Is this heaven?

When a child it's all you see
the white and pedicured purity
of a waxed granite floor,
the impersonal monotony
feeling a soul in a world unknown
the closest thing to dreaming
Old T.Vs selling like hotcakes
buy it while it's new!

Gameboy games, pokemon on the tele
silent in the face of some strange musician
playing unworded tunes you'll recognize later
their focus-grouped chords left somewhere in your mind
for you to hum when bored

Everything was perfect, then?
was it?

Those same malls don't sparkle
no more

maybe it's just the grime of life
blocking the mirrored measure of my childhood soul
lost amidst the echoes
the sweet music of truth
bouncing off of the uncolored walls
a send-off of my youth

Maybe when we go back, one day
the walls won't be quite so grey
they'll be power-washed with light,
shine better than ever before,
nothing to buy but our happiness
somewhere in those hallowed halls
searching those windows into other lives
hoping to find the key to our soul
to leave this silly Sphere and
Roebuck
our boat back out the sliding door
-windows
back out into the real world,
no longer dreaming.

Whoopsy-Daisy!
There goes half my family tree.

Off into the mystery
of DNA twisting
spirals of ribosomal massive
Building projecting
chromosomal lattices
in a spermatozoatic package

Off into the deep blue deep
of time uncounted
in the shadows of the greats
lifting them on shoulders
and blades
Way back away till god spoke in a burning bud
and called to Joub
and uttered,
"Do not be afraid"
I am the salt of the earth
and the bees and the trees
I am the perfection that you see

Count the petals
(He loves me)
trace the shapes
(He loves me)
Sing the melody
(He Loves me)
Whispered in these
(He Loves me)
Lowly orbs
(He Loves me)
Those soulful
(Loves me)
(Pebbles)
Made perfectly

and to dust will he sow
but not without plucking the best to eat
to return into the fold
that universal flow
To restore and inform
to watch and to grow

It's not a he,
its the trees
do you see what I mean?

They will eat and we will be filled
Will finally know
our efforts unfurl
in the perfect direction of sequence unknown
that leads us towards beauty
(Look out belooowww!!!)
A spiral of perfection in that chaotic void
pushing out, fighting deeply against it
A perfect tao in every step,
every breath,
watching us-- being us
testing us,
seeing us

And when we finally see again,
he will be beauty,
neverend.

I feel as though I wade through the sickly gait
of butter
mind cast deep into the sea,
searching for a coast covered in fog
barely able to make out
the craggy blades of rock
of that world I forgot

It is imprisoning,
stuck aboard a cork of reality
suspended above a chasm of inconsequentiality
that dives unfathomable below
into sickly dark secrets of dreams and
excitable interactive equations
that lead me towards some inevitability

Maybe this is the special sauce,
that radioactivity
that racks my skull
pushes me beyond the world
and into the dreamland of poets

"Dream, dream until you sleep,"
but I have so much to see,
someone to meet,
you told me!
Why lie?
Why die!?

Maybe its all unreal
maybe its all a sheen
a fake shear curtain
so thin,
impossible to see

White and fuzzy and tickly
down my spine
my lower back
my spleen
my scrotal sack
its everywhere
and I don't know what you are
God, help me

I am getting angry
devil is taking the wheel
and wants to drive me off a cliff
or into some abyss
of mind
and I want to let it
I want to be normal again
only a week ago
maybe never
but my god when do we ever feel healthy?

I haven't seen a soul I love
in far too many days
sinful attitude pushing me deep into the drift
and current events that carry me
into pools of vengeful rage
Take me out deep
among those glittering distant seas
Guide me into salvation
to comfort beyond sleep

Sometimes my vision starts to vibrate
Back and forth,
Like the firmament of reality
Is ripping apart into dreams
And I wonder if one day it'll go
All the way
And I'll just zoom off into some strange bruise of blue
And purple-black
Heart attack

Reading HR on the wall
Thinking how far we have to fall
Feeling the pleasant rush of air
Run across my free cheeks

And I keep blinking,
Thinking that if I just want a little more
Push a little more
Maybe the word will crack open the rains of fortune
And whisk me away like an egg

Grinding my fingers against the tree,
Trying to eat at the bark
Like a little ******
But not so wrong, honestly.

I find more often than not
When I oft retreat into enclosed thought,
Stepping stones across the pond
Of reality,
I dream of something that could never be.

Like a stone,
Crashing into a celestial dome
Only a fraction of an inch
And destroying wholly
All things that called it home.

Clawing deep at wormword
Blood on fingers, blood and hand
To fall ever softly toward the beautiful
******
To some perfect miracle.

Laying awake
Praying for my soul
Taking the ticking seconds in
As they flash by quick and instant
Leeward Receding
Backward stars into the distance

My mind will wander towards that
Strange astral
Unknowing lack of will
Hoping that maybe I'll land on some
Toadstool of another view
After I've gorged my fill

There's gonna be some string
That my soul rides back home
Following it like a dipping power line
Oscillating along the ***** road

But it's all relative
Maybe It will come in an instant
Crashes through the door and out I go
Reaching down the barrel
For lost time

Maybe I'll do it to myself
A crumbling temple in the sand
Reaching ever higher in the mind
As it all erodes out beneath
And like a tree
I fall
And nobody is there to hear me

All that'll be left is this
A word, a thought, some dream of bliss
I can't claim to know.

Had I known,
What future had been sowed
Perhaps I would have found a better way
Back home

Kawasaki revving on a long 5 *******
screaming pipe, watching from behind
a beautiful carousel of red and blue
flashing between my eyes

All along these tired roads
between the wandering streams cutting daily into the sediment
eroding the trust of those ancient riverbanks
exposing the bodies laid to dust

Those great crackling xylophones
marimba of memory and curdled blood
Screaming now, cracking between the gunshots
like bones
Souls forever past it

No forgiveness, no chance
No indictment on a ruddy road

I fall off my bike, skid a mile or two
feel the deep earth grind my skin,
tempting me with heat and a sweet goodbye
a challenge I'll never win

I skid past the officer in a ditch,
hole in his head and a clipboard ripped in two
Poor man, back with the sediment
wrapped in a carpet of beige and mud
all we've ever done

I'm not sure what I'd have said
As I slid past on my way to death
where the Appalachia slammed into Africa
saying we were all in this together
once before
as dinosaurs

So how are we any different then?

Bunch of stardust
and Sediment
Acting like winners
and consumed by lust
for dust and rocks
a part of us
Leading back our dark descent

Kawasaki flips and implodes in a ball of combustibles
behind me the sky explodes into red
and fire of passion deep in our star
of hearts, I know we'll all be the same then
empty of body, devoid of toys
stripped of lies, those knowledgeable clothes
and return to perfect Eden
where dirt and earth are us,
and dust we discriminate
obliterate into the neverend

Gliding deftly along the city street
rolling quick and constantly
onward to some unknown scene,
some backward park in the nighttime
smoke curling from these
parted lips, moist and inviting
calling me somewhere I've never seen.

New day, new night
new feelings, rage in delight
fill me with your hilarious entropy,
knock my quarks into the next century,
will you please?

Now you're smoking the pipe and all at once you are free
between you and me, this smoke is thicker and sticks
like glue,
wispy and dreamy and the world spins and calls Toltec
telephone company can't pay me for all those calls collected
and rendered obsolete
Sun god dead as that silly calendar meme

Amaterasu,
and Imma tell you
these ladies in the picnic table
buried alive for boxed lunch and god's brunch
Jesus ******* Christ
and a indelible roster of good guys,
to which we all must strive to live and die
behind,
never moving forward
chasing our tails like a sick dog
under the jasmine runner between the decades-old tanbark
imported from overseas
dead trees
dead canine
and oh isn't it just divine?

You see it, pretty lady.
I can see it hiding behind your eyes
the things you don't tell the others because you're afraid
if they found out,
you'd be crucified.

Well honey I hate to inform,
With KGB efficiency that these love-a-dumbs
aint Methuselah,
they'll be dead!
long before your flood of tears tears me from the land
ballistas me across the great expanse to some strange Ararat
of the eastern seaboard,
or maybe wash me deep along the 80
into the desert sands and tiles
on a leaky cell phone screen
desperately trying to dial home on low battery,
realizing all this was one big deferred dream,
baking in the sun and shriveling
oh well, back to the grindstone-- all those lies plucked your nose,
gotta cut it back to size,
'else your soul it'll outgrow

Don't worry honey bee
It hasn't happened to me,
and We know with calcuable mathematical truth
that it'll never happen to you.

Upon my steel face, will it rain
upon my gleaming eyes, it will be made
the envy of a soul,
trapped in perfect face
to no great final resting place

My legs, drilled into the ground
my eyes, upturned to sky unwound
released of tears and raining down
to broken glass
and grass
their souls unbound

To stare deep into a darkened me,
my admirers creep along my metal sheen
as my material decompose,
to save my thoughts from endless woe

"So long!", will I be endless seen
abrupt, *****, incongruously
commanding these vistal centuries
of concrete and perjury

poking up grey thumbs among the hills
while the putrid stench under burrows
My fingers, ever curled, do maestrate
The doleful victims of that loving fate

And when you walk upon my land,
and see my metal hanging hands
Know my voice, hear my dreams
to never make the enemy of me.

Keep it simple, stupid
Water your squash
groom your ****

clean your hair
make your bed
go to work
rest when you're dead

the mountain's majesty is dis-communicated on the
chaotic explosion of 680
where soccer moms and angry dads
fed direct from the tide
explode inside their cars
nobody can hear them
'till five o clock with a beer in their hand

Kids at school
learning spectra
of color and light and soul and love
so zoomed out
must be
ADHD

SOMEBODY GET THIS DELINQUENT
SOME ******* VIVANCE,
PUHLEEzE!

Cartoon T.V
hey kids! remember not to talk to strangers!
quacked out in the head
they'll duck you inside their candy van
and you'll never be seen again

instill fear of the other
wait, why do they hate us?
why are they afraid?
they're supposed to love everyone
(and gays)

God is dead
we're floating through space
a rock going nowhere,
there is no place

No up or down,
just live and be gay,
there's nothing too queer,
there's no need for fear

just pay your taxes
in time to the state

Now i'm supposed to use big words
and relate somehow
deeply to a concept
we can't understand
but I've tripped far enough
and seen my heels
to know
it doesn't matter how you feel
or what you say

people are gonna keep dreaming anyways.

Venus and a sun-dog in the setting day
a signal that everything's gonna work out,
okay?

botanist at the table behind a wall of succulents
telling me fungi
stuff
and the way they fixate
the soil
for plants to grow and eat
okay.

summertime there are no fields to plow
we're all off anyways
searching for happiness in a kiss
in the promise
of a long-lasting relationship

titanic orders, but that's only a myth
to Smith
maybe not the rest
they're blessed
with that floating boat of happiness

a mean end, that stuff
no means of ending that
they laugh and dance
a quirky ritual
I still cry at the loss
of innocence

goodbye kendred soul,
pass off the torch to a new you,
and bit a sweet adieu
to you,
in the way we both behaved
stumbled our way
out of the garden
and on into the earth.

For what it's worth,
I see he'll be
everything you dreamed
he could.

Slumped into the late linen
sniff scent of stiff cigarette
burned into the chair
Hey, she used to be there
per fumigation
embalmed
momentary into the chair

The ceiling is shifting like little snakes
whisky balm in a sweating glass
I haven't touched it, it's watering down
down into water and alco-seltzer
to ease my grumbling soul

Those snakes,
turning and writhing in the ceiling
where is she?
I smell her
forked tongue

You can't smoke inside anymore
not even in the old buildings already full
tar roof, tar boots, tar toys in the evening booth
french fries dipped in milkshake
sprinkled with salt and glucose

mmm good for the muscles
and the throat

she loved doing that kind of stuff,
weirdly enough.

sweat on my fingers
breathing heavy
studying the snakes with the bright eye
of a Darwinian belief

they will die,
I will die,
but not before we fulfill
our seething purpose

they lost their wings?
Is that why the Chinese
and the Greeks
and the Norse
and the Volks
and the Rabbinicals
claimed punishment was befit a creature
so little, yet so dangerous

(Monkey in the tree no snake will eat me)

to be swallowed whole and digested
born to die, fed to be born
ouroboros

slithering her **** tail
into the mouth of heaven
for a second
then shuttled out the door

it is dark as onyx in the night
the stars shine like scales above
searching for the right snake
to emanate
and create
new life
for once

Hello Chicago
Flat carpet-town of corn meal
steel spears at the northern junction
of Cahokia and some unknown dream

No lillies grow here sir,
no tulip fields
though there are many Dutch
a little up north
Wisconsin, dontcha' know?

Family blood rains through the Chicago river
named of the blood of a slain tribal wonder
wanders
with the roaming buffalo

I sat at the top of Sears
(Willis)
Tower and peered into the foggy distance
and made out the shores of Michigan
through Indiana
the leftover rains of a continental freeze
churned the earth to butter and carved the arteries
and bowels
of today's earthly body

And when we drove in from O'Hare
in the late hours on incessant stoplight highways
counting down the streets
thinking maybe they'll go all the way to
Mississippi
just a long row of
Concrete

I saw the brick tower
of a decrepit Frito-lay plant
where they cooked their corn and potato
into succulent
can't eat just one
little snacks

for the whole of america
to enjoy in backyard barbecues
and convenience stores
and grocery outlets
All across the planet

Now with the trucks they come and go
up to and whizzing past Chicago
on to greener states with greater relief
with hills and lakes and winding streams

Different sections of the sculpture
Cities eroding into the pleasant coasts
quaking and breaking into tiny stones
a monumental David
cracked in the gallery
bird **** corroding the silicates
unpolished and immortal
words

Chicago!
oh you mighty city you
built from sod and sweat and dew
of new morning
I see your towers
you dreamer, you
But your towers are in Dubai,
and Shanghai
now

The world moved on
and forgot everything about
that magnificent mile
burned to make you earn
new toys and fancy things
from far beyond your winding river streams

But you didn't die
amazing, how much they tried
to rust you out
to bleed you dry

no,
Chicago,
you keep your ***** rivers flowing
all the way to the Mississippi
flanked by modern Roman concrete
all the way to the great green sea
out into the puddle that surronds
the Amerigo

Chicago
don't you give up that river dream

We give guns to our sons,
to protect our land
to protect our souls
to protect our goals

We have guns in the truck
guns in the car
in the prison bus
guns just for fun.

guns at the airport
guns on the plane
guns in the air,
guns in every state

guns at the armory
guns at the bank
guns for the money
guns in the safe

guns on The Hill
guns on patrol
guns on the street
"guns that ****"

guns on the gangs
guns in the trains
guns at the range
guns on the stage

guns on T.V
guns at big screens
guns at the table,
guns on the scene

guns on the plains,
guns in the mount,
guns in the desert,
guns we can't count

guns in the south,
guns from the west,
from coast to coast
guns everywhere!

guns on hand
guns on the boats

Guns across           ---          the whole wide world.

Guns in Mosul,
Guns in Iraq
Guns in Japan
Guns in Slovak

Guns in Chicago
Guns in Bhutan
Guns in Australia, Malay, and
Taiwan

Guns in Korea,
Guns in the ocean
Guns on the shores, guns never broken
--or sold or banned or destroyed or stolen

No token
prayer,
no
sign of devotion
no tears
or weeping
or candles
have spoken

for the thousands dead, the thousands snuffed dead

Guns in the policecar,
Guns in the open

Guns on the street,
But no, we can't own them

Our children are dead, dying and born
Into a world of guns, and guns that won't go

we protect our world, our money, our loves
with guns

So why don't we do so?
With the children?
Our sons?

Somewhere deep in the skies of Montana
a lonely street corner flickers
casting coded light
upon the distant albino hillside

It was once a great lake
of snow and ice and melt and
unseen by life
It drained and died

and its beautiful lakebed sands
became the hillside
again

to tumble and fall
into valley and time
again

there we built an impermanent road
we pave and pave
maintain
with trucks and slabs of dirt and grain
roaming those Roman roads
again

Somewhere deep in that heartland
the strings that pumped the musculature
of a dying nation
slowly giving way to a violent attack
from within
oxidize and pool
into great tides
to one day see the coast

I am in California
but I see it clearly as a dream
where the great plains meet the mountain face
and the Cheyenne carved their heels into the dirt
for a bit
spirit
eroded into the winds

today the miners spit
at a coffee-town bar
into copper cans
licker than split
Owning the land that shakes
and shifts
redrawing god's lines
with a paper pad and a pen
for a bit

And the dresses the ladies wear shine
lacquered wood and the horses cry
and beside the interstate
the trucks steam and chuff
and their drivers gaze starry-eyed
onward, beyond into the night
beyond those flanking hillsides
to the flat ocean land sponged anew
that left the oil fields in Texas and the tar sands in
Athabasca
set ablaze in the fervor
of a death rattle
American heart
pumping to feed these hillsides
again

for tomorrow we begin.

Yesterday the ever-present dead trees that lined my childhood road
Decended deep into the stream,
Killed a woman
One soul
Smashed deep against the windshield
And with drops of coconut blood
And leftover grocery lists
And sunken perfume

How could it be like this?

But man
What a way to go
A funeral procession of thousands
Stopped for miles
Wondering
What could you have been?

Your ten-milisecond
Moment of fame
And the hours after you cease to know
Like the most
unfortunate poet
They saw you for what you were
And wondered...

It was you
God chose you
And brought you home with the gleaming face
Of a modern-day
natural
Valkyrie

I went the back way that day
After becoming impatient for an exit
Ironic
Really
And so I guess you came into my mind
Absently
Knowing that every plaque in the continental
Artery
Is you acting a little bit too quickly
So I looked you up on the phone
And said thanks
For whatever you did
As a soul
Here and back again
Unexpected.

It's political, isn't it
the ones who get the book deals
acting like actors
starry eyed
dreaming to be
the next Stephen King

******' sellout

entertainment
that's what wins
and who decides the words
a company on market street
in a big tower of steel and glass
coffee machine


people hate to be proven wrong
they hate to have their methods questioned
Geocentrism maintained until the atomic age
and even after

let go of preconceived notions
of ideology and dogmatic sheen
step away from petty partisans
perhaps then we can come together

you won't like it if it targets you
because today
our hearts are fragile
and we feel the instinctive
(instilled)
need to defend and revolt
against a system that is broken
in all the wrong ways

but tearing it down
and building back up
is always more tough
than simply,
agreeing
to disagree
and working
to find
a solution
somewhere
in between

c'mon
please wake up
don't keep eating soylent green
mean broadcasts and slanderous media
consultants that own the world beneath their words

Walt Disney (ABC): 92 billion
Comcast (NBC, MSNBC): 186.9 billion
Viacom (Paramount, CBS): 23.7 billion
21st Century Fox: 50.72 billion
Facebook (Instagram): 84.524 billion
Verizon (T-Mobile): 257.1 billion
AT&T (Sprint, Cricket): 444.1 billion
Google: 206.94 billion

These are the biggest industries in the world
manufacturing information
buying yours
selling you fabricated dreams
and hateful wishes
to turn you into time bombs
picketing angry on main street
buying pamphlets
buying lies
buying momentary good times
so that the dividends incessantly continue to fund

And you fear youtubers?
with thoughts
different than the conglomerates
and the fourth estate
in beded on the capitol building
drinking martinis
jacking themselves off on an american flag,
saying
Land of the free

silencing the opposition
quietly
behind the scenes
MKULTRA
greedy
and mean

and you'll eat it up
thinking you're kind
playing exactly the cards
they printed for you
and handing their printed money
over
with interest
siphoning the wealth of a generation
like ticks

but the solution is not to redistribute
it is to reinvigorate
the innovative
engine
and accept,
maybe,
that all states are doomed to die
eventually

but don't fear death
please
that's the first way
they get
in your skin
and through that wound
will inject you
with sin

Love wins?
No, man.
Love IS.

draw a line
divide until you can't no more
realize
its all one big
firmament of a world

but we have to fight
survive
it's fitting
and kind
to do so, they say
so they say
they say so many different ways
so that we don't catch on
speak only hearsay
until the day
we die
and our estate
is taxed back
to Washington
rolling in pennies and lying,
with ******* and dimes

"Oh you're mad,
you cute little Jesus you,
go get your whip
let's see what you can do.

Jesus didn't DO
anything
he lived and died
and metaphorized
his life
in a way
we could recognize
because we only live
in a land of metaphor
totally divorced
from the times

Get with it, kid.

And Siddhartha
and Allah
and all the other pristine figurines
said

"Y'all are doing it wrong"

Of course we are,
spinal tapped out the moment we left
so far east of Eden,
we're chasing the sunset

It'll come
we'll blast off to ride chariots towards all the fun
maybe philosophize with Aristotle
on Kepler 281
-c

So stop with the pain,
stop pushing the wheel
stop teasing your souls
with vengeance and zeal

just be,
be free,
be unshackled of soul
let yourself go,
that's all Buddha told

and Christ,
and Allah,
and Laozi
more

You hate it here?
Grab a gun.
Blow out the floor

Or the roof of your mouth,
End it quick, without pain
watch from the heavens
as your crimson life drains

I've seen it once,
I've seen it a thousand times before
And it just keeps rolling,
Keeps moving onward

A drop in a bucket,
a drip in a sink
swirling and *******
a vortex of dreams

deep down the end
that swirling stream of
tunnel

Where do we go?
Why spare the trouble?

Perhaps something
amazing
toiled and fizzled
for 13.8 billion years
to hear you whine and drivel!

It's okay.
Breathe in, out, back in
if I have to,
I'd recommend
you read this again.

I almost cried thinking about you.
Your soul
all the tall tales you spun
spiders dancing across the stars now
I miss you
I never knew you
I want to
so badly
it hurts

You'd hate it here
they bastardized you
sold your words for a dime
those jewels you saw in the night
rocks.
just rocks.

that is, now
Nobody wanted that fantastic ruby sky
and ****-green mossy aquamarine
now we stare at screens.
screens.

They'll kick you off the train
eye you with suspicious gaze
if they catch you all alone
spun along some interstate

We can't do what you did anymore
try as we want to.

No running from the law
or responsibility
or inevitability
or anything quite like that

and the only time i spoke to god
he told me there was places for me to see
somewhere for me to be
someone for me to meet
and i still don't know
what that means...

I didn't have no writing buddy
my buddy left for the dusty drone of Bakersfield
and now i'm all alone
Disenchanted and enthusiastic
about all the things everyone hates
and the history that keeps sifting
like sand through the lobes of my skull

Jack, come back
give me a minute or two
maybe a vision of my wildest dreams
I'd love so much to talk to you

I keep dreaming and seeing the beauty that lies in the center of the
Tao, that long winding tao
of ancient street
with no shoes worn here in San Francisco
that imaginary terminus you dreamed
not here, silly me.
I started here
you wound your end through here

I don't know what mine'll be
Not a hemorrhage
maybe
of the brain
since that's where my troubles lie
or my prostate,
since that's where my vision lies
yours was the stomach
that great trust in gut
it let you down
and lifted you up

God didn't give me that at all
he gave it to you
oh how freeing that must have felt
to know
truly

Good morning miss,
how do you do?
I have something very special today to offer you!
Oh, wouldn't you like to know what it is?
I know you're busy, ma'am-- it won't be but a bit

Thank you, ma'am.

Now, take a gander at this--
We live in a very advanced age,
With much to do that cannot be missed!
With television and telephones and magneato-static tape,
We can easily forget-- get lost-- frequently lose our place!

But with this brand new...
eh..
thingermadoo!
You'll find your worries quickly erased!

..Well yes ma'am, if you'll let me finish.

Now see, its easy!
All it takes is a tune
a look, a whistle, even a fingertap'll do
This magic machine
listens to your needs!

It's small, and light,
and shatters quite
easily.
So you'll want to have it on hand.
For safekeeping!

It listens to you,
like no man would do
And ensures you are the best you can be!
Once you pay the price,
you won't need think twice--
Yes ma'am!
all the knowledge you could want in the world, to a T!

How does it do it?
Well you really needn't ask
It works through the mutual human task!
Every man, woman, and child comes together to contribute
It does not discriminate, you do not pay tribute
No ma'am no, this machine seeks no gold
Just you, is what it wants. It simply wants you.

You'll take it? That's great! I'll get you in next shipment
they're sourced from a faraway place, but it won't take but an instant!
With boats and planes and automobiles,
We'll get it to you
We'll make sure of that, words true.

We're excited for this!
You won't believe what you've missed!
And very quickly you'll find the world just doesn't do
without constant supervision from the...
eh..
thingermadoo.

Now if you'll excuse me, miss--
you have a nice night.

And when I met that girl in San Francisco
Off a dusty little pier
with rotting wood
and squawking seals
And screaming bayside wind

She caught me off-tropics
and danced with the grace
of a palm tree
lines between the quaked
concrete
off telegraph avenue
On an obscuring Sunday morning

and no
she didn't go
to church or any silly thing
like a temple or synagogue
She said those were no places
for god

God was the trees

We smoked cigarettes and got off to each other's
carcinogenic practices
oxidizing a little faster in conjunction with hopeful
Formaldehyde
Deriding the formalities
of small talk and trivialities

She liked her guitars with nickel-wound strings
I with nylon
But I couldn't play songs
that sounded any good with them
while she could
and did.

and girl did it ever sound good

She'd laugh at the contests on the radio
while we drove on a half-moon
to half-moon
full and whole of ourselves
We'd stopped in the lobby of a cheap motel
And waltzed to background
muzak
wacked out of our minds
Sniffing in deep huffs of subliminal
divinity
Understanding
loving
that mind-numbing
monotony

muzak...
ppsh.
Who ever really listened to that?

And then she left
at the end of one fine winter day
in a cloudless sky I waved
watched her plane
skip off
towards the edge of a pale blue horizon
back south
to warmer climes
to wherever she truly stayed
The tugging on my heartstrings
chimed grotesque in
precise
D minor.