Round here:

'Step out the front door like a ghost
into the fog where no one notices
the contrast of white on white.
And in between the moon and you
the angels get a better view
of the crumbling difference between wrong and right.
I walk in the air between the rain
through myself and back again
Where? I don't know
Maria says she's dying
through the door I hear her crying
Why? I don't know

[Chorus:]
Round here we always stand up straight
Round here something radiates

Maria came from Nashville with a suitcase in her hand
she said she'd like to meet a boy who looks like Elvis
she walks along the edge of where the ocean meets the land
just like she's walking on a wire in the circus
she parks her car outside of my house
takes her clothes off
says she's close to understanding Jesus
she knows she's just a little misunderstood
she has trouble acting normal when she's nervous

[Chorus:]
Round here we're carving out our names
Round here we all look the same
Round here we talk just like lions
But we sacrifice like lambs
Round here she's slipping through my hands

Sleeping children better run like the wind
out of the lightning dream
Mama's little baby better get herself in
out of the lightning

She says It's only in my head
She says Shhh I know it's only in my head
But the girl in car in the parking lot
says "Man you should try to take a shot
can't you see my walls are crumbling?"
Then she looks up at the building
and says she's thinking of jumping
She says she's tired of life
she must be tired of something

[Chorus:]
Round here she's always on my mind
Round here hey man got lots of time
Round here we're never sent to bed early
And nobody makes us wait
Round here we stay up very, very, very, very late

I can't see nothin', nothin', round here.
No, you catch me when I'm fallin'.
You catch me if I'm fallin'.
You catch me if I'm falling down on you.
Oh man I said " I'm under the gun..."
Round here.
Oh man I said "I'm under the gun..."
Round here.
And I can't see nothin', nothin'.
Round here." '

Counting Crows

I saw the seeds of the revolution
dawning
crowning

I heard the propositions from vermi-culture
informing the shift
working it out, sifting it out.

I surfed the micro-ripples of influence through
effectures and prefectures and
excused the old guard through heartfelt
conjectures

There was only one logical conclusion so I
quietly and patiently sat in between
with all our relations.

Under the shade of old growth discernment,
I washed through the oceans of my subconscious,
sifted through the compost for kernels, and
mined the midden for wisdom.

New kingdoms arose from that which was expressed.

The raw materials were ubiquitous.
These re-building blocks pointed to
a platform for the gifting economy.

Then one day I woke up zipping around Los Angeles,
toying with a couple of keys,
Sancho Panza and me, all windmills and wizards.

With only one logical conclusion
I took a chance, learned to dance, and
bid my pretence adieu.

Unpredictably, having lost my lance, I won the war.
Now I sit upon my throne with two mats at my door.
One says presence, one says future, and
both are welcome.

Both are welcome because it is here that I found my agency within my sovereignty
through submission.

You look at me like I'm weak
I am
Weakness is bending
Not breaking
It's how I show my strength

You look at me like I'm dark
I am
Darkness is light
Not reflecting
It's how I show my breadth

You look at me like I'm lost
I am
So far from shore yet
Not drowning
It’s how I show my depth

You look at me like I'm ill
I am
Illness is health
Not refracting

And when I admit this, it’s to my advantage

Architecture waiting to be embodied
Boxes and boxes of un~buried treasure

No time for writing the stories
Already in extra time, flitting about and anxious for
Focii to make themselves known thus leveraging the
Many vertices of an under~powered power structure

To repair the leaking forms
Of our realities, seeking assistance
In bringing to life that which
Dreams are made of

Built on soul iron or iron in the soul
I prefer the latter to the former
Not really enjoying those entities who
Extract rather than add value

Willing to teach and learn and flow
As cupid and psyche dance the roomba

I wrote a story once
And it came true

as the foghorn blows for the third time
i ask the question once again …
where lies the hands of power
and bringing consciousness back into my material being
i find two hands that look very much
like my own

nomind, i don’t mind

i thought i was a thinker
but Rodin proved me wrong
he bronzed the thinker

after pondering on that
while observing the foot traffic
at the gallery for a long moment …

i wondered:
as an observer of the observers
am i hunter or prey?

through my disabilities:
endured an enablist

it was beyond my masculinity
to stop seeking farther approval

sallying forth into contorted
realities ... humbling and bumbling

along predetermined trails
of oblivion

incontextual servitude
is blissful if done right

like lumberjacks
in forests of gumption

while living within
the synchretic monotony

and becoming
architects for disdain

our composite genius suckling
on ingots of caloric magnificence

while forgetting principles:
art science technology

and supplicating on splurges
converted into gurgles and burps

within this abbreviated lifeway
i strut toward my masculinity

but found my rhythm
on the vector of eternal boyhood

while forgetting to ask:
why does Mother suffer so?

I realized today
Why I've been
So ******* angry

It took me quite
Some time to get here
Cause I was attempting to
Think it through

The thinking through process
Was exhausting
Every time I thought I was there
I realized I had barely begun

My reward for attempting the journey
Was a growing anger
Alive and festering
And a feeling in my heart

Rather than focus on rationality
I began to sit with the feeling
While trying not to take it out
On myself or
Lashing out on those around me
(especially my loved ones)

Trying was trying and
Sometimes it worked
And sometimes did not

While I sat in between
Waiting and wondering if
Maybe the answers could be
Found elsewhere.
The more I felt into this
In those quiet, reflective spaces
The more I was able to
Reorganize my emotions
Which brought me to the conclusion
That my source of anger
Was a feeling.

It did not take me long
Sitting within this
When I began to shift
Into the realization that
This needed to be
Unpacked:

My emotions of anger
Were rooted in the feelings of hurt

I tried to point my finger at a more direct
Source of this pain and
Many people came up
But I could see they were coming from
A place of hurt too
And our hurts were perpetrated on each
Other in a cyclic fashion

Now I was on a roll,
Unpacking the hurt continued to flow
Now I understood that
My feeling and the hurt
Are the product of cycles
That do not serve me

I was starting to embody
This understanding:

These cycles are rooted in
Unhealthy dynamics
Installed and instilled
Within a hierarchy
Infused and embedded
Within the power structures
Of today but
Moreso the power structures of yesterday

This was my call to action

Flowing further
Led me to the knowing that
To assist with restructuring
These dynamics might be the greatest gift
I could give to those I love

Within this knowing, I decided
An army of one
Would not do

So I got to work on building an army of two

As I climb from base misery
to the mountain tops of self-mastery
I'm reminded that to remove my mask
precedes these odes to flow

I found myself
on the fields of defeat
where the corridors of power
never seem to meet

You see, I lost myself again
in that merciless unwind
which is not a new place for me
and has been working me over time

But I don't mind the mountain tops
it's where I long to go
I don't mind the mountain tops
it's where my stories flow

When I told myself again
that it's time to let it go
gotta just allow for it
for that short pause, for the plateau

Cause I don't mind the mountain tops
it's where I come and go
I don't mind the mountain tops
it's where my stories grow

So I told myself again
it's time to mend and sew
gotta try and re-learn those things
I forgot to know

I don't mind the tops but
it's the valleys where I rest
no, I don't mind the tops
but it's the valleys I like best

We don't mind the mountain tops
cause from there we flow and flow and flow

Welcome to my rough draft
This is me being real, now
Been fallin’ part for real
It’s a part of healing, though

Been stripping down
Taking off my layers
Giving away my tells
Now that I’m standing here naked

I can see what I’m feeling
I can feel why I’m reeling
Falling down, it’s fleeting
Now I’m standing into my being

Nomind protects me
While the hive mind projects me
Is the West the least
Or the number of the beast

What i glean
From this machine
Is that the hex comes off
When we break the locks

Time to unwind the paradigm
It’s stepping back
To move forward
Found my flow now …

Time to let it roll

I found my leadership
It’s hereditary

There’s a balance point within
Where the thoughts and feels
congeal

Welcome to my rough draft
This is me being real, now
Been fallin’ part for real
It’s a part of healing, though

Welcome to my rough draft
This is me being real, now
Been fallin’ part for real
It’s a part of healing, though

Welcome to my rough draft
This is me being real, now
Been fallin’ part for real
It’s a part of healing, though