It kills to be so close, and yet so far.
She lives inside my mind invisible, and twinkles like a half-seen star.
Only words shall transfer forth, and it’s a misery of sorts.
No face shall I see, no flower found to bloom.
Only a corpse of memory sealed inside a silent tomb.
Where one is blunt the other is bashful.
Where one is close the other is far off,
watching like a seagull.
I watch her like a dream sealed inside a glass case,
I’m not the kind to break things...

Speak to me about the way the wind hits you.
How the air of your mind is stirred.
Give me a taste of your soul music.
That I may fly aloft like a bird.
A rustle, a whistle, through the boughs and brooks
of your words fall pitter-patter
on my attentive eyes and ears.
A dream of heaven; an after-life.
A wish for peace, and a cease of strife.
Yet I shall share a vision of what has always been.
A connection to the infinite.

The days blur betwixt again or not.
Jumping up and down across the expanse
go Jack and Jill and all their twinkling droplets
of their painful of water.

For if earth is mother, Sun and Moon are Son and Daughter.
As weeks go by without number
and the sands shift and time winds on to
Rob and plunder. All man’s devices are ripped asunder.

All remains as it has always been under the sky so old.
The masses cry in pain in the winds so cold.
Fall away from the wall.
As morals breath flies from him like a raven;
without call. No end, no death, only a perpetual mechanism
are man-kin who are spent.

Yet so seldom grateful is he for the life to him lent,
and such a fallacy is this.
Never forever is the endeavor forever together.

Let the wordse flow, don't even care if hte spellin is right,
don't look back, not for a second.
Consume your own face today,
lean not on your own understanding
but on every mouth
from the word of God's divine understatement.
I love you so, oh I do, I must,
because nothing can inhibit my
love it flows free like a wave on the rocks
the tempest. You are to me
the unending sea
of love that pours
forth over the agony
I love to live in every day.
I am a wretch and my face is torn from stern to stem.
Where are you my darling? you are right here.
Give me not one look of nothing, give me only
bursts of something. I want from you one true thing, and that is meaning.
Do not tarry. Fill me with joy for this once in my life.
**** away all my depraved mad man mind, filled with irrational tribulational and hallucinational enemies
and ardent forms of torture.
Let me breathe for this once in my life.

I love you. I loven you. I lover you.
My passion should be locked away in a cage
it rages forth
like a lion in the sun
who knows no fear from
bird or snake or fowl fish or beast nor any set before it.
Let me trample you with love.
Give me no shred of pain for my deliverance has come.
Let me soak myself in your personassssssssLet me drink
to the depths of your mind.
Wash over me,
for I am unclean and thirsty, and so in-need of drowning.
give no second glance
at my scarred and writhing paws,
bound with thorns.
I am a creation of my own mind.
I am the uncircumcised bone tissue
that sits on the table and turns to dust
as the rains beat down with fury and rage.

Bleed me dry,
allow not a single trace of resistance from me,
take everything till I am nothing left at all.
Squeeze me into a shadow of what I once was,
for that is all I am.
A shadow,
give me life, give me shelter
within your soul,
let me hide away in your belly.
Do not force me out,
I am blind
and the world is soooooooooooo cold.
Do not let me detach from your face.
It brings me light like no other,
do not let me walk away in anger,
please for the love of God remind me that I love you.
That I know no happiness,
that cruelty has been my shadow,
that misery has followed me to the ends of the earth.
Show me again where my joy comes from.
Do not let me destroy myself by forsaking you.
I love, it is all I can do in such times.
I am trapped within myself.
Myself, and not you.

When I sit to listen and to
contemplate
I have no music in my head;
only machinations.
The words within my mind are dead
for soundly vanquished is the inspiration.

Passion
is
fleeting

Mind numb, but really only asleep.
Blank, unperturbed, but that is impossible.
A white and blank sheet of paper is the impending rapture of peace.
We are commanded to improve the page.
Can one write on white with white?
Nay, a darker shaded mark one must leave.
For to write  a story one must have
both the black and the white;
Put in print
no need to sprint
to find what is said.

The Great writer made the world white,
and introduced a plight that allowed him to write.
And the print said to itself,
“The writer is out of sight; leaving us dark, cast and in the past.”
Til long at last all the paper shall be made anew.
In that day the page of black and white will fade to gray,
all the same will be arrayed,to start again.
Don’t ask when, just know;
That all will go from simple
to complex
to simple again.

Well, here you have me again.
In repentance again; a requisition for mercy at your feet.
I have not seen you in so long, and it is because I have not looked.
I have not taken the time to enjoy my father's company.
Why is this? I will tell myself to read, to write, to think, to record,
and do not do it.
Shouldn't this be forth-coming in a natural overflow in my gratitude of your blessing and glory?
I treat you like a blimp, like a ladder.
I worry about my image, and how I will present myself.
I worry, but I do not address anyhow, and it is vanity.
Lord you are my portion, and you are my prize.
I am not perusing you out of lack of anything else to do.
I am sprinting after your coat-tails for the sheer goodness of your substance and presence O God.
This is my confession Lord. I have not loved you.
Help me to remember my first love.
Let me drink in the milk I first tasted.
Bring me back to the beginning again, that I may remember your deliverance for me from the hand of darkness.

kikki obadoo bird in a
kikii obabdoo tree just
sitting there shooting the leaves,
mocking all the trees all up in the air,
no reason to run around town, and no reason to leave.
I'm amazed at it's song.
It has no burden or work to do. It does not toil or spin
and yet is clothed in that finest cloak. happy happy happy,
Like a second semester named sylvester the molester
there is so much I could do.

It's all a little fuzzy and I feel kinda dumb all of a sudden.
I just think I know, which is silly.
It's a good lesson in humility,
but since I am not
sufficient and you
are
please show me
what it is in your
word that I should know.
That we should show ourselves.
I love you God.
I love you with all I am.

I lay in the light of the light that I lay.
And I shed the air
and I shine all the light
that promised to be shed
anyway.

Unto you a chill is given
unto you a shame is born.
Because of you the earth is willing
your silence has caused the stones to swarm.
Show me soul
show me mind
show me space
show me time

It's hard to change a people.
A person is quite enough.
So am I and are you so
good to me  greater to be.
I see.

You don't want to know what you want to know.
If you knew you could be
what you know you are, and you see.

Because it's obvious.
seriously, it's sitting right there.
like a dead puppy on your lap

meaning- less
meaning- lost
meaning- found
ational

If the sight of you causes me death, let it be.
What more shall ever I plea?
Oh dear God, please oh please, show me your face.
Proven you are, near and far: more than enough.

Save that I can't bear to see nothing but dirt
again again again. So much of nothing to see.

Show me truth, beautifully.
Show yourself,
For being is beautiful.
The shadows of things I see: They are shadows of shadows to thee.
My dear love may you be
ever more in my mind
as my love.
Christ, I beg, set me and me free to see.
to see to see to see
the wonderful beautiful terrible beauty you and I and all in
we are.

The world is not but nothingness; may it pass on all the sooner.
May man who rules the pile dirt; may he slaughter himself in his vanity.
I don't care, I don't care, I don't dare.
for mankind is insanity.
It is truth we cannot find; we are limited so by our minds.

But oh how true in the light that you and I and all in
we are in your heart
forever eternally.
Let it be.

Only when the rain comes does the road I travel down reflect all light directed to it.
For in the hazy sheen given to all things
in such a dreary-gray drizzle all that shines
finds room to grow indefinitely.
The headlights, and the stoplights and the store lights and the city lights; the pretty lights
all tumble down and find themselves woven
or rather painted on every curbside, every parkway, every avenue and mainstay.
The intersections are much like a pool of paint and water,
giving birth to a shimmering iridescent daughter.
While in the cool of night when the water falls like air,
I can do nothing but stop a while and stare.
Only when the rain comes does the road I travel down reflect all light directed to it.
Not but a metaphor is this.

Seldom touched are the ways which we can circumnavigate ourselves.
So little searched are the depths at which the spirit dwells.
Yet quickly recognized is the truth that there is something truer than ourselves.
And all depends on how far the human delves;
Into light, into dark, into ruin, into joy, into peace, into war, into pain into pleasure.
Into life and death, into poverty and treasure.
For though we chase after only what may make us smile,
there is more required to make life worthwhile.
Though heartbreak and tears may last through the years
deliverance shall be sweeter still than any passive happiness.
Far more beautiful is life with its portion of strife
and far more worthy is man who has suffered.

Inside the sun
while afraid of serrated edges;
he shouts at his gun,
and he speaks of wedges
to **** the kicking-bird.
Yet the sound was unheard,
Therefore ineffective was a discouraging word.

Nearby three lovers undead
for them three tears left unshed,
as the misery of apathy is laughing in bed.
The flowers must push up themselves
his time round,
but if you would dare to compare,
Ye might sleep in a flower-bed underground.
Still these crippled are crumpled
and the crackle of wheat
is a sound oft untested
beneath peasant feet.

So Apollo’s beginning has met the Apollo’s end.
And while science sends defiance
it has found us a friend,
who eats not the lilly-flower
when blood is in flight,
nor covers you sun-beings
when the time is not night.
For in each egg there is a dream that is dying,
and in all minds a clear-seeing
first birthed by the light.
So caress the face of that faceless that's crying,
so it will hold you
while being held fast
in the night.

I don't really know
if I did I wouldn't write it down
if I knew I would... I would
know
What's the back of this mind doing?
Throwing up spaces of random places
and memories from crusty corners
crumbling as they move into sight.

eh, ferk it... I'm going to bed.

If we have been so far away from home, yet so longing to see you
doing anything else would be far too natural.
Should I have been trying my love
a while before
and relax after listening to my Lord?
She was going through my life
With only sensation in our minds; yet
only games for anyone else.
Basking in the best wishes
from all my friends over-easy,
we were going back to see how to die
of course, but we had no intention at all
to make love with ourselves.
We only had fear. Fear for our us,
found floating in the time that was
slipping away.
Sometimes I don't know anything about you.
Other times
you could not be known more by me.
If I could fly away from the shadow
the dim sun draws on my face
as you stand on the ever-far horizon
I would.

Unlike the rest they’re in the among the dust
to mute the way pictures often drip with silence.
In that unseen spot my eyes will never trust;
so often burned with red remembrance.

A picture worth a thousand words is true.
In so many ways the thing may come to light;
so bleak, the words are left with what they knew.
Without the seeing I still shall find the sight.

I do not look for comfort’s sake; comfort it doesn't bring.
Perhaps it is but my mistake, I hear the shadows sing.

Such things I should denounce, dismiss.
I hear the sound of trees that do not fall
to death, and with the ground they do not kiss,
and I find absence here: nowhere at all.

Lost in the memories she's given me;
though some feel more like they were taken,
and I still claim to be forsaken.
Still a broken tune without a harmony.

a bundled knot
a tree set to rot
numbness and void are the stilts I have walked over
this earth
on dusty dust and dusty rust: my crust.
No ability for me. I talk about myself too much I want to break away;
talk about you to you for you we will talk about you and you are you
you are more important than I or me...and even we.
so tired
tired of seeing me, being me, talking meish: the language of self.
Let it be!
see you, be near you, feel you have you hold you, be cast by and molded-mended to you. See you hear you know you show you, grow into you.

Watch you fly and cry and live and die by all your differences and wonderful beautiful strangenesses to learn.

I am suffocated by ego, and strangled by self.
Let me fly to something. One thing
that I know is not just more of me.
so tired...of me.