Oh, how could I have been so careless with time?
Trying to catch hummingbirds with a hula-hoop.

All the un-watered whims,
planted in subconscious deep;
inside great empty tiger cages
that capture only the echoes,
and photographic negatives of dreams.

With a knapsack chock full of stars,
and clouds, fully reviewed then abandoned
at random. I have been spinning separate
from the world; wearing time capriciously
on my wrist, fully reviewed then abandoned at random.

Maybe only clocks are careful with time . . .

Dreams that collide in collective collaborations,
merging mercifully into identical imaginations.
In sporadic unspecified dioramas of decoration,
seemingly devoid of light, yet full of illumination.

Winds that billow in bellows of blue balderdash,
that hides these vague souls in the elephant grass,
as white horses run for an unconsecrated pass;
I sit sipping lightning from a small green flask.

I cannot see beyond this collision of cataracts,
sitting in a puddle of Alzheimer's and absent facts,
hard to predict parlor tricks' and posthumous pacts,
metamorphosis of those we ****** on, lies intact.

Veins constricted from catastrophes and contradictions,
synapses sinewed by audacious biannual addictions,
misdemeanors of malicious misnomers and maledictions,
breathing in the beneficent bleating of benedictions.

Dreams that collide in collective collaborations,
merging mercifully into identical imaginations.
In sporadic unspecified dioramas of decoration,
seemingly devoid of light, yet full of illumination

be true to the deception of lies (recognize lies)
some never see them, they refuse to analyze
be mostly unfoolish (never overtly wise)
always brew your own personal brand of bliss
sell yourself to love (for the price of a kiss)
careful whom you choose (whom you dismiss)

try to watch everything (attempt to overlook nothing)
listen to your whole environment (at all times, always)
listen intently to others (you'll hear yourself there)
know that reality was yesterday (tomorrow's a dream)
tomorrow's a dream that does not have to come true

know too, you make the dreams real (one by one)

well, beauty is only a shallow promise and life is just a game,
it's all in how you play it, not in how well you lay the blame.

there should be a reason to the rhymes, I would like it to be so;
truth is there is no real reason, it's just the ******' way life goes.

whatever we all do today will inevitably become our past,
remember each and every day was never ever built to last.

life is just a game, and beauty is just a shallow promise . . .
. . . and shallow promises, do sometimes get broken . . .

Confined to this space, where nothing is clear,
suspended under the blue canopy of stratosphere.
A window stands between time's span and space,
unearthly wisdom derived from heavenly grace.

We fly on through like spray across the sky,
with our broad wings open to stifle the cries.
Above the equations, riding rivulets of jet streams,
we catapult into tomorrows, on wisps of dreams.

Soaring expanse of blue fluorescent universe;
There are times in solitude, we all feel the curse,
of fortunes missed, loves lost, or led astray,
concurrently violated by the vices of yesterday.

Confined by infinity, another day, another year,
suspended under this umbrella of stratosphere.
A window stands between time span and space,
unearthly wisdom furnished by heaven's grace.

in our drunken speech we tell the actual truth,
in old age we notice the power of our youth.
where we've been, is not where we're going,
what we've seen, hasn't always been showing.

I've lost things that I'll never find again,
youth, love, beauty, and some pain.
stood in the dark alleys of imminent danger,
found the best conversation with a stranger.

everything is not always what it seems,
sometimes from rain the sunshine beams.
happiness lives down the road from pain,
loss; it lives in the very shadows of gain.

everything is a contradiction of things seen,
kindness is just the very opposite of mean.
which makes it oh so very ******' easy to show,
if you know half, what you think you know.

in our drunk speak we tell the actual truth,
in old age we'll know the power of our youth.
where we've been, is not where we're going,
what we've seen, has not always been showing.

I lived my every day's from summer to autumn,
felt my loving Mom baby powder my bottom.
some of this ******* I really can't remember,
from these Neveruary's to the last December.

on some tombstone is where I'll tell my final lie,
a fake, “I'll always love you”, and a final goodbye.
you never loved me, cause you never understood,
why I was here, and there's no reason I ever should.

I've lost things that I'll never find again,
youth, love, beauty, power, and some pain.
stood in the dark alleys of imminent danger,
found the best conversation with a stranger. . .

I know how easy it is to **** us,
but don't let people hold you down,
get to the stainless, lose the rust,
do the whatever, not the must,
stare at the sky, not the ground.

I'm not a cheeseburger in a bag,
I'm a gangster in gentleman drag.
Onions come in 9mm and .40 Glock,
all time gets bent on broken clocks,
fresh grilled lemon peppered ****.

Fake **** they got us all watchin'
Kim Kardashian and ******' Snooky
all the while they're pressure cookin'.
They feed us what it is they want,
they don't really want us lookin'.

I know how easy it is to **** us,
but don't let people hold you down,
get to the stainless, lose the rust,
do the whatever, not the must,
stare at the sky, not the ground.

Get a lil' money we feel we really livin,
restin' in a piece of our own oblivion.
Never realizing how malleable we are
and how easy it is to **** us.

I know, how easy it is to **** us,
but don't let people hold you down,
get to the stainless, lose the rust,
do the whatever, not the must,

stare at the sky, not the ground.