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Brycical Apr 2014
infinite beauty.
Technically, she's everywhere.
Must have good vision.
;)
Brycical Apr 2014
We breathe together--
heartbeats conjure symphonies
Dusk sky shines for us.
Brycical Apr 2014
The life span of a housefly
is approximately a month

Imagine if that was the lifespan
of everyone in this room,
from birth to death--
in just a month we grow;
           learning to walk, talk, eat pancakes, perceive god,
           light fires, play guitar, make coffee, cook lobster,
           learning to hula-hoop, to snap, to use the toilet
           and/or discovering your favorite shades of red,
          the first time merging with the opposite ***...
all in the span of a month.

How intense must that life feel?

Not to mention the physical growth
of bone, skin, heart, feet all the way
from birth to death in a month.

I think people would live quite differently;
laws would cease, save for the natural ones,
like the lifespan of a month.

Such learning with great intensity
compact into such a short time...

In this way I envy the housefly;
the fly that lands on dog ****--
risking a shorter life swatting death
to drink some sweat or
warm up for a spell in your home.

What a life,
the life of a fly in time.
Brycical Mar 2014
Smoke tokes out of the monkey's head, embers embellish empathic light enlightening gypsy nymphs from miles around, a glowing lighthouse haven heaven in nirvana massages lavender bubbles upon pores restoring strength to warriors of the rainbow tribe."

Wind rustles with us...

Stay grounded, you're found before you're even lost. Some get tossed and turned by the sea, but a smooth one never created a skilled pirate with third-eye versatile switch-blade heartbeat ink scribed on blood-vessel maps, following the soul tattoos and taboo time scars along with the azurite lightning stars shooting in our brain.*

Time stops sometimes...

Seasons change DNA re-arranges as we grow goin' with our own flow down the subconscious ocean, sometimes watchin' sunsets into a haze of sweet *** sweat and green cigarette peacetime sufi twirling our conscious to the north star crown chakra.

**Love is. Always.
Brycical Mar 2014
Makin' creatin' a lightspeed igniting conversation, one star nation takes patience to see the people slowly wakin' n' bakin' up like an S.O.S is morse code from herb tokes in the late midnight.

Indigo third eye aliens sailin' in wailin' blues like the sinnerman nina simone and tracy chapman entrapped and entwined like a serpentine mind warp in time like kaleidoscope bhavacakra.

We be inside a cocoon of warmth, while sunsets high atop begets a period of gratitude n' news of ancient wizards of the earth burning sacred stories in sky paintings of clouds in the Canadian north spring equinox.

Fox spirits and raccoon  split spliffs from peace pipes at night. Families are reuniting. Trojan horse tricks lift spirits hearin' our kicks and screams howlin' and wowlin' at the moonlight while kali dragons claw away time 'till its an infinite mush of mashed sweet potato pie,
but in order to make one from scratch we must first create the universe.
Brycical Mar 2014
For some, certain places
hold a rather mythic oeuvre
in our veins; they are seen as places of magic.

Maybe a cyclist couple
have spent most of their money
on traveling  the world for their blog,
their last stop is New York City
so that they may get pictures of themselves
at places like The Brooklyn Bridge, Lady Liberty
& that megalithic skyline reaching the clouds.
Or maybe a foodie from Wisconsin
just wants to try Famous Ben's Pizza on the West Side
because its New York ******' New York pizza.

Maybe a doe-eyed screenwriter skips
his flat square suburban town
to sell his words and soul to the sprawling sunny L.A
where dreams are made in pixels.

Maybe some New Age beaded wrist to ankle lady
spent her life savings to jump over the ocean
to visit the ancient pyramids built for a purpose
yet fully known.

Maybe a bearded dude
visits Easter Island to try and understand
the complexities of his ancestors while
soaking in the rich vastness of nature around.


Maybe I used to see places this way. Probably...


But in these places people live!
It's not mythology to them.

Maybe every night a homeless man prays
& begs for food on the late night A-train in NYC.

Maybe a middle-aged fading blonde couple
spend their time in L.A at a health food store
to recoup the savings they lost joining a cult way back when.

Maybe a Swedish teen  traverses the trash
and littered-burned streets of Giza everyday
on her way to work
hoping funny looks aren't shot her way
for the way she dresses
or shouted at by bearded Salafi men.

Maybe a rare species of bug is unknowingly stepped on
in Easter Island.

Today, i see magic in getting lost on the NYC subway.
I found magic mythology on the beaches of Dahab,
80 miles away from Cairo.
I see magic in the mythologies,
while others live it,
        the daily grind.

*It's all around if you know where to look.
Brycical Mar 2014
late night street scholars
     smoke green on green trains
sing d-flow & p-funk hymns
with third-eye
         campfire heartspace
effervescent
  enlightenment
of the moon.


All united only
by the time in the most draconian sense
at "2:30am eastern standard time"
       our classroom
be on the 6th train heading uptown.

I saw this happening...

People keep calling me jesus--
     makes me nervous cause
             i'm starting to believe it.

We are all us.
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