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Brycical Apr 2015
On the street I see people walkin' round
eyes heads hanging low down thinking 'bout needing a couple extra pounds of bread, their spirits cry out workin' off debts 'till after death  
but when I ask "Whassup?"
they stuff it down with "Hey, nothin much" outa reflex,
but instead of this aforementioned fashioned back'n forth imagine what would happen if we shared the caption that our heart was tappin' outa the chest, a distress morse code SOS so,
let's be each other's best friend, and listen to the deluge of moods don't matter if it's green, red or blue cause I have faith we can all handle the truth
since it's a soothing serum not some brooding theorem don't gotta be near to connect, but show yourself some respect and just eject that dejected attitude cause we're all moving through somethin once 'n a while.  

Luckily we, are here, together now
spinnin' round this big 'ol galaxy.
and luckily we, are here, now, together, to make the world better, denizens of the medicine inside of us to jettison hearts and minds shining out like lighthouses guiding ships, to higher consciousness, gettin' closer to bliss but sometimes we gotta stop and sit
and just be just be...  
go slow go slow,
it's all ok to joke and play jump rope with pain instead of novacaine let's meditate to make the world a better place
raisin' your vibration to a higher plain
wadin' in the waters of a patient brain
chillin' in stillness erasing latent fixations
burning sarcophagus thoughts and impulses poppin' up like the walking dead growling echoes of old words heard when I was three, four, five, six gurgling out of parents, school kids and televisions sellin' backwards wisdom on how to be a cool kid, but it smells like *******
from old tools that, aren't the sharpest ones from the shed
like you and me can be 18 join the marines, get a tattoo, drive and put a bullet in some fool  but if you get caught with *** or droppin' some sugar cubes then you're locked up and your life gets ruined.

It don't take some precognition to see all this conditionin' bein' dished is an illusion, a mirage of food only fillin' us with chemical confusion,
it's almost amusing the way they try to make my mind intrude
on just bein' in the moment, bringing the symphony of symmetry inside of me inspiring perspiring  to cry and sing with fire wings triumphantly trumpeting the rhythm of love, as below so above do unto others etcetera etcetera ad infinitum because

we, are here, together now
spinnin' round this big 'ol galaxy.
and luckily we, are here, now, together, to make the world better, denizens of the medicine inside of us to jettison hearts and minds shining out like lighthouses guiding ships, to higher consciousness, gettin' closer to bliss with this flow from the heart
  Apr 2015 Brycical
Fah
The seed senses
A moment where the clouds turn right angles and the ocean turns herself into a bath tub
After the moon runs her cycles all in one night the systems reorganize themselves
And we are swung, eyes grasping just barely at the vastness of this eloquent dance
under the pull of a surrender

owning the ludicrous living.
observer
come , gather at this silence
flow slowly as this meanders
full moon love is delicate tender

ask , receive , thank , release
rinse, imbibe ,  rest ,
release
receive

laugh
shake
shake
laugh

give, allow
be.
Brycical Apr 2015
In mouth, put-
choo-choo kazoo chomp chomp YUM!
Mmmm MMMMMMmmm.
Whosagoodbaby!?
Whosagoodbaby!?*

The infant hears,
wondering if all adults talk this way,
chuckling to himself, the ridiculousness tickling his vibrating mind
looking on at the goofy giant babbling  gibberish
who seems oddly ecstatic
to feed colorful mush.
The child contemplates the intricacies of communicating
the smelly in his shorts.
Brycical Apr 2015
Your eyes could sear steak
as hunger for my flesh growls.
Feast. You will be full.

Gnashing teeth chewing--
knife fingers slicing my back.
devour me with bliss.
Brycical Apr 2015
Many friends gorge
during holidays,
stuffing stuffing in their mouth space
forcing fried flightless birds in their face
along with assortments of steamed greens
guzzling fermented bubbles of hops or grapes
until engulfed in the glazed-eye coma nap
as their bulbous bellies slowly bouey back and forth.

Before passing out, some might remark about convalescing a food baby,
to which I've often wondered
if said baby is born when they take a ****?
Is it still a food baby or has it grown to a **** baby?
Why don't they nurture said **** baby so it can grow
and get into a ****** school and then a **** job?
Brycical Apr 2015
I only drink ferocious black coffee--
a silverback strong knuckle-sandwich  to the chest
because it screams at my throbbing heart like a drill sergeant.

I drink whisky because
because I enjoy the the burning taste
of sandpaper raking against the back of my throat.
And it gets me hammered the quickest.

Pizza for breakfast,
I'm eating champions of pineapple and bacon
with four different cheeses because *******.

The words I write are contrived reflections
trying to get by in a place I'm trying to convince myself I belong.

Cynicism glares with tired sunken eyes
at deja vu reiki songs,
but my hymnal is the bottom of a moscato,
and I sing louder when grey ghosts from the past
whisper lonely nightmares.
I made up the time.
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