It’s unclear when time stopped functioning like a linear candle,
but at one point during the night my words echoed
for hours
in a loop.
The conversations became gerbils running on exercise *****
while black holes transported me to vast distances
forward and back within the conversations.
Now I know what power the “if-there-is-a-god” “God”
enjoys.
Having enough time and space to examine a conversation from any point
in any space, volume or time.

As we continue talking,
I notice the conversation coming to the ******—
But abruptly it jumps to the end.
My friend looks to me for approval,
and all I can say is that I must retrace my steps
in this moment,
             For I arrived sooner mentally, but not spiritually.
What they don’t tell you in the Bible
is how hard it is for the omnipotent asexual being to
processes a conversation from end to beginning.

        Imagine starting out with all the facts, and then quickly giving them away,
yet you still had a vague idea that you held all the facts at one point
In the timeline of this conversation.


The awkwardness is so palpable,
I could cut it like a cake…
but only I’m aware the cake is poisoned.
When a slice is handed to me,
I think to myself, “Don’t eat that, it’s poison.”

It’s tough being for the audience to tolerate this.
You know I must eat for the process
and entertainment to continue.


My friend wants answers, and guidance. I’m supposed to be helping him in this time of need, or consoling him in some way.
But I can’t without all the facts
I have a vague idea I once possessed.

Tiresome
barriers
separate.

Man labels
to escape
a moment.

Tangible
barriers
manifest

keeping us
from learning
the moment.

colors fade and
words soften
bones tire the night
after a party....

the pleasure of shaking hands
seeing familiar faces and
meeting new smiles
dulls...

all the beer evaporates in our liver
all the hash drifts out our brain
entropy sets in
like jack and jill after rolling down the hill...

the vibration of the all-night music
is but a tingle in the back of the ears
as yesterday seems like a fading echo....

The time’s may have changed,
days aged our bodies
but you are still wholly
yourself, only more
magnanimously
magical, which says
something, because
your oeuvre was such
already.

An aged wine of light
shining like sacred
grapes made of quartz in
the field’s center.
I remember when
you guided me to
the fox. I can still
remember when you
were sprouting—

sacred knowledge to
me in the back of
the school bus. But now…
dots are connecting,
I’m remembering
my fire ether
name. Your knowledge had  
pollinated me—
sure took time

to take root, and ferment,
but now it is
a very good year.  
It’s time to uncork!
A party army
awaits, clad in such
an iridescent
armor armed only
with <3 - shaped  fire

on torches, ready
to burn down rotten
rickety aged
bridges built of dead
green ink-stained wood, all
converging on a
barren cliff so we
may ignite skies and
shine in darkness.

THE TRECK

Step-
      step-
          step

Walking through
orange mountains--
a journey toward
the blue hole,
like shamans through a desert--
except we have beer.

never loosing our sight
of the sea,
I swear, every step
makes the water glow a more magificent blue
as the wind travels through every rock.

Step-
      step-
          step

One of the electric men
from the rocks whispers
through a gust
to trust the path ahead of me.
I take a swig of beer.

Step-
      step-
          step
                              ­                                    **ARRIVAL and RELAXING
                                              
                                                               Subdued
                                                         ­      Subtle
                                                    ­           Serene duet
                                                               between Nephthys and Nuit lulls us
                                                               to rest after a feast of honey tahina
                                                          ­     in a hut with the words "Peace City"
                                                           ­     painted over the kitchen.

                                                               ­                            Silent
                              ­                                                                 ­   Soothing                                            
         ­                                                                 ­                           Solace      
                                                                                  
                                                                                        wondering
                                                  ­                                if Moses was really lost
                                               in a place many might consider  paradise.

                                                               ­                             Saline
                             ­                                                               Sa­phire
                                                      Soul blood pours from mother's veins--
                                                         ­       Dahab/Sinai is a major artery
                                                          ­      of civilization creation, a sacred
                                                          ­     space for those seeking to unplug.

I wanna build a road in the sky
into the sky
I wanna build a road
in the sky for you.

Never mind the speed limit
in the future
you have traveled.
Intersection’s are non-existent
but there’s a tunnel in the distance
In the distance,
in the distance,
in the distance.

Your nighttime hair and your daytime smile
justify the time it takes to catch up.
Floor it to the sun
the road wonders on
past the sky and the atmosphere.
The road is the future
as told to our individual selves.

You take a left
I’m blinking right
you blast off
into the vast nighttime.

I wanna build a road in the sky
into the sky sky
I wanna build a road
in the sky for you.

I think I’m gonna
catch up. But the sun melts
the road and I’m all f’d up.

My love gas is empty
when you’re back in the country.
I can’t find you
because the road I built won’t show me.

And the time’s gonna test me,
The time’s gonna test me

I'm still going to try
building a road into the sky
for you.

My body
an instrument
out of tune--
sour green apple
notes sliced, brown.
Wound too tight like,
clenching coal
in my fists.
Worried about
doing, not being bebop unwinding red roads
           let the wings         stretch
                   every breath        honey cloud dusk musk...
        jazzzzz buzzzzzzing king bee
                            s
                         w
                            i
                         n
                      g
                       i
                     n
                        g
vines wild hair hippie tarzan vibe
sssssinging sssssnake ssssssongs
sssssssshattering sssssimulacrum  sssssociety
     with           a              firey
                     lunar  
                     mane
singing
       compassionate christ hymns
                               of the 3 beating hearts  
                           glowing stardust rhythm
pulsing anahata nova lava drip dropping
third-eye  s e e d s s e e i n g i & i
embracing the wholly holy flow
                 of
                it is
              we are.

In one brief moment, everything changes.
For a split second, thought becomes something distant.
Sensation is full, yet innocence gone.

A feeling of nothing, but everything.
Paternal elders understand, yet shy away.
They know how everything works in their head.

Brief, pure bliss attained through primitive acts.
Maternal elders understand, but blush
like it is something to be ashamed of.

Higher powers tend to condemn this void,
but all show what this signifies, even though
they don’t like to speak of it. One pure word.

Unity.

flyin’ back to the candle
gem inside us
light provide us
with our purpose
With our purpose
we will find
the white rabbit faces
which have graced us
guiding us providing us clues
clean vibrant blues and whites
moonlight laughter
sunlight sentiments
silently flyin’ Back
to the candle
Back back to the candle

fire dances
hippy gypsy twirling
twisting in the wind
winding spirals
burning warmth
inside each of us
reaching dusk-light
dawn smiles
warmth conjoining
circulating navigating
through our bloodstream
like peaceful campfire melodies
Everybody’s hugging
loving
Rising
RISE-ING
RISING RISING!!
RISING TO FLY BACK
TO THE CANDLE
BACK TO THE CANDLE!!

BACK
BACK inside,
inside the BACK
inside the gem….

brain no work
forcing myself to write something
maybe it will be
and then....
but how....
not now......
prototype
golf clubs make the best swoosh.

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.

Quiet slip the crazy ones that are
safely disappearing
down to the
place that I love that they're expressing
yet no-body's reality doesn't seem to be
some part
in boxes,
the one whose hair color
changed the weather and had duct tape all over
no one looks
of the one girl in elementary school
that existed the crap out of me, then smashed
quietly creefree. I think she had a crush on me.
House was the ultimate rebel sexpot. She
to carry on sooty, cynical. But then
in the quiet ploring me one day and we haven't spoken since.
Found a slice or normality in this.
Conversations,
but of frivolous nothing became of it & I was
the talk that encountered this girl who
earthly posses fanatic liked telling everyone she had
her past life as a wallaby.
How rude, the girl from the newspaper. She never
hid secrets, always a woman yet she was a year
I should show while we've seen each other rarely
that was.
But I don't other by phone and email.
She ran away.
Her last story was to be published.
I pass by the
to carry on

Scraggly curl hair bounces in the air
wagging with whisky eyes breezy pleasing the eclectic electric hectic now mind
like finding a papaya inside an oyster
battery powered like a pomegranate passionfruit flower growing and glowing
around my trinity heart with the noise of a sphere's galactic ******!

Crystal Citrine Mountains provide water fountains of sunlight
as so tye-dye t-shirt hip-cat hippos smokin' coconut shisha bathe in barrels
of bourbon.
Lion snakes spit words of worlds hurling nebulous timeline's spiraling
and crashing and splashing baptism ripples together painting Pollack Splatters
with the aroma of Byrd Jazz Jam on rye-whisky bread.

Fractal Berries served by the Far Out Faerrie Ferryman Skeletan with bejeweled emerald eyes
winks while I read in the reeds panting in pan-flutes while water rabbits scamper
into clay enclaves to bathe in pinecone designed sand-tubs.

The hieroglyphic phoenix twists and skip-scats neon green vinyl
turning the wind inside out to x-ray flames of fireworks.

The Beatles said
it’s gonna be alright.

43 years later and look
at this place—
a rusty
steel fortress
surrounded by the idea of a wall.

Everyone’s afraid
the bloodthirsty
islamic extremists
are clamoring to get in.  

Drips of gasoline have
killed
what little power
the flowers had.    

Red elephants
& blue donkeys
neighing at each other
is the only entertainment
on the 3D Telly.

Children are forced
to pick one—
then support
said animal for the rest
of their lives
with t-shirts and books.

Nobody is allowed to have
multiple lovers
or **** a Muslim.

Someone once said
our only freedoms
were “paper or plastic?”
& “liberal or conservative.”

If anyone questions
said choices
or
the federal religion of God
they’re branded unpatriotic
& a granola nut.

It’s merely frowned upon
to drink neat whisky
or have a beer before noon.
but smoke a little plant
& that’s 5-10.

No one’s considered an adult
until they’re $20,000 in debt
for student loans
& been divorced once.

Not a soul
remembers
what happened
to the people here before
US.

As the mind grows weary
in the plum void darkness
a hand twiddles and bends the
vibrations around your
body into a swirling
spiral, hazy lazy magic spinning
sound fog brushing and breezing
around your mind massaging your
brain and igniting a slow pulse
like an ember kissing a flame
in your chest as the warmth  winds
around your body like the ripple of
an opal Venus choral dropped in lava
lasciviously  lounging in your eyes
as if a phoenix sang an ode in the vast intersection
of time and space colliding together
to make a gravity that slowly compels you into the
wormhole of your self--
the door to many things and realms craving to be opened
if just to get some fresh, rain embraced air...
the smile says everything.

You're right, I agree.
We should sleep on the hammock by the howlite beach
and fall asleep as the indigo water lulls us to sleep.

She sits on the stairwell outside,
in one of the grayest evenings
I’ve seen in a while.
The humidity is atrocious,
she’s breathing liquid air

Waiting,
but there she sits.

Ready for the guy she met In the dairy isle
to whisk her away to expensive pasta and wine.
She’s been outside a good half-hour

Waiting,
but there she sits.

Her slumped head in her knees
says she’s loosing patience
as she wipes away some tears of self-doubt.
I wonder why she doesn’t call the guy.

Waiting,
there she sits.

With each passing car
turning in the parking lot
we share the same thought,
hoping it’s him.
As each car picks up friends or parks
our hearts slump lower into our stomachs.

Hurriedly--
everyone on the streets
rush indoors.
Road signs rattle,
loose leaves on trees rustle--
some blow away...
     the sky
     darkens
    and stops...

Cars rush home,
dogs start whimpering,
the air is thick.
    the sky
   darkens
  and stops...

Here I am,
a barefoot stroll
on the warm sidewalk--
my hair twisting and tangled in the breeze
my whole body charging electrically
as the wind walks beside me.

I can't wait 'till I get to the park
near my apartment,
to feel the wet rain-riddled grass
beneath my feet,
tickling
healing...
feeling like myself again.

Coalescing, cuddling life
swimming inside.
Cleansing, like a mother
would a child,
scrubs away
collected  stains.  
An attention to detail
rinses, washes food,
blessing it into our bellies with an aqua kiss.  
A coolness douses the summer heat,
A relief quenches thirst
Of human and animal alike.
A babbling sound, bubbling
into a relaxing,
lazy Sunday…

wash* away
            wash away
       wash away wash away


Ripple vibrations
stimulating hydration—
        dripping finger droplets
flushing worry
washed away
            wash away
       wash away wash away


Cleanse my senses
& grow my Earth.
The stream is healing
for my warm rebirth.
wash away
            wash away
       wash away wash away

There is a silence...
followed by dark walls
blocking the sun. Suddenly
there is a sound like a lion learning
to roar. The sound grows louder as the walls grow
taller. Nobody sees the wave until it's too late. People, ships
never found for years if at all. A painless death slowly engulfs the lungs...

One in the morn'
be at work by eight.
Smoke dances in the moonlight
while the music vibrates
through us...

Groovin' on the rooftop
candles dancing like the stars.
Women sing their blues songs
while guys play guitars
and drums...

And the humming gets smooth
like a home-brewed beer.
Velvet voices ring between
the buildings as the neighbors dream
of their  bills...

200 miles away
connected by VNV Nation
we speak of stars
we speak of space
& I just want to be weightless
with you.


We wrap our words in time machine
blankets to worlds we’ve never been.
Man, they don’t even exist in this scene
but we’ve begun to vacation there to see
the stars in space stationed there where
we can just be weightless there
                               be weightless there
                                       be weightless there


I want to take you by the hand,
& float on into our sonic plans
to meet next week
& fly inside
each other’s stripes
while the entire world just wonders why
or how these psychedelic titans imbibe
so much inspiration from their color blind mind’s eye…
the echoes
              echoes
                   of each other’s smile
reminds me of the stars
once in a while
because I just want to be weightless
                       weightless
                                  weightless with you.

I look past your face—
traveling deeper inside
through your consciousness
passing the galaxies in your eyes
farther beyond—
abstract psychedelic dimensions
of understanding in your brain
surpassing—
our comprehension
of time,
words
& the divine
as I continue traveling
to the vast, farthest
parts
of you
where there is
just a weightless
Nirvana of nothing…

Here, there’s just a void,
devoid of any life,
or, remnants of
sound.


There is
complete, nothing.

There is more copacetic bliss here
than any imaginary world,
or ***** fantasy
we’ve created.

Chill out hi-jinx
watching time warping white squirrels.

An adventuresome day,
mostly cloudy and some rain,
but all in good fun.

Maybe not in this reality.

Nick Drake croons in the background
cool-down sunset evening.
Tea is imbibed.

As the day fades into midnight,
I think of artists.

I look at your eyes
& can't help but gaze through
directly into your brain...

the silence speaks,                
                          our        thoughts
release            {{{{undulating}}}}        colors
      glowing through        our eyes
to          effervescently               coalesce
all over
               your subconscious
               ( (v i b r a t i n g) )
throughout           your          body
until we breathe
                azurite         dreams  
           from the incandescent heartbeat
                          of the      [plaid]       bliss
                  we have enveloped ourselves with....

Sometimes, there ain't nothin' to say--
and on these days my tongue lays limp
and delicate and ashy
like one of those incense sticks
just before the ashes drop and disintegrate.

On these days my mind is an insomniac
attempting sleep just before sunrise--
jostling in a half-hazy-lazy rapid eye sedative lullaby
crooning potential plot points from French voices
about a story I've be writing for about a year.

On these days nothing seems finished
from a monster vegetable and eggs breakfast appetite
to a thought about that magic lightning stick.
It's as if there's this thick fatty mist
that smells of boiled ham and peas around my being.

Thoughts evolve--
some harden
it's not a restart--
--it's a re-tuneup
like a mitochondrion blast to the brain
unchained and unburdened
burping out old patterns
with unhinged words orbiting
Saturn's Rings
the Summer Breeze
keeps teaching me
and I to her
with burning clarity.

It's feeling silly slinging
cyclical prisons off mental cliffs
singing Hallelujah 'till New Year
in our own time
flying through space in her eyes
electrifying each other when I
sometimes understand arabic.  

There's a shift in the desert sands--
feeling rain as I dance on my mind's eye
like waking up from a hallucination
as the water reignites my earthy veins
burning brightly off my tongue
breathing fresh air upon
entering another vertical 27th dimension in space
cause our smiles done gone crazy  
like an azurite lightning strike to the brain!

The name whispered in my mind
by the Summer Breeze
cause I cool things down with ease
with my spiraling cyclical George Carlin cynical
thoughts marchin' causing revolution
within ourselves beating hearts bleeding art
singing blues getting lost in the dawn light sun
sparkling in our smiles smoking like a peace pipe
being passed around a campfire.

Let’s ****** all the words
social norms dictate we use.

I’ll drown “beautiful,”
you slit “relationship’s” wrists

We can tag-team
the execution of everyone’s
favorite; “love.”
Do you want to use the chainsaw
                  or piranha tank?

We will gleefully
                 beat the **** out of—
   stab mercilessly —
whimsically hang—
                            frolic & fire upon—
             turn up the heat on—
                         keep the electric coursing through—
dance, continuing to pour gasoline over—

each *******
overwrought
dead-eyed
limp
word

until the populace begs us to invent more.
And we will.
Only a few.
We'll cackle as we toss the useless
words away,
saving the best
for the language we're inventing for ourselves.

Sync psych bike out peace in all around like a sound of light hitting your heart as if a kiss planted in the valves was watered in echoed raindrop drips skippin' beats boxing pulse super nova eardrum explosions in a nirvana chorus.

I don't write because I can,
or even sometimes because I want to.

I write because words surround me
in the air; glistening, screaming and needling
into my being--
infecting my crimson and azure paths
with their ( { ( { electric cacophony} ) } ),                       (       )
vibrating sacred whispers of musical patterns        /<+>\
dripping directly into my spirit aglow with creation,
imbuing a certain serenity of past, now and future cuneiform tattoos
unto my mind--
high as a shooting star gliding in midnight moonbeams...

It's like when a fish stops moving it will die.

Every day it is a glorious struggle to keep up with myself,
these words,
so as not to drown in the insanity.

These words once inhaled by ancestors, whales and grass
hurl through space, time and the infinite creation
slamming into me;
a mercurial, rose watery doorway portal conduit transmitter
typing bebop lightning striking your match stick soul,
buzzing and manifesting rainbow jazz steps connecting us!
Dishonor would chew me from the inside out
should I not comply.

I don't recall where in the bible it says
Love thy neighbor, unless they are...
or
Do unto others as you would have them
do unto you, unless...

Of course, if you're quoting bible verse
or any form of religious doctrine
you're in a lot of trouble anyway!
These words tend to contradict themselves.

That, and you're quoting a book,
not your soul.
Maybe some of your soul
is in those sacred pages,
but definitely not all.
And why are you scouring books
trying to learn how to live your life?

The answers aren't in there anyway,
at least not whole ones.

The answers are in you!
God is you! You are god!
You are created from particles that inhabit the universe!
You are the universe!
YOU ARE NATURE!
YOU ARE ALL!

All the answers are in you,
just have to know where to look.
Just have to remember,
just have to remember
just have to remember...

just have to remember
we are god, the universal ONE
creators of our own habitats
& sustaining celestial universes of friends and family.
Like the universal ONE
we make and create life
from ****** cosmic big bang howls hurling white rock into feminine space only for a star child to be born over time.
Billions of lives reside & crawl within skin walls, cavernous intestines & ride on vein roads controlled by the omnipotent electrical awareness called the ONE brain & son mind.

Each new friendship & connection is its own universe and some expand too quickly fizzling out with a deflated echo of "It's not you, it's me," and returned DVD's
while others cultivate and grow gradually sustaining a millenia lifetime of cafune, pumpkin pancakes in bed, Facebook photos and winks.

We are the ONE where all the answers reside,
just need to have the heart to look inside
to find your higher calling is to honor thyself
as you would the univer-SOUL ONE.

I've never thought anyone should be alone,
      it's like "a demon tied--"
                well, you get the idea.
But I've found friends have a knack
for leaving without saying goodbye.
    Normally I don't give a ****...

But something inside,
a little, seldom heard shadow voice
spoke
loudly--
suggesting I traverse to the top of the turquoise mountain
where your plexi/stained-glass-glow-in-the-dark shelter sits.
I know I shouldn't,
                but this voice seems convinced
                I should make some sort of
                exception for you.
                I think it knows something I don't....


The energy you radiate
whispers you're alive.
And I write,
      and I write--
mostly psychobabble graffiti
all over your protective bubble.  
       It's supposed to be a playful gesture,
I'm thinking about you!
I don't know if I can stop--
thinking
or writing...
I think it's a distraction
to ignore my fears...
And I write,
      and I write--

But the darkest
within me rustles
in blind, mute nightfall.
I can hear it breathing,
claws scratching the rock on the mountain...

              I await for the knock on your side
              telling me to stop,
              but I think realization
              has set in for both of us...

                                           you're head will explode
                                           regardless,
                                           but, at least this time,
                                 we can say goodbye.

You want to be near me
but also have your space.
Fiercely independent spending days in bed
gives way to the shisha hangout.

                              In one moment, an ecstatic smile
                              is murdered by your melancholy eyes.  

You're confidence surges when you're straddling me;
a tiger ready for the passionate bite
yet you cry like a sick kitten at your own reflection.

                              You don't mind holding hands, kissing my forehead  
                              but then tell me you've just been pretending.

You tell me "I love you,"
but then "I don't know what love means."

                               You feel something is missing
                               yet are most comfortable laying next to me.

And yet I don't mind all of these contradictions...
for some reason I still want to be in your presence
because I have faith and hope that one day
you will see how much mental anguish
emotional confusion yet pure white-hot
right from the sun warmth you've given to me.
And I hope and have faith that one day
you will see what I mean when I speak
I LOVE YOU
into your heart and soul.