can I grow tomorrow?
place a bucket over my head
to block the sun; protect my innocence
for a while. I'll grow tomorrow.
but, today. . .

I just wanna see the darkness
with my eyes open, in hopes
of understanding. I can be aware
of my surroundings, though I
do not see, distinctly, I can
tell that I'm surrounded.
something bigger than myself.
protecting me from what is good. . .
so that it won't become the bad. . .
protecting my naiveté.

just leave the bucket;
walk away.
I'll grow tomorrow.

heading in the right direction
makes me question,
“am I headed
in the right direction?”

I don’t know
but, I keep going.
never slowing
never looking back;
I have to stay on track.

I bought this one way trip to heaven
and I'm never coming back.

yet, still, I wonder
what it takes for us to travel
from a place of false contentment
to a place of honest bliss.
one day soon,
hopefully, I'll find that out.

dressed in all black with a spirit to match.

brilliant scenery trapped
beneath the  surface of obsidian.

a haunted cave, a burning light,
enchanted rock, undying flame,
ignite the chamber, start again.

ignite the chamber, start again.

What is it about me
that stops you from seeing
the good in these bones, in this body,
in this skin so black
that it gives you heart attacks
to the point that you feel the need
to attack our hearts, our chests, our arms,
our backs with your weapons of hate.
"Please","stop", "wait"
are all foreign to you
when uttered by these big lips
on this black face.
Perhaps, that is all you see.
A black face.
But I encourage you,
better yet, I demand you
to expand your vision
and see through this skin,
yes, the one with all the melanin,
the one that you wish you were in,
and gaze upon my soul.
I am told by the likes of you
that my time is limited,
but we see different signs in the sky,
you and I,
for my ancestors tell me
it is time for me to fly.
So, once you unlock these chains,
or even if you refuse
and continue to televise my pain,
one day I will rejuvenate
and I will spread my wings
and I will fly.

the soil of Mother Earth
seeps through to my skin
and I accept every last bit
because it's truly necessary
-------------------------------------
for me to just continue to lay here . . .
and to be able to feel the . . .

Earth family...accept every last bit of me...

and allow me . . .to just lay here . . .
and to be able to feel . . .
-------------------------------------
perhaps, acceptance
just might be the key
to what is concealed.

The preservation of humans begins
when we all see each other
as souls
instead of bodies
with different skin.

you may not be the one,
but you're my one right now.
and if the future never comes,
that'll be the best present
I've ever had.

I went to sleep
(right next to you)
alone.

Then I woke up and I was still
(right next to you)
alone.

I wanted to check my phone.
(no texts from you)
I'm still alone.

I want you home.
(what's left of you?)
I know, I know, I got
(the best of you)
issues, I'm wrong.
(what's best for you?)

But, I just want to know
(the rest of you)
if you'll come home.

step one is think but not too much,
think only enough to move the body;
think only enough to guide
but not too much.
allow the mind
the time to find
itself before you
let it take control
of your next step.
.  .  .  .  .  .  .  .  .  .  .  .  .  .  .  .  .  .  .  . ­ .
step two is think but not too much,
think only enough to still the being;
think only enough to still the urge
but not too much.
allow the body
the freedom to fall
in forms it feels
and do not forget
to feel your way
to your next step.
.  .  .  .  .  .  .  .  .  .  .  .  .  .  .  .  .  .  .  . ­ .
step three is here
you must instill in order to heal,
you must adhere in order to heel,
you must not chase the thrill of rush
but long for sakes of betterment.
what is concealed will slowly reveal;
just follow the steps until
it's time to breathe . . .
.  .  .  .  .  .  .  .  .  .  .  .  .  .  .  .  .  .  .  .  .
s­tep four is breathe
and breathe as deeply
as the atmosphere allows
and let the astral air
assemble your arousal.

why look to the sky for answers
when life is all around? why even utter a sound, when the only person that really needs to heed your words and hear your thoughts, is you?

what do you do when the only thing left for you to do is pray?

you say your prayers
by writing them down
and live your life a better way.

Tie-dye shirt and all black sweats.
Can hippies have depression, too?
Or should we all just be much too entranced by the magic of burning grass to understand what it feels like to live in a world of dying thoughts, or thoughts of dying.
I apologize, I can’t quite get my thoughts together.
Forgive, me.

It must be the drugs.

These broken dreams can break the promises of life.
The promises that broke the wall and built the fence that still can never ever be climbed, that still can never ever be conquered...

and even though, they are just fences, we can never seem to stumble our way over them because we won’t dare to stumble near them...

because we can’t ever even see them...

I’m thinking...it must be the drugs...

See, we can’t jump,
no, no,
we can’t get off the ground,
no,
we can’t even run,
we can’t take steps,
we can’t even move,
we can’t sit still...

but we go everywhere...

...and we go nowhere...

At the same time...?

It’s gotta be the drugs.

cause see, we’re stuck in this time,
and this time...
when it goes by...
I pray...
maybe we’ll go with it...ya know...?

or maybe we’ll go against it...

or maybe we’ll do both...

...it seems, to me...
like it’s gotta be the drugs, eh?

It must be the fault of all the flamboyant Conceptions Created this Chaos, this Desolate Destruction of Emotions that are Ever so Evolving into Freedom! Freedom!
oh, we Give it all away to God for it is He that Hath the Heart to Heal, but, see,
I am not I...I can never be I...so I...Just Jot with no Joy...

so I just jot with no joy...

I am no king of kings...

I am no lord of lords...

I am only me...


but I’m guessing
that can only be
because of the drugs, right?

I have no clue of what to do
but I still choose to lace up my shoes
and pursue this journey called life.

So I start to cruise and sing the blues.

The hues too dark so they confuse you
and I will never brighten up or lighten up
my mood to protect the terrible twos of
this world.

They need the truth.

And if not from me,
and if not from you...
then who?

we are given so much leniency, naturally, from life itself; it just gets broken down and separated into categories of ‘right’ and ‘wrong’ and ‘ok’.

look, what is allowed is what is allowed.

we must allow the nature of freedom to take control and leave the rest alone. or suffer a life of quieted disappointment.

what is allowed is what is allowed.
(that statement does go both ways, of course; but, for the purpose of this conversation, let’s focus on the non-restrictive connotation for a bit)

the forces that are currently sitting atop the thrones control the flow of the day-to-day and do not implement the rules that follow the rules that were given to man, by Mother Nature . . . they try to follow Father Time as though he really even exists

“you do the crime, you do the time”
is what they all say . . .

but, who is it that taught them ‘right’ from ‘wrong’. and, who taught them. and, who taught them. and, who taught Adam and Eve. and who taught God. and who taught Zeus. and who taught . . . Mother Earth? and who taught . . . the Sun? and who taught the other dying stars? and, tell me,
who. taught. the dead ones?
did they not get proper instruction?
who. is in. control. here . . .

what is really allowed . . . ?

and who taught freedom            
how to have        
                      a moral code
in the first place . . .

Will we meet in heaven?

If you leave today,
and I leave tomorrow,
will we arrive at paradise
around the same time?

Will it matter
who really gets there first?

Will our decisions
have an effect on
how
we end up
or
where
we end up
or
when
we end up?

As we stand here,
our feet entrenched
in wispy billows,
barely keeping us afloat,
we hold our breath
so we don't fall,
then take off running
at our different paces,
in our separate ways,
and at our different times,
and make our way
to the same location.

Will it matter, then,
just
how we got there
or
when we got there?

Will the question be about
where...
where is it
that we've ended up?

Or...
will it be
about
why...
with our different paces,
and our separate ways
and our differing times of departure...
have we arrived
at this same location
at the same time...

'tis acknowledgement, more than thankfulness, that allows a being to reap all of the glorious benefits that this life has to offer.
it is seeing. it is believing. it is acknowledging
. . .
all that exists . . . acknowledge it. so that its existence does not go unnoticed.
and, notice, i am not asking you to focus on it, i am not asking you to give everything in life more attention than it deserves but be aware.
when something pops into your realm of awareness, acknowledge it;
that's how you stay aware. don't ignore it, don't overdo it.
universal acknowledgement will do
. . .
and once you've acknowledged the presence of the object, only then will you be able to decide how to feel about it.
only then, will you be able to truly understand what is going on around you.
'tis acknowledgement that is the key to our emotions.
before we know how to hate or to love, before we know how to be happy about, before we know how to be sad about, before we know how to feel indifference towards
. . .
we must have acknowledged the object of our feelings . . .
before we are able to be thankful for . . .
before we are even able to thank . . .
we have to acknowledge
. . .
i've fiddled with this idea for a while and i believe i've finally come to a temporary conclusion, just bear with me.
. . .
we pray and we pray and we thank all day long.
we speak to God, or any other entity that will listen, to send us some help or to appreciate.
yet, how do we even know what to appreciate . . . if we are not aware, if we have not acknowledged all that is present in our lives
. . .
how can I say "thank you" for a blessing I know nothing about . . .
how can I know what needs to leave my life if I have not acknowledged it as such - simply a thing that is no good for me - how do I feel no good about something I have not felt
. . .
if I keep my eyes shut long enough, will all of life disappear without ever giving me a chance to be thankful, or without ever giving me a chance to see what is necessary and unnecessary.
will things ever change if we do not open our minds, our eyes, our hearts, open up our ears, if we are not open to all ideas, will we ever be able to see what is truly right and what is truly wrong
. . .
acknowledgement. an automatic ability of a being but there is something that keeps us from acknowledging the presence of the ability to acknowledge, within ourselves . . .

ray of color,
pierce my soul
and brighten up this hole.
~
bleed the gloom and doom
to leave more room
for hope...

To scream out loud or write it all down?

A decision, left to the extremity of the undying emotion of the mime inside...

What one wants to say,
what one has to say,
and what one needs to say,
all seem to separate for a limited amount of time but, once the seconds tick down on the time bomb that lies waiting for
just
the right
situation,
all the words seem to come together to create quite the show.

Out of the roots,
up the stem,
through the leaves
and then exploding from within,
seeping out of the pores like a volcanic eruption.

Dormancy to activity.

And, all of a sudden,
"what I should have said"
turns into
"Oh my! What did I just say?"

A timeless, priceless transition from over-powering self-confidence to reflective self-doubt occurring instantly; but, the bullets cannot and should not go back inside the unloaded, smoking Desert Eagle, better known as the mouth or even the pen, of that restless individual.

Whether at the ears or at the eyes, the shots have been fired and are, now, making their way to the brain, to the mind, and, eventually, to the heart.

So,
for better or for worse...
...a toll is taken.

demons and angels.
horns and halos.
wings and wings.
even the pharaoh,
born with Plato,
sings and sings:

“I long for heaven
as well as hell.”

these aren’t just sevens,
they’re eights as well.
the time will tell.

—————————————

o’, thank the stars for darkness,
thank the lord for ghouls and goblins,
thanking god for satan’s roar?

playing the cards of hearts
to flash in clubs with diamonds,
save the spades and maybe score?

what more is said
for parity?

win the best and lose some more
for charity?

nevertheless and neverthemore
the wrongs go right
for parody?

enter a death
to save a life,
and lose the mind
to get to therapy?

nothing is left for days
and nights bereft,
we fuss and fight
for clarity.

nothing is left for days
and nights bereft,
we fuss and fight
for clarity.

Through the woods we floated hand in hand,
a cool breeze to dry up the puddles of our palms,
a night shade just dark enough to hide our amorous gazes,
though this sensation skipping through my veins
hides not my affection,
pulsing through from my body to yours,
and if it must reveal my love tale to you
I pray it bear no false witness.
I’ve fallen for you already, more than you know
and more than I’ll ever be ready to admit in words.
Lend an ear to your heart
and my beat shall be there to squander it all,
but from my lips you won’t hear a thing.
And as we are now gazing up at the stars,
the wind has hushed and the fireflies have gathered 'round,
you close your eyes and you make your wish.
From afar, hoping somehow these unexpressed expressions
are able to reach to the center of your essence,
I whisper to the wind...

A powerful kick from the A/C is what finally let Balloon's face out of the corner and abruptly spun it around. that kick is what finally caused Balloon to be allowed to see a window for the first time.
resting face against the surface of a brighter world in a newer place, Balloon has no choice but to watch the whimsical movement of the wind throughout the tips of the untrimmed grass below the trees, shooting upward with the breeze, Balloon has seen the swift and seemingly untamed movement of Leaf. Uncontrollably criss-crossing in charismatic loops, Leaf spins in so many circles and so fast that the view that Leaf once had is now skewed. Leaf gets carried away. Up here, things cannot be looked at in the same way that they were before the wind tore holes in the skin and Leaf had no choice but to swing away, to and fro, and enjoy the fall with upward gaze.
Just below the haze of magical nothingness,
with nothing left to experience
except the baby blue-blanketed sky,
Eagle appears and flashes by and
Eagle will never leave the sky
because Eagle knows how to fly
because Eagle knows how to flap
because Eagle flies higher to look further down,
because Eagle flies higher than the rest,
and Eagle flies alone . . .

because Eagle will never leave the sky

alone.

so focus down below
to where the grass has grown
the prancing has begun and now
the ground begins to move and now
the Beasts are having fun.
the Beasts will never lose the beat,
will lose control.
the Beast will gain a soul
and in the midst of chaos
love has finally grown.

and Human’s heart
is now at peace

Flames created souls in the gusts of wind,
A spark to start a life,
Sizzled and burned so bright with magical colors of vivacious orange, hypnotic red, luminescent yellows that would light up dark spots.
Visible to the naked two eyes of all who gazed, felt by the naked bodies of those standing in the way of the cold and naked bodies.
Feeling nothing but the dark grey smoke.
No light, no warmth.
Some began to choke as I inhaled with the whole of my mere existence, and basked in the gods of freedom.
Beautiful extraterrestrial wisps, peeling off in an unknown dance, choreographed precisely with the wind.
Thankful that they let me feel the smoke on my skin, its freedom engulfed my aura, taught it how to be, how to do, how to feel.
Its cool matched my cool during those few milliseconds of heaven where we met, tangoed, felt and understood, then dissipated in the dark as its father lied to rest, and we all felt the same cold in the same way on our naked bodies, at the same time.
While some had fun memories of colors, light, and warmth, I was left with a lingering feeling of what it's like to be free.
And a lesson on just how to get there.

“at this pizza place, all they got is cheese with no crust, a little bit of rust mixed in from every bolt and every nut, at every table is a **** that’s ready to . . .”

grow up . . .

“serving hard knocks with a side of familiarity opens up a path for the freaks, or something like that . . .”

throw up . . .
spill guts at tables, overstuffed, not able to feed themselves, unstable, and to the stables they wander . . .
must be food time again . . .

“whatever fills me up with what I lack is what I’ll indulge in, praising him/her to stay above ‘sin’, o’ here I go again . . .”

throw up . . .
spill guts at tables, overstuffed, not able to feed themselves, unstable, and wandering . . . and wandering . . . unable to stop and . . .
grow up . . .
serving hard knocks with a side of familiarity opens up a path for the damaged, or something like that . . .

I really shouldn’t talk, while I’m eating

Dressed in all black with a spirit to match.

Brilliant scenery trapped
beneath the  surface of obsidian.

a haunted cave, a burning light,
enchanted rock, a dying flame,
ignite the chamber,
start again.

—————————
Ok, wait, hold it...
start again, dude, c’mon...
But this time,
give a bit more detail, will ya?
Geez...
—————————

Ok. Fine.

A young man dressed in all black,
with black skin...

that part’s not really important...

I just want you to feel me this time.
Ya, feel me?

This dark soul is deeply disturbed
by the devil, dude...
...or maybe...
simply disordered by the darkness...
either way,
the dysfunction has a depth to it,
I’m telling you.

Are you listening?
Ok, great!

So, moving along
beneath the surface
there is no light.

That’s it! Ok?

But there’s more
upstairs...
oh!
there’s so much more
up top!
on the ceiling!
bulbs are blooming
with brilliance!

I’ve lost you again, haven’t I...?

————————
...ya think...?
————————

Well...
all I’m really trying to tell you
is...

Life has beat me down, man.
Inside and out.
But more so on the inside...
It turned my soul black,
made me depressed,
made me dark.
Inside and out.
Equally...

But, for some reason,
somewhere,
something within me still lives.

and I just wish you could see it
like me...

s­tep four is breathe
and breathe as deeply
as the atmosphere allows
and let the astral air
assemble your arousal.

I placed my self
upon this shelf
for you to understand
the life and death
that took the breath
of, yet, another witless man. . .

the way that I'm treated when I can’t seem to understand makes me feel like less of a man. with outstretched hands I'm handed nothing; without a chance I won't be something.
who takes a stand behind
“the man who has no plan”?

I still see no one . . .

You don't know me yet but, one day,
you will. My name is your name.
I'm _ years old and the year is __.

There's your preface. Let's begin.

---------------------------------------------------------­-----

you are a ******* and you know it.
a literal *******. you smell.
you're sloppy. you're always laying down.
you're never doing anything . . .
except waiting for somebody else
to push you out and make you
see the light before you're
finally flushed away into eternal darkness . . .

you're like a baby, is what I'm saying . . .
the "*******" reference was
only meant to be metaphoric,
you're still cute. chill . . .
you just don't do anything!

but, one day, you will.
you just gotta grow first.
like, mentally and spiritually.
the physical will come, don't even sweat it, kid.
oh, oops, my mistake . . ."big" kid.
forgot you're like a whole toddler now.

you still don't do anything, though.
except yap away.
yap. yap. yap. yap. yap.
but, you still don't really say anything.
and it's not 'cause you don't know how,
I mean, geez, you're like a preteen now.

you just don't care. and you told me, specifically,
"I don't care." and I said, "fine".
'cause I'm not there.
I'm not in control of what you do.
like you're not in high school anymore, man.

you don't have to do anything
you don't want to do. you know about life.
you know how it works. you are able
to do the things that you want to do . . .
you're like an adult, for ****'s sake!

but nothing's changed has it?
everything's still the same.
you're still a *******.

so, as a *******,
you will remain . . .

I hope, one day, you change . . .

if you love me then
why do you hate me as well
maybe they are truly one in the same.
maybe night is truly the same as the day
- excluding the hue of the sky.
we all still exist and
everything still stays the same
whether it is in dark or in light.

then, so should the heart;
no matter if it burns
with anger or love,
the passion should always remain.

If you choose to stay
then I will love you forever.
And if you choose to leave
then I will love you forever.
And I hate to sound mean,
but there is no in between.
You must tell me, darling,
is the light red
or is it green?