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 Oct 2016
Traveler
If I could somehow confess
My heart is fine I guess
The more or less I care
The scars will always be there
There's no anger in my emotions
   Perhaps I lack devotion
I've no mind for revenge
To keep me stumbling within
...
Traveler Tim
 Oct 2016
Aztec Warrior
Basho On The Night Stand**

I.
I found Basho sitting on my night stand;
he was measuring the distance
plum blossoms flew
when blown by Autumn wind.
It was an exercise
a mental confrontation
of spirit and nature
that is oft mystified
into confusion.

II.
Why is it
that the resonance
from the meeting of frog and pond,
leads most to a mythical,
non-existent god
or karma
or zen?
When it is pleasing enough
and real, to listen
and appreciate
the dynamics of tingling synapses
and neurons leaping
in a conscious mind.
To be in awe of the beauty of the leap.
To sing the notes that ripple
out in waves.

III.
Found Basho’s ancient pond
saw his huge frog leaping with
resonance and splash.

And I was awed by the Ker-plunk!

redzone /Aztec Warrior 8.17.12
Wandering in notebooks again.. written when I was using pen name 'redzone'
 Oct 2016
Onoma
The body clings
to the image it
was cast in...
forgetting the
image it is
cast in.
Heavy chested I breathe
as the moon whitewashes the night.

The season is changing
and in the wind is the vapor of hyacinth
in the thick of which
the glowworms drink the nectar of night.

They have no philosophy and I have many
like while they dance just for the sake of life
my mind enveloped in obscurity
has shackled my feet and clipped my wings.

I wonder if the glowworms have a mind
that knows when they dance
they have an audience.

Maybe the stars know the same way
when they twinkle.
 Oct 2016
Greenie
Tosses me with black eyes~ He,
flipping us onto our necks, whistles.

Devil, devil, look me in the face and LIE.
>.<>.<>.<>.<>.<>.<>.<>.<>.

Me again, (it's real, it's real) i can't help but tear out the zippers of my clothes for you, crunch on muscles, oil my teeth.

And the sun kisses the sky goodnight :my dear: with its evanescent arms trailing out over the waters, tickling the fish i'd bet. But,

Marbles. They're obsidian carved, best of the best. He puts them where his eyes were when we met and thinks i can't tell the difference. Well i know. Oh boy sure i do, do i know, do i.
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