Hello, Mr. Man-in-Blue.
You know I've got my eye on you.
You I see looking back at me,
waiting for this man to stumble.

Well, Mr. Man-in-Blue
can you tell me what stands True?
Or could it be a mystery
with which we both will fumble?

Take your sacred space and shove it through your discontent. Drag it in the tracks you scuffed through the dirt as you played pretend and projected images in the ever-being present. Take your sacred space and use it as a rubric to grade your suffering. Grade the world around you. Judge it, score it, trap it. You think patterns define the space? The more consistent the more real?  Expound your philosophies, esoteric enigmatic illusions. Yeah, you know the words but your voice betrays your soul betrays your essence betrays the foundation you've yet to establish on validity. Cause and effect are undeniable: this arises, that becomes. Nothing exists independently. What are your origins? You are the problem, screaming about solutions but afraid to face the reality of your situation. Paint your picture on the wall with neon colors, apply symmetry and Platonic shapes. Call it sacred, a flower of life. Stand on the street, peddling your essence. I'll be by the  river contemplating a more mundane geometry.

The real, unreal and surreal amalgamate as a tapestry
billowing in the winds of another half-desired destiny.

What was once an easy operation,
from here to somewhere unrelated but accessible,
becomes an altogether insurmountable obstacle
when faced with the torrents of Fate's indifferent condensation.

Are we not meant to know
the deepest undercurrent flow
of cosmic affairs, but rather stare
onward, unblinking until somewhere
a voice (or something similar) proclaims
revelation with enough conviction
to rouse our stagnant minds to contemplation?

Must now be that time of revelation?

There's a sacred fire burning on the candle top.
I'm icy staring daggers trying to get it hot.
Read between the lines, let the mask drop.
'Cause in the end you only get what you got,

my friend.

When you came my way it stopped my heart.
When you went and left it tore me apart.
Wherever you go, I wish you the best
and know you look good in that summer dress,

my friend.

I'd like to share what I've seen with you.
I'm living in the land where dreams come true.
We could live a life of ease if you'd agree,
but why'd you have to go be so far from me,

my friend?

I'm feeling alone when we're not together.
So, I made myself a wing out of tar and feather.
I'll fly to the land of the ice and snow
and what I do there only I will know,

my friend.

I'm in love with my imaginary friend.
Every night we go for walks
through the pines and twisted oak
and roll along the forest floor
sending ancient leaves to float.
Once, we laid on our backs,
head to head towards space
and synthesized soft new lights
which colored up the scene.
We made dragons dance
throughout the clouds,
eating fish in a serpent's kiss.
Pink and green pulsing slow
as raptured waves and overtones.
Behind that checkered skyline,
through a portal in the clouds
came to mind a severed vision
of her flaming hair and crown.
She has curled around my feet,
hearing the stories that I've told.
And I've watched her streak
across the sky, a shooting star,
a cosmic jewel to behold.
She's celestially empowered,
adorned with patient equipoise,
with Jupiter and Venus
meeting conjunct in her voice.

What are their uses
when everyone confuses
the words I say
with the ones they think?

I left, again, on the next step for my path.
Where I find myself now makes me look back.
Do I regret everyone I've lost on my way?
I won't know 'til the end of these days.

But the new place I'm at is enough to think about:

He's divorced, his wife took the kids.
He drinks and regrets what he never did.
His laugh is like thunder, distant and looming;
his voice's like his television: obscene and booming.

The other man is older, he lives in the study
watches television all day 'til his eyes become ******.
He belittles himself, and has lost the will to live.
If only I could teach him the power to forgive.

I learned he lost his wife and daughter.
One to cancer, the other manslaughter.
Now he drinks from noon 'til morning,
and chain smokes without learning.

But as I stay awake in the evening,
listening to their drunken speaking
I wonder, to myself, rather than deplore:
is this what my life will have in store?

These thoughts are a curse, they leave you feelin' worse.
It's when they descend that I see scenes of the end.
They've got me pinned to floor and I can't take any more.
I wish I could liquefy and then merge with the tide.

I don't know what I'm doin'.
There's nothin' I'm pursuin'.
I just kinda float without aim.
I'm feelin' kinda hazy.
I'm all bent up and crazy,
and I know that I am to blame.

I think about the sea, that hypnotic mystery.
Those times we've met in dreams, I wonder what it means.
I've seen  ecstasy blowin' through all the trees.
I've heard hidden hymns on the midnight winds.

If I'm not mistaken
it's when I awaken
that I'll see your face and I'll know
that there'll be no foolin',
no more push and pullin'
and we'll have a place to call home.

Maybe it's the scent of your hair lingerin' on the air,
or it's the sound of your words echoin' unheard,
but when I look in my mind, it's you that I find.
Your image I could never forget in a sun silhouette.

Not even a look,
not even a glance!
I was lost in a book,
she was lost in a trance.

Not even a friend,
not even a past.
It's the same in the end;
the questions remain unasked.

It's a vague sense of hopelessness,
like I'll never have my fun.
I'm not the only one that feels like this --
I can't be the only one.

We've drank from the same waters,
with tongues held out to falling droplets,
our cupped hands beneath waterfalls
storing liquid essence in earthly pools
and with parched lips tasted our reflection.
I have seen you walking on the ridge,
your silhouette an invitation to loosen
all these past-hardened inhibitions
which kept authenticity caged and hidden.
I've found your footsteps at the fork.
It seems you've gone to find the heights
and soar unhindered in the halituous
palaces of the sky, whose voluminous
halls entice with jeweled nets of diffraction.
And I wish you luck, love,
you really are something special.
But I think I'm on the other fork.
I'm off to the desert to find the oasis of the soul.

Why are we here?
Let's take to the streets.
Drive without fear,
for what we are to meet.

If it's the end,
then it's destiny.
Embrace it, friend;
I go willingly.

We'll go nowhere,
tied to these tracks.
We'll go nowhere,
if we must look back.

Throw off our chains,
let the flowers bloom.
No one's to blame;
the future isn't doomed.

So, why are we here?
Let's take to the streets.
Drive without fear,
for what we are to meet.

If it's the end,
then it's destiny.
Embrace it, friend;
I go willingly.

O happy leaf, happy feather!
Let us share this happiness together.
O happy ground, happy sky!
So much joy, my spirit could fly.

Take my hand, fly with me.
'Cross this blank, dreary city,
over the trees to the sea.

Take my hand, I'll fly with you.
Show me what stands true,
and we'll discover this world anew.

Could this be new land
with untrodden ground?
In each grain of sand,
a cosmos I've found!

O happy sun, happy day!
Won't you live this joyous way?
O happy moon, happy night!
Won't you keep this joyous light?

Changing quite a lot since living alone,
resting out of service of a cellular phone.
Oh, my momma, how is it true:
staring through a screen at the human zoo

Sitting by the window when the breeze passed by
making crazy castles disappear from the sky
Oh, my momma, what does it mean:
watching things dissolve like a passing dream?

Sometimes I'm around more dead than alive,
and it is taking all I got just to survive.
Oh, my momma, can you explain
why we're stuck suffering the same?

It's not that I'm hiding what I'm frightened to find.
Listening to the preacher puts a lot on your mind.
Oh, my momma, can you decry
being a lantern that's scared of the light?

Friends may appear, but quickly they're gone.
Inspiration's growing like a golden dawn.
Oh, my momma, help me to see:
what keeps momentum through this mystery?

Old friend, quiet lover,
a silent bond like no other,
please let me know it's alright.

For, I find something's awry!
And no matter how I might try,
my thoughts impinge on my sight.

Old friend, quiet lover,
limpid soul beyond this cover,
please give me a reason to fight.

A whisper comes across
of all the time I have lost:
"Why plead for these things, so trite?"

Alas, as I turn my attention
past this reflection --
I find it's your face, alight.

Ghosts of past performances
Flicker through the screen
As thirty second tidbits
Of synthesized self-esteem
On display in the electric cascade
Of an endlessly rolling wheel.
Take a look, take a peak
At souls sold for attention.
Give a second, give a minute,
Place your time upon this altar.
But what do you expect to reap
Sacrificing your life to this machine
Where nothing's holy, nothing's sacred,
And nothing's what it seems?

Spinning around in the gentle moonlight,
she asked me to hold her, though just for the night.
The circles stood still as the embrace took hold
and the silence around us began to unfold.

I awoke from my dreams
of meadows and peace
to an empty bedside
of temporary retreat.

That evening had passed
through the fires of dawn.
Our moment but a flash,
the span of a yawn.

If only we'd met closer to home,
not out on the road, wandering alone,
we'd still be together out of the cold.

Don't fill it to the top.
Don't let it overflow.
Leave some space to stop
and a little room to grow.

My mind stands as a monument, patient as a mountain
with icy peak not pestered by casual considerations
'though mourning howls through the crags
of my thoughts, and an agitated earth rumbles below.
Stoically I face the persistence of time flowing slow.

I received dreams last night, visions beyond
myself and my actions.

I saw a great man, with great compassion.
He used the last of his strength to save another
from the rushing of a tidal wave.
As others lifted his body from the ground
and spoke of his noble sacrifice,
the man thought to himself:
"I must continue to burn with light
to combat the forces of oppression."

I woke then, suddenly, and my vision
filled with spiraling blue and green
diffraction patterns, rippling across the ceiling.

A deep pleasure burned through my skull
and swept down my body, accompanied
with a high-pitched ringing, tinged with fear.

I saw a great green grassland,
a deep emerald color contrasting the
lapis lazuli color in the sky.
On the horizon stood a single mound,
a deep red clay of vital earth.

May I never forget what I have seen,
and always remember:
suffering and bliss are not two.

For the years still ahead, aching to achieve,
can you proceed enmirthed and jolly
as you gracefully make your leave?
Or will pangs of old uncertainty
heave waves of manic sighs
while depressive undertows
keep your fears always alive?
The mirror may scream obscenity
or whisper doubt into your cheer
with gloomy cover cast to dull
the ways you hold yourself as dear,
but don't let the voice you hear
be an empty echo of the words
that others crafted to appear
as something more believable
than a charlatan on the pier.

Rest your chin atop your opened palm
and stare out that window, keeping your vigil.
Pay no attention to the simple minds
chattering inanly over your shoulder.

I know what it is to see the rain fall,
through the glass, outside this building;
how the drops diffract the lamp's luminescence
into a shower of sparks, like galvanic dashes.

Your fingers are no longer of your body.
Pale blue lightning leaks, in arcs, from the tips,
leaping away, indiscriminately contacting your lips.
Smile, and the brilliance would stain your teeth blue.

Smile -- please! -- with your electric, beaming grin.
There's no need to speak, just turn your spotlight
in this direction, so I can reflect your radiance
and we may, for a moment, bask in it together.

If only an errant ray would land on your face,
illuminating the crystal hung behind your eyes,
painting rainbows on these drab, off-white walls;
coloring the blank expressions seated around.

You brush your bangs behind your ear
with your little finger and your rings
glint slightly in the lurid lighting.
You look down and resume your calculations.

Sail away into obscurity,
leave the past the way
it may choose to be.

Untie the clever knots
of education' s reign
and the Hell it's wrought.

Travel far beyond obscenity,
and hang your hat, timidly,
to live with calm serenity.

Sail away into obscurity,
without contrived security.

We speak of things that don't exist
with words that can't describe.
This life's a bitter sea-shore mist;
we'll return with the tide.

While your senses spin 'round, reeling,
can you still tell what you're feeling?

Can we find the things that matter?
From where do these thoughts come?
I see this mirror must shatter;
this game is finally done.

While time lies 'round us, curled,
we live beyond this world.

So let's sit amidst the forest
and let these days grow long.
Forget of all this petty stress,
our hearts will remain strong.

Ain't nothing the same,
my projections are to blame.
Ain't no place for peace
on these blackened, vacant streets.

I'm looking for a home;
a place to rest my weary bones.
I'm searching for a home;
a place behind the melting stones.

Oh, things can't trust
and metal gadgets turn to rust.
Oh, things can't feel
and paper money isn't real.

I'm looking for a home;
a place to rest my weary bones.
I'm searching for a home;
a place behind the melting stones.

I close my eyes to find
the patterned fabric of my mind.
I close my eyes to see
the home beyond this mystery.

I'm looking for a home;
a place to rest my weary bones.
I'm searching for a home;
a place behind the melting stones.

When form and formless fall away,
there is no path from which to stray.
Yet, still I find these words I say
mean less and less each passing day.

When I and you become each one,
it's only then this game's begun.
Let us laugh and enjoy this fun;
let us laugh 'til this work is done.

Who can speak without even sound?
All we know is grown for the ground;
and yet, all we know weighs not a pound --
ah, fungus and grain and secrets we've found.

I wonder what could have rent you so asunder,
screaming like you’d seen the miracles of God,
while I watched with sudden fragile wonder
as your towers toppled right onto my lawn
but Love I’m just a vagrant’s shadow,
forgotten underneath the heel of passing time,
wandering from frozen field to flaming meadow
as a dozen birds wheel their thoughts across the sky.

I wonder what you think you’re wielding.
Is it some kind of strength deep in your soul?
Or have the clouds become a ceiling
that leaves you searching for a hole?
Love, I think you’ve lost your balance
but I hope that it leads to your rebirth
‘cause you created seven kinds of silence
when you left to burrow back into the earth.

Outside of town
with insect rhythms playing
the moon hides dark
giving the stars the stage.
They dash across the night
leaving fire in their wake.
The dipper rests above
a perfect outline of the trees.
Step up to form seven stars,
the seven precious gems
that never deplete.
Yet in the serenity
a single thought becomes.
If only I could share with you
everything that I have seen.

Show me a woman
who loves what she's got.
Who's not afraid to go further
but knows when to stop.

Sigh again, my dear,
--
'though it's enough
to hear you to breathe.

Sigh for the lost days
and sideways glances
that you'd rather have
never even seen.

Sigh for being wise
in another realm of fools
and I'll propose a toast.
How unlike them you are!

Sigh like the last rustle
of an autumn breeze,
and I'll imagine
the hillsides ablaze.

I'll imagine leaves
whipped up in a whirl as
a flaming tornado and,
at its center, a girl.

Her long hair tossed
askew and her face --
her rounded, demure face --
curved in contented bliss.

Her dress rippling rhythmically,
syncopated, fully, with the twirling
wind and its fiery cargo;
how she smiles amidst the movement.

Sigh again, sweet angel,
and I'll pretend I'm not in love.

He said
"your mind is numb"
in his low,
concise rumbling.

"Open your heart,
your mind.
Really start to feel."
His long, black hair
fell to mid-back.

"The blessings are
offered to all sentient beings.
But you must be open
to accept and feel them.

There are four precious
attributes to first be developed:
honesty, humility, kindness and purity.

Do not lie,
nor boast and brag.
Help all beings
and view the world
as dependent origination."

He smiled and laughed gently.
"Carefully cultivate,
awaken from the numbness,
and develop those you meet."

I've got sixty-two cents, and a head full of space.
Spinning, just spinning;
there's nowhere to go in this place.
Stand in one spot, watch it all spin by.

I've got sixty-two cents, and a need to go try.
Stretching, just stretching;
soon there'll be wings to fly
off the ground, 'til I've found freedom.

I've got sixty-two cents, and a soul full of wisdom.
Waiting, just waiting;
someone must enter this kingdom.
It's open to all, just a question away.

I've got sixty-two cents, and that's all I can pay.
Begging, just begging;
may I take the ferry today?
It's not near, only waves crash here.

I tried to recede into my body,
down through the pulsing fluids
pushing minerals into bone.
I tried to find a moment's solace
in the patterned cavern of my heart,
but I met with opposition.
Now, I'm gliding 'round the obstacles,
sliding along the path of least resistance,
bound, by misconception, for the slavery of sensation.

I've slipped in the trip
of another;
these walls ain't
lookin' the same.

I've slipped in the trip
of another;
it's not me
in my brain.

She crawled inside
and made me think
that my pride
wouldn't make me weak.
Now she gloats
and claims it's love,
but **** that floats
will still rise above.

I've slipped in the trip
of another;
I can't tell
if it's real.

I've slipped in the trip
of another;
I'm not sure
how to feel.

She said things
to make me blush
and when we touched
it was quite the rush.
Now I fear
that when she's near
I really would
like to disappear.

I've slipped in the trip
of another;
how could this
happen to me?

I've slipped in the trip
of another;
why couldn't I
let it be?

She did things
to break my mind
then she'd go
and say it's fine.
She did things
to break my heart.
Ill-intent
from the very start.

Yesterday
I felt like a character
in a Hesse novel;

all I had to show
that time had passed

was the lingering scent
of tobacco smoke,
an empty *** of coffee
and a banana peel.

That, and a vague comprehension
of my impending mortality.

Something or other;
some time not today.
It'll soon turn tomorrow
as we've nothing to say.

Something or other;
some place that's not here.
It'll soon turn tomorrow
as we forget what's near.

Something or other;
some things are the same.
It'll soon turn tomorrow,
as we play this game.

There are no others;
some people are empty.
It'll soon be all over,
'though it's never plenty.

I wonder if I'll see you again, or if you ever tried
to send a coded message everywhere that I am blind.
I hope you know I never had an eye for reading minds.
Maybe it was written in a language I can't read
between the hidden syllables of words I cannot speak.
Or maybe it's in the way I constantly long to be
somewhere in the redwoods umbrella'd by the canopy
in a drizzle of rain,
fog creeping into mist,
while owls read their poems
with nothing to do but to exist.

How patient is she
who sips her tea
so carefully?

What does she see
as she sips her tea
so carefully?

Does she see
the way it could be
if only we
sat down for tea
so peacefully?

O, bitter skies with speckled heavens!
Beyond the idle thinker’s eye --
Serenely still without impressions,
Unconcerned with passers-by.

Beneath your canopy, on high,
Pleasured moans and tortured cries
Become the same with passing time.

Such elegance, so divine!
And without a chance to make it mine --
How my soul can't help but shake.

O, Master of Fortune and Weaver of Fate!
Your will unwinds in billows and furls.
With patient breath and silent ache,
Could I but stand within those curls!

He came to town when skies were gray.
He said: "I can make the clouds go away."
So we looked up, and there he was.
He said: "Well, can't you see it's all because
you hold so dear to every day?"

He came to town barefoot and grinning
just to set our little world spinning.
Spin, spin, oh spin little top
but please don't stop
'til my eyelids drop.

He raised his hand and waved his arm;
and mumbling a little charm,
said: "I'll save you from the game,
it's easy to do, forget your name.
It's no cause for alarm."

He left the town when skies were clear
but now the things we held so dear,
from all our minds, are far and gone.
So, we stare at stars all night long
and sleep away the day.

He left the town barefoot and grinning
just to set our little world spinning.
Spin, spin, oh spin little top,
but please don't stop
'til my eyelids drop.

I spun around and couldn't see
what I had in front of me.
When I looked up, there she was
scolding me and it was all because

I spun around and hit the ground.

Now I go around on my hands and knees
begging, pleading: "Baby, please!
Won't you help me off the floor?
I won't do what I've done before!"

I spun around and hit the ground.

I don't know what was on my mind,
it was another me in another time.
All I know is what I can say
I'm surprised I'm alive today.

I spun around and hit the ground.

If this isn't good,
I don't know what is.*
I thought to myself.

It was a habit I picked up
from reading too many books;
to acknowledge the good
occurrences when they occurred.

It seems they happen more often
when you pay attention.
However, don't imagine
that the scene was perfect.

We woke up
on a hardwood floor,
hungover
and sleep-deprived.

My jacket was
the pillow,
and, luckily, someone
had draped a blanket
over us.

A cat wandered
under the blanket,
and sat down on my
naked shins,
which shook us
from our slumber.

She laughed as his tail
swooshed slowly across her leg
and pulled my arm
around her.

"I never expected
to wake up next to you."
She said,
in a whimsical way

We shooed the cat out
(he was quite stubborn)
and laughed together at the
absurdity of it all.

Later, we kissed farewell
and promised to meet again.
Now, I sit in contemplation;
recalling all I can about the night.

Moments are just that --
moments.
Parsed smaller and smaller
the further you look.

I don't need to remember each
minutiae -- how many seconds
elapsed between each breath --
only how I felt at her side.

I think this is what I'm aiming to do:
to hold each reminiscence sacred.

While standing alone in a field somewhere,
as silence fills the air,

silently guessing the words I'll say,
until my thoughts decay:

These flowers have powers to heal and bless;
there's monsters in this flesh.

How long must I find myself all alone,
turning my thoughts to stone?

Yet still I must question all that's been said;
nothing's outside my head.

So, I'll stand alone in a field somewhere,
forgetting how to care.

I'll climb to the top of a mountain,
stare into the valley below.
I said I'll climb to the top of a mountain,
'cause I can't see ya anymo'.

When you wake up woman,
don't be surprised with what ya see.
When you wake up woman,
I hope ya take it pleasantly.

I'll climb to the top of a mountain,
stare into the valley below.
I'll said I'll climb to the top of a mountain,
'cause I can't see ya anymo'.

Find your own forgiveness, babe.
Wash yourself beside the sea.
Find your own forgiveness, babe,
'cause ya won't get none from me.

I'll climb to the top of a mountain,
stare into the valley below.
I said I'll climb to the top of a mountain,
'cause I can't see ya anymo'.

Drinking alone makes me feel
sorry for myself, so I avoid it when I can.

I walked over to her apartment,
with a six-pack in my hand --

no ****** beer, no! The finest
local, solar-powered confection.

But I never made it inside;
never made it through her door.

I met her just in time
to pass her as she left.

But that's the story of my life, I suppose.

I see how my life
is dripping through
my hands;

how these years are my "prime"
and they'll never
come again.

Somehow,
it's Saturday
and I'm drunk once more.

Sitting
in my living room
spinning towards the floor.

Waiting for the rays of light
to pierce the window pane.
When it goes alright
how could I complain?

Still I wait.

Watching all the raindrops fall
in puddles on the lawn.
Thinking that if I could crawl
I'd be moving on.

Still I wait.

Listening for the sound of shoes
to scuffle through the door.
If I was who you choose,
I couldn't ask for more.

Still I wait.

Feeling like a frozen man
carved out of stone,
one who truly understands
what it is to be alone.

Still I wait.

Strange place to live, strange place to stay,
watching them on their empty way.
Strange place to be, strange place to see
such emptiness from them to me.

Wandering an empty street,
is there no one to meet?
Just empty people in an empty town,
watching an empty world spin around.

Empty faces going empty places,
running in their empty races.
Empty riches, empty pleasures
as they hold their empty treasures.

An empty brace, an empty tether --
Oh, how the emptiness holds them together!
When emptiness is all that's real,
emptiness is all they feel.

Those that fill become weighed down,
and when they sink, can only drown,
carrying along an empty frown.

An empty life, an empty death;
emptiness to the final breath.

An empty lie, an empty friend;
emptiness to the bitter end.

She sparks her vice
and braces for
what happens next –
what has to happen next.

But through the puffs,
her grin betrays the desire
to get lost in the moment
as, above her head,
the last stars start to fade.

Another day gone in the blink of an eye.
I'm feeling confused, but don't really know why.
So I do what I can
just to get by.

And the sun silhouettes those fading trees.

I spend most my time up in my mind,
not really concerned with the things I may find.
I open my heart,
let it all unwind.

And the sun silhouettes those fading trees.

I'm going through life with my eyes open wide,
trying to find a good reason to try
when you're too old to quit,
but too young to die.

And the sun silhouettes those fading trees.

I train all my thoughts up to the sky,
aim to dissect The Truth from The Lie;
but could it be:
the best is passing me by?

And the sun silhouettes those fading trees