I am only a figment of my imagination.
Caught in a deep sleep, continuous dreaming.
How can I trust “anyone else” ?
When I am clearly lying to myself.

we walked till our feet hurt
and we could go no more
and in that moment we landed
explorers who have yet to explore
and nothing was ever quite so lovely
as when we first stepped ashore
and nothing will ever be
and nothing will ever be
and nothing will ever be so inexplicably, inescapable, unseen

let me write
in flashes of light
uninhibited by the
darkness inside
to ask this mind
monuments aside
only ashes left behind
picked up by a breeze
never seen
but prominent
disillusion a constant
protrusion, poking
at a frail psyche
tap, tap against
cracking glass
look past the reflection
to find me

leaving spaces vacant
all time erases
complacent patrons
nearing the end
of a long road
otherwise known
as patience
blatant irregularities
combatant singularity
revel in the hilarity
of how this has
turned sour, like
month old dairy
already milked
the moment
for all it's worth
time to give this
place a wide berth
hard not to be
the first to smirk
at shirked responsibility

and so many times I've stopped
to catch my breath
but what's a breath
in that second before death?

*eternity

I have often mistook
the abrasiveness of
this work, as an assault.
The continuous pressure
as overwhelming.
But, is it not coarse
paper, that is used
to polish?
Is it not pressure
that forms rare jewels?
Existence will always
be volatile, and
too often we push away,
but we must remember
what great beauty
can blossom from pain.

A waking life lost while walking
through incoherent moments
finding yourself as the only opponent
to learning, a yearning
of oneness above loneliness.  
Let’s break open the head
and let the words flow
cascading from cliffs high above.  
We’ll follow the current
of the crystalline clear drops,
right off the edge of the world
to the unknown below.  
Once we know, wont the rest know too?
Do those flying in the clouds
hear the subtle sounds of a desperate man playing the blues?  
I’d like to think that we’re all attuned,
radial dials turned clockwise, counterclockwise
reaching the same frequency.  
Do diverging paths ever find parallels in consistency?  
The setting seems to leave as foliage falls floating
from the outstretched branches of elderly trees,
elbows knotted in arthritic knots
that were tied in that moment before time
slowing down the perception of ones mind.  
Only to find what we describe as infinite
is only the span of the blink of an eye.
But now, don’t cry, because the years
never really did pass you by
while you knew so little, mouth opened wide,
seeing through a lens from more childish time.  
Can it be?  Here imagination runs free
of the laws of the universe.
Let’s take to the sky and drift with the winds
as we traverse the beautiful nothingness that binds the earth.  
Have you ever woken up from a dream
only to find nothing is as it once seemed?  
The past is just that, more of a faded memory
than a written history.  
We’ve entered the epilogue, orating scenes
the moment I’ve seen them,
the imagery passing so quickly, the transition seamless.  
Just one moment stuck in time,
ever changing to the tune of one’s whimsical mind.

When you feel broken and out of control, when there is so much darkness inside, the only chance you have is try and make the world around you a little more beautiful.   I often feel like the cocoon, torn apart, while beauty flutters away.

I’ll play this song
for old times sake
you’ll sing along
again
for old times sake
missive melodies
that never change
our dissonant notes
well overplayed
we’ve become actors
stuck in someone else’s play
how’d we ever let life get this way
what was once a rainbow
is now only shades of grey
the rhythm is lost
in the tip-tap of your toes
shuffling endlessly
as if trying to escape
run off with your feet
only to be left in the street
struggling to beat the light
that’s already changed the scene
adding a red glow
that makes you look better anyway
Can we keep the topic on dancing?
as it emotes such a clean wholesome feeling
that one can really lean on
in troubles times, five four
rounded out to seven eight
Hurry **** you!
We’re already late
such an important recital
giving in to improvisation
as we are stripped of
rank and title

confusion settles as the mind clears
grey whispers of clouds lift
as if smoke trickling up and away
from the tip of a long forgotten cigarette
cradling itself precariously on the edge
of a cracked acrylic ash tray
balance shifting every moment of
combustion turning tobacco and paper
to ash  

a magical transformation of matter
almost as mystical as how this moment
alone stands out  from these last blurry days
as if a perpetual scene painted more clear
after each line is removed from the queue
each of varying substance and proportion
relative to the continued distortion of how
these passing hours, or maybe days are
perceived

struggle arises from the battling of unlike
ideology, this cognitive dissonance
wrenching our minds in confused
dichotomies of what is us and what is
merely reflection of the reflections of
others bouncing infinitely between us
never back and forth because at the moment
light returns the landscape has already been
changed forever

its easy to forget who's who, especially
when it includes you, your own self
was put away forever ago, so covered in
dust that it is blurry and ***** and hard to see
how could I have forgotten many things
about myself, these important bits and pieces
left lying alone on a long forgotten shelf

I exist near nowhere
floating,  detached
arms outstretched
can't quite grasp
the parameters
of your perception
borne of my own
cognitive deception
dissonant resonance
of different frequencies
than what I perceive

I can't wrap my mind around this paradox.  A riddle called life where the birds flock to the sun.  As I chase street signs wondering if I'm the only one who understands.  Can someone shed some light on these plans?  Are there really any answers or just more questions that we keep asking while changing directions.  Lost in this maze of difficulty looking for serene simplicity, well, that's at the end of a different tunnel.

I'm losing my mind, but all the while wondering if it was ever really mine.  Molded by masses of moguls playing games to make those extra dollars.  Telepathic signals that control knee **** reactions while I keep thinking, hopelessly, that I control my actions.  We're all revolutionaries in our own right, the blood shed always seems to be justified by the means, but the means are never justified.  Ask yourself what we are fighting for.  Freedom? No, we don't want freedom, we want to be able to buy a large home with multiple flat screens.  We to own land, and plants, thoughts and beliefs, animals and trees.  We want commodities, and some stock options.  We are terrified of freedom, because then all have the right to choose, a life we don't agree with.

Home, an idea intangible to grasping hands. Scenery change a constant invariable, variably leads to a physical manifestation of home dissipating as if memories were clouds. Home seems only to reside in the past, never in the now. Moments, long gone, bring comfort only in their clarity. Lost along a forward path with certainty blazed into the past, but even footsteps wash away, the brush, foliage, creeps further forward every day. Soon enough we all become lost along the way. Let us step off this sordid ground and take off into the sea. Despite the sting of a salty breeze, for once I feel as if I can clearly see what’s around. Past, future, and now, simultaneously. These will be the things bring me to that place so often called home. Hopefully.

Not what I claim to be
amazing, the level of hypocrisy
even in mundane conversation
lies roll of the tongue
in rhythmic beats
scripted sheets
pre-written dialogue
spit like *****
out of the mouths of ideologues
preaching ignorant unity
and pro-rated conformity
catching the youth
at alarming rates
and so quick it's done
from the first yarn spun
conversely the idea
of total honesty
has toyed with me
but I couldn't
couldn't continue
too much to lose

Not what I claim to be
amazing, the level of hypocrisy
even in mundane conversation
lies roll of the tongue
in rhythmic beats
scripted sheets
pre-written dialogue
spit like *****
out of the mouths of ideologues
preaching ignorant unity
and pro-rated conformity
catching the youth
at alarming rates
and so quick it's done
from the first yarn spun
conversely the idea
of total honesty
has toyed with me
but I couldn't
couldn't continue
too much to lose

I've wandered too far.  This separation has lasted entirely too long.  The bread crumbs swept away by a long past breeze.  An overwhelming feeling sets in as I realize I have no way to find my way back.  Endless horizons, where the night sky meets the sea.   Vast obsidian mirrors that reveal nothing more than a murky reflection of who I once was.  

I think about how recklessly I ran this direction, as I tiptoe as if on a frozen lake.  Unsure of my steps, and where they will lead me.  How could I be so foolhardy before? Then so concerned now.  Where has the worry come from?  A fading confidence that pushed me so far.  Is there really any sense in retreating now, or should I just stay the course.  

Of course! I was led here by a God of my own imagining.  Rockets fueled with self importance, I've flung myself to far reaches of my mind.  Traveled through time in the temporal lobe, distancing from myself.  Here I float, alone, fractured, lost myself in my thoughts.  Never let me know that I'm lost.  Keep the distance from myself at all costs.  

The duality of me is all at once engaging and frustrating.  Pulling closer to those as I push them away.  I lead my own hopes and dreams astray.   Converging beliefs systems, contradicting preconceived notions of self.  I feel helpless against waves of emotions.  Left only to watch as these tides erode m y exterior.  Outward illusions of my beliefs crumble piece by piece.

At times it’s hard to wake up and not slip back into my dreams
I’d do this everyday if only I had the means
Why not live a life separate from reality?
What’s stopping me other than money, and social contracts?
Not to imply money is not a social contract
but it comes to the forefront of the mind when thinking
of metaphorical chains that bind me to your world.
Never felt as though I belonged here
My Feet have been tethered to the ground,
while my mind is trying to consort with the clouds.
It’s tearing me apart, splitting at the seams,
every bit of my being wants to break free
We’ve all been shackled, it’s high time to see
that freedom is hallucinatory.

saw you in my minds eye
blind to the times
of the dark skies flying
past you
faster than I could ask
what you were doing in my path
you turned around and
turned into a statue
I lost it right there
mind stopped, eyes locked
in a concrete stare
can't just leave this here
I've been running so fast
in odd shaped circles
off the beaten path
a long way from my past
transgressions, indiscretions
of varying proportion because
my view of reality is clouded
in distortion
and all I can do is apologize
profusely for the misuse of this
loose leaf, as I try to open my
eyes and see
I've been looking so long I forgot what I lost
caught in this fog of answers with no questions
it's hard to *****
the extent of this situation
filling thoughts of regret
overtaking my elation
let's continue this conversation
at the end of the world
lost whispers whistle of into
my imaginary world.

This heat sticks
like a leach
draining energy
loss of productivity
soles melting
to the ground
stuck like quicksand
now with only
an out stretched
hand reaching
towards my goals

there’s a certain trickery 
in realizing dreams
a deep sense of urgency
dissipating
mind no longer
berating 
body
a soft calm washes over
but only momentary
those seconds past
we cling so closely
only it won’t ever last
thick smoke curls upwards
heaven bound
released from the flames
of a downward spiral
a descent so excellent
in the span of a breath
inhale
exhale
on to the next step

my, my how the time flies
when you're nothing more
than a passerby
in your own life
it's easy to get caught up
in the clouds floating by
but you don't live in the sky
so avert your eyes
et fais attention
to your ration of time
because the end is nigh
and beginnings continue to die
but as is well when the story
is written in the dead of night
under the watchful guise
of stars so impossible high
above

multiple universes appear like flowers
budding as if stuck in perpetual springtime
pollinating the perception of a passerby
bulbous lives floating along a breeze
ear buds plugged  to silence the scream
a dissonant chorus of opposing beliefs

It's the specific & the universal
the balance of it all

a term lost in context
as we continue to fall
further and further
from the ground we know
a misshapen object of
memories stored to show
our friends and family
just how deep we go

How deep can we get?
What limits the experience?
Can we escape them?(the limits)

the depths are infinite
limitless expanses, inescapable
insanity rooted in our humanity
chains linked with excuses
weighted by disillusion
clouded by confusion
floating alto, stratus, cumulus
just snap fingers three times quick
and see through the illusion


Whats the illusion like?
I want to know it all.
Have you been there?*


been there? I used to live there
and everyday I wish I could go back
where pretty pictures stick as fixtures
but alas, I opened my eyes wide
for the first time saw reality
as pain washed in with the tide

take caution with your pursuit of knowledge
it seems any kind of bliss can only be found in ignorance
but who needs bliss when the world is so intricate
and who's to say we're so delicate, it's
taken an ocean to erode my exterior

I never left reality
it separated from me
conformity could
never believe
in the things that I see
your world engineered
from rooted beliefs
branched off from
the roots to
turn over a new leaf
and I'm lost now
speaking of trees
distraction from
worldly actions
that continually
cause me grief
the assumption
that consumption
will fill the void
our future needs
love, not more toys
I think I might've
found the answer to life
consume less, create more
will let the light shine
from the beauty inside
I write with streaks of light
caught in a slow exposure
but be patient
for  this process
takes time

that feat of a daredevil
tiptoeing across a wire line
after pondering this concept
I find it to be an excellent
metaphor for life
so precarious we edge forward
as the growing slack sways 
gently at first as we gain footing
but maneuvering becomes more quite
a bit more difficult along the way
soon enough we swing with the breeze
no fixtures for guidance but
a passerby bird flapping its wings
and a brief moment of optimism
if all we can see, and like the
bird . . . fly free

don't ever read too deep into these words
little more than fractured thoughts
trying to be heard
much closer to **** talk
than Shakespeare
never thought I would be found here
yelling at the birds as they fly away
missed the beginning
now it's the end of the day
and I never found my way
running backwards
slipped like a cartoon character
banana peels at the top of the stairs
back flip over the banister
now I lay here broken
broken , snapped neck
never got a chance to hear
you say, those
sweet whispers of validation
honey what you are doing is okay
so wrap me up in bandages
just free up my hands
so I can keep writing
these letters
these messages
sounding new with alliteration
a crass playwright takes the stage
playing all the characters
because in the end we
are mostly the same
going about life in so many ways
and who's to say who's been broken
and what's to fix
tell me is it the right time to bother with this
sing song bird songs
it's been too long
words melding, melting
soliloquies that would
drop you to your knees
if only I could find the right words
but nothing fits into the crossword
I'm puzzled, thoughts are muddled
and like the birds
and like the birds
and like the birds
my thoughts keep flying away
and here I'm stuck at the end of the day
yelling at empty trees with nothing to say
avian metaphors sit comfortably
in a room with floral and fauna decor
now let's touch on a subject
that is known to be sore
the systematic alienation
of unlike minds
it is unwise to change the factors
until we find the right equation
time is off the essence
meaningful minutes
wasted away on decadence
the universe is suspended in
the gin of a martini glass
thrown back, splash
against the gullet
of a brass statue
adorned with the rarest of jewels
so tell me now who's the fool
the man with feet planted
firmly to the ground or
the bird with wind under it's wings
and head in the clouds

And vision splinters
fractal incisions
splicing decisions
matter en matter
inquisition
left behind
the difference
in one kind
against the brilliance
of a dying
sun's last luminescence
and so we too
forget the essence
of this message
the beauty
in delivery
pull back
the mask

My dreams keep getting confused with reality
I can't tell if I'm awake or sleeping
as the lines start bleeding
write my memories/thoughts down
to ground myself
and try to stay out of bounds
inspiration never comes easily
but those brief moments it does
the words fall to the page seamlessly
drawing pictures with lines of poetry
using words to emote

Constantly constructing equations
to calculate emotional reactions
taking up too much time
now my heads lost in this fog
become too lost
all this time caught
in counting milligrams
and microdots
we are all too lost
focused on reminiscent
loops to remember that
the future can hold
something new
take two moments
and change scenery
two breaths was all
it ever took to forget
the part that fights for me
in all moments just
be …... beautiful imagery
paint pictures like reality
is imaginary

leaving spaces vacant
all time erases
complacent patrons
nearing the end
off a long road otherwise
known, as patience
blatant irregularities
combatant singularity
take time and revel in
the hilarity of how
this has turned sour
as month old dairy
already milked the
moment
for all it's worth

what do I know of love?
two white doves flying
intertwining along the skyline
can the sight of a loved one
make you fly?
pulling limbs from the much
in which my heart has been stuck
for so long
or will I pull you down to the mud
I don't really know too much
too much about love
but that smile of yours
makes me want to learn
it's hard to discern your
speech from music
please teach me the melody
tell me of this infinite beauty
in what spectrum is it seen?
tell me a story with those eyes
each blink, a turn of the page
every expression, a new chapter
your smile provokes thought
and inspires imagination
but I cannot quite place this feeling
elation? or comfortable complacence
because, what do I know of love