who's to say what's right
who's to say what's wrong
who's to say we've not been lied to
you and me, all along

who's to say what is the truth
who's to say what is a lie
who to say who gets to live
and who's to say who gets to die

we assume that someone else
is the answer to all above
but we choose who we vote for
who we hate and who we love

so its time we all took charge
put an end to this abuse
of human rights and freedoms
that we've let others lose

because one day you know
there will surely come a time
when instead of taking others
they'll come for yours and mine

I dream about her and see
a metamorphosis beneath
the ****** woad

I dream about her after falling
into a bed that has held the shape
of my irregular body

I dreamed about her

She is the only morning star and too
the black caterpillar in dye
below the leaves

Does her repose animate me?

I think and think I do
the thought extending to my limbs
somatic skin and the receptors in
my eyes appraising the world

In every moment of sleep and dream
where I could be awoken
from the impairment of unconsciousness
there were moments of sleep
where I did not dream and
the butterfly was not me

poetry is a lost language
dead like magnetic philosophers
at the end of ballpoint pens
and the puzzle has no outline
and the puzzle has no image
but it is coiled like a snake
in a Tesla machine