I'm afraid of how you touch me,
I'm afraid of how you heal my heart with hello,
and break it with a goodbye
how every sensitive sublte change in tone
is a holy mystic novel
that i can digest and explicate in seconds

"The grains of you sift down and out-"
was it the excitement that kept you sitting on that pedestal?
or did you build a latter that you can climb up on a whim?

quote from http://hellopoetry.com/-camilla-ames/

the sands of time we  mourn
like moths flickering out
in the flames of my favorite pass time

But even children cry
when the caterpillar begins its change

do unto others i will always say
For
we have yet to transform into something with wings
we have yet to fly

stop crawling towards the fire.

when the wind said goodbye
and the trees stood up
and the clouds parted for the beautiful light
to come down
and be

and being was the only way

when i said goodbye
and walked away
out of your life
that beautiful light

o god that beautiful light
surrounded me
and god i knew
hallelujah

all i could do was be

there is an anger in me that rebel yell reggae cant quite simmer
and the dimmer the lights
the rise of anxious skin splitting need
like whispers getting louder
as sip by sip the action twitches and twitches and twitches
knowing that to run
is to fulfill

was he surprised by a vollunteer
couldnt he see the tears?
couldnt he hear the beat break heart leak?
couldnt he sense the wet dog lonesome defeat?
an all or nothing mutual attempt at violence
didnt he feel the tender shaking hands on his face
was he surprised by the smile as the man fell back?

Calm your self
                         Not that you're angry...             but,
penetrating background conversations
are programmed timed reminders
that yours,
                   is not a sole existence.

Resistance,

It was your refusal
your boisterous sincere rejection
that held your hand through serious development

listen to their tone.
Their dejection.

There are many streams that lead to the same river.

Im a ******* tool
I let you rule
 i let you take as many
or
as few of my individuak quirks
 and tell me that the reasons i defined myself by we untrue selfish deviations of an honest man
 and therefore
 i too was an unhonest man
A liar.

Ive been a tool a bunch of times
Deciding that being of use to someone elses capacity for understanding
While limiting my own nature
Was charity

I wanna hold no angst
 no spite
I got no strife
 im a simple man and deep down ive always known things just arent right
And ive come to realize i look for the wounded
I want to be a runner and its time to run free

Smoking cigarettes in the world never weighed me down
Quite like walking around in this town
And pardon that cliché but
I hope that when I die
Youll pay attention to the parchment
It says take my little memories and spread them
Out and about
Anywhere
But this town

there's an animal outisde
he doesnt know his name
he doesnt give a ****
he walks around town with that cool kid swagga step
drop in the hip, lean with it

he carries that aire of
i've been there
or ill be there

smoking on that camel, cigarette

he smells of cigarettes too
and perfume too

wirey thinned stragely stuff covers his face
but he's got that clean cut
and theres dirt on his shoes even though they cost
that fat dime,
more like a quarter.

but he's an animal no doubt
doesnt know his name
doesnt give a ****

Do you need

No matter how much you feel
and plead
and every lead that you follow for your personal glutton
passion?
or serious distraction.

DO you NEED?

or want

or do you want,
to need

is there some seed that you carry around
that you water and sow in the ground
that you birthed and nurtured

is want
a spit in the face

i understand :D

There is a certain associated atmosphere      
that past life loops
have for shot gun shell revelry.

It's the stand tall follicle remembering,
mid time, interstellar travelling
wide eye, dropped cup, dismembering

it's a France bound, Jail break excursion
dare, short, and unburden,
temporarily ...

it's a standard grey hound Journey
follow through, loud mouth, honesty
a fellowship, for lorn country boarding.

aggression

coffee veined, want and lust
It's a blind she devil temptress
and a coma of unforgiving

its a moment in the air when your lurch of a heart,
upside down stomach weightlessness
curious and confident,
ground teeth cackle

and it's the sense of it all and the yearn of a thousand water molecules to let go.

I once was a noble beast
with a preference for flesh

I once was a golden god
with a thirst for blood

and Athena nor her virgen priestesess
could effect my temperance

Posidens flood could not match my rage

So why was it not zeus's thunderbolt that struck me down

How did i avoid medusa's eyes

or even the sword of man

I would not have sold my soul for wings
i was too weary of the sun

and such soft scared hands i would have assumed

not the wild experienced dance of the siren

to hypnotize and weaken, but not for the ****
just a wild dance for all

and for all but mine

There is a seriously mighty toll payed for love
And forgive my ****** offerings
I can finally see your fear
Such shame dear
In heavy handed tears

I can see you

And your gaping hole
Your filthy stretched and used soul,
You're giving yourself away.

I have to forgive myself.
your not lost yet.
get back onto your quest.

This wont be finished for some time.

the trees speak to me
and for all i can see
the wind the rain
their mourning pain
i mean it's all the same

but the trees speak to me
but not so that i can see
but so that i can feel real

the underground networked love
the shared canopy sunlight love
the spaced trunk LOVE
for me

the trees speak to me
but not so that i can see
or explain their voice
but so that i can enjoy my time in the woods :D

******* !
cannibals and skiers,
labeled solo fashion-istas,
God ****** bull fighters.

Why don't you try
lacrosse or gardening too?

you've inspired my passion,
but..
"turned my art into a science"

i don't understand
punctuation or horoscopes
but..
i know a little bit about a lot of things

and Jesus aint my friend
because i know too much about
him and his stellar clique

and i don't need to know about
crop rotations or biodiversity
to plant an apple tree

maybe i'm "just" inferior

forgive my shortcomings
i'm still exploring
i'm still developing

i may not be in the next
tour de France
but i can ride nine miles in thirty five minutes
i'm pretty **** impressed

so be proud of me mystical guru
cause even though i don't trust in you're miracles
i still think the water in Lourdes is the best I've ever had

forgive my rude outburst
i just cant live on a diet of humans alone

let me tell you a thing or two about my travels
and teach me about beauty
i think i know
but i could be wrong

show me your soul o' barrista
i'm sure you do more than make coffee

Fight the feeling of flight,
my weakness and my fright
i cannot lose to someone elses might.

My righteousness and my courage

I want to love you instantly
I want to trust that
by your words and your feelings
you are beautiful

am i shallow?

I want to love you instantly
because you've touched my heart
like my coffee anxieties
my cigarette punishments
You inspired this

I want to love you instantly
because i already see my blood on your hands
i see my regret and your pain
i want to change your mind
am i an *******

maybe i love you already
like a poem
short and fleeting
immeasurable in bursts
communicate with me

personal growth comes
attached
as web-like spider strings
pull and push
we are fates ***** mannequins

And be that as may
as much as i need
differences
stand in the way

fate is a heavy handed ****
and whether
misscommunicated ******
hopes
or backhanded alleyway
compliments

there will always be a string
between us
even if its just pulling us apart

your a stain a grease mark
a left behind reminder of how i spend my time

my love is not fleeting
but rather
seeping out of my pores
blending with blood and sweat
and the associated effort
that loving you comes with

she wears a dress i recognize
as one i've seen with a special eye
does this cheapen her beauty
i dont think so
i just realized i've been to this restaurant before

The fire that burns
or that feeling in you're stomach that turns turns turns
the fluttering butterflies
that you rely on
and the sailors in their boats that stir up monsoons

i'm a man in a row boat.
taking on invisible tidle waves
and bearing my soul to posiedon

i'm sitting in still water as far as you're concerned
noticing the low flame in your hearth
and wishing i could go to land and add wood to your stove

But i cant

I cant survive off feeding you're fire
i need to take on the ocean in my boat

the last great one
was a figment of translucent imagination,
and you're a queer jolly follower for needing that
umbrella of a darker light to envelope your spirit.

i'm not saying you're a a weak soul,
i've had revelations of my own,
and time stamp monumental moments
make us .
i feel it.
i promise.

but there comes a time in the day
when you gotta realize
that in the name doth soo much blood shed.
and for the name does soo much clouded interpretation
of a killed son
or a man of scale, scaling.
scales,
and darkness is born
especially in such a dead inorganic matrices  
of follow your self
under such false pretense

so stand by your opinions
but in your own name friend.
for you never knew what was truly meant.

follow your heart
and know its from your heart.
even if cap'n jazz inspired it :)

I will sit down
Take a bite
side line
right site
You're a phony
and a liar
prone bones never had time to shift through this mess
and god forgive such boasting
i'm sure that fire couldn't contain a more self righteous sire

stranded incompatability
it must be amusing
seeming irresistability
and a bit of motion sickness

selfless devotion
and all the right jazz
its too bad we dont share any of the same emotions
its awkward in this farris wheel now

earnest endearing enduring end
three months later
and i'm feeling a bit better about it all

the mechanisms that shift my gears
arent quick enough to shift my leftest agenda.
stab through my exterior
it's my cooling system.
I cant reach the street.
you've engaged my system
and piloted my drive
my automatic coordinate system
and dropped a new direction into my querie

because my soul is old
i know that the things i'm told
the things that seem bold,
or courageously full of gold
are meekly devious
specifically
of whatever is trying to be sold

because my soul is old
i know that the things i hold
non impressive things that seem cold
in which only i see the gold
are superior forms
specifically
in what ever memories cannot be retold

but because my soul is old
i cannot know if the love i'm bestowed
is honest and willing to endure time
if it is a warming hue forget the gold
if specifically
it can content my heart and mind.

they sit there in empty shells of yester year
and fathom identity of who they once were,
they take past lives
and childhood memories
and rewrite them into sinister welcomings of who they wish they were.
Am i a farce
or a farther reaching entity.
Who are  you to take the soul away from ghandi and proclaim it as a mystery?
who are you to take my favorite game of legos
and mimic it with combustible rythems of serenity.
I once flew three thousand miles
and i never felt the near death doubt
of what i was trying to attain.
Cannibals
and slayers of my memories
fight temptation and sympathy.
they cry and they yearn
and in the end all they want is peace.
Peace on the mountaintop of i dont need.
I DONT NEED.
but god almighty i want and i yearn
and i cry and i weep
and tears flow down this glacier like global warming and atrocities of our fathers.
I ate a fish from the sea and died of poison.
I ate a cob from the field and died of poison.

white purifying light
god, so bright, so white
fight, night, fight

however, night,
your brother day,
will but understand your evil.
whether not, or right
you will hear them say,
night, your actions are ill.

when your morning glory sun,
opens ignorant eyes,
who from birth,
have been taught to close to thee.

and those sad men,
who past ten,
find themselves dead,
by another slave,
pitythe graveyard shift

protest

ill sayeth thee
ill as the fire's candletip
burning holes in my time,
the theif, who regards me less.

ill as the wicked beast
who attacks in the night
and survives in your sleep

ill are those
who from birth
are taught to close their eyes to me.

It's the panick its the scramble
did you see that distraction
blurring out the light
did you catch that ratchet
how is this boat holding up
grasp at the clasp
i'm falling down
its a cinacle clinicle day of laughter
how did we make it this far
how did the grass stay green so long

you've always been taking up the mantle
how did you hold on for soo long
Look its a shooting star
its a far off light in the distance

Thank you my friends
thank you my love
i havent met you yet
but you've taken such good care of my heart
you've let it fall and you've built it back up
it w ill be ready for you

look at the fluttering leaves in  the winds crisp air
they are waving to  us
how did you enjoy my company when i was so selfishly involved
how did you spend your time when i was dancing abandoning any thought
i shut you out for so long

thank you for waiting
the truth though

is that i've been waiting too
i just knew youd be there for me when i found you

as the wet drops of paint
Splatter across the scene
I'm reminded of a saint
who's life devoted,
and transformed by love,
lived to long

My strokes are disciplined,
but time decides the fate,
and helpless to nature,
Gravity brings the heavy ***** of paint
Down into a bleeding imperfection
that tried to fight the odds
and Live forever

The scene,
many greens overpowered by reds
And blacks covering whites
depict a nameless man
who will live longer than me
the artist
who's fingerprints,
hide among the texture,
and who's essence is captured by the beast

the beast
and a man
fighting to live a second longer
each with titles and memories
each with myth and reputations
each risking death just to be remembered
through tongue and emotion

sadly the faces are unrecognizable,
the paint to thick for detail
and the detail to ambiguous for translation

in the end w ** will know that i knicked my finger
and bled on the canvas
or smeared the paint
who will know that i am the man
and who will know that they are the beast
and who will know that the saint lay in paint

I just cant imagine heart palpatations
in the middle of my serenity
mixing well with my awe endeavors
I wanna find the catalyst of love
in a shared experience
forsure
But my edge inspired progression
comes from the sharp edge of rocks beneath my feet and the mighty beating of the sun
churning my affection into sweat drivin nirvanah
I know you know
And i im glad to say ive tried, too
Theres no easy way to spell out contrasting metaphors for movement
But Beleive me I wont, dont, cant, forsake
But elements can bite my soul
Were creatures of suffering and my fear is god induced
I dont want to play god
i want god to sucker punch my ribs and break my legs
i wat to fly down the mountains and slam through the river
I wat to drop from the sky and tumble through the dessert.
I want the masterpiece satan we create
The machines pistons enviornmental dragons
To mobilize my feet and pay for my experience in blood

A reminder of the flesh
that sense of
your elbow on my knee
and
that missing block in your heart
that bleeds more freely than you can surely believe
i mean freedom aint what your looking for
and Jesus is just helping you pass the time.
I don't think your a fire starter
I still hold onto the idea that you could let me hold your hand
not that you need it
but...
you could learn to love it

The desperate laugh of a man,
who's wide distant gaze reflects the need,
for relief,
for release,
understanding that time is a lie

the lapse
a crack in the grasp
that every,
held together man,
and,
nailed together by hand,
splinter in cheap wood of a
house, apartment, loft,
a home, a hole, a shelter, a...

a similer glimmer of comprehension
that,

your wife's basic and met needs,
your wife's basic and met wants,
o
your wife's eyes reflect the need for relief, and release, and understanding that time is not the liar,
you are,
your father was,
and his father too.

nervous tendencies
pumping blood into arteries
into organs
swelling,
sensations causing
flight pattern tendencies
untill a clean landing is made
hope
destruction caused
when the organs shutdown
operative failure
and helplessness
when knees lock
thankgoodness for suicide
thank goodness for free hands
protect the face
protect the face
in the end
leing in the snow
crawl away
or give in
give in to failure
helpless till the end
saterday was nice...
sunday was restless
and monday is today.

I am a hero hipster ******
drunk on this ****** ****** feed
that i sell to little kids.

This rightous symbol tattood on my feet
is a leftist emblem parlor trick
boasting stellar excapades
written in communist blood.

as much rebel rousing ******* as i can speak,
The heart is a heart
and my overwhelming excuse for a miocardial infarction
is a poor representation of unrequited love

The beats that skip notes
when i see your drum set
are not full of enough bass to top your playlist

and its the melody...

That solo saxaphone moment
that carries you through this day
that attracts my ear
and buys my sheeeeeer will power

but keep my offerings as a testiment to your everyday miracles
because while my hat sits empty
yours collects change
and i hope one day someone of worth
notices your tune.

standing on edge, little white dots of perspiration. like a visible spiderweb after a rainfall. the hair on his arms stand up. a definite articulated action.
one not made by him.
standing up like little soldiers aflicted with mob mentality. sensing the mood that swallows the weak of will. or do the weak swallow it?
is this the reason he doesnt move? strength?
the little mutinous strands of hair on his arms. his legs. even the folicles on his neck. betray themselves when a cool gentle breeze blows through the wet sweat of action and tickles him.
and then the song changes.

wake as if your lovers warmth
is security enough to make it through the day
as if that fact
would keep all evils at bay
as if that love
removes you from kharma
as if any duty or action was a sacrifice
for that love

Wake as if not waking
crushes the heart of others
as if a heart so faint
and dependent
would stop bleeding
if yours could not pump enough for the two

Wake for the world and the love you can provide it

I am an archbishop Mongre
I saw  your need for liberty and i smothered it in salvation
I saw your hunger and i deepened the cavern with charity
I saw your love for humanity, and i sent it into the stars.

I am Satanic Cult
I saw your need for structure, and i cut all your ties
I saw your thirst and i filled you with the blood of christ
I saw your sadness and your fear, and i made you angry

I was smothered in salvation and filled with blood
I looked at the stars and i became angry
I listened to motives and reasons
and i followed my heart

Lastly,
When there wasn't any rain,
When nature ignored pain,
And the solitary feeling,
That even the earth has abandoned,
A revelation of the winds gentle breeze,
That helped fire,
Evades.

Evades,
Knowing that the soul,
Were so unconnected,
So were the actions of another,
As if by breaking spirits,
To evoke the subconscious,
A righteous entity would bring forth a tidal wave,
And wash out the suffering.

When firstly i should have realized,
That Jesus,
An ambiguous image,
Dressed in the garments of my mind
Had nothing to do with birds happy chirping
And dressed the world in garments of my imagination

How great the illusion is,
When i give my beliefs power,
And how pitiful are those lost to reality.

I believe i'm looking for spiritual growth,
but there is this church
this symbol in the city
honestly what a pity
that I've never seemed to notice

Isint that a sign?
that every time i walk this same line
these moments of here to there
this meaning less being less five to nine
without any transient presence
that there might be nothing?

or is it a sign?
that right here right now
i see it

Its not really hate
i mean its my fault

you dished out some bait
covered it up with plastic worms and
silicone tadpoles

You let me know how easy it was
and how fast and quick i was getting it all

but then i ****** up one time
became associated with a bad apple
i dropped the ball
But i was still there to pick it up...

now its a hostile enviornment

I can feel charlie breathing down my neck!

Are they in the trees,
are you in the walls
is there not enough mayo on the bread:
did they see me make that mistake?

Jesus Christ

i work at a sandwich shop so i can eat mushrooms on the weekend and still work the next day...

There's a cigarette burnt black coffee filtered voice that i use but don't own
and as many cigarettes and cups as i push past empty lines
it's that other drink and smoke that own my windpipes.
That's a lie;
I've never filtered any tangible thoughts out of those two sources
and serenity aint my friend in any kind of aggravated blissful stupor.

So it must be the early morning toilet scene that caresses my inspiration as i fill it's desperation