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  Nov 2014 james arthur casey
Sam Knaus
You
They say that human eyes
can hold galaxies,
constellations.
Maybe that explains why
every time I look into yours,
I feel infinite.
Like there’s no star
I couldn’t reach.
Love demands the strong embrace
The firm pressing of flesh
To explore the contours and subtle lines
With eyes, heart and hands
Forests and constellations to map out
Legends to calculate

Evaporates without the words
Or eardrums to beat them down
To play ring-around-the-rosy
In the fertile field of the brain
That seeks their comfort in every sense
Deaf, dumb and blind spirit

For love's a blinding supernova
Incinerating all who approach
Hungry for physicality
A moon to measure it's movements
Though that satellite be
Lifeless cratered rock
gotta go and get a gun
put a bullet in it's head
squeeze that ******* trigger till I'm sure
it's good and dead
should have been done a long time ago
should have been done a long time

push a little button send it
back where it belongs
i ain't coming back until i
know it's good and gone
should have never been done, my friend
should have never been done

gotta put it down before it
blows up in my face
now i know there ain't no use
in trying to run away
don't know what I was thinking, girl
don't know what I was thinking

nothing left but trouble if I
don't act pretty fast
nothing is forever, mister
nothing ever lasts
gotta find a way to move on now
gotta find a way to move on

looked for it in the mirror but
all i see is me
and that ain't even who I am
what should i believe
gonna hang it on a tree tonight, son
gonna hang it on a tree tonight

euthanize then eulogize
won't be much love lost
do the crime and do the time
it's how we count the cost
nails and wood, that's all
nails and wood
This is a song I'm working on. Not even half finished but I wanted to share it with some people here anyway.*


verse 1
Said a lot of things that needed to be said...yesterday
Woke up alone on the cold side of the bed...this morning
Somebody said that the truth would set you free
That somebody sure must have told you the truth about me
...and  now you're free... (chorus)

verse2
They tell me your choice is the straight or the crooked path...on your way
That he who was first stands a good chance of bein' last...on that last day
Well, I'll be the first to say you were good for me, girl
But I've been down too many dead end roads in this world
and now I'm

chorus
Free...like a bird from a cage with a broken wing
Free to be me, where what you get is always just what you see
Free, well nothing is free and tell me why would you want it to be?
Ain't nothin' free no good
I deserve this
Don't I?
It was my battle to win
In a war far from won
Who will take my reward from my arms?
Who would squelch the music in my ears
Or explain it's virtues with cold theory?
I have seized the moment
The day I have called my own
Will the morning sunrise expect me to be content
With victorious yesterday
Will the calendar's relentless trajectory
Put me back in my place
A paradigm of depression where I've convinced myself
I belong
Doomed to breathe borrowed oxygen
Or will chemicals and sleep
Ease me into another easy day?
Who among you would take that away?
She was a crazy catholic lady
With a crucifix dangling from a chain round her neck
Cheap Jesus pieces in her earlobes and
On her fingers, twisted against her wrist
The symbol of Christ's suffering and death
Molded in less than precious metals
To show allegiance to the cause
To prove membership in the club

I told her I was an alien
From a planet I pointed to
(Which was actually a star but she didn't know any better)
I gave some obviously typical dry science fiction name to the orb from where I came
A red planet,heated year round by hell fire
And the coup de grace
The people from my planet worship Satan and God

She took most of what I had to relate in comparative stride
Until I got to the part about worshipping the debbil
Then she began to moan ang groan about second thoughts
But second thoughts weren't part of my plan

"It's lunch time ,guys. They've got liver and onion on the buffet and it's going to be delicious"

"But O Holy One. We are not carnivores. We are Here to feast on all the bugs that have made themselves comfortable.

O Holy One did yet another double take and saw me bending down seeking out insects.
What she didn't see was Neolithic alone In the grounds area planting gummy bears and gummi worms and other insect  like critters. Insects like you .

When the arbolic lady sits I the grounds shelter she can't help but spot some of those cray college pestle shoot firsrms inside their belly
Just looking for tha pillowcase. ( that's where it was)

Catholic lady stared into that uncanny stew I did, too, and all the aliens with perhaps we shouldn't have been so cocky at first we soo began to respect the wagonmaster

One last gesture for the catholic lady
She sat across the room obviously devising plans of what to do when we got home
Home sweet himi took a magic marker
And drew a huge upside down pentagram acroo the whole of my palms
They didn't look like tats that were inked for fun or for hell
Theft tats. Were reminders of to WHOM you belonged.

I opened my hand, turned around and waved. It at her, a beautifully drawn Baphomet head smack dad center of my so realistic it looked like it might slide off of my skin and back to the loving arms of Boris Karloff.

The gummi bears were delicious
It was hard to pretend I was chomping a nasty X Y or Z, which were made an entirely horrendous smelling concoction for their entry but had almost become disqualified when it was found that she harbored secret  ideas. She's willing to talk about them on the phone.

Now he's here 5:00: o'clock early making soft, simple subliminal suggestions lull in conversation and I don't think anyone is individually off the hook for this nonsensse.

Catholuc girl saw his pentagram palm and almost had heart attack as well,I don't want to di early of hreart disease so I  hope it's some good old marihuana that gets us thru this hellish lost weekend


He didn't want to go stay with his parents but he did anyway dragging corpses behind him and begging the "old boy" to show him again how the **** never goes down. He heel used, martyred, confused

Catholic girl told my whole routine to the doctor. He thought it mildly humorous but felt obligated to be with
Her, she sufferers and her mind really reeled...she thought I ate bugs for dinner, what else was I telling the truth about?    Casting Crowns couldn't stay for our encore. We didn't expect them to,

SET LIST
10- "Mama ToldMe Not to Come" Three Dog night
9.- "The Pusher" - Steppenwolfe
8. - Goodnitr, Wake  Up Stonef" - Blind Society
7. "Madonna and the pope, swinging from arope" - my brother's least favorite band name
6. "1/3 of the Beast" the Beales
5. - Let's make this a short one
4. Dive hound ***** fu ka someone's in the house... I'd daddy, but your gun durum I'm only five and I don't know what thr g be this -
Goodnight I should have betcha can't limnnn

*I feel compelled to point out that this piece was written directly after taking my nightly 10mg dosage of Ambien. I suffer from chronic insomnia and after several years I can attest that it works. I may be addicted but that's better than sleep deprivation, as I see it. If you have taken Ambien, or know someone who takes it, I don't have to tell you that it has strange properties. For instance, I have been known to have complete conversations with people who were not there while Ambien was working and have to beg my wife to tell me what I said because there will be no memory of it whatsoever. It's as if a portion of my subconscious  has been tapped into and what's coming out is stuff I'd never say in my waking moments. Weird things, silly things, funny noises... Lately I've begun typing out poetry on my iPhone before falling asleep. It's a good way to clear my head. This particular poem went on longer than I had planned and apparently I nodded off a couple of times while still in the process of typing. This is why some of the poem seems to make no sense...at least it doesn't on this level, I think there are connections to the subconscious being made. It's the closest thing to "automatic writing" that I've ever experienced personally and no, I didn't remember what I'd written until reading it the next day. *
No dignity for the 4th Floor Psych Ward gang
Paraded about through the entire building
Rockin' and rollin' blue & white striped bath robes
Didn't bother with the belts, we coulda made it work
By sheer determination and the awkward looks on our faces
We set the trend for people who didn't know any better

Out for a trip to the commissary
Fifty cents in hand for a can of soda
Even though the medicine I was on
Made Dr. Pepper taste like club soda infused with flecks of rust
And a metallic, radioactive aftertaste
That was far from the sugar rush one would expect
Coca-Cola was even worst

Such dignity we carried, they called the food tray box "the chow cart"
And the food was barely fit for animals
Quickly transitioning from warm to cool
Always some ridiculously nasty chicken-based meal
I had never seen a fried chicken breast that was gray
But the sherbet was heaven for my cotton mouth
Dry as the tundra
I lost a lot of weight during those months
I survived on the fourth floor
I shot some 8-Ball pool with swagger and Sinatra confidence
Convinced I saw recognition in a visiting gal's eye
A flick of the wrist and this goofball magically exuded *** appeal
Nothing more than confidence
I could make those two girls smile and blush
Because they could sense the looseness in my crotch
They could see I was in charge, batshit crazy as I may have been
I had reached the perfect weight
For those blue and white striped bath robes to truly shine

I let them walk away, didn't say anything
I knew where they were going
I knew what they'd be doing when they got there
Always on their minds

Why couldn't the catatonic Ethiopian soldier girl do it like me?
She couldn't even hold a spoon
Psych techs had to feed her like a helpless baby child
Even then she resisted
So that food dribbled down the sides of her cheeks
But one day I passed her room, looking in
She was brushing her hair without a problem
There was some intelligence in her eyes
She caught me staring and with perfect ease she rose to close the door in my face
Catatonic no more?
Or was she ever?
Was ANY of this real
Or was it all staged for my benefit?
What exactly was I doing on the fourth floor?
Was it a test?
Was I a guinea pig?
That spot on my skull just behind my right ear
It itched a lot lately
Was that bump a quartz crystal embedded between skin and muscle?

Why yes, I believe it is
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