Of all the things I value most,
Never do I forget the importance of
Existing within love, within light and
Nurturing ourselves. Be the change, breathe it in
Especially if you want it to transform you.
Secretly maturing and attuning and connecting to all
Separate forms of self are all the same and time is but a game we play.

I especially believe that to reach our full potential we must
Strive to surpass that which we are.

To be able to escape our little blobs of amber, we must
Help one another understand that these small glimpses of
Experience are just fragments, chapters of our true existence.

Kick the egocentric self goodbye, focus on what is not in front of your
Eyes. Don’t accept that this existence as our peak, otherwise
You’ll let illusions of reality lead to our defeat. And so it goes.

Once in the darkness happily frog of a spiritual nature. Headaches, backsprains, cars, trains Collie flower external forces from within keeping sanity formed and misinformed to be performed subconsciously.

Raspberry weather, all that can be, is: Fire chocolate, rainbow water, scatter, skittle, settle, spatter, paintings in mausoleums and brush strokes on duck motes. Even thus can we free dumb consequences of restricted criteria, enforcing secluded measures of claustrophobia. Phoebe is Ross or Rash from a diaper is for there from the English Chandler over a river flames. What Radio is Fred Astaire or brave ***** Wonka? For how long it can procure the inadeptability of such a matter in which verbosity and vernacular are viscous and volatile while futile fusions ensue. Sad days continue before the end of the finish line which is really just the beginning of a midsummer nights mare or stallion? Which is washed and which watch blotch can stand out from under the table and dreaming?

Come to me quickly for my seagull is being engulfed by a Mexican oil spill taking up my drinking air craft carrier of water. This is the dawning of an age, the page, of an Aquarian agrarian humanitarian race against time and line and mind in space. There is no end. Only the lettuce that grows under the marriage of devil's advocate and illiterate angels flying above our beds.

What can be now. It is so. For today is merely a shadow revolving through light so tinged bright it can eliminate need for an incandescent city. Please save me. Be me. See me. D3. P.O. Box 34012101 I won! I...
I'd like to thank the academy.

SUR-REALISM                                                                              --


                                           ---

                                                                              -----manifesto

Why are people in a ******* library?! Have you even seen the sun? The sky? The grass and the trees? So you're reading an atlas but have never been outside the confined limitations of your own mind. You study Astronomy but you tuck your nose between pages rather than lifting it high, admiring the stars that have guided us throughout the ages. These people who find comfort and meaning rather than just contemplating, admiring the beauty of a baby's cry for the simplicity of what it is or the power behind every single bead of blood or sweat, intertwining emotions into an ultimately human experience. You find comfort in your stories but one day you'll regret, when the only thing that's left of the sea and the bees and the sunset are the e's and apostrophes and alliterations that connect. Go soak it in. Why are people ******* reading about the world rather than exploring it? Slam it shut, dot your eyes, open your mind AND heart. Shine your light, give all you can give. But above all, wake up and don't forget to live, before those books of yours are the only ones who will forgive you.

I've never really realized it til now but, all my life, I think I've wanted to be a writer... A constant need to express, to story-tell, to stir emotions and make people think. But in reality, I suppose all that has ever stopped me was my laziness, the actual, you know, writing. So I guess you could say I'm more of a thinker. An idealist. That I have always known myself to be. Always debating, contemplating, overthinking, sinking into separate universes created in my mind. I guess it's my love language and need for attention that make me want to share the thoughts in my head.. Kind of pretentious, in a way. What makes my thoughts more important or insightful than those of anyone else? Well, not everyone can be a Wordsworth or a Whitman after all. But we can try to invent and create beautiful pictures with words in formations thought nonexistent, in the hope that someone other than our own conscious will find some sort of meaning. Hoping that our thoughts, although being unique, still connect to the soul of someone else. And that is the reason for it all. Simple human connection. Just, for once, not feeling alone in the universe.

Savour them: the small moments
That keep us interconnected. Weaving
Over and under, through fulvous flows  
Permanently digressing through life.
Let the colours change, and with them, so too do
I change, slowing and speeding,
Gas to break, to give and take. Crimson default,
Halting finally, for a few brief moments,
Tension grows, but the world seems at peace, until
Sudden flicker of green, and back we roll into the machine.