human devotion
is
the act of being nice to the one big mean guy
in hopes that
he
will keep the lots of little mean
guys
away from you


and we are as ever we have been,
each our own gods
  each our own
devils


as we simple works in
progress seek always to
shed responsibilities and
point the
finger
elsewhere

and there are no
jokes :

only the strangled words of
what
we really mean to
say .

dream catcher
dream eater
stuck spot of a distended home
dream seeder
   space render
meat reader
   blamelessness
head like the innocence of road-trip paraphernalia
all the little things that bring you comfort
and
direction

follow the love - not the sorrow.

Everyday we trade away
Our
Memories for new ones
At the hands
Of unseen multitude devil moments :
Time .


In strong pursuits, we ask :
What is more valuable than gold ?

If
Lead is the alchemic force of rage,
It was used as an ingredient
In the making of the world

And
What do alchemists seek , if not the greatest treasure?
Not gold - a ready answer perhaps, for the convenient dismissal of
Fools who ask un-earned secrets of their
Masters .

No.
What do we seek, if not :
Tomorrow, itself?

And in doing so,
Become gods // spoken, these golden threads spun through like serpents along and
Down the tapestry of
The truest
Creation
      Myth .

We want only
Tomorrow.and a way to make it
Our
Own .

.


there are only two types of socks in this world.
those that get shrunk, and
those that get stretched out.

life, like laundry
is about adopting the best practices to hold out for as long as
possibl e.
you gotta fight the nature of things
to
remain


.

with dog mouth
with nylon tongue_
like seatbelts
riding up on your stomach.peeling off skin
like a dead favorite jacket just out of
6


unodysseus    a n t i t h e t i c a l .   to hero
grabby and
into serpentine arms.each  with it's
own
fake religion
like a ribcage.putting pressure on the insides-
holding
it
in
-
all

clinging to stonework like a chimney clings to relevancy,
fell asleep before you could send nudes

it's another perfect day out there
and all is
happening .to and around us

it's another perfect day out there
and

blackened toe-nail lessons
found
at the bottom of the
door

thunder forecast;

mother of memory
living inside
the
globule-breath night

rail-gun
for
the cloudcover

putting the symbol before the sentiment

twist, root-******
beneath the
warm soil of
the summertime

their teeth
scatter
like hopeless seedbeds for
a
fruitless, early harvest -
it's not summertime .

it's the heat-death of the
universe .

it's my\
ears

red and screaming
to be
hit with something

real.

I will be ready to fight to protect American democracy (for real)
And the secular ideas of the Enlightenment that this nation was actually founded upon .

Drop the ******* *******.
Wake up from this hibernation and fear.

Stand against the deranged lunacy of the American conservative doomsday cult.

Those ******* took the snake flag :
“Don’t tread on me!”, they shout from their filthy, ****-stained lips.

That flag does not belong to them. Pry it from them.

That flag stands for Reason and Secularism .  That flag changed the course of history and Modern thought forever.

They do not seek revolution -
They seek the erasure of all
Human
Kindness.

———-


Celebrate the Human Condition.
Seek joy, but not at the expense of others.

Learn and grow.

Learn and grow, you ******* stunted cogs in someone else’s war machine!

Learn and grow!

the black paint chipped perfectly from the brass eyelets around the drawstrings of a good pair of grey sweatpants-
a spectacular measure of time and the presence, there inhabited.

*******
**** on
but what ever you do, keep *******.

rather than wait for the worms to spit out our formaldehyde soaked flesh /
when you hear the
Hum,
make the new jazz interval
//


thought monger.
steeped in the sabbatical

eroded
love ///


a
roundtable :
without the
mirrored
orb

a
pantheon of
thinly veiled
veils


a
waking need.

.

We walked up and down the driveway

Each pace, a page turn
Bringing distance : One dog-eared creasing, by one

Sharp stones skittering bird-like and brittle

We speak
My un-doctored photos

Hanging beside

We swing, as juniper
We shuffle

Caught in a barking fit
As the trucks roll by, rumbling up dog feelings.

Hands clasped together in mutual observation

As the moon swallower slithers legless    in its embryonic mess

said Odysseus, “i was meant to be a
sailor.”

it’s a breadcrumb world out there
and we are hungry in the woods

i wait beside the echoing pool
you trace out the lost path dripping down your thigh like a map
throat open and maw-ful
throat full and maw-open

lung fire
feeding on the wilderness .
belly-hot-want

our roots are :
/delvers
/divers
/descendantary.No


forests become obfuscations for removal :
[lost] is landless now
and a new animal arrives
it feeds on our  l o n g i n g  .
until we are starved and treeless•gut-ruptured full of promises


i roll you back onto your side
cheeks flushed_but cold

[do not hold harmless that which harms us]

What is satan,
If not the very concept of accountability, itself?
It would seem that those who are opposed to satan are opposed to accountability - seeking to claim the mind of god as their own.
In essence, they systematically claim godmind in all of their dealings, while supporting the veracity (and therefore, the justice) of these claims on the presupposition of a necessarily true external force.

It is the same circular definition which serves as the root to all of mankind’s greatest failures.

It is to say :

“I must be good because I invoke the name of god, which, by definition, is the very concept of a necessary, predefined good”

“Therefore my will and subsequently willed agency must also be good”

“As such, I should (and should be allowed to) do what I want, because I am good and my will is the will of ultimate, predefined good”


On satan, they say :

“My sins and failures are not my own, but rather the result of an external rogue agent who has influence over me and others via an unjust extension”

Going one step further, we may say that those who then rally against works of satan in this world will fundamentally make the following statements by doing so :

“I will seek to punish the punisher, as I myself am an extension of the agency of god”

“As I enforce the will of god, so too, must I become punisher of all sin-source”

Thus, in a uniquely poetic way,
These minds take on the supposed role of
Satan, himself -
In the name of god and in direct opposition to their own self appointed roles :
  


A true work of
Art.

The loves and fears of
Mankind
Make small mood-rooms
To bathe inside .

Like an egg w/o a chicken-road
Like a path w/o a pacer .back-and-4th
A ghost-mouth  mother of _memberships

Dogfolded maps of exotic lands,where
Its people still have
Hands

mother, new path
a homeless, homebound hope

/

dig me out from this cocoon
by hand or by mountain

changeling, change
husk-harm armor, i



/
sea glass
storm word
steer this
soul-herd


asunder

So much white hot vibration of
Hatred
Stuck inside these little cubes
Buzzing like madness against the walls
Thrashing to get out - as the
Walls shrink
In the name of efficiency
And the tower rises further higher
Into the thin mists of false nirvana / vacuuming us
Upwards^
As the vapors disperse
And all is knowable
And all these cubes smashed together in a grid
Of silver light
Of radiating illumination, railing against any slim crack of peace-like darkness left
And

The grid is god
The grid is greater than god
The grid is us as gods
The grid is finality


We are each cube, thinking we are the grid, itself

Thinking we are anything except
Caged into electron-cloud-mind-
Uncertainty

Thinking we are anything but driven to
Extinction

Still spasming, there, in the light
Still burning hotter than stars, but with the heat wicked away instantaneously and by design
Leaving nothing but cool,
Polished
Fear :


•


In the
Cathedral, again_

i'm swampy in your head like ancient fields (how you've forgotten)
the animal bones beneath it all
could tell me [more] about you_
foggy, my feet
roll bashfully        past them.
it's been
like
this              for
at least three breaths
as the grass drys into mammal.hair
as the dirt becomes hallowed by your  cheeks
it's all badly
lit
in a diorama of you.

the photographs won't do enough to
hold you here

I will protect your rights to do so,

While you seek to diminish all others

it’s a dark, wet morning
and the city inside you
sloshes
to attention .

dragging pieces of the world
down
quiet
highways - and

through uncounted chapters
of all histories :


the food chain.
the great exchange .
the plain way things happen
[that ]  [that ]  [that ]  [that ]  [that ] [that ]  [that ]  [that ] [that]  [that ]  [that ]  [that][that ]  [that ]  [that ]  [that ] [that ]  [that ]  [that ]  [that ]  [that ] [that ]  [that ]  [that ] [that]  [that ]  [that ]  [that][that ]  [that ]  [that ]  [that ]  [that ]  [that ]  [that ]  [that ]  [that ] [that ]  [that ]  [that ] [that ]  [that ]  [that ]  [that][that ]  [that ]  [that ]  [that ] [that ]  [that ]  [that ]  [that ]  [that ] [that ]  [that ]  [that ] [that ]  [that ]  [that ]  [that][that ]  [that ]  [that ]  [that  [that ]  [that ]  [that ]  [that ]  [that ] [that ]  [that ]  [that ] [that]  [that ]  [that ]  

[that][that ]  [that ]  [that ]  [that ] [that ]  [that ]  [that ]  [that ]  [that ] [that ]  [that ]  [that ] [that]  [that ]  [that ]  [that][that ]  [that ]  [that ]  [that ]  [that ]  [that ]  [that ]  [that, which

And
If I were to remake the world it would be dim and orange like darkroom lamps .
Full of ferns and
The appropriate
music

Like an art installation .

No words - just looking at each other ,
Dull watery eyes and understanding

On the edge of thunder  .  but never quite breaking

Than a
Perfectly
Machined
Enigma .

the roadrash of the path ahead
mars the viable skin graft of
her tender side-
haunch forward,
too towards the future to care and

fitting together like guns to a victim’s head:paving over holes in parched landscapes_and
parsing out factions in a divided populace

they are

finding and
braking

handholds

in the artificial rock wall
of
a
city made out of
pictures of cities.
selling
an exclusive virtue
made out of

want .


my

want
for us
       is otherwise.

you say, as
all of recorded history is
annihilated in favor of
quarterly growth


and in the coldopen, the sun rises over joggers
going nowhere .

Sundering chorus pulled apart
Into stances//
Fanning out into a cacophonous god-Heart
And me.

Seeking council of the
Shoreline

Whitehead breaker
Drowning in the.wet
Air


You are what you search for :

black is the sand.
long is the posture.

cedars are split for us_in honor of the ages that will pass before they rot
away

that
the only way to love
is to hate the other side with
p e r f e c t i o n


.

(hand over heart) this is a right.
(forefingers to the temple) this is a privilege .
( both hands cupping the stomach) this is a fight for survival.

The secret is
Active rest

Just as water seeks its level,
So too, do the oceans
Churn.

Expose yourself to things you disagree with
Disagree with things you are exposed to

Make decisions that are better than those who came before

Although that does not disrespect those decisions
Which served to get us
Here


To this place
In which we may name such
Navigation

And as with all virtues,
The fanboys **** it up.


And as we come almost to the close of the
Show,
We see the moral of the story a bit clearer
Now :

It was just that they wanted
Love and protection
Love and protection, and that is all.

And if it were offered sooner,
It needn’t have been demanded, as the
Curtains fall.


Until next stage it set.
Until the next audience, met.

Until the work is made,
Anew.

what’s offered is gladly taken, but first
must be kissed numb

Light footed across your thin carpet of storm clouds
Each toe-touch flashing lighting across the world-dark sky

In embers, you fall to me
Your hands, like watermelon seeds
caught in my throat

Your eyes, gloaming in that fractured world- without me.

We are walled-in peoples
We are isolated from each other’s history

We are lost to the timeliness of actions against our well-being
Now,
At the uneventful death of all human love

the only sentiments
worth
s
e
n
t
i
m
e
n
t
i
n
g
are the  
         ones
pre-agreed-to
inside the

[cyber - cathedral ]

you shout me a look like little plastic pieces of the physical battleship board-game getting knocked to the floor.i know
i see it
we leave the reassembly of the coffeetable gamestate and the rest of polite society’s dubious mercies
to the next pair of fools.🔫.🧬🏺.🧹.⛓️🐺⛓️ ≥🐺.
too cool to go down with someone else’s
ship/too hip to flip.

the early adopters of fashionable trends know
that self-fulfilling prophecy-core is in this season

wear it hard while there’s still seasons to witness . prove some social fitness . don’t say anything that your keyboard can’t predict_

i am not that kite

In sharp
Contrast .
Photojournalist

More ******* adds than the weather ch. app

Spooky on your tongue
Like
Liking
Controversial historical figures

Vacation promise land
And a sunbaked balcony to **** on


The eggshell sneaker laces
Bleaching out in the open
Filth pant posture


Summercamp slab of concrete
Camo pattern t shirt

**** that you got to get
Done

makes people feel safe.

//



_thought   that i was  m o u n t a i n
but
i have been
       the zag of air
screaming pinholes into stone


thin, raking gust-prints.across the impervious, disappearing
    w o r l d. .

Grid photo
yves crayola

Indigo red

Hands traced
Walls and spaces
People and things and clothes

Blue smudges on a pink sweatshirt hanging up in the diner.

Blue smudges on the  darkwood paneled wall of a trailer

Blue marks on a window in an old building , papers littered amid  the cross-beads : cardboard cut-outs and
Flyers for events long passed

On a couch cushion, in a basement, where friends were

On a box of treasures

On a blanket on the ground

/
On a  greyed picket fence, with planks pushed through

Against the faded grass of a desire path

On chain link and locks above the bridge

On door and cabinet handles on the inside - glass and brass

On door handles on the outside - composition, unknown

On the dusty, lace curtains of the backyard door

On the bins in the attic, full of seasons

On the bins in the driveway, refuse

On my heart, and hope to

[full blue handprint visible over left breast - whereas other marks were more fragile, cursory, and accidental in pressure ]

True
Ghosts

Are the cared-about things
That you never knew to take (with you / care of.)


The lonely, yet fulfilled margin-scratch
The rope-less tree  
The tree-less yard
The yard-less home
The home-less mind

Imprints on human time.

Inverted hermit

Hole in time, like a well
Clay
Bricks swollen with memory
Diving deep into long churning oceans of night ink

And speak your peace
By standing softly
And letting time swill together in collected tidal pools - in the recessing draw of the ever-black


Bourne a-mast to the windly observance there

Respect people, but not necessarily their ideas. Treat others well, but never accept  fallacy by virtue of politeness, indifference, or short-term gains.

Do not reward bad behavior.
The squeaky wheel gets the grease. The crooked wheel, screeching and locked in place, needs to be be held accountable for its own failures and not be allowed to punish the wheels willing to roll.

Fight for what you believe in, but do so honorably. Have hills worth dying on, but  choose the tallest ones you can.

Seek always to better the world for yourself and others. Be willing to endure temporary disadvantages in doing so.
Do not be willing to accept permanent disadvantages in doing so, unless you are in love, and you are sure.

Seek to understand the impact of your words and actions upon the people around you and the greater world. Run simulations in your head. Weigh the perceived consequences with compassion, but do not allow yourself to be rendered frozen or silent by the threat of Future.

Everyone takes the short cut - and in doing so, renders the path congested, impassable, and ultimately unuseful.
Take the longer distance, do so quickly and with nimble but steady gate : hinderances fall away as you refuse to suffer fools and you will know the nature of ways.

Aim to be be patient on a geological scale-but never tolerant of cruelties.

Even if there are no absolutes in the taxonomy of good and evil, try to find and be what feels like good.  Don’t worry if that doesn’t bear aesthetic likeness to that which is commonly marketed as “the right thing.”
In so far as can be sustained, be a force of protection for those around you.

Know the difference between nice and kind. Nice is polite but allows for cruelty. Kind allows for rudeness but suffers no cruelty.

Take agency. Know your limits. Always seek to push them carefully, but deliberately - it will reduce the risk of being broken by them when your agency is removed later.

Expose yourself to things you disagree with. Disagree with things you are exposed to. Unconscious and non-critical engagement with the principals behind group polarization is what creates the vast  majority of humanity’s self-inflicted problems.

Tribalism is not always good.
Tribalism is not always bad.

Know the rules of the big invented games. Play these games to the extent of necessity only. Engage in critical thought like your life depends on it. It does. Know that the virtuous rule-followers of these games are food and fuckdolls for the gamemakers in the end.

soot-footed,we careen off the edge of our sea.scrying corrective endeavors     [seraph - lensed ;feather-wet]
     as the spire
becomes a
  d  
  r
  i
  l
  l

It trickles down to me like dry rain.
I beat out on the earth to measure my time

The soil looks at me, as if I were strange.

He
Humbled me

She
Humbled me


The river running, humbled me away.