The world is a breath -
Coming in through the form
And leaving through the invisible.
Pulsating through the rooms of art,
survival screams for salvation -
A Communistic utopian,
under-turned for sake of pride and recognition.

The world is but a breath -
Within the core of existence,
Inside the minds of society,
and in the hearts of the freed hermits,
the nomadic saviors of the human race -
star-children.

Lungs of void and thought and action
and being and being and being -
With veins of rivers and trees
and eyes of ocean wholes,
the face of life gleams truth in sun -
with cancerous tumors of Man’s cities -
cities designed for convenience,
and constructed out of fear for safety -
deeply rooted in the unconscious.

The world is a breath,
and art is the air.

Standing on Heaven, by oak trees and maple
Seeking truth in self as daylight burns purple
A stance of nothing taken for a joke
To mislead followers,
and throw responsibility to the fire

Standing on Heaven, in field of rich poverty
Blinking twice before looking straight
Past far beyond the structure of faces
and deep into the throes of spirit and death and time
where only the sky holds the key
to the door of knowledge and existence

Standing on Heaven, in an attempt to fly
Breaking bones on collapse from high
Coming down to feel the sullen ground,
***** from corporate greed and ignorance
Ah, just another day in Heaven's Hell
Where everyone is someone, forever and more
because humanity is immortal
viewed by the eyes of stature -
Man's egoic need to feel real.

I see regress in Mankind -
escaping through the backward tunnel of self inflicted destiny
Running rampant amongst the Judites, the elders too old to be alive
Printing cash coin empty of value ceaselessly into the empty abyss of night,
Oh, pity no fool for each man thinketh himself into action (reaction) -
So may the nightmares the souls of war suffer
torture the maniacal mind of these villans
and make them taste the blood of their fallen innocent prey -
Alas, history rules fate until history is let go of -
each day anew, yet strung together into eternal daylight bliss bang
Yes, and the fountains in the gardens soar higher than ever,
With peace in the ranks for conquering vibration
Lest say the suits then freedom shall be,
For the suits are the devil in disguise, selfish aliens of Mankind.
Never be nothing less than gold, they say harsh and bold
For the ones of dirt will be poor eternally, body after body -
So bow down to creation and civilization and rampant war supierors.
But the underground speaks loud, louder than air in silent transition from still movement
To an ever-evolving force of unpenetrable doubt beyond foresight or useless chaos,
The underground breathes heavy,
And exhales the toxic filth of first-world hedonistic pleasure domes of futuristic down-fall,
tasting the ****** drive of youthful generations seeking salvation from directionlessness,
And like rabbits, they take to their naked truth of love and lust,
and they bring forth a dissilution of boundaries -
They divide the seperateness of "You" and "I" into a unified personification of God called "We" -
As in "We the people", and so freedom is never more than a lover away.

Sweet caress,  Mexico calling Beauty
Heaven casting shadows on body
Melting into shore-sprayed ocean waves
Dribbling lifetimes through the galley
Space time warfare being shunned
Baja rising mojo rising
Knowledge knows nothing
Uniformed eyes
Scanning celebrated islands
Off the coast, way off from town
In the depths of solitude
In the current of infinity
Where Riders Ride, and Angels fly
Where life has forgotten to die
Rivers, Waterfalls, Cliffs
Falling crest liquid chest
Milking the ***** of Nature's kindness
Seek salvation in the fish of water
With no sake or care, but just the season
Washing air over warm
Combing through atlas place
Gutter rhyme spilling into the conversation
And the mouths of fate choke
Leaving silence to beckon hope
And from the silence comes the now
And the now shall bring later and tomorrow
And life will roll on
With briskness of clouds and truth
Aching itself into the moment of face
Loving every minute of the hour
Forgiving hopelessness as bad company
And saddling the wandering again
'Cause even at the end of the road,
There's always the ocean still to go.

Lookin' through stars
Not lookin' for jazz
Just tryin' to find
The first of the last

Keep rollin' up, baby
Keep rollin' up
Keep taking notes,
And comparing lies
From the kings and queens
of Bohemia

Utopian dream
Gone through the smoke
Given up the glimmer
Given up the hope

Penchant monkey
Seeking out gold
A fool for the fiddle
A fool for the gold

And she don't care,
No, she don't care -
She wears her
Benjamin Franklin Glasses
And just does not care

But oh, when she dies
She'll look through the lenses
Of her final choices
And come to her senses

Oh, lady fountain above
Sing to me with your long laced words of love
Take me away - into the Heavens above

“Look here, peasant say -
Nothing is above, nor below your stand.
All is equal in mind of me -
For the Heavens is not something that you see.
It’s a land void of cold and warmth -
And a land where bodies don’t count.
Heaven is a place where thoughts don’t roam -
It is a place without prayer or hope.
It is a place where action is blank,
And a place where words don’t voice -
Heaven is as far away as the Sun,
And as close as your own heart.”

I looked at the lady in my dreams with curiosity -
A glare of confusion written over my face.
I begged for a clearer translation,
For my mind is not suited for riddles on Sundays.

She borrowed a second, and then bowed to the right -
She smiled at herself, and then took off in flight.
She disappeared in a flash out of my sight -
I ****** my inability to comprehend,
And my insignificance in the beginning-less end.
I sat down where I was, and I pondered for a while -
The lady fountain and her charm,
Her wisdom and her flattering song.
She spoke without speaking,
And I listened without hearing -
I felt left in the dark, while she flew freely
Somewhere within the world of the holy unseen.

A week went by, and the skies changed rapid color -
First from blue to orange to green,
Then it all faded to an indigo sheen -
Shinier than metallic mobiles
And grander than the highest skyscraper.
The hues sanded time into fragments of measurement
And faded quickly into normality within the Now.
On that new Sunday, the lady fountain appeared again to me.
She brought with her a friend of angel wings -
They both said “Hello” and flew in transparent circles,
Claiming to be God’s favorite children.

I'm a young monkey,
Lost without a tree -
Swinging on vines in search of the key
to unlock the door
Into the room I'm already in.

I stand tall over my shadow,
Until the dawn of night strolls up,
Igniting conversation
About secrets and guilt and such
And showing me my own reflection
In the snot of society's death -
I'm a young monkey,
Lost without a path
To find the destination
Of which I'm already at.