Call me haphazard
your toot-sweet boutique of skill
a pillpopper's dream

I'm not impressed by
the tongue your mediocre
narcissism speaks

what fading color
propagating hues, faker
saturate the blues

drown that puppy right
pay your ******* dues, tighten
the knot of the noose

Now is your never
you wrought the wrong from the right,
shoddy forever

Now is your never
sever the tongue that divides
wrong from the Right Now

Blasphemed the subtle,
broke the trust, popped the bubble
and wandered away

Call me a savior
I'll interrupt with a lie
truth can never repay

Defenestration,
when the face meets the pavement
your artifice blooms

Sitting stagnantly,
in the shade of the tower
it's toppling soon

Pareto's principle laments that four times the time spent
on self-development is swallowed up in the irrelevant.

Infinitesimal charades that garble up the mind with games.
What perverted praise we feed to wasting brains.

Call spades as we see fit, proved when we believe it,
scratch our itchy demons and call it even.

Socialization is ****. The trauma that it creates
becomes the weight beneath which identity breaks.

Speak not, chew and swallow; stay with the herd and follow,
despite the hollow hopes and stale promise of tomorrow.

Back to the scheduled program; this machine waits for no man
with his own plans, dignity, destiny, or romance.

All but a fifth untrue, derailed from cradle on through
to your walk with doom, from the Original You.

Now to shovel deeply into the roots and repeat,
softly weeping 'til the changing tide rises freely...

By soulful siren enticed, beyond the hood and scythe,
go towards the light. You've been dreaming your life...

Rush headlong into the ache, all that you are at stake.
Courage, caffeinate, and stay awake.

Pareto reveals the abient nature of **** sapiens:
under Palladium's aegis, the soul is radiant.

So seek not fingers but thumb, never portion but sum;
the eighty, none; the twenty the key to One.

Loki spat in the eye of the All-Father
and demanded once and for all to be seen;
Prometheus stole from a heavenly god-herd
the fire that illuminates darkness and dream,
for supremacy builds not the path aright --
subversion is the key to effulgent light.

Bitterly bled for the world's salvation,
destined to die vigintillions of deaths
to deliver all people from fatal oppression,
the architects drawing the gods' final breaths;
yet rarely the saviors for whom hymns are sung,
after the blood-stained Götterdämmerung.

Discern all things in seeming motion
from the mover that casts the spell.
Thus one apprehends the notion
of a mortem free from from hell;
though self-created hells our sojourns,
while upon on this earth we dwell.

Know "I" beyond pain and passion,
the balm in Gilead that soothes
thy frail division with detachment
as the mover knows the moved,
never leaving Self to fraction,
needle never skip the groove.

There is naught that is not That;
motion is by Mind alone
the maker that our dreams begat,
turning boundless Light to stone
and crystallized in maze and map --
that veils how brightly it once shone.

Unto the Light we shall awake
by seeking out the way between
all words: the shackles that unmake
thy Self by stretch betwixt extremes.
Transcend all boundaries that break
and reify the dream.

I
do
know
what it
means to
feel deeply;
never you mind
my abundant air.
Never take me for a
capricious vesper without
cares, worries, or empathy,
and know that heart with which I
am most reckless as my own heart.
For the sake of love I swallow poison
and bury what I will not let myself feel,
because it would break you into bits.
Can't you see me crying silently?
Can't you see that every laugh,
every smile, carries a lone
teardrop?...

With snowflakes in Her eyelashes,
crystalline shapes past window's door,
piling into berms and caches,
seek to fractate soil and moor;

What passing phase -- full of longing
for endless Alaskan days, so white and pure,
when silence met the sunset, dawning,
dusk, and midday -- shall I endure?