An agent, choosing freely
doomed to a  fate,  I  know not
or a puppet dangling from a string?

Imagine life as a choir of singlular ripples 
on the surface of a pond, entropic little  dances 
intersecting, until each has passed and gone, each
playing their part, in life's orchestra of cause and *effect

A night of dreams-
Resident of the clouds
Flying across the blue
Visiting every mountain peak
Where the mood is somber
Monasteries, carved in mountains
Hymns reverberating everywhere
From the precipice, a view to behold
Standing there with arms wide open
As morning dawns tenderly
Soaking in the misty aura all around
Gently stirring the core of my soul
As I wake up with renewed faith
From the dream within my dream

When I can't take the silence anymore
I type my little message,
send it to your cellular device
"Goodnight, sleep well."
When I really want to say
"I love you, sweet dreams."
And a few minutes later you say,
"Oh yeah. Good dreams."
And I want to kiss you,
smile at you, eat frozen raspberry yogurt
with you,
and I can't so
I guess I'll go to sleep.

Page after page,
Day after day,
And yet it makes no difference.
You can't rid yourself of your problems,
With just a pen and some ink,
At least not permanently.
So what does it really matter if I write,
No one really cares,
It wouldn't matter to me or to them.

there is enough treachery, hatred violence absurdity in the average
human being to supply any given army on any given day

and the best at ****** are those who preach against it
and the best at hate are those who preach love
and the best at war finally are those who preach peace

those who preach god, need god
those who preach peace do not have peace
those who preach peace do not have love

beware the preachers
beware the knowers
beware those who are always reading books
beware those who either detest poverty
or are proud of it
beware those quick to praise
for they need praise in return
beware those who are quick to censor
they are afraid of what they do not know
beware those who seek constant crowds for
they are nothing alone
beware the average man the average woman
beware their love, their love is average
seeks average

but there is genius in their hatred
there is enough genius in their hatred to **** you
to **** anybody
not wanting solitude
not understanding solitude
they will attempt to destroy anything
that differs from their own
not being able to create art
they will not understand art
they will consider their failure as creators
only as a failure of the world
not being able to love fully
they will believe your love incomplete
and then they will hate you
and their hatred will be perfect

like a shining diamond
like a knife
like a mountain
like a tiger
like hemlock

their finest art