Your awareness is unclean
Because there is nothing to cleanse
Your mind is not a mirror
Because there is nothing to reflect
Pay attention to the center of your mind
And there will be nothing to focus on
The observer will disappear
Because there is nothing to observe
All thoughts and momentary feeling
Will pass through
Like light past eyes
All things will be grounded in eternity
The future is uncreated and decided by the past
What has past was at once uncreated
Leaving the heaviness of the past,
Standing still for eternity,
Sitting in the center of the present moment
Eternal webs spin themselves
Around what neither the past nor future could be
But it is wrong to suppose that it was spun
For just as the empty and forever flowing stillness of consciousness
It neither moves nor stands still
And just as your mind can only reference and live within itself,
It cannot reach out
Not because it is powerless
But because its power means that there is nowhere for it to reach to.
All in one
Is the same as none
With nothing without
There cannot be any within

The king of the Mud
Ruler of the world we walk
Only when it rains

The only war
Is the one in your head
In a world with no sides
We're only fighting ourselves
The revolution is not ending this one
But making sure no war
Ever happens again
Fight the last good fight
The one to unite
Within and Without
Us, no them
Being the tallest tree means
Getting hit by all the lightning
Thou shalt command only thyself
Your will expression of god
The only divine inside
When Zarathustra speaks
Do not listen.
In the silence
The words will open up
Leave behind the money god
**** the man god
And leave behind the last man
Burn down the pantheon
Occupy the space with humanity
With all the pitfalls
That lead upwards
Slay the doubts and in the evil
Find an overcoming
Step over bridges,
Do not bother
Swim deep
And never come back
From down under
The nonbeliever is the most religious
Giving in to belief
On the loosing side
Of a battle without a war
Trapped behind
All the banter played out loud
Repentance is suicide
Do not sacrifice
You will not gain
If god is dead,
Perfection is too
Good for you
****!
****!
Listen to my command!
Destroy!
Destroy!
Don't listen to my words!
Hang on to in between,
And listen to the quiet
Crucifixion is for the weak
With no world to inherent
The meek must
Give the world to themselves  
Laugh, laugh!
As you cross over
The dead bodies
And the wishers,
But not the takers
Love at the wrong time
And hate at the right,
Are the greatest steps
To going over
Never a quiet moment
The sky hangs low
Heavy with static
The silence presses upon ears
And weighs upon souls
Souls, the meeting of the in and out
Of this world and
Everything else
The line in the sand
Also dividing but
Not changing what it is
Just sand under the division
Jump from the clouds
To mountaintops
Slide to the bottom to find truth
Forget everything you've been told
Or told yourself
And feel it
On your feet.

Never tell me that I'm not allowed to do that
Because it's only me who can
Decide that
Don't ever say you don't love me
Because I know that you
Don't hate me
Don't ever tell me to forget it
Because then I wouldn't
Know where I came from
Don't ever tell me
To get over it
I know I'm going to have to
Dig my way out of it
Don't ever tell me not to lie
Because all words have
Some Truth to them
Just maybe not the truth you're looking for
Don't ever tell me that it's no use
Or
That I will fail anyways
Don't tell me that something will
Happen before it happens
Tell me I've failed when I've failed
But never say it's no use
There's always something to take
But don't ever tell me
Not to take something
Because when I take it,
It gives me something to give back
Don't ever tell me
That I don't know what I'm doing
Because not only are you
Just as clueless
But it wouldn't be any fun if I knew what I was doing
Don't ever tell me
That I'm going to get myself killed
It's better than anyone else
Doing it for me
Don't ever tell me that I'm crazy
If I agreed with you,
I wouldn't be and then we'd both
Be wrong
But don't ever tell me I'm wrong
Because if I'm worth anything
It'll be clear to me
Don't ever tell me
That I'm not consistent
I wouldn't be anywhere if I was
And especially,
Never tell me
Never ever tell me
That this wasn't part of the plan
Because I had explicit instructions
Never to have a plan
Instead take every step
In the right direction

Sitting in class
In front of the blank white math test I was in the process of failing
That I had skipped first period to study for
And instead just smoked my final final cigarette
I had a grand realization
I'm an idiot
I don't know how I hadn't realized it before
Between breaking my new phone to try and prove to my friends it was unbreakable
And sitting on my roof cardboard wings duck taped to my arms
With plastic shopping bag parachutes strung about my neck
Or when I asked I girl I hardly knew to a dance I hardly wanted to go to
Or at the dance, when I ditched her to laugh at the kid barfing in a stall
From the *** cookie he had just eaten
Honest mistake, I did it my first time, too
Eating acid turned out fine, though
Mushrooms, almost made me **** downtown
But hey, Shiva's in the walls
I love an audience
And I know they love my cusses
Once I put my arm around the wrong date
No just kidding,

I don't date

On vacation, I got stabbed between my small toe and the next
With a pencil
Now I'm afraid of wearing flip flops
I biked over the same patch of broken glass in the street
Three days in a row before I finally got a flat
I put duct tape on the frame of my new bike,
It looked cool,
And cutting it off with a kitchen knife
I sliced my wrist and nicked a tendon
Shot myself in the thigh with a BB gun
To prove it didn't hurt to people that didn't care
Twice
Shot my neighbor, too
I told her parents it was an accident
Statistically plausible,
but not this time
Got in a fight with my best friend
And made a Facebook status about how boring it was being suspended
Broke a sprinkler when I was bored
Blamed it on raccoons
It didn't work, the neighbors had caught on to me
Love poems don't come easy
Which is weird,
They're always better when no one loves you back
So I have a surplus
And apparently they say,
Giving that stuff away for free
Is a bit of a crime
Like trying not to rip my already ripped pants
or
Putting a sticker on my cello I couldn't peel off
Climbing over barbed wire to get high
by the octopus tree
I should of checked the penal code
Hiking at night is a crime
Ranger D. Heimer wanted me to tell you
It's okay, he's an idiot, too
September is not the eighth month
The handwriting on the citation isn't half bad, though
In the last three months,
I've had four flats on my bike
I haven't learned yet
The wheel still sitting in the hallway
I lost the repair kit
You think it it would of sunk in before
I failed my fifth math test in a row
I went to a party,
And I didn't do blow
Because I was tripping too hard
The white line looked too weird,
And my nose was still burning from the last line.
I dropped my ipod in the toilet
Then I dropped my dad's, too
Talked to gutter punks
(that's not the stupid part)
And shared a pipe with the sickest of the trio
Yeah, I'm sick now
Got angry at my mom,
But of course, I'm an angsty teen,
Decided to bike to the top of the greatest little hill around
And gave up three fourths of the way there
At least I gave one of my friends the chance to see me in that state,
His house was on the way,
And they say that bliss comes in two ways,
In ignorance or in enlightenment
That's too many choices for me
So instead I elected myself martyr
And grew my hair out to look like Jesus Christ
But now I just look like Charles Manson
I was going to do no-shave November
But I started too early
And ended even earlier
And that was before I realized I couldn't grow a beard
Fool me once, shame on you
Fool me twice, shame on me
Fool me thrice, and the fourths for free,
I make my own omens,
Then happily misread them.
So it might be starting to sink in,
But I don't think it matters much
Being stupid is a **** good time
Next Saturday, you're all invited.

And now,
Ladies and Gentlemen
The story of a man
Who lived and died inside his own head
Came into this world on a whim
And left on a whisper
Leaving behind just his footsteps
For the waves on the nights
Darkness came too early
To wash away,
Clean to the bone
Leaving just the shiny purity
And reflections for those interested
In the forest,
As all good mad men roam,
He got lost on the edge of,
Between beginnings and endings
And no real divisions.
Occasionally, finding a wise man
To split his time with
Making it the three of them
Him, the man,
And them together
Roaming with direction
But still purposeless
Because a purpose
Would be their downfall.
He feels most comfortable
When he is certain there is no guide
No difference between territory, charted
and uncharted
Because there's no one to make maps
Only forays forward
Leave the paths clear
Spontaneous insight lost soon enough
Mystic Seam on his forehead
Childish gleam in his one blind eye
The Silly Being
Cutting his way
Through the molasses, thick
Of time
Space, inconsequential
But he knows,
The only certainty he dares carry
Is that heaven,
Heaven, doesn't begin.
Cannot be reached.
The pearly gates are grim
Not a soul passes through them
But too many
Leave through the alley exit
For Heaven is not a place
Heaven is time
Time well spent
Because the burden of passing
Is forgotten
Destroying gates
And slicing meaning
Road block!
Why!
Only in my head!
Detour!
Runs out of steam
Pure words
tainted
lost again
run off the road
missed the stream
Back to a story
A story of myself
Framed in bigger terms
Thoughts, thinking of big
And ego eating dinner
It's what the doctor ordered.
Trying to convince
What it could be, nothing
to be nothing
go nowhere
while paths grow and clean themselves
Srubbed raw
swallowed by my
tallest trees, growing richly
inside a small world
with deep holes
to **** and cling to
Being Nobody is an Overcoming
Defeating the propaganda of Somebody
The self lies
It can only grasp
Fruitlessly
It finds for itself
It can't see beyond
No!
Never that simple!
To save yourself you must save the world
Only fools grab all they can

"Only fools rush in"

Only fools stay back
Playing with fire
It's a prophesy
Doing it because we can
Is the route to go
The only route we know
There are no reasons
Sometimes directions
Even if they lead nowhere
Right back atcha'
Screaming, cuddling
Cuddling?
I'm not the sentimental type
At least,
I pretend not to be
Maybe it shows
I don't know
That's what it comes down to
Yeah,
I don't know

I can't remember a single thing I heard on the news
Even if it's all engrained in
My bark brain
A pair of loveless lovers
Wanted to prove to themselves
So they cut into my soft brain
Their own story
And I would return the favor
But I lost the binding to the pages
Of my story
But if I could so humbly request
O,
Greatest Story Tellers
And Yarn Spinners
Of our time
I would very much like it
If I was, humbly mind you,
The Greatest Story
You ever told

But Nameless
It would be my overcoming
There would be no excuse
Not to do great things
Even better if no one
Knew that I did them
It would fill my heart
And be a great conversation piece

"Hey Ladies..."

Pull up one eyebrow
Flip out my pocket-halo

"I've done it, done it all.
Not that you would know"
Just the way I'd like it
Then remind myself
I hate bars
And talk a walk home
Late at night
(Okay, maybe a jog)
(Fine, a sprint)
The night suffocates
If you hold your own neck closed
It's a nice change from day.
People have finally turned on
Engaged
Maybe its the fear,
Time to relax
I've forgotten that
But seeing others alive
Is the last thing that reminds me, I am
I am, too.

And, I hate heredity
It can make folks forget
That
They are, too
I inherited nothing
Except confusion
And that's the only gift to offer
Because
You know you love someone when you can be
Confused, together
It would bore me to death
If we could understand each other
That might just be
My Neurotic Impotence talking
Looking for an excuse to shiver in place
Yes,
Neurotic Impotence
not
neurotic impotence
It's my second name
I hate middle names
People keep them secrets
For no reason
I hate secrets
Secrets don't exist
Somebody always knows them
So they can't be very secret
National Secrets, too
Give my my cut
I'm a gossip
And I've run out of stuff
To ride conversations
Straight into
I don't do enough weird things
Or get involved too often
To tell a good story
The windows to my mind
Are sufficient
I've been informed,
That they're quite pretty, also
Makes me feel a bit better
About all the time I've invested
At staring at the tops of trees

Not much, actually

It makes me look pensive, I think
Almost like I know what I'm doing
That saddest part is that
I'm not completely lost either.
Hovering in the middle
Neither here, nor There
Typical, I suppose
So's indulgence
But I say,
Kids,
Older folk devoid of experience,
Indulge
Only in yourself, however
Indulgence isn't the problem
It's not knowing why

Now let me preach a minute
True prophets
Ask for nothing in return
Not a dime,
The good ones,
Not even your attention
They stand on their private
Street corners telling to the stars
In both hushed whispers
And crashing screeches
About what they think
And the day the find
A disciple
They will be pleasantly surprised  
Because that was never part of the the plan
They are prophets
And saviors
Because they are the select few
Who saved themselves

And now,
The man we talked about earlier
He's still alone
He's a bit afraid
Enough so to not find someone
To tread the waters with him
Because he is an almost fearless man
He doesn't fear scenery
Place, and time all the same
It's the implications that weigh heavily
On a psyche that's already burdened itself
On long bus rides
To remind himself (and his good pal,
psyche)
That he isn't going anywhere
The city he thought he was bored of
Has slipped into the background
And now that the future
Might just
Actually happen
It's time to freeze in place

It's a nice break against the pushing
rush of reality
To stop and smell the roses
While right behind
His back,
The world implodes
The sky blossoms open
Only fools rush in
Only fools stand back
Survey the scene and you
will lose the gist
The parts will show themselves
And you'll miss the whole
That's where it's alive
Don't get so caught up in the pieces
It's the weight
You'll drown in
It's a little death in the family
Enough to shake it up a little bit
Thanksgiving, dig in
One less the thing to worry about
And one more thing to write off
I'm sure there's a grand deduction for it.

Remember when I said I hate things?
That's not true
I don't hate anything
Things only exist, and are
Because other things are
That they aren't
And I can't love
So there's no hate
Nothing to compare it to
It's more of an empty feeling
With a silver lining,
It passes quickly
I haven't found the thing I just Hate yet
There's always a catch
Call the Holy Hotline,
There's always a catch
We're here for your calls, 24/7!
Heaven is neon
Brothels, tight lipped doors
It's
Sanctified Skidrow
Baptized in Hard Liquor out
By the chalice alley
The heavenly Saints
Who were brought down
Straight from
"Up There (He's smiling down on us,
I swear I can feel it, if I strain really hard and pop the blood vessels in one of
my good eyes, He's there, He's always there. I swear, She told me so,
Late at night, screaming o god at the ceiling, That's when I feel him,
***** blood and Canonized ***)"
These saints, now,
Or perhaps Saints,
Mumble to themselves
And sing invisible praises
It's weird
The visionaries are all weird
But to be insane in an insane world
Offers a sliver of freedom
Between all the crucifixions and handcuffs
White noise, and head banging

I never got
What other people called
Soul Searching
Because I did it everyday
Being broken down
and rebuilt every week
Goodbye o, Worldly World!
Not too cruel
But never too nice, either

This is not the end
I realized
That there is no end,
Is there?
That's the only certainty

And the man asked me,
"There's no end is there?"
Cigarette in mouth, limp
No, no
There never is
And the walls
We have built
Will collapse
If we turn our backs on them long enough
And soon enough
The Hopeless
Caught on each side of the wall
Will have to to unwind
Themselves
From the thick braid
They've found themselves in
Insanity
Unwinds the same way
Curling inwards
From the corner of my closed eye
Fractal Freedom
In a million parts
Twisting into
The beautiful whole
To be at liberty
To uncoil again
Back here again?
Always back here
Insanity
Before and again
And the big wide world would
Drive you so
If you dared understand it

I think I
Might just be part
Of an elite class
The ****-ups
The movers and shakers
But never the pushers
The world rotating around them
Looking for an in
Exits to nowhere aplenty

But right now,
I sit Here
Sterile, and sick
The man's voice buzzes, and rattles
Like the old AC at my grandma's apartment
The air,
Almost as dry
His low hum splits would could be
A comfortable silence
And I suppose,
That's why they think we're here
For all the "could be's"
The first words out of my mouth
Are a shrieking car crash
The mechanical man
Has such a grip
On the Atmosphere
His cogs and wires
Are free from the disease
That i Am
Rotting in my seat
Outside, where I cannot go,
The sky is static

Why is it static?
I'm afraid
It's been that way too long
And now my walls melt into the sky
Buzzing and Flickering
Low Light
The worst
It's now a diagnosis
Tell me what I have
Please oh please
It's in my head
But feels like my chest
Sitting in place
Might be
Cruel and Unusual
Long walks on the beach sound nice
But alone
If you can be with me, and alone
You're the one
-Aw....thanks me!-

And it scares me,
Like many things
The dreary rounds
I make each day
That I've built my own prison
I might just find myself
More free in a cell
(Free up my schedule a bit, just a bit)

And facing that mechanical man,
My voice dries up
Pulling my thoughts
Down with it
Flush
A soft touch to
The hard lighting

Uh,
Maybe I need to lay down
Where the grass cuts my shins
I've given up
There's nothing but god above us
And nothing below us
The sky is god
And it is empty.

The flesh is weird
A little more bone ought to do it
The most moral of activities
Giving rise to all that is right
And ending all that is wrong
If only for a moment

Taunt skin
Makes for
Disgusting Prayer
Hold still, forget the nerves
Experience,
Without a body for
Uncut Reality
The reducing valve
Loosened, for an
Infinite Moment

I'll never change the world
The little things
Are too **** interesting

For me to ever forget
A thing

I can't stop
Therefore
Nothing ever gets done
Only trapped in
What I was doing

I haven't yet found
Someone on my level
My wavelength
And singing my tune
Because I haven't yet found
Myself

What do you do with the one
Who refuses to see?
Show them what  is
Not that the world is good
But that the world is bad, bad, bad
Choking itself until
It coughs up its own Beauty
And in its death throes stares deeply
Into the puddle it made
Seeing no reflection
But each droplet a universe
And epoch
Each day reborn out of itself
Now you grab the one
Willing to take the crusade
Of Flesh to its uncertain fate
And say,
"Look! Your future has no gate!
Don't pass it or you will find yourself
where you began!"
And hope, pray they don't get it
The confusion is the lease on life
Only a fool who is certain is willing
To give up the boney temple
So convinced of anything
That his windows beyond are clouded
There is no where else to see for him
It is all seen
It is all done
With the introduction
To anything at all
The lease will be renewed
Never show them what's past
That's why they are certain
Show them nothing
And you will find that they
Will be willing for one more
Go
And now, these people
Who have lost the edge
The edge of reality dulled
And pockmarked for them
The razor edge
Only draws blood when untended
Are said to weep silently
Now, who the **** can show me
The one man who weeps in quietness
The unshared daggers
Carried in stomachs are not silent
Because the neighbors can't
Hear them
Wounds to tend are your own
Until the inflicted cuts
Slice through every blast barrier
Please ask,
What's the selling price of a share
Of loneliness?
Be careful about it
If you keep it to yourself
Somebody will try to invest
And **** it all up
Leaving you poor
And empty handed
When the inevitable tumble happens
Share it
Share it truly and it'll be cheap
But rich in itself

Deadbeat
Smelly feet
Walking across its own callouses
Creator of worlds
Perfect inscriber of nameless wonders beyond mere
Conception and discrimination
That permeates the minds of men
Misguided across the arc of ages
Leading only to cycles of
Hollow pain repeating itself
Lacking substance but appearing
Like unmovable boulders perched
Atop greener mountains
That whisper using their voice,
The wind
Carrying its message in its form
Disappearing but never gone
The homeless,
Not content to trap two sided
Ideas of being in overflowing
Homes filled with the true
Forms of out sourcing
The spirit, torn for
Perfect packages to be sent
To faceless names to further
The collection of vessels
Unused.
The wanderer,
Unhappy with goals
Moving towards the never ending
Journey of perfection
That ends nowhere but travels
Everywhere leaving no quarter
Uninvaded and sadly ringing
In transcendental ears
The lonely,
Unwilling to spread their
Personal pain
From personal failures
To any one but themselves
Using the compressed aggregate
Sickness in scientific lobes, only
Representations, to create faucets through which representations
Of the unrepresentative
Eek out an existence
Among glaring, modern edgy
Movements in endless circles
That sear images into retinas
Working their way to ******
Thoughts, deflowering the only
Worthwhile virginity in the sad reflections of experience
Called man.
The ******,
Never fulfilled from false conceptions
Or the self materializing aspect as
The passage of time
Looking to capture the eternal moment and ****** of the Now
Lasting forever but done long
Ago
Chasing the end of self
And forgetting the body for
Higher realms untouched by lazy
Thoughts and repetitive notions
Creating the mundane
The un-mundane is furthur up than most of us can see
Even if touching it is
The experience
Not different from the life you will
Live for a million regressions
The contemporaries
Never travel the
Path of the Mountain
First camels, then lions
Finally to turn into godly offspring of
Flowering being at the peak
Standing above ubiquitous faces
But contact on level planes
The mountain of self
To create a new identity divorced from the diseased blockage
Flowing through humanity's veins
Only to tumble down
Into the pulsating
Heart filling, disintegrating
All in one undiscriminating
Destruction unborn from the
Young universe only
To lose the conception
And absorb the absorber
Forgetting that once,
A young man carried all the
Pain he had handed to himself
In shiny packages
Pretending that the others
Ever even existed.

Life is a joke
Buddha saw it, laughed
And called it
Nirvana

The only reason I don't believe in god
Is that every time I call out and wait
For a response,
I hear one
But it isn't the shining distant
Palace of foretold heaven
But instead,
My own thoughts knocking around
In a hollow skull
That I found in the gutter
A long time ago and decided
It was about time I had fun
And ran with it as a joke
A great joke, a cosmic joke
The joke
Laughing all the way to
The enlightenment that
the completely Lost
sob around but never
Penetrate
The world turns its humble face
From the oscillating bits that make
Up their fibre of being and exist
Only so we may exist alongside them
Because the world it seems, has
Matured too much, gone to far
To fraternize with the original
Few who will outlast any
Newly minted spirit the string-pulling
Puppets could muster up
Inside their cobwebbed memories
Devoid of the experience
Because that's all we can be, isn't it?
Memories
The fools will cry
But the enlightened ones will laugh on
And on realizing that
Failure, being the apex, is forever
And success is singular
Letting themselves drop so far
That they find themselves
Beyond the game and petty rules
In a place were fire whispers
And the trees don't mind
Being burnt
Because only what comes
Can be the true redeemer
The past is only set in stone because
The mason has given up his future
Along with the Good Christians
Who have resigned themselves
Not even bothering for a formal
Agreement or deed to their
Autonomy
And who when the next jesus walks along the lonely path to the hill
After fighting a war with
A few close friends more lost
Will stand and throw rocks like Romans and not see the flow of what could be
And then in the same age advanced be called the murderers of the new prophet
This sad excuse of a worldly Society
Rests thrashing in
The final throes
Legitimizing non reality
And the world of professionals who
Have turned reality on its head
Turning the world into a place where
Cloth creates flesh and not
The order of flesh atop
The holy hierarchy lacking a point
Living in the base
And all we are left with are crises
That no one can afford to fight
We strap ourselves to the ride to hell
Not seeing that the man who pulls the lever is just the same as the one
Who burns first.
The people search for a god in the sky
The more adventurous  with
Chemicals coursing through
their veins
But god is in the grass
Speaking without words
But in instances
Moments of eternity where
All that was, time and space
Flow in and all that could be but hasn't becomes formalized as occurrence
Flows out leading to the inventive
Moments of bliss just beyond
Grasping hands.