Tufts of grass where the mower blades can't reach.
Tracts of earth where the preachers don't preach.
Hidden worlds, a deeper connection to spirituality.

Earthbound nature is duality.
Approaching god
but prevented by our own humble hubris
Capable cowardice creates this bottomless pit.
We’re constantly trying to climb out of it.
Madness, on my own hands I spit.
Towards the dark lands I travel, away from where the bonfire’s lit.
I explore this black hole which I must embrace.
Exoneration of self seals enlightenment’s gate.
Wanting to be Buddha; experiencing fate.

Finding my own space which has naturally grown
I will crawl with the insects. This place I'll call home.
Trimming no life? I’ve never dared less.
A largesse I’m prepared for, but how should I dress?
Brother spider, sister ants, please bless me as I shed man’s pants.
Metamorphosis into an in-tune being.
Crafting few calluses with this form of gardening.

The devil I am already had a pitchfork
and eagerly took up the torch.
My black heart was pitch, too ready for a scorch.

My insidious nature should not be touched.

I groped through the dark for something
to clutch. I looked for kindness
and found too much.  
A bonfire for the ******.
A blaze to cause blindness.
No eyes of love could behold that funeral pyre
but with scarred fingers I felt the fire.

Surrounded by broken screams
I hear my mind’s seams rip
and all I’m left with is reams of blank pages.
In one hand, rolled tightly is a fresh white beacon.
I reach out to shake with my other as I put another lover
in this mechanism for my massacre of the ages.

Once more round the sun
and passed reality is become undone.
Reaching through an aura of melancholic euphoria,
a resolution: feelings no longer will I run from.

Sole stars shine together in a nightly swirl
sharing light with the collective whorl as each wink in turn.
I am only my mother's son in this moment.
As is everyone a bright point in the lineage of our family,
looking up at a familiar heavenly mirror.

Even the heavens fade.
Minds reflect this godly tact.
Entropy is a fact that we fight
or are we acting?
Afraid to admit how warm the cold's embrace?
How law dictates we hold opposing states.
Clinging silence saturates space between bodies,
between sparks of life.
Fretful existentialism balanced by... nothing.
Whole galaxies begin, then submit,
when only a simple hello reaches me passed the moonlight.

Countless hellos overwhelm.
Connecting with the universe through metaphor is beautiful
but after all, we are only human.
Messy in our emotion.
The restless observer should practice patience to find peace under heaven.
Stoic stars accept a proper pace of degrade.
Us people struggle
to fade with grace.

Burning fire which blazed so bright
dimming down now, ashen.
Embers.
Forgiving.
Patient.
Latent energy spent to sustain a human.  

I carry your spirit within flesh and thought.
Essence in paradox.

Water
gently explaining its journey from the sky.
Each drop a dance of pleasure and purpose.
Stopping to say hello;
sizzling, tapping craniums, returned.  

All my friends are within me this night
and give:

stillness.

I live in an optimistic room.
A facade of shaped mirrors.
A shell that lingers, marked with scarred runes.
A hell where a demon lies
dreaming in his tomb.
Ambling about an amiss womb of ignorance
my nature is twisted.
I resisted a restless pessimist who has insisted
I entered into a house of horrors!
Where hubris is heavenly
and pain is pleasure.
Guilt is a given
and treachery means treasure.

My sins surround me.
Too slothful to even pluck the fruit
my gluttonous hunger devours
an empty hand.
In this way, pride and lust also follow suit.
My avarice is of envious repute,
but of the things I envy
I cannot refute.

One last forgotten folly.

An abandoned demand.
A deep,
abysmal
pit
is the seat of my soul.
Fiery wrath
now frigid.
Instead of a furnace
an empty
hole.

A reflection is shadow made of light.
I look at myself. “Who you trying to fight?“

You know he’s crooked cause his head is cocked.
It’s rebellion.
His past is in flames, he’s a hellion.
That’s why he don’t hear what they be tellin him.
He hears his own music.
He let’s it in, he grooves it.
It flows through his body when he moves it.
You can always be happy if you choose it.
Listen to the dope beats
and keep a couple close to your throne seat.
It’s emotion in wave form. There is no rawer art
or rarer reward. For if you truly listen
changes will start in the you-est you.

I was shocked too but I swear, it’s true.
All sorts of things will change you, if you let them.