I am
beyond what you see
when you turn your I on me

I'm bluffin with a handful of aces.
The game hasn't started yet,
but I'm making my paces.
Life is in a corset of context and I did up the laces.
Can't see behind my mask
because I wear two poker faces.
Look into my eyes to trade places.

One hand in the kitty, the other palming a *****;
we eat up the country and **** in the city.
Tongue in cheek pity which I find tasteless.
Tasting myself, irony has lost: caseless.
A real strict lawyer
tries telling Tom Sawyer he's baseless.
The rest painting the fence say it's ok that he's aceless.

A wayward bee searching for a place to land,
some invisible force guides towards my hand.
A friend trading chaotic wind for tickled skin.
My spirit uplifted.
This bee thought, "There's something sweet about him!"
Perhaps it was the salt we shared,
perhaps a simple whim.
A reassuring embrace with nature;
without;
within.

Who couldn't love a cactus?
To whom would the returned invitation to cuddle be addressed?

My points of pain are a fractal regressed.
My existence is clear
although I am muddled.
I dream of mud, huddled.
How can I know that which is not expressed?

Dragged through the desert a stressed wanderer arrives gritted, worn.
I call in a hush.
Spittle on the lips;
they throw themselves on spines, torn.
Water from the body washes over dry cells, lush.
My embrace is for the bold, a test.

I rejuvenate.
Straight from the heart is so fresh.

When I say "bet"
life begins. I wager sweat and limbs.
The thrill is angelic hymns.
Limitless~

Until a hit is missed.
Why
do I fear
love is duplicitous
?

Courage
Will
Form
energy from unfolding mystery.
Cradling a chalice of compassion
with gentle filigree
my hands hold perfectly.
Feeling trust, I sip then pour peacefully.

Worth is free.

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.

Seattle is a sad place
This can be the space I hallow
Courage found to hear my grief
and face the life of hate I leave
Belief enough to begin again
Gaining newness
Making friends with all this blueness
Making time to let it go
Showing doubt passion flows
The moment that nostalgia knows passes by with bitterness
A feeling grows and shakes my bones
Bigger than any memory
Will I learn when my guts churn there is no phantom enemy?
I am not alone
My body will always be my home
Craving direction I follow the vulnerability of connection
Sobbing
Terrified to be seen in reflection
I reach out and embrace rejection
Accepting neglect of my better self, my soul ascends detection

Without the value of shadow
bells of divinity ring hollow
I am stronger with the fear I swallow
Unending hunger of my spear
bleeding color; Death alive.
Allowing chaos, law abides
Time of unity drawing near
Shedding tears, the inner eye
is washed clean by shifting tides
Ascend the light!
Descending depth...
Float in the pool inner peace wept

I want to retreat from the reality I created.
Hide in an old, faded memory.
Out of all the worn, stuffed animals that surround me
my truest friends are the ones that can found me.

In lieu of being fake, I don a glass mask.
Observed, I am seen as a brittle basket case full of sass
blinded by the rays in which we bask.
A riddle whose answer you need not ask
because I am already clasped behind your back.
That itching thought
of which is oft ignored; through a mind it may bore and crack.
If judged so, daft recognizes daft,
realizes life lays down sordid tracks.
When elegance is noticed be appreciative of the act.

Wings spread; flappable;
something else now, as a matter of fact.

Rock solid brain occulted by tarnished skull
Flesh cradle worshiped by something weak
Crawling soul seeks shelter. Spiraling
Spirals
Spirals speak to my circling spirit

Listening from the shadow of meekness

Take me to the altar and do as you please.
Even on my knees
I can love you as the man I am.
If you alter my person plan to pay fees.
Blood lines down my back
each a token of luck.
The purpose of this poem
is ruckus and ****
but whenever I get close
I think of the people I've ******
up.
My past closes in faster
to the brim of sin.
I can't last as a pastor.
Casting my eyes while preaching some line.
It's culture's downfall as I bind and entwine.
We are powerless to escape our nature in kind.
Pray to a fate blurred
then unearth what we find.

...
Absolutely whimsical!
Unfathomable pockets of love
swallow our hands
Touch searching for the unknowable
Feeling solid presence passed the hidden
deep in darkness
Blood pumping inside a heart
working out

Embers cloaked in ash burn still
smoldering onward
Pilgrims of being exhumed
Flames lick the surface of expression
Exposed passions dance openly
Smoke twists as the elements wish
they were one

Hands in my pockets
return to the physical.
I am me
We are we

"I see."
"Said the blind man to his deaf wife,
sitting at a round table, trying
to find a corner."
-Frustrating words from my first girlfriend
------------------------------------------------------­-

It's funny how as I age the layers of irony get wiped away
while building up again like waves.
Stability I crave seems at odds
with cosmic horror I face.
Weeping with a whole soul
or is it laughter?
In the intensity "I" tend towards confusion.
I mention this to my mother and she knows not
of ambiguous sounds. The fusion of emotion
suffering in our translation.
Do we differ
or are we lost;
Embracing simulacra while our true selves wander alone?
Wondering.

The child peeks past a mask or two and gets spooked.
Out of love I withdraw inside nativity.
I am here with you.

Talking to ourselves.

Bald eagle presents overhead
Lazily looping, wind under wing
Feeling natural
Being free
Easing
the spiral through skies

My murky heart is once more stained
and I'm done
like suicide.
I’m prepared to die
but I won’t turn a blind eye.
This world needs love,
already so much pain. People cannot help
but harm for their own gain.
As I look on I'm consumed
with rage.

Sapped.
Energy subsumed by enemies
who would make a fool out of love.
Who would make a fool out of love?
Why do I feel insane?
Inane doubt. Weak.
There are those who seek borrowed strength
but I’m straining. Breaking the bank.

Busting the cage.
Addressing a blank page.
Writing a future for you and me
so children can handle the horrors of living.
It starts with forgiving.

A body is sovereignty.
Everybody is their own king.
Every good king has council.
I am king and my friends are sagacious.
As proud as I am to be
KING
I am much more honored to receive guidance of grand magnitude.
As for the council I give, I say unto my friends:
If you find any essence of good in me squeeze out every last drop.

Use is ecstasy.

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.

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.

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 on this godly tact.
Entropy is a fact that we fight
or are we acting?
Afraid to admit how warm the embrace of coldness?
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.

I am still a ***** bedwetter
when the urge is overwhelming.

Locked. Dominated.

Tear-stained pillows.

I found a strand of hair in the bed.

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.

When my sun is hidden, I must rely upon on my moon’s shine.
When my chakra is askew, I must realign.
Learning the things I already knew.
They flew over my head
cause I’m cuckoo.

Geese scrambling on the roof
scratching uncertainly.
Seeking balance.
Steady purchase on a ceiling peak: perched.
Finding home,
flocks frayed by the Four winds
and Fate.
Honking hellos and goodbyes.
HONK
HONK

Like an apostle, fate called this vessel Mark.
What is in a name?
Remarkably, I know not how to make my mark.
Let me be frank:
no matter the mask, the self does not change.

Time to slough off a visage of pain.
A lesson gained, never the less:
how to integrate a universe worth of stress.
Grateful I am.
I share space with God.
I am
meshed with flesh body
and nothing
at
all.

Where have you been, my mistress of hard bones?
Sister of her own womb slipping hints of what’s to come.
Coy omens.

Skin hides our eyes like a heart between thighs.

Soul of my body salts meat for flies.
Is this guise of bitter taste?
Eat away!
Devour me whole.
This meal took me years to make.

This holy creation prays for a miracle.
A divine dictation of obliteration
such to use up this barren world.
Destroy me until my old ways abate.

sate until done
tear into flesh
peel off face
please caress my skeleton

Wistfully,
I wish I was watching the world from above
on a white flying fortress floating far away from the fauna
and the fickle fools who fight for nothing. Their efforts are fruitless.
Up on my cloud, my cleverness creates cloud-constructs.
These constructs convey to me knowledge both cerebral and celestial.
This sends me higher; to the cosmos.
There, I get caught up in catechisms which force convulsions.
The spinning Sun stares into my silly soul, saying “Such stupidity!”
Scowling, I scorn the stars.
Further still I ascend, astounding the astral plane.
I acquire it all.
And now I know it is
nothing.
Never have my nerves been so wracked.
I weep wildly wishing for when I was waging war
with a woman’s warmth.
Waking up with wet eyes and wounded heart, I stand and walk.
I no longer wonder why.

Deep down in my truest self, I am no different from a bug.
Because messy emotional crumbs swept under a rug:
act tough like a ****.
But from that prior deep place, I know we each need a big hug.

Human outlook gets caught in a loop.

When I bite into fruit
supple surrender
reminds of  mortality.
Juice runs but I catch.
Happiness bursts with no lock to latch.
I lost my head.
If found, please reattach.
For now, I can stick to chilling all blind-like.
In the dark I still have my heart.
I will not let regret get the limelight.
In the past I had too much focus on hindsight.
Jellyfish do not even have eyes
yet not one is paralyzed with existential dread.
They float in the moment. A place where demise has fled.
Between all forms of experience.

O, shapeshifter reveal your truths which have no shape.

O, beast of all beasts: soaring swimming running hopping,
feathered furred scaled shrouded,
naked.
Claws reach for a submerged feast. Tail wriggling, caught by the sky.
Smooth skin hidden by design gracefully opens. Extending,
snatches a meal mid-flight.
Muscle meeting by chance, tooth taking sustenance. Ragged breathe torn
from one body to be worn by the next.
Highly sophisticated eyes become a snack.
Division ceases.

O, reveler!
O, peace in chaos!
O, pleasant reminder of romp!
O, devourer of the devoid,
shaping reality by way of playful lovers!

Oops,
I've sprung a leak.
Eyes stare on in disbelief
while the soul seeps; loose fluids leave.
The high is passed the peak.
Senses ascend to heaven and hear Myself speak.
The body is numb.
Arriving
to find passion is gone.
Self-destruction to atone.

I am more than a passenger.
I am the reactor.
Power sputters, spurts, spews.
I am the greatest factor.
The soul protagonist of my chapters.
This scene's star actor.
Purring ad lib in sync with script,
lapping up rapture.

Ignorance is bliss so I learn slow.
Resistance is my M.O.
Don't get ****** when I act like my IQ's low.
Going bananas with monkeys
means my imagination is in nature.
Behold all I've nurtured.
I've engaged in guerrilla warfare
with knowledge for ages. It's fateless.
So what does this mean for my later pages?..

Awwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwww
****, I've relapsed.
Encouraged another darting spark synapse.
My brain grew by storm of truth
then floated into the past.

A bowl has the most potential empty: the enlightened fast.
So why bother learning anything?

I gave you away tonight.
All that’s left is to coolly gaze at the moon.
Such serene grace, she sates my lust.
I trust Nature to take care of me;
she takes me straight to the cusp.

The wind gusts which fills me up.
I gasp.
A tall cup of reality hits me.

You're gonna ****.

When I’m sure you’re in his clutch
I grasp for the moon.
Of course, this golden goddess slips through my fingers.
Not foreign but still far away.
I look on shyly while the moon comforts me.
Love is so fickle.
Those familiar feelings have come too soon.
I retreat to my respite.
Even at night, light trickles in.
I refuse to fight over how beautiful things begin.

I am a ghost
who has remembered what it is to be a man. I weep.
As a man
I remembered what it is to be human. I laugh.
In this way, deep each moment grows a knowing:
all our sisters and brothers and others observe feeling.
Beside supposed cross
and imposed hurt is understanding
human in nature.
Swaddled in this knowledge is a flower
basking in the sun.
Love is real;
as solid as a pebble
fixed inside a mountain.
My conscious Being flows through every atom.
I remember what it is to be!
Air moved with music
as a body is moved by music.
I am dancing madly to the drum.
Standing still does nothing for the beat,
which sounded long before i could dance.
Love is the only dance,
Love is the only beat,
Love is the only drum.

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.

I feel sick, so sick of myself.
I don't exist: calloused layers of shell.
This world is sick. War is more real than Hell.
Does good love exist? Is it more real than Death?
What will you love when nothing is left?
The soil is poisoned. Seeds freed from cycles.
Purge odious life.
Tears salt the Earth from true peace disciples.
No pain. No struggle. No strife.
Behind the mask there is nothing.
Behind my eyes there is nothing.
Before my eyes there is nothing.
Embracing void. Immortality.
Cannot be destroyed. Empty.
Embrace the truth.
Tranquility.
I quit. I quit. I quit pretending.
Pretending I am not everything. At last,
I find annihilation
in you.

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.

The petals are already wilting
Is their stay really so short?
What irony twists is whim
but such is life
there is no end to a rim
The hoops of my own eyes mirrors that of reality itself
also that of my own sanity
Is it sanity that makes me seek infernal truth?
Is it a different sanity that makes others blind?
Is it insanity which seeks eternal youth?
Is it insane to wish
of seeing petals in perfection
one last time?

The rain has been filling up my spiritual well,
well it's better than being empty.

I saw another to share myself
but it was bait to trap and tempt me.
My heart has snapped in so many places
you gaze on and just see the spaces.

I relent; go be content.

Go seek another then.
I told you I was bleak and broken,
happiness is beyond my ken.
So blind myself, the wrong words were spoken.
I'll stick to my diligent pen.
All I seem to share is pain
so I cry by myself to help the rain.

Thank god for the change of seasons,
gives me a reason.
As the skies fade to gray from blue
it gives me an excuse to change too.

I forgot what it feels to be hot.
As leaves drop it reveals the truth.
We hide our trunks by façade of youth.
I find where I am by playing it cool.
Impending Winter says I played a fool.
We each have the tools to act how we want.
Wantonly waste the days of sowing: time comes to reap an empty plot.
Spirit seems dead, under earth growing.
Throw down knowing roots.
Rise with Sol above lowly thought.
When others are withering the persistent maintain presence.
Stop easy excuses; recruit robust essence.

Each towering tree has thought of rot.
Surrender is sweet, but the strong see
what Spring brings.
God does not end with what Autumn brought.

Talk about incontinence: I talk **** the size of all seven continents.
Don’t mistake it for confidence, it’s a conference of incompetence.

See, I like artistic depictions
of realistic positions.
Metaphor heals like an addicted physician.
Reflecting my self seems a mirrored prison,
yet reflections from others can induce frisson.

Missing the point is my mission, so I’m spaced.
Dismiss what you say then expect you to listen.
I undermine what could be mine trying to save face.
Unfortunately I am now featureless
so that was not the case.
When there’s no understanding, it’s ruthless.
Reality is a blinding place.

Skeleton buried within clay cage
Grinning
Horrified beyond belief.
Energized by rage and grief
Every moment alive: winning
Trust the movement, trust the magick
Improving flow
Power to transcend the tragic
Flowering lotus

Rickity-tickity-clak. Onomatopoeia for a bygone age.
Soon the distinct, sometimes irritating/sometimes soothing signals
of a box sailing along a track will be stuck in the past.
A vintage sound.

First snow
Embrace the cold
The trials we endure are what make us bold

Changing face
The strange weather of my secret place
I saw in a mirror that form turns old

Cycle forward
Rearranging story of what we are told
Spiralling trail, compelled to go
Looking forward

I am more a warrior than a man.
I chose the pen. I did not choose the hand.
An intention is freedom.
My will will be my leader,
ultimately undefeated:
surrender.

The heart can love while the hands hate.
I close them together
for the prey
I ate.

Desire burns through
the clothing of my civility
as easily the fumbled ember from my cigarette.

In all my strength as a child
I was a pebble in someone else's shoe
and the boulder he rolled every day.

Dreaming cat beside me
teaching ease.