In the silence of a day like today
In the wake of yesterday's dreams
Forgetfulness feels like noncompliance
In a world where defiance still seems
Like a benign inaction of innocence
Though it feels like a stabbing of spite
Willing to kneel to your Goddess
Yet unable to yeild to Her might
There is no weakness to worship at Her altar
It takes strength to relinquish control
Relax and trust in the knowledge
Acquiesce and watch it unfold
There is freedom in the smile of an angel
There is love to be had all around
There is power in making Her smile
Don't be the sadness beind every frown
Inaction, as innocent as it seems
Breeds disappointment that infects every smile
And all those little requests
Will stop being wanted after awhile
See, for all the deeds left unfinished
And all those tiny tasks left undone
Will chisel away Her hearts desire
Leaving Her another invisible no one
An empty shell of a Goddess
Whose glory, in your heart will remain
While She curses her very existence
Languishing in true-love's refrain

death calls
every heartbeat by name
making each one the same

this is your life
this is your life
this is your life
this is your life

the metronome, calling me home, ticking away, fading the day
life can be so melodramatic
like watching static
with the volume on mute
and your mind on mute, numbed by the gentle static hiss of your own personal hell
and the waves that swell
the remains of life-forms onto endless beaches of time

all time is mine
all time is mind

i look out by night
at the vast ocean of Being
and the sand, as it slips in my hands
is not made for my counting
infinity is not comforting

i smell salt
sitting on the naked earth, i draw from a vast reservoir
a deep well
hoping that maybe if i bury my head
under the beachy sand
i will escape the tide by becoming one with the earth and the stars

i try to write perfect words
with the absurd feeling that if i get them right
they will work like a spell
that shatters reality itself
and places me somewhere else
where things were right the first time

after all, we cast reality with words
and all of our pictures come to life
and all of life is our pictures
and words are our entire reality
so we must not be saying the right words, thinking the right words
no one taught us the right words, we don’t have the faculty for those kinds of words

silence and sleep
thoughts of the deep
give no rest for me
they reek of the sleep i dread to sleep
i make noise so that the universe must keep listening
i banish sleep because a white gangrene is glistening
where the worm never dies
and the smokes always rise, blotting the skies

are we the children of Cain? cursed from the face of the earth
is it because of ****** in my heart
that i am marked to die?

we stand shivering outside, in chains and shackles, all in a line
with brothers and sisters in front and behind
and every so often (we never know when)
our captors pluck one of us out of the line
and none of us can stop it
and we are forced to watch it
while they stand our mothers and fathers against the wall
and open fire, but not at heart or head
on stomachs and bowels instead
so our loved ones expire slowly, writhing on the cold dirt
pleading eyes upturned
begging our love to save them
but we can only wait our own turn

it seems that no Mind would dream up such a dream
and give it as Life
to its very offspring

i tremble to blaspheme
but i am questioning
doubting

whether Love has ever tread these tangled paths at all
whether Life ever begot life
whether we are not in fact just the spectacular fireworks
of passion and sorrow
that the universe has cooked up with
its chemical sorceries

which paint once the sky
for an instant in time

Father! Father!
do you even remember the name that you gave me?
do you remember the night you pulled me violently from my resting place
where it was dark and warm and secure?
and you cast me into a cold, hollow womb that continually miscarries
and i was born in a tomb
too soon?

it was winter
do you remember?

the dying of embers
O, wanton December!
Who pierced me with sorrows
and gave me tommorows
but stole all my todays


i inquire into the science
of infinite gaps
of gaping synapse

i investigate the substance of Being
poking at it from every angle
demanding that it yeild fruits fit for our consumption
that it justify itself

must i remind you
that i never asked to be here
and i never consented
to this form or this figure
riddled with cancers

i am the eternal thought
thinking itself
watching with terrified attatchment
these bodies which i inhabit

my haunts, my accostomed places
my ethos, my habits
my character, a socially constructed facade
my self, ever putting itself
into the eyes of others, looking on itself
imagining itself playing the roles
of each of the other children in the schoolyard


but at last, the primitive state of nature overtakes me
i’m going to sleep now, do not awaken me
and when i awake, Love will wake again with me
and all the smoldering, dying wreckage of this day will forsake me

ah, i remember now, the sound of Love, walking in the cool of the garden
when each day seemed to stretch on forever
and the night was full of magic
the infinite gaps can only be scaled
in the space of one instant, no more and no less

working its way back through every other instant
time, since it is a function of mind, is also subject to language
i stand back from the bodies of the dead i inhabit
i am the universal singularity, the one thought
throbbing and pulsing in the ****** heights before explosive creation
i
howl
the body electric
and rise, ******* over Moloch
whose mind is pure machinery
and whose children drown in their insanity

with a cold and broken hallelujah
i hymn the blessed race immortal
and rend the fabric of reality from top to bottom
entering in the place most holy
and die, writhing on the warm, welcoming earth
the place of my birth
the place of my hearth, where the embers glow and spark

December has now heard a lark
Hades, required to return to her mother
the goddess he has stolen for a season
and the Bird rises wreathed
in flame from the ashes
baptizing the Forms of our collective unconscious
with the blessed and holy power of life

and coming to life, all of our pictures bring us to life with them!

*

one can not blaspheme what is not
for one can not think of it
look again at what Love gave us
in the space of an instant, which extends on forever
since time and space alike are a construct of our symbolic processes

i pull out my tabula rasa
i am written on the tabula rasa
all is white on the tabula rasa
all is white
all is white

the waves now are dragging me in
to the ocean without beginning or end
and the depths are alive with the wind
of warm currents and of births and of sand
and death would appear now a friend
leading me in by the hand
calling me into the land

Love is life
Love’s alive
Love is death

Death calls

Tethered feathers sing their long lost songs in solos that were once symphonies
Falling from swan-like wings of a lone angel and floating along a reflecting stream
The misty haze graces both water's surface and the resting angel's skin
Making the glow from her shining halo all the more evident

See as she sits inside the arms of an elderly weeping willow
Fireflies gracing her satin hand as the glow from her skin does billow
The natural string quartet of the crickets under a full moon's glow
A silent moment in a place and time that mortals may never know

Looking upon the star studded sky that is her open field
Flying with the grace of many a dove whose untamed beauty shall not yeild
Yet landing on dirt ridden ground to see whatever it is she may please
Trickling tears coming from your eyes at the sight of such travesties

Oh angel, if feather must fall, then let it, but not one tear from your eye
At this hallowed sight and glorious eve where Heaven and Earth coincide
And if tear must fall into the waters under the arm of the willow tree
May it harden into the whitest of pearls so I might keep it here with me

Let sultry glowing moonlight be your constant company
Filling the darkness and contributing spotlight to your scene
May silver moonlight and  silken feather compliment each detail
And pray the moon does not fade away and break this scene, so frail

Dear hallowed breath of the midnight hour, take note of this rare time
So you may utter this instant in this poet's ear and turn it to hallowed rhyme
The instance where an host of Heaven indulged in a glimpse of Earth
And with a tear turned into a pearl showed what our instances are worth

it’s with a heavy heart that I expel these thoughts to endless seas
toward oblivion I see a vibrant, burning entity
inviting me to spill my blood
and to unwind my mind for him,
with faith I leap beneath and into the chameleon rhine.
Her tide will keep me safe from monsters that I swim among
and current pulls me further, and then pushes me back in again.  
it’s with some heavy feet that I’ll now walk toward the ball of fire;
o’ shame of my confessions please don’t yeild this truth from me.
“I am the only truth,” he states;
we speak for weeks or minutes or days
about purple and orange and yellow and green
and how to see the colours of me;
how the blue isn’t blue unless you really look
and how you can’t believe everything you read in a book.
I tell him of sadness, which dulls his glow.
I tell him of the soulless, which he knows so well.
I tell him about sidewalks and concrete fields,
and how our trees have fallen ill.
and he speaks in short, brash flashes;
he is everything
and then nothing;
he’s gone before I get to say goodbye or really even said hello
and all I know is I’m left with nothing
and something,
and if I keep following the rolling stream
North and South and West and East,
and if I flow as One, surely I’ll find him again
and when I do I'll spill my self;
my mind, my body and this soul as One into the chameleon rhine.

What large, dark hands are those at the window
Lifted, grasping in the yellow light
Which makes its way through the curtain web
At my heart to-night?

Ah, only the leaves! So leave me at rest,
In the west I see a redness come
Over the evening's burning breast --
For now the pain is numb.

The woodbine creeps abroad
Calling low to her lover:
The sunlit flirt who all the day
Has poised above her lips in play
And stolen kisses, shallow and gay
Of dalliance, now has gone away
-- She woos the moth with her sweet, low word,
And when above her his broad wings hover
Then her bright breast she will uncover
And yeild her honey-drop to her lover.

Into the yellow, evening glow
Saunters a man from the farm below,
Leans, and looks in at the low-built shed
Where hangs the swallow's marriage bed.
The bird lies warm against the wall.
She glances quick her startled eyes
Towards him, then she turns away
Her small head, making warm display
Of red upon the throat. Her terrors sway
Her out of the nest's warm, busy ball,
Whose plaintive cries start up as she flies
In one blue stoop from out the sties
Into the evening's empty hall.

Oh, water-hen, beside the rushes
Hide your quaint, unfading blushes,
Still your quick tail, and lie as dead,
Till the distance covers his dangerous tread.

The rabbit presses back her ears,
Turns back her liquid, anguished eyes
And crouches low: then with wild spring
Spurts from the terror of the oncoming
To be choked back, the wire ring
Her frantic effort throttling:
Piteous brown ball of quivering fears!

Ah soon in his large, hard hands she dies,
And swings all loose to the swing of his walk.
Yet calm and kindly are his eyes
And ready to open in brown surprise
Should I not answer to his talk
Or should he my tears surmise.

I hear his hand on the latch, and rise from my chair
Watching the door open: he flashes bare
His strong teeth in a smile, and flashes his eyes
In a smile like triumph upon me; then careless-wise
He flihgs the rabbit soft on the table board
And comes towards me: ah, the uplifted sword
Of his hand against my *****, and oh, the broad
Blade of his hand that raises my face to applaud
His coming: he raises up my face to him
And caresses my mouth with his fingers, smelling grim
Of the rabbit's fur! God, I am caught in a snare!
I know not what fine wire is round my throat,
I only know I let him finger there
My pulse of life, letting him nose like a stoat
Who sniffs with joy before he drinks the blood:
And down his mouth comes to my mouth, and down
His dark bright eyes descend like a fiery hood
Upon my mind: his mouth meets mine, and a flood
Of sweet fire sweeps across me, so I drown
Within him, die, and find death good.

Mindlessly applauding
the torn for choosing right
denies the open weight felt
of them not choosing left

The ripping of blank paper
is heard in your
congratulations and affirmations

Giving pride that isn't yours to hold
remains unknowingly empty
Wrapped well
Recieptless

Let go of optimistic ear muffs
and bright yellow shades

Yeild.

Tugging left turns
misled me to the same stop sign
begging to be dismissed

Lost in a spiral,
in my own left turns,

not abandoned but alone

Despite being desperately sought,
these roads are different in the dark

No comfort or guidance
in this backpack made of bricks
with bricks too sharp for a stuffed bear,
bricks too large for a lamp

Concern and direction
slip through
the cracks and the bricks
in the deafening darkness

Left again,
just one more time

What shades am I wearing,
what muffs are mine
that instruction is muffled,
that care is shaded grey

Even still,
my lefts are my right
my right to make
and to hold
and to keep
and to breathe
and to bleed

Save your pride
and your rosey half-full glasses
Hold your applause
and the promise of a later okay

Acknowledge the bricks
I am carrying now

They are concrete

More so,
than the life you see
that might never live to be

Second day back and he was there
Him, miss the first day but today here
We're not talking but it was easier than I thought
Staring at me here and there, he thought I didn't saw

Some classes are hard because we sit opposite each other

I wonder what goes on in his mind
I try to think about it but the answer is too hard to find
I remember when it used to be my hands in his - intertwined
But obviously those days were imaginations in my mind

It's always hard when we're apart
But it's all his fault for ripping out my heart
I thought he was different
I didn't know that he would stick the knife in and twist it

Days would pass before we said hi
I'd always seem to go run and hide
But I'd always find him again
He always used to be my best guy friend

He is, I mean was, my shield
But whenever I go back my mind says yeild

No matter how hard I try to fight it, it will always be true
No matter how hard I try to stay away I'll always find my way back to you.

i live in the country in the countryside
theres a great big field standing right outside
it has lots of animals running round so free
with lots of little birds singing in a tree
there are lots of rabbits and a badger too
with lots of little moles there are quite a few
i can watch the farmer bringing in his yeild
stacking up his hay neatly in the field
i can see all this in the country side
all i have to do is take a walk outside

Iron hearts may never yeild
If love's inquiries are revealed
But I for one, have one for all
That iron hearts can not conceal

A frigid time is where we stand
When all our foes are hand in hand
But I have seen the mountains fall
And make a home in broken lands

A life for living not complaining
While love and light are still remaining
A hope beyond the shadow wall
We fell behind when love was gaining

An iron heart will overlook
The beauty in our global nook
Among the stars we seem so small
But it truly is a glorious life afterall

crossing over the x’s
of life’s yeild signs,
wisdom paused at potholes
alarming damaging obstacles.

appreciation of a flattened heart,
restored by breathing breaths,
repaired  the elements that once,
depleted healthy treads.

ignoring warnings of danger,
living in a reality of denial
has fooled my internal equilibrium.

sapience surrounded my driveway,
i looked both ways and proceeded with caution.

foolishly piloting with a naive navigation,
is not within my futuristic visualization.