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 Aug 2018 September
unholy ghost
i'm stuck
(again)
hoping for
something
to get better
(again)
and i'm left
sitting alone
praying for
escape
praying for
relief
praying
(again).

maybe it's different.
sometimes it feels
like an entirely
different skin;
sometimes it feels
like the i washed
the old one with something
new and bright
red, and it's almost
a convincingly new shade
but it's still got all
the same holes,
the same tatters as
the last one.

i'm so scared of
getting stuck in the
same rut, of wasting
so much of my life
i could have been using
to be happy.

but maybe i am not
meant to be happy
maybe i am destined
only for suffering
for loss and loneliness.
maybe i will only ever
find this nothingness.
this desperation for meaning.
i don't know.
i don't know.
(again)
i don't know.
this is not a poem
 Jun 2018 September
Lxvi
sk34
 Jun 2018 September
Lxvi
God made me.
In his image
before there was light.
and after he saw me
he then made the night.
no more Breakfast tumbling out of a Hornet's basket.
just soft thorns and gossamer wounds. only the ravens that kismet.
only the coffin cuff-links; and the splendid Pit.
only the margin for Errors beyond
your Religion...

and the woe of it.
 Feb 2018 September
softcomponent
Castles in the sand, or
Castles in the sky.

There's a whisper of tentative potentials
wafting thru the air like mill smoke.

It keeps us withered and wondering,
starstruck, mutilated in spirit & empowered
in mind.

We chant, "I don't mind. Terror
is an error but no error stems from
a terrified wolf,"
simply reacting
to the terrain like a Ghost
losing the ghost of its mind
in these very same whispers
as they morph into a melody,
a whistle, a beautiful problem
ready to be solved.

(ready to be solvent.)
They asked me what life meant.
My reply was, "Life is meaning itself,
embodied in a compound unity
with no center."

"And we are seamless expressions of this
same strange mystery, this same
absurd dance
where the point
is the point,
and the point
isn't sharp."

Not anymore, anyways.
 Jan 2018 September
softcomponent
The wind is a slack freeze billowing
across the low structures of the ferry
as it floats indelibly towards the coastal
island landmass once known as Quadra
and Vancouver's Island, now maintaining
only the former prefix as if either dub of
the landscape was a 'fix' at all. There is a
Canadian flag tangling with itself in the cold,
wound around a metal cable wire on the top sun
deck reserved for smokers avoiding the crisp air
for the formaldehyde devil they already know.

Waves ripple through the fabric flag above and
the fabric water below, both tossed by the same
heavenly forces forever wafting throughout the
globe as if all the steam ever boiled never truly
left the biosphere nor converted back into liquid
but instead became yet another one of many
unforeseen
byproducts
of our
oh-so human
participation
in
existence;

yet another
one of many
unforeseen
consequences
left to ring in
our ears til we
cease as observers,
thus ceasing to
observe.

“It is above as it is below”
and
“there is no difference between
the observer and the observed.”
Not my thoughts, nor I doubt
anyone's thoughts
in particular.

Snow dusts the caressed peaks,
valleys, and crevices of the
Pacific Coastal mountain range,
each geological mound standing
shoulder-to-shoulder looking
across the withered liquid mounds
in quicker motion atop the Georgia
Strait below as if watching a child
relative playing with new toys
received on
Christmas morning.

I have no words
adequate enough
to express all this
beauty.

All I can do
is help you
read my mind
and hope
my
wordless words
equal
poetic telepathy.


The wind is still a slack freeze as I exit the ferry.
There's no one here but all of us,
*hello!
 Dec 2017 September
Lxvi
i remember our first
outing by the sea
coffee in hand
you showed me markings
with meanings
and some without
you showed me you
but just a bit
and I remember we ran
you ran so gracious
and bit by bit I learned you
I am a student of you
and we'd live
by that window
we'd sleep
we had  many nights
by that window
sealed shut
and left across
outside
looking in
 Jul 2017 September
Lxvi
bunches
 Jul 2017 September
Lxvi
dollar bill for whinnie
but save the rest for me
god you are so ******
in terms of company

toast me golden brown
don't burn me here
but dont turn it down
that is my greatest fear

hands made of leather
we keep together tight
and if we share sack'd feather
we'll make it through the night

maybe i'm a nando
and you are cheeky too
maybe i'm a rando
a fool i am for you

strike me like mike
stroke bow wows career
in the end he was like
a hippies brazier

words of our fathers
shooting like stars
if we were like others
we wouldn't go far

happiness in latex
depression in socks
swollen in ***
haplessness mocks
 Jul 2017 September
Lxvi
orz
 Jul 2017 September
Lxvi
orz
I was going to send you
a ridiculously long message,
one where I say everything I feel,
perfectly punctuated,
immaculately articulated;
but, you leave me alone with words
like the more i use
the lower their value plummet
so ill send an ok
and never see your summit
friccenlocalhost
 Jun 2017 September
Lxvi
juiced
 Jun 2017 September
Lxvi
****** my hero in
everything i do
****** we populate
an empty ******* room
****** my heroine
you saved me from the crash
hero in my ******
i'm addicted to your flash
here without my
******
 Jun 2017 September
softcomponent
zero in on that second when gravity
takes a small dive into the contrast
that is nothing.
you are left comparing what your
senses still reveal to the soft blanketed
blankness of no-thing at all.

an absence only apparent because
it has been
defined.

the numbered becomes numberless
when there's nothing
to
count.
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