Kaleidoscopic, heart
Fractals, spinning
World apart.
Suspended moments
seal the bricks and stones
in the foundations of my solitude;
memories standing still
in the full moons gleam,
as a distant dream
hovering on the edge
of thought as I rest
cozily in delightful illness.

Each tap on my door
rings like the smack
of a sledge on a church bell,
cracking the foundations
with it's horrid vibrations;
quaking my spine
and disturbing the stillness.

Quietly I sit waiting
-no answer forthgoing-
for the disruptions abating.
Time, I let to destroy myself
Slowly intoxicating

Antidote stand by.
Genre: Abstract

Blue lights surround
the remote control, he presses
one of the small buttons.

Nuclear attack in
news broadcast, hand
searches blindly the phone.

Video home system
shows time going forward
and moves it back,
when something - unexpected

- still, he panics.
the landlord has to hear whining again
and she is tired to calm him.


75th anniversary
in the company he hates working
- taking pictures with the staff.

holds him on his shoulders
and whispers: my children
are not waiting to play
with them, my husband is
not waiting to fry the potatoes.

Empty meeting room,
blue aquarium in the background,
she undresses - chubby body
surprisingly satisfying his

He does what he hasn't done before,
moves hands across
upper and lower back
- bottom
only to find hemorrhoids.


Blue lights shine
the apartment, where he
suffers convulsions of
the things he experienced.

VHS tape runs
a news broadcast
- school shooting,
landlord didn't answer
his calls.

CEO runs in his mind
asking to come back
- to please her inadequte
I've never been very good at listening.
I imagine that I resonate with a piece of you that reminds me of the same piece of me.
When I come face to face with this piece.
I realize that not everything can be changed.
That's what makes it important.
Otherwise the urge to speak would never come.
Realizing this occurrence,
It becomes familar.
Not once does fear strike.
All in all there's no interruption.
The well being of ourselves.
The very things that no matter what, we tend to recognize.
No matter the grief.
And like that very thing I become a child.
Not realizing the meaning of being alive.
Within these moments I turn to you for guidance.
I look up and realize a stubbornness.

I admit.
I've never been good at listening.
Although I vocalize the feeling.
We go through extreme measures when the appearance isn't quite right.
In light of innocence I am struck time and time again.
The lashings of what I'll always believe.
It becomes excessive.
Coming into contact with this same piece of me that I have found in you.
That no matter the argument.
We understand that there is an accord that cannot be ignored.
We live in a state where this paradox becomes conscious.
Separating what is right, as well as wrong.
At times we may disagree, proving in these times that it takes growth to be heard.
And I have heard you this whole time.
This piece of me that has fallen in love with every piece of you.
Both stubborn and impatient
Nothing is ever time wasted,
just the interlude to the rest of the album. Soon it becomes nostalgia. To think you almost pressed the skip button..
It's all about trying new things.
Slowing were briding the gap.
Looping untold tales of blues and jazz into our samples.
The things considered classical.
Instant vintage.
The things we keep hidden in headphones,
The venerability of hype.
It's always about the crowd.
Afraid to digest something different.
This was the first time I met her.
At first I laughed,
Reaction that I faced my own ignorance.
Listening again finding purpose.
Not knowing that we'd come to spend the rest of our lives together.
All three minutes and forty five seconds.
I was dishonest.
Not revealing anything real about myself until I heard it for the first time.
The first time she sung.
This wasn't an image to be upheld in front of others.
Or the gossip type spread circle to circle.
I was never exposed to this.
Skimming the top layer ready to press next.
Too far caught in the slander that first impressions can give.
History often repeats itself but this wasn't the case.
This was wholeheartedly the epitome of how she effected me.
The rhythm of how she moved.
How she spoke.
Like that I matured almost instantly.
She became my biggest influence.
A two way street that bridged the gap of my own ignorance.
After time I began to leave my headphones on the dresser.
We were amplified.
She'd follow me everywhere just as I'd follow her.
Soon it caught on to the masses.
Each and every thought became a publicist of what she'd recite over and over again.
A parental advisory issued with every cover.
Finding the one became a catalog.
Stumbling back to the first interlude all over again.
The copyright not for sell
We've torn down buildings, and built new ones
Yet we have no foundation.
We are illiterate to what we truly feel and breathe unless,
It is seen else where first.
It too is a reality that we've created.
This feeling that can only be described in Braille.
We too are restricted.
These bumps that go unnoticed.
The mumps in the crevice we band aid until it's too late.
We continue to tear down these fortresses of ourselves.
What concerns most is that I see myself in you.
The same love and laugh that become the building blocks that haults the storm.
Yet we reject each other due to the mentality of our environment.
With lack of understanding,
We fail to embrace choosing the cause and effect of all differential.
We seek to destroy forgetting what's important.
We work against each other doing more damage that good.
We need each other to further emancipation.
To build one another once this storm reaches peak.
As simple as it sounds it becomes more complex.
To build a new building on top shakey ground.
Everything must be cleared out.
The participation of presence
And some day you'll realize
That there too is a point of no return.
A point where you'll someday come
And looking back will be a thing of the past.
There are no layaways no payments plans
To genuinely be a blessing in someone else's life.
These things can't be repaid.
Can't be debated.
These gifts of appreciation.
Life is one of the most unexplained mysteries.
In a world of simplicity.
We often shy away from the things we know will break us.
Not knowing that its the vulnerability that truly makes us beautiful.
At times we get uncomfortable.
Considering that the simplest thing is often the hardest thing.
And some day you'll realize.
That it's these precious moments.
That bring us closer to that point of no return.
Your reflection shown.
The candle of someone else's eye.
No longer afraid to look back
Spent all day.
looking for the perfect
thing to say.
but I guess these words,
will have to do.

None the less,
if a heart can ever
speak in jest;
This joke is for you.

It's all I need do.
Gather all the words
I could say.
They're less than perfect,
but so's any day.

Sum of the less,
if a mouth can ever
hide in jest;
a punchline for you.
Having to forget you is a misconception.
I understand that things happen and these things we often have no control over.
Watching the boat leave it's pier is one of the most beautiful things.
My honest opinion.
The beginning of new experience.
The sensation of watching the odds disperse wave after wave.
Love happens.
It hurts a bit.
Being gone so long.
Docking other places, under different lights.
Finding that every city has a different sound.
A different smell.
It hurts knowing that you've docked somewhere new.
The same flow of emotion parted by the hull of your coming.
A new home.
A new place to rest your fears.
It takes courage to open up.
Thick ropes tied in knots.
An ever changing world.
More advances made in the world of travel.
How we get from point A to B.
It doesn't mean that I don't miss you.
Leaving my rope on the dock of the harbor.
Free to come and go as you please.
Having to watch my boat sail away.
The chance of knowing you may never return.
The same intimacy we shared given to someone else.
It's the same understanding that hurts tenfold.
Knowing these changes must be made in order to progress.
Going out on the town to find myself back here waiting for your return.
Relating to the tears of the ocean.
A new experience we both separately share.
The nights spent alone in wait.
The pier lined up with different ships and boats.
None of which are never you.
It's impossible not to miss you.
Holding on to your beauty, grace.
Waiting for my ship to return.
Knowing that it will never happen
Next page