If the soul is dyed by thoughts, I will rest in my reason.

By following my just nature, I will let my desire find its termination.

For I am made of the stars. I will let my spirit shine.

I am a rising star, not a falling one. I am divine.

Nothing outside changes the value of my shining nature.

Despite criticism or praise, nothing shall perturb me.

My loveliness terminates in itself. My beauty evolves with the seasons.

I will love my nature. I will rest in my reason.

My flesh desires sugar, but sugar rots the soul.

To nurture the character of my mind, I’ll feast on the fruits of wisdom.

I’ll feed my soul thoughts ripe in virtue and I’ll let my spirit shine.

For tranquility is nothing but a good ordering of the mind.

I will not be troubled in any season.

When my flesh desires treason, I will rest in my reason.

the wind was a ruffle in the curtains
and the day went by, unseized

the world was a ricochet in a chamber
and the gunshot bedroom leapt out, inept

the women weep out neglected, knowing
*** is of no value in our promiscuous world

a cigarette is like a god in the skies
the expectation is lofty and leaves us sad

the earth turns me dizzy
my arches have fallen
and the trojan horses have all fled off, torn

each child is abandoned in time and they all
**** their parents with resent, cuckkoos are poets
when they push all the little birdies out the nest

each poet is a cuckoo liar, inflating any kind of truth they've found
in the dotting of their stinking socks.

               

                   a beard is a false billboard
   a wife is a lie that germinates s l o w  a dog is a god if you look with sad eyes

there’s shakespeare in everything
and its all undeserving

there’s drama behind every curtain
and all the best legs
creep around like common juniper
into the fiendish, lonely night


    people make soup
   and they shoot themselves                                                                with shotguns


                      it doesn’t all make sense.

                               don't make sense.

                                           make oatmeal

Each morning
He gathers
Those essential items
Left on the nightstand
Car keys, pill box,
jack-knife, and ball point pen

Pockets filled
With the necessities
For the day
He made a mental note
Find moments of stillness

Discover moments or places
To create a pause
Without sound
Or movement
Some short time
When he will inspect his
Surroundings
With noncritical awareness
Engage with the world
Like a wistful child
Who picks up a pebble
Rolls it over and over
Between his fingers
Studies it carefully
Before secreting it
In his pants pocket

During that moment of stillness
Perhaps he felt
Comfort oozing from
The stone or
Noticed the beauty
Gleaming at him
Reflecting the sunlight
Washing him with renewal

What  
you choose to tell yourself

you will
answer to

an answer
can only spin
in accordance
with
the essence of its question

You hum above you
as you feel a hum below

You hum below you
as you feel a hum above

What
you can do

is
cease
thinking
about what you cant

The
only cure
for blindness

is seeing beyond what is

a clear sight
be the only secure
residence for a soul