Getting older requires responsibilities that can be difficult,
Later it'll seem easy,
Friendships come and go,
Just hope you'll find the one that'll help you through,
I have met mine,
I hope for you to go through,
I hope for you to survive,
Living longer,
Pushing through the hate,
Don't be one of those to hate,
Growing older,
Forcing through,
Hope you'll live,
While going through.

Cathy said catch me,
as the sky grew dim.
The story of wolf for people like him.
He laughed at her text and he scowled at her tears.
He thought she was a faker but she was nothing near.
Cathy cathy, caught in a web of her mind.
catch me catch me, before I fall behind.

Louise was a artist
her dreams were her art.
But her dreams soon grew darker
and so did her heart.
She thought it would pass by,
but soon she'd retreat.
Never to leave home,
cuddling to her feet.

Cathy cathy, caught in a web of her mind.
catch me catch me, before I fall behind.

Louise Louise, cannot leave home for a tea
Leaving Leaving, she'd like to but she can't be free.

Rose smelled like her name,
caught boys in her thorns,
and her love was a game,
but some loves had horns
They'd treat her like a trash,
crumpled up, thrown away.
At night she'd be bleeding,
but look fine by the day.

Cathy cathy, caught in a web of her mind.
catch me catch me, before I fall behind.

Louise Louise, cannot leave home for a tea
Leaving Leaving, she'd like to but she can't be free.

Rose Rose, charred sholder and ER trips
Bleeding Bleeding, tomorrow a new set of lips.

Talor was the joke of school,
each year a new clown,
but he was always their fool
they'd steal his shoes,
and force him to drink *****.
His parents lost hope,
but acceptance was like a rope.

Cathy cathy, caught in a web of her mind.
catch me catch me, before I fall behind.

Louise Louise, cannot leave home for a tea
Leaving Leaving, she'd like to but she can't be free.

Rose Rose, charred shoulders and ER trips
Bleeding Bleeding, tomorrow a new set of lips.

Talor Talor, what kind of name is that?
Failure Failure, starving since they called him fat.

And there is a story in everyone's past but today you judge the present.

You're girlfriend material, but not for me
You are sweet and gentle as could be, but don't you see?
Everything we build will not last long
Because you're younger
And life would make me leave you behind,
And that's not fair to you at all.
So I'm breaking the pain before it could possibly even start,
I care about you and your feelings inside your heart
I'm not trying to play games and lie to you

Trees, houses, Treehouses,
Abandoned.
                  beaches
                ­                 still
                                 appear the same as summer
but the sky's gone
                 Sunshine
to
                Windwine
                                  (Clouds and clouds, some much            
                                    larger than others, sometimes just one big cloud  
                                   mapped out between            
                                   us and rest of universe to the cascade horizon)

All the pets can tread cement
without
worry of burns and the two hundred calamities
of July are over.
                              Replaced with
                              rain and bums escaping to the
                              soup kitchens and
Churches
                                  (East side Vancouver, Pandora Victoria,  
                                                 astreet in a city astray)
Ashtrays freckled in the evening drizzle
common.

My hands are held by gloves and
                                 fingertips from half of
                                 Japan,
my lips are kissed by the                          comet
beauty mark on right side
bottom
                                                (Though this universe is attending
                                                  unive­rsity in a distant city
                                                  while I hold my own
                                                  practicing the Dharma,
                                                 or MAYBE none of this will happen!)
Everything is in its place
as it always was-
though circumstance has tried to
teach us otherwise the                        
                                     ­                            Blackbox
                                      made of star-rubber S T R E T C H I N G
Hasn't the concept
of          calendars or
                             Jesus or
                                medicine cabinets
                                                         Dentists and
                                                             ­               Saints.
Everything is in its place
as it will always be
        as it has never been...
(Ever)
SPONTANEITY of matter
                         Gliding thr-
                                          -ough matter.
What does it all matter anyway?
There's                    loving
and                    ­     experiencing,
                Music.
           Personsong.
         Do-no-wrong.
That        no-no           of making
             mistakes?
A falsity!
**** up

In blissful circles
to the         SOUND
                    OF SNOW
                    MELTING
on streetlamps front of my
House.
                                (A very silent orchestra performing
                                 Before collision and like dog whistles
                                 It's a sound we cannot hear.
                                The peoples got their poetry and
                                cognitive thought so the other
                                Animals get the REAL sensory
                                Inconceivables to write about
                                But the ******* can't)
In that
                        future
_____
basement house

Where the Van Gogh
                   Velvet Underground sit
P
O
S
T
E
R
E
D
on the wood-c
                        u
                          r
    ­                       v
                             e walls.
I'm in unfolding daydream
Thanking
HUNDRED THOUSAND YEARS
predating my
EIGHTEEN.
Thanking the
                              Beats and the Dadaists
                           and Buddhists and
                        Existentialists
                     ­ Post-modernists
                  Minimalists
                Expressionists
            FOR BEING.

Really, they aided
Me off
  the ^ ground
during
eight month unemployment induced depression where
I felt disassociated with myself
and the dynamo                                                       outside the front door..
Glowing via
         sunlight in the day window and
            headlights in the night window.
Either way
I filled up with
                                   (((Purposeless cynicism)))
The world bulb clicked ON
With/without me           there,
None of the corner stores
Or      airports
Or      hospitals
          courts and
          institutions
gave a rat's ***
what woes I be asphyxiated by
or that                 Farmquiet two lane
                                 tarnished path
In the country                       (in May)
      seemed fine a place as any
to     step a few feet to the          
                                               right
                            and
      left

of me and
                         .......DIZZY.......
by death traffic
old Buick polish
(Tragedy they'd say!)

While there midway in the firing line
I felt like
the wackos in      l o o s e
stone COLISEUM daisy cages
               Empty lots,
       Place where the beast of
  Emptiness cuffs to your sleeve
             and weeps
                      All over itself
                      that Sarte was right all along!
(No Exit! No exit!)

Autumn quartz moonlight                        O
Illuminated headstone repetition
circling musk fields.
  Skeleton wings
Of preceded seasons' timbers
Caught muttering the
Corpseconvo
as the               tumblecar
trembling             hot in
                           Music sauna HUM
Approaches life,
to the
                       paralyzed November air
of
Coffin bodies insulated
By roots N' six feet of terrestrial barrier.



Faces disappearing now
to Heavenly chandeliers of time
offering distant light future
and above my ponderous skull presently
                 dancing riverside to situations
                                                  and newness
                           (2016)
                  enigmatic spiral
  every                 color             every
                        possibility
every                rainbow          or
                      non-rainbow chromatically
                           webbed in Attic
                                          of secluded
                                Quantum Dimensions-

The big blue doors are opening to cosmic entirety,
cats everywhere are purring in their sleep,
somebody reads                          Murakami,
                                                      Picabia,
                                                      Joyce,
   ­                                                   W.C Williams,
                                                      B­erryman & Brainard too.
Big blue doors, rites of passage,
Aarti Varanasi twenty-seventeen,
             joyride to San Francisco (I wrote a poem on that once!)
Continuing self-exploration,
            reminding that soul to stay awake,
            the search for love-
Warmth when the year is
metamorphosed to cardinal leaves
       Sunset Summer!
      Autumnal transfiguration
      spiritual!
      Rearrangement of the concurrent reality!

I turn 19 in October and
a procession of kind-eyed children
will be born in the moments
I blow the cake candles.
Light goes out!
light comes in!
Hanoi expects me still.

and to think, maybe you could love me.
but i knew your young heart never could.

i have so much rage inside.

?I grew up too fast.

When I was younger, I was taught that school is important. Im going to graduate, go to college, get a job, have a family and then my life will be complete.
I used to get so excited thinking about all of it... now It scares me.

I miss being little
I miss having a dog that was bigger than me
I miss watching cartoons on Saturday morning's instead of studying for an exam that is most of my grade.
I miss my only worries being if I got coal or candy in my stocking that year.
I miss adding a new mark on the door frame, each mark a little taller than the last.
I miss the easy homework in elementary school that seemed difficult at the time.

I remember wanting nothing more than to be one of the big kids, but now I just want to reverse the years.
When your younger the only chore you have is picking up your toys and cleaning up your messes.
When you get older you have to sweep, mop, dust, the list goes on.
When you're younger you don't have to worry about relationships because "they have cooties".
When you get older you get this idea that if you don't date anybody then you're not cool, and if you date too many people you're a who're.
But we all grow up
We all have to take responsibility, and those who don't,
fail in life

My parents warned me,
They warned me about the people I would run into, the obstacles I would have to face, the peer pressure, the school work, the discipline I would have to learn in order to become successful in life.
I always thought I had more time to prepare myself.

when you grow up, one of the many obstacles you face, is the people around you; the bullies, the teachers.
when you grow up, you are exposed to peer pressure and are given no choice but to follow the leader.
Peer pressure is a horrible thing; it can get you to smoke, to drink, to join gangs, to ruin your life.
the lucky ones are the people that are strong enough to say “No”.
when you grow up, you have this feeling of depression, of loneliness, of feeling you are not good enough; and it's horrible because we all feel it at some time, no matter how hard you try to prevent it.

when your younger the years go by slower, making it feel like time will last forever.
Then the years pass by, they start moving faster and faster,
Especially when your having fun.
Growing up isn't always horrible, there are people I'm glad that I met, memories that will always make me smile, hard times that have made me a better person, and lives that I've changed.
Im thankful
I just wish the innocence, the simplicity could have lasted a little longer.

When I was younger,
I loved the clouds

I made pictures in them
And sometimes stories

I would sit and watch them
For hours

My parents worried
That a 6 year old
Needed "alone time"
But I wasn't alone
I was with the clouds

To me,
They were happy
And hopeful.

Now all I see in the clouds are
Darker days and rain storms
What happened,
To the little girl
Who loved the clouds?

I miss her

Will I still be stressed when I'm 74?*
Aren't things supposed to get better when you get older?