They bleed into grey
The global visions of our day
Until the well trodden trail
Becomes our way

I've seen it
I've touched it
I've held it in mind
I lingered in that cave
And left stuff behind

Yet it occurs to me
That  living is the goal
To experience every pleasure
As we inevitably grow old

Surely we came here
Simply to experience life
The good, the bad
The happy, The sad
Back and forth throughout time
Til we return to Source

The attempted
Redemption began
The brooding
The shadows within

Words unspoken
Forever unsung
In to the abyss
Of all you have done

But the redemption
Never really takes
And after all the living
You forsake
The quest for redemption
   Was but a mere taste
Of the suffering
You caused!


Moving on now!

I try not to believe in things.
Instead, I observed things with no preconceived judgement.

I believe my truck could still be in the garage where I parked it.

I believe there’s a ghost of a chance that anyone can avoid betrayal.

I believe in the end it doesn’t even matter.

I believe when ignorance ends knowledge begins.

We are but perpetual donkey's chasing a carrot
on an invisible rod
suspended from our collar.
Oh how I love that mighty dollar.

In my pocket, in my bank
I love the way money stinks!
Credit unions deep in debt
I haven’t lost my bitcoin yet..

Invisible credit shall suffice
like you the bank robs me
most every night..
So....
Buy some silver, buy some gold,
buy some land before you fold..

The love of money
can be a hell of a load..

There’s no labor
When we’re in the zone
Every line is on its own
Every stanza polished and pure
What was it that drew us here

Some shadow driven desire
A dopamine rush if you please
Like a yogi in the moment
Like a dogs tail wagging free

From the masses we have risen
The quickening is quite satisfying
All the addictions we could have
And it’s poetry that we rely on.

The simplicity of rhymes
freely flows
through the readers mind.
As simplistic words unravel
in an array of poetic babble
we channel
the memes of our muses.

No forced word can capture,
no college can teach
the aesthetics of laughter,
the glamour of grief.

The essay of brilliance
awaits in the zone.
The Muse and the Master
in the hearts of gold.

The drones have made themselves known.
Who knows where they come from
who knows where they go?
This could be the end for all we know.
White blinking lights swarm the skys,
sporadic patterns, deep state lies.

It seems that we are accelerating into crazy.
But our leaders assures there is no threat.
(How would they know?)

P.s Where can I purchase one of these crafts?

I dreamed about love so real I cried
so beautiful and unattainable
and yet still I tried
I tried to hold on as long as I could
but my dreams are so often misunderstood

Their eyes may always look down on you
their hearts may never change
so warm yourself in solitude
a hearth of forgiving  flames.