The traffic was moving slowly,
With everyone listening to the same station,
Looking from one car to the next,
Seeing out past the back of each others skulls,
Beatnik priests,
In tattered regalia,
Dance with boards of wood,
Everyone wants to be someone else,
Why am I me,
Why aren't I?
Sometimes I feel predetermined
because it is rightfully biological,
to be unsatisfied with my soul,
eternally,
until I leave my prison,
or become enlightened,
when a voice rings out,
booming across the brozed moon,
whispers then falls silent,
a dazy haze of everything.

Above the trees and the ground,
There was no sound,
Above the world,
The sky had come down,

So much had happened,
Now it was over,
And nothing mattered,

We reached our hands above our heads,
We each held a piece,
Blinked our eyes and…

It’s time to fill,
Fly over garden, meadows, hill,
Heal those wounds,
Baring your own fruit of life.

It makes sense once you think about it, son

It's the conspiracy to conspire,
Think of how the fist or flies feel,
The most enticing truth,
Astonishingly mouthwatering,
Turns out smoke and mirror,
You see, because behind the window paned,
skeleton of steel and wire,
Underneath there is commerce,
In the webbing of marrow, worldwide underhandedness,
Something is always being sold,
What better way to take power away,
Then having scheduled rebellions,
The greatest put on,
Our system only works under thumbs,
from the backdrop works the crippled puppeteer,
behind his blank, vagrant, expressionless lenses,
Behind the grey skin and swilled organs,
Attached to the oil drum veins,
Beats the very same heart of Moloch!

(I wrote these words:)

The Vagabond Dogs
Traveling the Earth,
Howling inebriated to the Moon,
To the Horizon,
Towards impeccable stars,
Guarded Jealousy towards,
Their Gratitude towards
Life.

Opie Okies,
pursed lips,
Midwestern turn,
of phrase,
Grubby,
makeshift enterprise,
Whose building,
has ol' ***** wisemen,
sittin' on the porch,
chewing the fat,
of the fish caught,
cheaply from the dock,
Their faces branded,
a top the flickering neon billboard,
A majestic pile of gleaming ****,
A ****** statement,
under breath,
That is America today

The Kamel had no skin on his gums,
With outstretched hooves and saline eyes,
A rustic desert bending on the Horizon,
Boundlessly veering off course,
There he'll give eternally in the mirror,
(Trying to reflect)
Right before the show,
And he'd instantly need to know,
What was that?
Had his peak come and gone,
Without vision he'd have no clue,
When he'd know,
Or when they had known,
What had happened?
There he saw footprints in the snow,
Crossing over each other high up,
Beyond the intrusions and dials,
Joyfully drenched in fearful awareness,
Peacefully engaged with time,
Those moments that came to the Kamel's Head,
Where all was lost and fully known.

And then it came to mind,
How to operate within my station,
Facets of degradation,
Open with a wiliness to accept.

Mind’s eye wandering,
Everything in a quicken pace moves,
Surrounded
Blanketed in,
Blackened will to survive,
To escape the common,
Graced by impeding disaster,
Trying to dig yourself out.

The reservoir of hope,
The **** of surplus sacrilege,
Slowly drained by the common,
Conformity of the Herd.

Reasoning to keep the smile?
Why not envelope the enveloper,
The world is an oyster without a pearl,
Your life begins today and is one nanosecond shorter,
Fancy ornaments
Pathetic compensation,
Being a disillusioned higher up,
Means being a corporate *****.

Your boss,
My boss,
Has something in common,
They felt that stress is necessary,
Nervousness a virtue,
Stoicism means to be malleable,
Easy to break the spirit,
Difficult to understand that,
Below the surface,
The fault lines of the two hemispheres,
Begin to overlap and scrap,
Unravel and become lucid in plain simplicity,
Like pulling the lever which spills more
Useless garbage on your lap.

Envelope that and be comfortable with its existence,
Never agree with it, then stagnate standing water
Becomes the cesspools surface,
Underneath is the ravings of a diabolical cynic
That isn’t going to shovel the **** anymore

There we all were spouting drifts of nonsense.
We each had an equal share of reality.
I proclaimed I loved the whole thing and everyone in it.
May not have been the right time.

Now we all sit and gaunter about.
We live in our own flesh of time.
Recognizing the mantra of mentality.

I’ll always remember the night with them,
They seeked a natural forum,
The one that I also sought,
In one blaze of night and early morning,
True events took place.

I hope they all remember,
How wondrous and true that moment was,
The ramblings on the wall,
Standing and sitting around in great suspense,
Never wanting the end to come.

It was set on a kaolin foundation,
I felt we rose our spirits on the silky earth.

“I’ve put many things behind me, ‘bout time I caught a break!” ~ Anonymous

The worker bee mentality can sting,
The very essence of the creative scientific process,
Who wants the extra strain onto themselves?


High, high, high, high, I don't know why,
I did away, got away, made escape, was okay,
I got reason...
I had no reason, no reason,
No aspirations, I was made awake,
By a giant eye, blink away,
Cosmos gone, but I remain,
Cracked in stone, belly ache,
Sick and tired, of the way,
I had to act around this pain,
Getting up, sitting down,
Making real shadows on the wall,
Great, I only wanted to be tall,
For a line and sail away,
I hid away, ran away, made escape, carried on,
Killing time is almost up,
I'll sit in the corner and let it past,
Just want to finish this ******* song,
So I can go home.

The bandits and outlaws own this town,
The anarchists and killers roam free,
The innocent haven’t suffered,
They’re extinct,
Genuinely,
Intensely,
Migrated to a better place,
Now that the laws and rules don’t apply,
This world is free of substantial duty,
Discipline exists as a rule of criminal code,
The conduct of personal freedom is to live,
Numero uno lives to rebel and scratch out,
To know the enemy as himself,
Regretting nothing,
Punching himself in the chest
Treasuring the moment,
In all fickle splendor,
To not be thought about too hard,
Experienced in mishap,
Total bedlam the usual events,
Drunken buffoonery,
Lazy expectations,
Silly and trite,
Can’t tell the difference after a while in this town.

Maybe at one point there was a group,
A genuine collection of unique and careful persons,
With a great deal to offer and intelligence,
A new way to think,
An ****** for the masses created in a basement with some *****,
The ceremony turned to reality,
Too intimidating to comprehend and soon it consumed,
Corruption and went ugly…quick,
Roots went sour and now spread,
Core and far and wide,
Grew up to make it all sunken,
Down the tubes,
Fueling the sun and expounding nothing,
Just mindless energy wandering,
No purpose,
Dealing with the devil everyday,
Coming up on top.

I dreamt I was pushing a broken lightbuld into his eye for laughing at me,
I woke up this morning with scratches on my hand,
The pain swelled and sank back into my palm,
but it felt incredibly relieving,
"What am I doing here?"
The room didn't make any sense to me,
Was I being held captive?
The *******.
Do you think that he has any idea,
Could anyone be that slovenly,
Whatever I'm happier that I've ever been,
Besides the scratches in my hand,
They don't hurt as much as that *****.

What could be behind the door?
Possibly more?
Or more of the same,
relics treasures of the arcane,
or insight; to the core?

Our benign social conscious grew,
Into dogma righteousness flew,
Up above the heaven's heights,
plunge below eternal nights,
You tell you to be you.

***; death; ****; HORROR...
...Love; serenity; ambrosia; ORDER...

Simulated visions
Narcotic apparitions
The thundering seashore.

While a howl rang and hung in the night's sky,
The clouds opened and surged inwards,
Thunder boomed magnificently,
Nature's wonderful horror,
Only a glimpse really into the heart,
The torrid splendor off coastal plains,
Might deluges and droughts,
Calculating Cosmos unifying existense,
Galactic accidents,
Mutations unique of the flesh,
Marbled temples with high ceilings,
Wiped off in an instant,
The LightningMan Cry,

Discarded heavenly ash that rains down,
Torched atoms from an immense body,
Collecting delicately on powdered reflecting floors,
Which catch radiant and brilliant aftermaths,
The chaos creating by destruction but never really changing,
Just flickering in the light as they grow weightless,
Everything silent nonsense now,
With pristine nothingness,
Brilliant colors dipping and moving with blatant blankness,
Such energy resides in the smallest speck,
Suspended in a ribbon of reality,
Nourished with tidbits of truth,
Until the intense instant of breaking off,
Particles erupting, igniting, into brightness.

I sat down after being told,
by the old hungry *****,
Not to worry but there was,
a better spot then this one,
Of course,
The pedistals that sit outside,
occupational windows,
That familiar unknown feeling,
O That town they call Dinky,
There sat a confusing aura,
the pious religious freak said aura,
he talked and gave change,
yet the skull girl,
you could tell,
didn't want any of it,
The scene was joined by Tank,
His armada pockets full,
towering and proclaiming,
fits of oratory rage,
them ******* in Washington.
He saw us and scared the poor muertos,
The friends she was waiting for came and fled with them,
I lumbered after her under duress to myself,
breaking Tank's train of thought
I'm sure,
To tell her sincere,
There are normal people here,
To which her friend said after
they'd gained distance,
"   You must have a target on your back or something!"

Syncopated with the earthly trumpets,
Silvery milk harps silhouetted the scene,
Golden tolling thunder fogging from the deep,
Fanatics drawing deathly dream-like breaths,
Wrapping around the candle drums.

Suns and moons kissed our eyes,
We all laughed at our disguise,
All truth had become all lies,
From the ground all ties were cut,
Floated to the center,
Earthly lives and candle drums,

Take away the dying block,
Gracious resounding turbulence,
Time stopped for heavenly hell,
Came apart and brought back with spell,
We all fell and resurrect tonight.

She stopped to cry,
Over the roadkill,
She was on no substance,
Clearheaded she wept,
Crimson tears,
Through champagne eyes,
Her sweat rippled through her skin,
She grew stems with,
Rainbow leaves,
Translucent,
Placid,
Fortuitous,
She connected it all in the final second,
Compassion was carefree,
She lived and died,
Growing tired,
With tragic wings.

I have a code of ethics,
Everything that I am and ever will be,
All that I’ve learned and can’t be taught,
Things that I’ve flexed to fit in myself,
I want to fuse them together into a tapestry,
Useless metaphors.
It’s impossible to summarize it,
The whole of any being is too complex to fit,
That’s what’s terribly great,
To have too much to say and not say it,
Paradox.
I need and don’t want,
I help and don’t hurt,
I dream and don’t sleep,
I do everything and nothing,
Philosophy.
We’re good and bad,
It’s perfectly alright to have differences,
Don’t hurt others for them,
We have too much to gain from learning ourselves,
Acceptance.
Since this is a restricted poem I can’t continue and I wouldn’t want to,
Not because of the work, but of my code of ethics

Lotus position in the blue light,
I've said every third thing I've had to say,
I'm in a Fritz the Cat mood,
Way in over my head?
I saw 2D illusions wrapped up in the stars,
They made sense in their motion,
Set to some Carnival Beat from the past,
It almost seems as if the papers could fly at any,
SECOND!
Sort of a kamikaze mission from within,
Taken for granted at times but whistling through,
All that rustling in the bushes isn't something,
To fear or make instant enemies with,
Tried and true make up the essence of outside,
Calling from beyond the blue electric light,
O what a shame to have happen to you,
O benevolent one who's fingers search,
O the few that make it all happen,
O to the continuounce of it all,
To circle in closer and closer without pause,
Granulated and thirsty basking in wait,
For that feminine angel to whasp down,
O a thing of immense beauty,
O in multi-armed manifestations of such,
O with chest beating and caving in,
O to glorious realization that,
Something is real besides themselves

Good and evil,
Hot and Cold,
Right and wrong,
It must be told.
Right and left,
Life and death,
Time and space,
Take a breath.
Important and petty,
Same and different,
Unique and boring,
What rhyme scheme??
Easy and difficult,
Saint and devil,
Genius and idiot,
All opposite until…
Sane and insane,
Straightened and bent,
Creation and destruction,
Disagreeing just to be indifferent?
Health and sickness,
Yes and no,
Hate and love,
Time to grow
Content and contempt,
Stand and sit,
Empty and full,
Opposite.

Coming from the shadows a six armed samurai,
Followed closely by glowstick wielding neon ninji,
Grips of *** swigging pirates swing from the rafters,
Swallowed alive by blacklight monsters,
Gangs of ***** smoking gurus,
Armed to the teeth with translucent didgeridoos,
Monks parade in swirling vestments,
Whilst the shaman trip in lotus testament,
Gods transfixed by blood tear beauty,,
As humanity’s heroes slay bejeweled dragons,
The king with two faces is beheaded,
By his charlatans, harlequins, fools and jesters,
Chaotic, prophetic killers run amok,
The order of lunatics chant as the time is struck,
A battle royale then follows,
As robots and aliens envelope,
Brilliant beams and whirring mechanics,
Clash with steel, rock, bone and sticks,
Screams from the heads of the thieves,
As their brains are devoured by zombies

Once there was wilderness,
Mad, irrepressible, scenes of rustic chaos,
Unhindered beasts trapezed,
Grand bounds into untethered existence,
Holding their own against many elements,
Interladen unified skulls,
Now become bleak and dashed,
Animalistically we strived for freedom,
The fundamentals of inquiry,
REQUIRE no mediation,
Beneath us lie the horrid gazes,
Noses scoffing from regulated clouds,
You’re in the middle,
Felt unable to ponder the mystery,
Left conditioned to always look out,
Blanketed in warm shelters and trinkets in hand,
Only through a Grand Decomposition,
Will we once more become unafraid,
Of the ties that be,
An answer to many lonesome sirens.

Muted, muffled, dull thud on concrete,
Staggered, drunken, half conscious nobody,
Starved, seeking, worried about payments,
**** in hand, knocking on the wrong doors,
Fire and brimstone stoked in the belly,
Mad, strange, appetizing burlesque eyes,
Obnoxious smacking and licking of parched lips,
Rolling on half rationed legs,
Quiet, sullen, mournful footsteps,
Presently placed awkwardly one in front of the other,
Memory serves correctly, destitute, reprise,
Thunderclaps and crashing roars,
Almost forgotten, with great relief,
Soon, very soon, to be lost forever,
Candlelight, sobbing vigils, no power,
Nail, Nail, Nail,
Praise in the box, graffiti walled,
Like a bathroom stall, just as ******,
Docile dissolving vessels,
Brought to the commonplace dropoff,
Settled down and greatly relieved.

We'll all fry,
or we'll comply,
clouds billow-ballow 'cross the top,
Quick, chilled electric bodies,
Make contact in the cold dark,'The beacon of the lonely,
O so dear and ethereal entertain,
******* with head lice and light,
Naked to the wrath of night,
If not cradled, bathed in wreck,
Limitations of levitation

There were deep pools of swirling grey,
Running along the borderline,
The child brought along his reel and soul,
He proceeded to set on the bank of,
One of the deepest pools,
And began to pray,
He started to remember all the mistakes,
They filled his lungs with self-loathing,
He wondered what his point was,
It filled his brain with worry,
He thought of his name,
It was like a cruel joke,
He remembered what he looked like on the outside,
It made his stomach churn,
He started to meditate to alleviate,
It made his heart beat slow,
A ring clamp had been binding it,
With concentration,
Silver electric flames rose up around the ring,
Turned it into a halo,
He forgot about the world and others,
He misplaced his own ego in the matter,
He even forgot that he was fishing,
And that was when he had a bite.

Down by the tracks with my ol’ friend Jack,
He picked up his hat and wiped it off clean,
Into the horizon he looked shading his eyes with one hand,
Saw farther than a man had ever seen.

He saw straight past his life and all his days,
To that moment that he’d love to dread,
Whooshed right up the tracks and to his spine,
The chill of the end when he was dead.

His eyes weren’t shut but he squinted,
Something deep down he felt was lifted,
Eerily warm he felt in the ground,
As he was put in the earth spinning ‘round.

Dream of life,
A shell of a man,
Walk the world,
A zombie.

Frightened as a cyclopes,
With two eyes,
Making a statement,
For all mankind.

God's little creatures,
Drinking the forest,
Through their feet,
And olde cartoons.

The sands of time,
From the hourglass,
Drain through the,
Hands of the chieftain.

Demons in the fog,
Their smiles luminating,
And made of corpses.

With no where to run,
And no where to hide,
Many people can't explain,
The knife in their hand.

Drained from their lifeless,
And made to dance,
With no sense of,
Remorse towards it.

Nobody tells you how,
Nobody tells you why,
In the wind,
Fish swim in magma,
And frogs have sequence.

They laugh at the chaos,
Hope for the return,
Of their master,
The drained man.

With no emotion,
After a date with,
His drained life.

(Handwritten horribly)

Excuse The pen
I walked all this way,
And my pen is broke!

By and by the world doesn’t make sense,
Though it turns,
It doesn’t pass,
While it encircles and trances,
It never escapes,
It isn’t truly free,
It isn’t even controlled,
Would the world learn from its mistakes?

Rock: Ridgid and tough
Wood: Natural, eventual decay
Glass: Fragile and transparent/colorful
Paper: Lightweight and flexible, yet tears easily

Copper: Less expensive, down-to-earth
Silver: Shiny, allergic to my skin
Gold: Self absorbed, obsessed
Platinum: Tending to try for perfections or egotistic, ADHD or OCD

Air: Invisible and wayward, nomadic
Water: Flowing and graceful
Fire: Warmth and passion
Earth: Round and supple

Even though the mind is never,
at rest,
Expounding upon itslef ambiguously,
Even though we are stopped; at the end,
we are racing!
At this moment,
we all understand ourselves,
with little flaws, faults and fallacies,
About what we're all about,
Even though it all makes sense,
the next turn, corner, windowsill,
Threshold doors float.
flow,
Our consciousness is infallable,
The hubiris of this satire,
That all persons,
At this moment,
Even though the brain constantly perceives,
In our little grandiose heads,
We have it all figured out,
The system of environment has,
been analyzed,
The results were,
inconclusive,
Yet we persist,
even though,
at the flip of a switch,
after all is said and done,
even though we knew our
Ultimate Truth,
sought after,
strived and toiled for,
even understanding chiral inversions,
fractal combustion,
The makeshift mind,
Never failing,
The unbending will,
gleefully wisping,
singing and swaying,
Sunlight beaming,
Booming,
Across the faces,
Flashing on scattered specks,
even though our ugliness,
is beauty,
even though,
love conquers all,
even though,
Truth,
Is malleable,
Our stubborn straight-forwardness,
Makes that realization rigid.

And what does it mean,
To be truly empty,
Completely susceptible on all sides,
Would you sing in sick lunacy,
Trading glances with only,

A mirrored version of yourself,
would it all suddenly make sense,
In climactic waves,
Like piercing truth,
And when it sunk down,
Would you believe all those lies,

Taken away by deceit,
Searching the world to believe,
In something...

Then it hits into full spin,
And I'm at it again,
A craziness built up inside of me,
Is it me?
In this little...
Or is it better asking who are they,
Quietly and running along the edges,
Across seams of soaring skies,
Coming right and saying it,
What does it all mean?
Forgetting place in the line,
Trying to rationalize all the belief,
Asking who am I and who are you
Completely backwards,
Who am I to be asking?

The brilliant center jumps,
Spiraling and turning,
pulsing along with invisible beats,
lulling the eyes onward to the nod,
Hitting the sides of shaded banks,
Returning,
and for just the slightest instant,
exhibiting a fearless display;
in the true cascading lumiradiance;
bursting into full light;
Colors deafening and shining outward,
Turning all those around blind,
deaf,
stupid,
entitled to enlightenment.

Somewhere along the line the illusion will lift off of you two as well,
This is not a hate poem,
Although it is real in its dictum,
There's no ill will directed,
It could be just careful denial,
Seen as death and pain incarnate,
Really it was a good day,
And it is the truth I say,
This is not a hate song,
but **** em,
Hearing your circular coughs,
Like being force fed garbage,
Maybe this is a plea,
For an escape plan,
Perhaps a want of new beginnings,
I'll stay as long as,
It takes to see you two crash and burn,
You two make it so easy,
To lose track of my place,
Like an endless vertigo,
I felt creep up over my sockets,
Fog is clear and now all I have to say is,
**** THEM,
Everything points to something,
I'm happy mine's pointing away,
We all hold a gun my "friend,"
And yours are pointing at each other,
It is just a clause to a want,
saying so is something entirely different,
Because I work and slave to shape this,
While the two of you sit back and,
Exploit what it meas in a devilish laugh.

Gentle contemplation,
    of the dark hands,
         sinking into the dark,
               cold land,
          hammering cold,
       real spikes into,
   the cool, cruel land.

In my peripherals,
     I could see the flashing
          of their sirens,
               of the fires on doorsteps,
           of idiocy secreting from
        the bus ride,
     express line to the
twin world

The haunting hollow lights,
       of the bell tower,
            as if floating,
                its wall invisible,
Just like those cursed, darkened hands,
Digging into the granite of
  the lands,
     bleak,
        accepting all freaks,
           of a certain caliber ,
They make up the nimrods,
       Roaming Wall,
           Visibly,
In the dimmest light,
     you can't see a spark,
          a depressing aspect,
Behind sad woolen eyes,
       transfixed on the betterment,
a raptured glance,
          the promising view,
The contrasting composition,
      that everything might.
          not turn out alright,
    and that's
preferable.

Compliments of unwarranted origin in my halo
Have the creatures running uselessly in contempt of one another
Two years of the dynasty have left,
The wreckage of a village.
Sky have you fallen lately?
What do you think about the invention of humanity?
Paper, lies, love, and things,
What has become of the flower society?
Thinking too much about the wrong issues
No need for there to be an Armageddon,
Have fun while you can, how you want.
Today there are the definitive and the restricted
Can there be a sense of well-being amongst us
No good will come from a perfect day,
In which we are all content.
Wires will cross
Fire will fly
Wind will blow
And insignificance will be annihilated.
So much for our own self-righteous nature,
We have no idea.

I have consumed,
The godhead fungus,
Once again,
Upon upset stomach,
I will watch,
my mind unravle,
become undone,
rewound,
renewed,
possibility of destruction,
Omnipresense,
Tho, the word topple over,
the mountains fall to the sea,
none of this worries I,
For creation comes,
From the depths of the depraved,
Relentless,
Hospitable,
Passion flow like rivers,
Juxtaposed round the ignited,
Universe,
Cosmos,
Atomic Circus.

pages turn the world.
as in weight with a full load,
page turn and skin burn,
kingdoms of the wild,
all favor the queen,
She is to be followed,
By strange masses,
Covered in
pyre ash,

Holy riders of wind, crisp and grey,
Vanish over the clouds,
Derelict an missing limbs,
Somberly moving in collapsible
movement.
They tip-toe the equator,
between existence and chaos.

As soon as Harmony rose on the horizon,
I felt the world commence,
The whole thing has been surreal,
Seeing figures from the past,
The new fleeting moments echoing into eternity,
Voices became elated and enlightened,
As even the harsh storms threaten the shore,
beckons at the door,
The New people answer back,
perfectly diffused.

He held a stone in his hand
Circled it around his head and hen
Brought it down

Gazing straight through the hole
Desperate to know a soul just once
Slid through the openings of the leaves

Quite different on the inside of the wall
The lack of gravity made him feel tall
Fire coming out of his…

Volcano spewed a rock up to the sky
Embryonic it exited the atmosphere
Started to fly

10000 years later it came back to the people
It caused an uproar with hysteria no equal
What was this strange vessel

The collision was immense
All that was left in the debris
Was a stone in a severed palm

The water in my canteen has been cooled,
On the windowsill from the cold night's wind,
I wrapped myself with all the warmth I could muster,
The heating desire witnessing the future and its change,
I am stuck in my room-cell,
Unable to move from their forces caving in,
Until they call for me to do the meager chores of life,
Then back,
Unwashed,
To my cave and etchings,
Where I have been for so long.

I can’t stand the way you’re always looking at me,
Sick and tired of thinking what will come to be,
Shaking the flaky dreams from my hair
I’m just sick and tired oh well who cares.

It isn’t a shame how it all ended,
Burnt up and feeling fine,
Can’t wait to find,
That feeling again,
That I’ve found the right one.

So many kinds I just want to taste them all,
Deep down inside I know you’re out there,
I’m sick and tired of sitting alone with the old one,
It’s time for something new.

I knew something was up -- spinning fast,
She told me she loves him now – what a joke,
Then what did that mean – all those times she said it to me?
Illusion – just a three syllable lobotomy,
Swam in the circuits of my brain – reaction: infected
I began to figure it out – illusion’s never erased
The world is a bit less harsh – yearn for the simpler manifesto
Cured from the infection – I feel like a slab of cured ham
Walking tall amongst the grass – gazing into buildings and wondering what’s happening in there?
My bible’s soaking wet – I left the window open and it rained last night
It’s nothing that concerns me – the bible that I carved into all the way to Ezekiel 25:17
I’ve never hid anything in that niche – I just like the idea that I could hideout there
Now it’s drenched – the windowsill is swelled up and looks bad
Today I woke up and broke my routine – I actually wrote what I was thinking

But please let me try and explain,
O, but a friend we will be,
Companions in the simple,
Desensitized world of,
Fake wood and fluorescence,
We grow distant as do
Sky and waves,
Swelling and spilling,
Into one another.
Please, return back
To the tribute I lay here,
Now is all that matters,
My soul quivers.
Your place is space,
Can only have,
Both of us.
Can’t you see?
Please move back
Next to me

In between the blurred lines,
Laced with exploding, impending reason,
A season of impending, exploding wellness,
The change of stations,
Instead of the hazy, late afternoon dullness,
In the fog, redness resonating into the palm,
Getting rid of the self delusions,
Fitted in a fiery costume of skin,
Stark naked and feeling the great truth,
To the unknown.

The meek are in the pocket,
of the powerful,
The artist is in the pocket,
of the authority.
The authority; cops,
are in the pocket of the law,
The law is made up,
by politicians,
Their deceptive truths,
puppeteered by criminals; gangsters.
The ruthless tyrants are,
in the pocket of the
malnourished, emaciated, gaunt,
faceless demon,
Shriveled and terrifying,
pock marked arms outstretched,
Slithering up the back,
Recanted by the one,
Absolute wisdom,
Of the meek,
The beggars are in the pocket,
The vagabond fools and jesters,
The guru shaman mystic ascetics,
That journey,
Yet never set foot,
Whom hermitage,
Is a pilgrimage,
To where the Absence of mind,
Isn't Mindful,
It is just simplicity,
Sacrilegious ease,
The safety of the Pocket.

Is it wrong to feel compassion,
for rebellion,
       for upheaval,
             for revolution,
protests and marches for causes;
gone to the psychedelic winds,
in place come capitalistic mentions,
nominations to the greater things.
Is it futile to believe,
in the triumphs of the few,
         against the many,
having meaning,
          mentality.
      the art of living,
  of flowing upstream,
against wishes of authority,
       the understand,
              but duty dictates,
      otherwise.
The people have the right,
       but not the motivation,
    to enact and will,
          through the teeth of,
                 the oppressors.
We all feel weak,
    yet the power struggle cont.
                                                  (end of page. arrow)
Throughout time,
       Proving ourselves,
Making it through the day,
    Has amounted to the probability,
         The chance we took,
Have we flopped?
         Are we on the floor?
                  Are we able to recover?
Even fatalistically.
        Has anything changed?
Since the works of the older
Generation?
Do we,
     Does our are,
         mean the same as,
       Their output.
   It sounds softer, more real,
Tangible and timeless.
Now our mentality has moved to
A lull
Our enlightenment has
darkented,
Our meaning has,
diluted,
And we feel the numbing venom,
of the very real dream,
of how the world ought to be.

10/23/13

I wish for everything to become dreamlike,
For the visions that I see to be beautiful beyond recognition,
Prejudices to be erased and see everything as it is objectively,
The land and the sky emerged,
Eaten by the eyes of republics,
Societies fair and balanced in the long, long run,
That everything be made simple in all fruits,
I wish that the struts holding existence together be abolished,
Simians and pagan with currency abound in their hearts,
Abandoned for the love of idealist thought,
The fear of death leveled by the sight of life,
Pondering and pondering have brought forth a makeshift cannon,
The wick is filled with hate and as it burns so will the needs of man,
Slowly the blast of council will grant those new passage,
Those that didn’t think about things so hard,
Those that didn’t believe in anything,
Those that wanted to long for something,
Coming up short made those want for nothing,
Except the want to not want,
Those that rang bells and shouted out loud,
Those that twirled in the crowded room,
Those that had revelations of revolution,
Those that held rain in their hands,
Those that sought but weren’t sought after,
For them it was the single step that made a difference,
The mighty that were oh so meek,
Those that didn’t get lead to slaughter,
But by simple concept of overall were swept away by the tide,
Kicking and screaming,
Sanctuary
Sanctuary
They held human self worth above net worth,
Held sickly more virtuous than pampered
Held troubled and misguided as labeled dangerous thinking by the feeling mites,
Held the feeble meaning of the world on the string and chopped it,
Let it fall and fully saw truth laying at the bottom

Riding down the stoic streets,
Whilst the shy blossoms indigo,
before the deluge of spirits,
Start trampling and parading,
After the long pandering lat night,
Mind and body pounding like a
funeral drum.
A single procession hugs the horizon
and kisses the waves lapping on
forgotten shores,
Tossing and turning,
pulling head strings to remember,
gulping it all,
and put it down intrinsic,
with a nuance of perfection.