The addict is just a fool with misguided desires,
I'm just a cog in the unheard unified mechanism.

Welcome back to the rust bucket,
Welcome back to the **** bucket.

How incredibly suave Mr. Rivall
Those are the words of the woman
Made love to and fascinated with the writer,
She'll cause something to stir in me,
Vast and quiet scapes in my mind,
All pretenses are lost,
While I lay my being on hers.

Levitating angel,
Won't you sit by me,
So I can hear the purr,
Of your breath,
The seldom and wonderful,
Times you are with me,
The sultry storm that shines,
Inside of the ***** diamond,
So ample and rich and round,
Please bare, always bare,
What you want out of life,
Brevity and traded dreams,
Lose yourself with me,
I want to hear it,
I'd love to be there.

Listen to my mind wander,
Silhouetted footsteps
Echo through the doorway,
Smoke exhumes the body,
The trial is about to begin,
Carnivalesque a mockery,
The laughing ends with reality,
Seeing for the first time,
That the wandering footsteps,
Innocent intent,
Caused ripples in the tidepool,
Wings flapping,
Utter chaos,
Order within the universe,
Faithful to the fear.

Lust is a sin everyone will enjoy,
from the bums in the courtyard,
mingling and thrusting ***** privates,
to the chaste; to you and me, and celibate,
The celibate lust for self-recognition,
for their gods,
for a higher purpose,
To strive is to lust and to lust,
it is only human to lust for comfort,
for control,
for order.
Goals of every sect are prized,
Sought after are the lusts
that guide us,
that energize the batteries in our backs,
tells us to do crazy things,
some promote devastation.

Why is it that I cry,
Why O why must our children die,
Later when I walk around with a smile,
I wonder,
Why O Why must I lie.

Hey you over there, yes you,
The one that turned your head at my opening line,
You’re the cause of it all,
As you look back to what you were doing before,
I must’ve said the wrong thing,
To cause you to look away,
Ignoring my plea,
Changing the subject from my insanity,
I know it is rude that I’m not looking at you,
Looking away,
But I am, yes I am, speaking to you,
You’re the most expansively fragile thing,
The reason I call out and howl,
Making all of us in here to toil under lamplights,
Searching and making buffoons out of ourselves,
Just for the chance to let you know,
We’re real and you’re listening.

No!
Now shut the door behind you,
There’s only one regret I have,
And that’s not having you,
One last time,
You sure are beautiful

But then I’d be focused on the outer cast,
Instead of making love to the inner frequency,
I would regress to the outer self,
Because I no longer love the inner you.

I ended it the way I want,
I’m truly self-aware and happy,
Truly,
Just a little dumbfounded that it took so long,
My chest heaves easier knowing that I have moved on.

I knew I found it with you and I know when I will find it again,
When the outer shell is decorated so keenly, so lavish, begging,
That I’ll try to find out about the inner you,
I’ll be more aware of what I need next time.

In any given relationship there are two people,
Before anything, these two are on as polar opposites as possible,
One knows only one truth, “I am Me”
And Two knows the same exact truth,
But they are so drastically different that it would take an eternity to sort it out,
And no one has that kind of time.
These two truths represent the beginning chain of Order and Chaos
It is needed in everything, just in balance
As One and Two meet,
Certain traits and offensives come out of the woodwork,
This represents the Chaos,
It will grow unless taken care of,
These are the little fires that can be extinguished,
Then the Chaos of the Big Fire
Climb and grow and soon,
They start to be indistinguishable and blend
Into the One Order (Love, Unity, Harmony, yadda yadda yadda.)
It’s where time is impregnated by you and another entity.

I found my mom's ****,
I guess Ill be existential and say,
it,
I'm high on the ****,
Brown in a mold of somewhat,
Stale fashion,
compressed,
yet still
surprisingly
*Wonderous

Everywhere my eyes gazed there were faces,
Today all surfaces were covered,
In the vines of brownstone buildings,
In the bag of marijuana,
In the words I wrote,
In the gone moments of the day,
In the wood grains on the table,
All chanting in colic stoicism,
Just colorfully accepting enough to hear,
The blushing remorse of,
Meeting yourself,
Under a different light,
In a different circumstance,
By different laws,
Different matter,
Under a spellbound trip.

She sat up so high and could see far below,
Little did she know, she was in the cloud
Didn't know up from down

Mrs. Ava Ill had a secret
That only the earth did know,
The sky had a feeling
And was pronounced forward,
Impossible dreamer
Come out of bed,
Time to swallow
The pill so hard,
Dry swallow all that remains,
Consume that other life of mine,
Breath it in the Indian chief,
Unlike him
The impossible dreamer,
Will know no bounds,
And be destroyed by it.

The main thing is that life mimicks,
the ones around you are,
you.
The movie failed to realize,
that people around you,
are,
real.
They make up consciousness,
and everything is a,
flying,
dream!

My head itches incredibly tonight,
The flames rising and being fanned,
Teemed and tousled,
Tortured by it,
Right down the ***** of my helm,
My teeth still drenched in sage flavor,
Through my crimson gums,
With my sapphire tongue,
Down my emerald ridged tepid throat,
Straight to my crystalline heart,
Onyxed lungs.

World will end this new year, like so many before it,
With people trying to better themselves in meager ways,
So they can achieve them. That’s no way to go about resolution.
Thinking that the whole world will be washed and turn over
A new leaf, the world will be the same place, and by your
Viewpoint of this, that could be good or a horrible thing.

“Looking” at things with every sense is the only way to grasp.

The world will still have war, death, disease, violence, hat…
The world will also still have peace, life, health, helping, love….
The world won’t be this shiny new place, but for those that
Achieve miraculous goals, whether resolutions, or out of the
Moment. Then those are the shiny bits of history for us.

They’re only heroes if they deny that they are heroes.

The world will end with people conflicted with themselves
And others. But hopefully content with that conflictedness.
Don’t idolize others and try to become them, create your
Own idolization, not self-centeredness. Create your own view.
Create your own culture and society. Create yourself.
Do what you want, as long as it doesn’t hurt yourself or others.

You’re you for the rest of your life, so you might want to…

Can I withstand the world
As it quakes beneath my feet?
Back to back with constant corrosion,
In the face of impending doom?

The motif of my life is
greenish-purple, no-one
likes that color,
nor understands its
taste.

What can I contribute but,
my simple words,
oblivious,
well really not caring,
of the reaction to it,
that is, that I wonder where these words
will lead?

Almost 6 in the morning,
lying on a cloud,
jazz is hinted in the air,
Music is all around me,
whirring,
worry,
Say a little goodbye,
and turn off the light,
It's a wonder why,
why oh why,
that I have felt,
the bare brisk morning,
exhausted under the rain,
I can feel a pull somewhere,
That surreal roadtrip of dear,
afternoon, setting adrift into,
the night's dementia,
Knowing hell is very much at the gates.
Arrogantly sitting in denial,
That we'll need to learn
to
Swim
So high I'm flying,
Then Wham, all of it hits the fan,
Tearing a place down,
Giving no *****,
Common decency and conventional nuisances,
basic human self,
Then their shots are heard,
Each penetrates at a different
angle,
each unique unsuspecting happenin'
dudes.
Waging war on themselves,
Publicly!
Felt the thigh that I was forced,
to **** was whale ****,
I cursed 5 guys & Dinkytown!
Smoldering in the wreckage,
A white Kenyan or a
Brave Lunatic
who gave me three dollars.

Out beyond any world we could conceive,
There is a being, Omnireal, Superimposed,
Stands twenty feet tall, more or less,
Decreasing and increasing at will,
To suit the needs it possesses,
The being would be incredulous to us,
The existence of this being,
Is only existent because of omnirealism,
That is,The reality is given because of,
its own discretion, under emphatic atrophy,
an ouroboros, a colloquial spiral,
Reaching into the expansiveness to the
Entire Realm,
Existence Existing,
Existing on Existence,
Setting into a dreamtown land,
Now this being,
Since reality has befallen it,
How would the midset be,
Contained,
Realized,
Conceived,
Forthwith, the makings of its identity,
Intelligence, Conciousness, Mentality, Entirety,
Assembled in an enviornment,
of its own Omniworldlyness, otherworldly,
Yet still, concrete, immalleable, seething, breathing
Unable to make dramatic change,
Until the final moment,
Where in the end, reality caves in on itself,
Becoming reborn, reincarnate, Big Bang,
Into the same rhythm, echoing,
Reverberating into negating ripples.

Those sols,                                                                     Wings,
They shutter,                                                                 Magnificent,
In order,                                                                         Radiating feather,
To reconvene                                                                 Trailing stars,
On the scene.

Their folded,                                                                   Picturesque,
Ripe skin,                                                                        Flawless perfection,
No single,                                                                        Evolution,
Colour,                                                                            Has begun.
Cheeked tower,

Head; Neck;
Body curled,
Lotus legs,
Beneath,
Flaccid teeth.

Screamed at the cat,
thought he toppled the cage,
turned out to be the shelf,
didn't have enough time,
to rinse my hair.
Powered to work;
enjoyed the brisk excersice,
accompanied by grotesque ambience,
"What is that ****?"
From the arrogant.
Three man close,
ends as slow as it started,
the ride home had a sidetrack,
acoustic grassland band,
self proclaimed leader was a real A-hole,
wouldn't let me play,
when I finally did they liked it,
but I didn't give two *****.
Accident on the freeway,
as the faces passed by,
none of them saw me,
but the whole congregation was there,
police, bus driver, Metro insurance man on the side,
in full regalia,
witnessing yet another,
one of those days.

Last night I dreamed a million dreams,
                   :One for each star shining overhead
A million visions,
                   :The tidal night washing me away
I lived a million lives
                   :The lunacy of night
And died a million deaths,
                   :The imbecility of dawn

These are our times,
Each of us in our cyber shells,
Stagnantly appealed to atrophy,
Sailing in search of the long
                Lost spirit,
That one gleam in our existence,
That esteemed ambrosia,
Callused palms,
          Achin’ back
Stars shooting themselves,
Through our wings.

We can dance on moonlight,
We can sing right to the earth,
We can move atop,
          Saunter into the horizon
Yet we safely sit nestled,
Afraid of our neighbors,
A new paranoia,
McCarthyism eat your heart out,
          They’ll ban freedom,
          They’ll root us out,
If only we could come together,
I fear,
That no one is left,
To live as,
The fearless had.
That the once,
Benevolent virtue,
Of being human,
In all that horrid splendor,
Has washed away,
The spirit left on the shore,
Waving.

I haven’t seen anything,
Like the Ol’ Seraphim saw,
Or the Ol’ Duluoz saw,
O has it all been lost,
Somehow the latency has produced,
A grand homogenized pile of ****.
With everyone afraid of the shadow,
Imagined,
Looming overhead,
Heating the backs,
Tearing at the truth at heart,
The sight unbearable,
People try to be people.

The impact of what had happened,
Now riding the rails,
Still on the course,
This wild horse will take,

Things will always change,
There are truisms to be had,
Dissolved into the land,
I hope for a band to come out,

A real group,
A bunch of people all there,
Out there,
In here,
Over there,
Everywhere,
That can think,
Feel,
See,
Be seen,
Communicate,
Chanting,
Silently,
Beheaded,
Buddha-fied,
Chr­istly,
Godliness,
They are bare,
Naked,
Covered in the filth,
Of pure humanity,
Celebrating breath,
Creating something,
It wouldn’t all have to make sense,
Some of it may be hard to follow,
--misinterpreted—
Partitioned as pure nonsense,
The lama lama ding blah blah,
Could come off as that fevored,
Sought after rhythms,
Straight ahead to the main destiny,
That inevitable fortitude,
Caught in the clouds,
Foretold by the unseen Unknown,
Chaos imbedded in our skin,
Slinking off,
Erupting into the cosmos,
Connecting our bemused souls,
Like the rain toppling down the mountain,
No picture can encapsulate
This mosaic of mankind,
But this is our time,
Right here and now,
While the whole thing is still moving,
Almost tripping over its own feet,
As it has always done,
The sigh of relief when,
In the blindest revelation,
In the darkest caves of ignorance,
In the coursing waters,
In the towering worlds here,
Even the truest of falsehoods,
Makes the whole thing called life,
Worth a ****.























Drawing in Dawn:

The sight of it,
The sun,
Being birthed,
From the womb,
Of the Horizon.

I draw a breath,
As I watch,
Reminiscent of,
The Moon,
Entangled in,
The eternal,
Nightly web.

The forces,
The push and pull,
Waves in,
Counter balance,
Like the,
Drawing in of,
Embrace,
The pull of,
Ever drawing time.























The dusty rag tumbled down the mountain,
Only to be shunned by everyone,
Destitute in absolute desolation,
Roaming as it had always done.

Then it came to rest beside the grove,
In an inlet that rang with melodious wonder,
It became awashed by the world’s beauty,
Lost in the splendor of it all.

Time passed faster as the grace seeped in,
The pores of its flesh inflated, elated,
The flash of fiery thunder roared,
The sand fell onto its back, and dust returned.

Time had come to move on and break aloof,
From the fortitude and pleasure allotted,
For the call of the wind was too great,
To ignore for any longer.

We view everything differently
Words are just symbols that make sense,
Music is a sound that some like and some don’t,
Images are electronic messages sent to the mind

I don’t understand the way people understand
Thinking that they are right and others wrong
The line is so blurred, how can one be sure?
Anything is possible, isn’t it?

“If we can imagine it, it exists somewhere in
The universe.” Whey do we have a need to be
A focus point of the universe? Maybe we are
Special, or maybe we are a galactic accident.

We need to have this control and hold onto our
Lives. Being loose and flexible seems like a
Forgotten virtue of society. We all need to read
Between the lines. See the need as middle ground.
On certain topics that have evolved from discussion
We have forgotten the real questions that need no
Answer, but to be discussed and pondered. We’re
So involved in unneeded topics that we don’t need.

Everyone’s fundamentals have been changed from
An infinite multitude of tangible and intangible
Things in our lives. No one will ever know you,
Except yourself and that may be the highest thought.

To realize yourself and look past yourself as an
Individual, and not one, that has a purpose and
Duty, if you will, to the bettering of mankind,
Whether it is your view of better, and someone
Else’s, that’s perception on the human scale.

I was entangled in the hue,
Guessing and seeing supernatural,
Singing songs not yet sung,
Writing make believe from pockets,
Slightly outstretched on a line,
On a drum head beating my head,

There was a contrast somewhere,
Whish could have been summer,
Now I told of the breeze,
Now the wind blew the trees,

Sometimes the shade is the better option,
When the sweat stings the eyes,
Tiptoes through ghost roads,
Echoes of infant pasts,
Cries of lucid transparency,
Only seconds remain of them,

I was getting to the point,
I was hitting the joint,
Soon it’ll burn away to dust,
Soon the ash will enter lust.

I've been neutered,
Drill a hole in my head,
To relieve some of this,
This place,
Where I've lost it,
Everything that once made sense,
Totally disarray,
Isolation,
Meaningless prose to try and,
Alleviate

O sweet, depressed loneliness,
How you mock,
On the verge of tears,
Pumper keeps pumping,
Make sense please!
I beg you to help me.

Lonesome, sinking,
I try to think of something else,
But I just get turned around,
O the hatred I feel,
The burning hole where,
Desire was,
Where,
False happiness was,
I pine for it now,
Ignorant Bliss.

Take me away from all this,
In the impossible way,
Tell me everything’s going to be okay,
When the world comes unraveled,
Striking  keys in shabby manner,
Looking for that temporary relief,
That wasn't found.

Why do I do this?
Where is the reason?
Could it really be that simple?
That I just forgot?

Wednesday is coming too fast,
Without human contact,
Even though the world reflects through my window,
The window.

But do you know what I see,
When I look out the window?

I see the lowest form of reality,
Sickening and sloshing,
Mixing together,
Both saint and devil,
Friend and ******,
Lover and pure lust for violence,
All susceptible to the same
Temptation each offers

It all seems so fake,
So unbelievably unoriginal,
Horrific considering it’s happened before,
Yet truth dies on the vine,
And what’s left is the wine.

As soon as I don’t know why I bother,
I go to a new page,
Will it be this one?
The one that lets me go to sleep,
Got a big day tomorrow.

I’ll be a lump and no one will talk to me,
And I’ll want to jump and no one will talk to me,
And I’ll save myself,
Through some meaningless medium

I used to like the world I woke up into,
It was a bright new day,
Now it seems like the world could end,
And I’m fine with that.

False and stupid
False and stupid
False and stupid
False ansd sutops
Faosle and stupsid

I’m not fit to be at the top of the food chain,
And neither is anyone else,
With our terrific sense of morality,
Utter false grace of immortality,
And our dedication to inhumanity,
Why not?

We weren't even close,
And neither was I.

This doesn't mean anything,
But really think about it.

Could the world stand on its head?
I’d pay to see it,
I’d join in and stand on mine.
Belly up and trying to haul,
My sis to the asylum.

Begging your pardon,
Justice with a leash,
I had my time to think,
And wallow in the dish

Take it away bring me back,
I want to see if I can stand up again,
She was there to lift me up
Then push me down through the ceiling.

Cascade and twitch
I can feel the itch
Pain helps you know you’re alive,
Love makes you crazy

Serious. Serious. Serious. Serious. Serious. Serious.
Nothing funny about that,
I kid and I joke all day long,
To hide the folly I feel
In just being around.

Everything is creaking and shrieking,
A symphony of metals grinding
Woods swelling and
Floors bending under the weight,
Why haven’t I made a sound?

“Where do we go from here?”
Asked the lost navigator
As he scanned the ocean
And saw he was alone
Invisible to him,
Were the masts,
Confused for the clouds,
And the boats,
Bluer than the sea,
And the people,
All united under the sky,
They kept looking up.

I am here only in spirit,
The likelihood of this being,
Is forgotten in the doing

The Fog n Funk is choking!
It’s so hot it’s burnin’ my internals!
The best ideas come out,
When your head is stuffed in a thought

I said a yeahhhhh… (4x)

Why not write it down??
The time to rake is beating away,
Upon the sun it get’s hooked everyday,

Realize that these petrified, antagonized,
World disappears,
Around the Outer Zone,
Falling on solid ground

I said a yeahhhhhh… (x2)
Get up and blow your head off!

It’s a place where an enticing bay sways,
Music dancing on the misty breezes,
Humdrums of level heads mingle effortlessly,
The constant waves lap up on indigo stacks,
The sun sits bejeweled in the sky,
Sandy stalks of sugarcane sweeten the air,
Drink and pleasure abound,
Vagabonds and harlequins twirl and chant,
The dusk and the dawn live together,
Creamy silver and golden haze weather,
The aesthetic is O so grand,
Celebrations of life here in the sand.

Mad trolleys take them to the city,
The hustle and bustle reduced to saunter,
Adornments of every shape and design,
Line the alleys and canals,
Flora and fauna engrained in the DNA,
Every bit of the city breathes, sighs and laughs,
Back at the bay they all rest together,
Making love by driftwood fires,
They sing like mad poets and howl to one another,
Everyone becomes an instrument,
Everything becomes equal.

Well I hate to say it but I like it,
Just a whisp of wind through the bushes,
It comes and goes,
But one thing stays the same,
In my quiet ****** world,

I'd hate to be famous and stand out,
It means I was the loudest,
I'd rather live without attention,
Not in shadow but at my own volume,

See why O why would I want to peek out,
In the lowest point?
The generation that sees the End of Days,
Would they be by any definition,
Masters of their own destinos?

You can't breathe in this hollow tomb,
The town you live in is getting to you,
Then in a fire's ignite,
You can speak again.

What the **** is wrong with you America?
Why can't you wake up and see,
Why aren't you craving more,
Doesn't the sight of obvious injustice,
make you shudder and quake,

The pawn shops, the walls, the harems,
The grotesque, vile eating establishments,
The silly, sadistic joke of their,
devourous wake,
The prison sentence of commercial onslaught,
The centers,
The hubs,
The craters in the sand,
The dead pools,
The pool halls,
The mess halls,
The halls
and walls,
Mingled together,
Why haven't you made the distinction;
Why haven't we done anything,
Indeed...
                 Who are you to ask?
I felt a crushing depression,
being among the people,
we all sat and glared,
my normal disposition,
unaligned by the new line,
the path unknown made me
Feel Uneasy,
I always pull out my Kerouac,
and start massaging my brain,
feeling the nostalgia of a past
                Soul,
             a zero soul,
            a poet's cries,
         reach my ears, the innards,
                resonate out the mix,
    usually it works,
          But the bus driver yelled at my ***** *** for not knowing
Hamline, of Course!
         He said it seven times.
Inside the current trend of atrocity,
      in the heart,
             the core,
                   the honey,
  in the mad swirl of current trends,
       the sway,
              swirling of the dilapidated ocean,
I was returning work shoes that were,
                                    (I hadn't bought them, but were intended for a                   now terminated co-worker)
Given me, but two sizes too big, floppy.
She talked to her supervisor.
(Should've just walked out with the new pair)
Supershit said no over walkie,
"try yo luck at the counter."
Went to the counter,
to try my luck,
Striked conversation,
with a rough,
dusty girl,
who told me they had ******* at her
for being there too long.
I just wanted to get the **** outta there.
I handed the box to Lucy (cashier)
She besmirchenly said no,
I didn't fight the decision.
Which I felt will always haunt,
a moment in my mind's heart.

I should've stood up and
pulled off my shoes and
whamped her for what
she represented,
None of it made sense,
I asked nicely,
I mean was I supposed
to walk barefoot in these
subzero temperatures?
Lackluster I slunk away,
None of it matters,
I positioned myself
toward the
beacon twin,
The personification of
Racism!

The super Target across from
the Mart of Wal,
Whose merchants bumble,
yet I made no progress,
speaking distressfully,
influently for them,
While the policeman shelved the chips,
I spoke as courteous as any,
yet was torn away,
tuned asunder,
Lumbered over to the far off
sigh, Red...
They don't even have,
work shoes at Targé,
What does that say America?
The serpent silly sneakers,
laughing and hissing as I leave.

The bus is right there and
I have to catch it,
Lest I spend another half hour,
outside in this turmoil of frost,
In a wheel of torture and rejection,
always missing the bus to,
seek warmth,
Thought I would be hit by oncoming car
but made a mad dash to the door,
Just in time to be ticked off
at the empire,
at the ruminating,
the fermenting,
the rheumatoid arthritis,
affecting the fingers of careful planners,,
the scent o futility,
the fertility of existence was barren,
anything...
something... I'll pop up 'ventually

There I groaned,
retracing my steps in my brain,
but would end up at a
better launch,
in the ***** of downtown.

I kicked myself when it
said my transfer was expired,
with no way to tell time,
I just paid the man,
Then kicked myself because,
I must've used the older one,
from the former veranda
of the morning 'fore all this,

Now I kicked myself off the bus
pulling the yellow halt cord prematurely,
then walked the snowy,
lonely streets,
the cascading thunder of cars,
shoveling the air around,
the city sighing beneath my feet,
Walked past and contemplated
jumping on the little
platform between the
stages of the coaches
of the train...
16... to 17,
St. Louis Park,
Where began the loud,
obnoxious cacophony,
Obliterating my remaining faith in humanity,
The reason for this rant,
in solitude now,
in grateful sorrow,
in menacing tones,
the joke,
that we should all wake the **** up...

A B-boy girlie,
talked of pounding *****,
taming ***,
                                                    (how literate heroes will view this is outrageous)
Her counterpart with fisherman,
camouflage hat,
remarks of suckin' **** for two dollas.
I pretended to put my headphones in,
silencing the onslaught,
of inhumanity.
I had already gone through
my circles of hell,
that charlatan-laden circus of consumerism,
Now on the home stretch were,
these monstrosities,
mocking everyone in the bus
They talked of drink indulged,
The B-boy girl was the ringleader,
it was apparent,
the lackey sat behind her,
taking pictures, documenting?
and sharing images on devices,
that all amounted to,
nothing,
but tragic decline.
They spoke of dads in jails,
They spewed out nonsense,
They reminisced of fights,
The B-boy girl had a cast on her arm,
She had lied and told the
story of how she had
coldly beaten someone in the ice.
how brutish and untrue.
Obviously I didn't have words until now,
after arriving finally to my haven away,
to express,
in the mullings here,
on the pages of existence,
That we all need to
WAKE UP AMERICA!!!!

Can I be graced by a kiss from your aura,
Does the same feeling reside deep down inside,
We’ve been separated for so long my friend,
It scares me to see you like this,
Abrupt erections long gone,
The insecurity of prolonged exposure,
Sequences of nausea,
Seek and destroy,
The sickening of the tunnel vision,
How strange it seems now,
To look back at you,
How amazing it is,
To be myself again,
Made different by time,
The same ****** hole,
The singular aspect of oneness,
The grand expanse seemed so small,
Ironically,
Now seems to drag on with the whistles and clangs,
The bangs the song the spiral never ends.

Somewhere a part of my innocence was left behind,
Left to wither in the shared tunnel,
The smell of the air expelled made the hairs
In my nostrils stand on end and dissolve.
Now that I think about where I came from,
What happened to me to this point,
I’m happy it didn’t end so soon,
That I’ve been reunited,
Drawing a conclusion doesn’t seem so difficult,
When the beginning is just around the corner.

The heart pounds through the chest,
With every drag of smoke,
The pulse quickens,
Blood thickens,
Try to act casual,
Seconds start to melt away,
If only there was more time.

A hot, cleansing shower,
Distractions in light,
And sound,
Words scatter across your brain,
Like suns in the sky,
If only you could find,
The right thing to say.

The surreal terra firma,
Becomes quicksand as you sleep,
Or at least try to,
You’ll fool yourself in the morning,
Three hours is all it took,
As the divine moment approaches,
Whatever it may be,
Whenever it may be,
If only the true being shown through.

Wanders around back alleyways,
Foot in mouth,
Thumb up ***,
Spiderly flame rising,
From the lighter,
Boiling synthetic *******,
The sheen of the glass,
Marks the scar of his soul,
IT TURNS AS BLACK AS THE BURN,
Frail and decayed like the ash,
He smacks in his hand,
Wipes on his pants,
One smooth motion

Completely wrapped in the beauty of it all,
Felt the ugliness grow from my chest,
Somehow there was a throbbing burst,
Started in the feet and sank up,
Ended in the throat and the heart,
It was like a shiver,
Mind freezes,
It whirls and burns,
Fingers searching and filled with ants,
Everytime that I hear them,
I can feel a aboot sitting on my grave,
Though I am alive,
Happy and Carefree,
Down in out into those shaken moments,
Just once in a while,
But enough to mention,
Maybe there’s a shockwave from these moments,
A wing flap and right next to me someone feels it,
They don’t know what to make of it,
But maybe they’d stop and stare off for the first time,
Expanded and folded outwards,
Seeing and feeling what was once a personal quake,
Jostled from the run of the mill,
Totally mindless walking the earth,
By chance O if only,
Grateful to feel O so fearful,
O how wonderful it was.

Sam's head,
believed it could fly,
No one told him it couldn't,
One day it flew off,
And with Icarusque wings,
Clipped,
Pierced the resoluting skies,
Seeing all things possible,
At least trying,
Perfection found in failure,
to see the true light,
not understanding,
*ENLIGHTENMENT

It's a strange feeling,
Sangre in the veins,
flowing erratically,
order born in the chaos,
folding and engulfing,
every chasm's atom matter,
Shifting minuscule,
Ordained, ambition, careening,
hopefully landing gracefully.

I would like to pontificate like that mad ones,
Like the predecessors that eluded me,
And my concurrent mad generation,
The system and analysis may have differentiated,
Deteriorated by becoming Behemoth,
The beat ones,
They still exist,
They wear
An auspicious mask,
An ethereal cloth,
A vivacious sole to the shoes,
Those brand new shoes,
Jack bought after he came down from Desolation,
To where I selfishly want to traverse,
Some time spent,
Alone,
Sitting holding my **** in my hand,
The other held to my chest,
Palm outward to the world,
Inclusive vibes working their magic,
To travel through the ages,
To greet the mad sages,
To feel the smaller world of the past,
Immense in difference,
Eerily similar that it hasn’t changed,
Since then.

She was really shaken up man,
That familiar look you see in war photos,
Victims of crime wide eyed and bona fide,
Terror,
From the dirt on her cheek,
I could tell that she had just come,
From a hard dirt place,
Live cement; turpentine sick,
Her skin was greyshade and taut,
Stretched of the bone like a funeral drum,
Where she came from the sun must've shone silver,

I didn't have the heart to tell her,
The world that she found herself in now was,
In a different level all that it could be,
Considered even faker,
Cracked plastic benches with particle board lampposts,
Overhead the sky looks too far to be real,
To touch such beauty will turn mad madder,
Here, Where patriotic citizens keep to stoic sublimity,
Boy was her skin pale.

I saw that her soul was screaming,
Streaming overhead was a brilliant flash,
Something important was hung in the air,
Pungent renaissance, well needed,
Deserved to be debated,
But NEVERTHELESS!
Paw prints were in the snow behind us,
As we made our way through the deaf crowd,
They stood dumbfounded at our audacity.

Under the guise that there could be a group,
A saying,
A path or a system,
Or lack thereof,
Or the most holy of disciplines,
Or of the tyrannical free verse,
O of the makings of man,
O of the make believes of man,
Constantly flowing and winding,
The river we all flow through,
Some paddle,
Some lay on their backs and careen,
Heads tucked away below,
Under the guise,
Deprived of identity,
Yet given one by the mass hysteria,
The glowing moths under the streetlamp,
That cascade with the wind,
That dance to the holy rhythm,
O that holy rhythm,
O that holy dance,
O that wondrous make believes,
How easily the rock is swayed,
Submerged in the water.

Flooded in blue light the room came alive,
The walls spoke in riddles and turned around,
The floor looked up at the ceiling and told jokes,
About this time I became shapely in ravenous lust
Greeting what I saw with bleak optimism,
I must have really gone off the deep end,
Better let the Unknown show me what it has to show me,
Praising it’s beauty while trying not to turn the mad eye on,
The little notes of yesteryear sang and bounded across the drapery,
The doors had their way with the nails,
They loosened and shattered the sky,
Windows shook and broke into rings,
Bubbling from a carbon core of nothing,
Something from anything did arise,
Took the form of a material,
Caused the flesh to feel safe burning,
And so the fire did burn in the pit of the soul,
The longing to escape and feel the release of air,
Shrouded in lies and epiphanies I rocked back and forth.

I just stepped outside and this is what I saw:
An armored truck brandishing controlled themes,
On a direct course head-on with a veiled rival,
Or so seen to be,
Malcolm X look-a-like strides with headgear,
Otherwise plugged in, turned up, and otherwise,
Shut down, turned away, failing to see on-coming traffic,
******* ******* clad and looking nervously around,
As the blaring eyesores turn hungrily around,
Nature is in quiet awe of the spectacle,
And the old madman squirms and twitches,
Taking long patient drags on his cigarette,
Knees swaying and with a look like he can't remember,
The last time he'd taken a ****.

Could this possibly be real,
This feeling this view,

Bottom of the stomach,
Depths of the soul,
Could this possibly be true,
This path this way,

On top fo the skull,
Balanced on the earth,
Could you possibly be there,
This beauty, this impossible beauty.

Swinging waves of silent frequencies,
Traveled apparition over the festival,
The tremendous dot dot dot of apathy,
Everyone let go for that moment,
No one cared for the naked mortal flesh,
We all let loose something monstrous,
Something unique, dangerous and wonderful,
It became legend,
Always remembered in eye pieces,
Reality as the outside knew it,
Was a sick joke to us,
We’d witnessed a precipice of beauty,
From the serenity and delicacy of human compassion,
The grand leviathan we’d help create,
Something else entirely was found,
Blasted off into the cool, resounding night.

I don’t know why they chose this time to,
Release the hunter’s stay in me,
O why has the sinner risen,
Taken over inside,
And there’s no way to hide,
From all the lies I sigh,
And I don’t mind to realize that it’s me,
And I can’t explain that it wouldn’t be me,
Again,
Why can’t I find a way to escape my head,
Breathe in me,
Intoxicate the world,
Goodbye for now,
It’s too late for me,
But there’s a chance the above may live,
Beaten me, shittin’ me, you gotta be some kind of freak,
To believe that all is right in the world.

While watching Nick Jr.
At 3 AM,
I realized,
That I should comply,
the best word out there,
the one most up to date,
top of the line,
descriptor of how I view this,
that a person,
On that personal journey,
Has the ability to take things,
as they come,
The right to comply and accept,
subtle resistance,
sparks make in the dark,
or complain and argue,
With our fair lady Reality,
Our comfort zones snug in the couch,

Softening our undersides,
cradling our egos,
tingles of nostalgia tickle the nostrils,
A temptation of non-timelessness,
Themes have evolved,
While evolving the themes decreased,
Sensation dwindled,
Mankind found daily interaction difficult.

Rallying in treasured desert halls,
Painted absurd pink propaganda soliloquies,
Fill the hall,
Shut the door,
See it all come down,
The exhaustion,
The living nights,
Scarred Skies,
Makeshift holes of the soul,
Realign and try,
For the love of God; try,
Better that your tethers are secure,
It makes the construction workers,
Safe; all up there,
Cold as can be,
Shivering at 100° desolation,
moving like creme statues,
Up there,
That tie to the platform
Preserves the sonder,
That fact that,
Someone is up to what they are up to,
Paranoia shouts find out,
Passivity says let it be,
midsentence it all makes sense,
tat the net of being,
flies along the bleating radar,
the seismic adventures of man,
Trampolines collective consciousness,
Floating together in the void,
Finding our footholds,
our tethers,
they are our feathers,
ironically,
the bonds that
caress in segments,
the grand confusion of time,
the singing buffoons in the void,
the crazy madmen we all are,
daily psychosis pills,
Excrement recipient,
that moment to moment,
preservation of existence,
Seems everything is going to hell,
in a hand basket,
yet the cave blares within,
a source of nihilistic capitalization,
Banging infants in Foot Lockers,
It should outrage,
All that progress is accomplishing,
segregation,
The isle of a certain strain,
The mental stimulants are similar,
they age appropriately,
it is comparative,
that we all understand,
Complying,
Sizing up and making the gentle leap,
In the wake it wouldn't mind,
if the time was right,
when you're ready,
then the exchange may happen,
A future can be fathomed,
Braving the Unknown's womb,
Past and present collide,
They lie,
Side by side,
like tin soldiers in the mud,
Anguish,
What fortune lies on our sidewalks,
What can be said,
About O so crazy madmen,
As they contort in the Unknown,
What is the amount worthy,
Assessed in some lab,
Looking down the lens we'd assume,
Kerouac atoms abound,
the Samsara principle,
of all them principles and none,
because we fraternize,
we tempt the fates,
Gerald said,
We exist in the scripts,
we sing on the shows,
we don't accept or comply,
we should look around,
and see Others,
A renouncing of old habits,
Don't call me a Dadaist,
*******,
I'm into the  primitivism,
in respect to our attention span,
we have a grip on ourselves,
almost,
Fatalistically we are born on the,
crest of a wave,
eternally throttled by chaos,
when the wave sank its teeth,
into the sands of the immediate generation's side,
That reins are there,
Now more than ever,
I guess we are too far gone,
That's what those fanatic fatalists think.