Deep in the forest,
The dark green forest,
Where the trees sway
In the lively breath of wind,
Their marshmallow heads
Dancing,

Where it is afloat and aflutter
With birdsong,
And the chirps of the playful creek,
The steady burbling of unbridled joy,

Where beauty grows on trees,
In pinks and purples and pollen
In fur and feathers,
In the earth,

There is a pond,
A polished mirror laid gently
On the dewy grass.
An echo of the strokes
Of a child’s painting,
In the sky.

Breathing is hard
when you're drowning in your own sadness
and you were a life saver
keeping me afloat from the pain
but I guess you didn't care to pull me back to shore
and my I'm slowly losing my grip

timing is probably the most important thing
in the entire universe
when you really think about it -
it's like when a certain record comes out
and it defines that entire era
of your life
like the summer of 2001 when I was nine,
in the car with my dad on a hot summer day
and he stumbled upon "I'm Like A Bird" on one of the stations,
and we turned it up, rolled the windows down,
and we knew that that song would always be
ours.
and it's truly just so crucial to our existence,
the timing of things -
like when I met this beautiful person on the internet
who soon after became my best friend
and turned my whole life around. but the timing of it
was perfect and had i not met her right on that day of that month
of that year, i probably would not be remotely close
to who i am today.
and I already know that this summer is going to be associated
with Daft Punk's 'Random Access Memories', with "Get Lucky" blaring loud
on every stereo in the city,
it will remind me of Eisley's album, "Currents", and the song "On My Balcony"
by the band, Flunk.
Six months from now when I look back on the summer of 2013,
I will think of those songs and those records,
I will think of how hard I was trying to stay afloat and become
a better person, for nobody but myself,
and how good of a job I was doing with the action
of letting go of things that were toxic for me.
I will think of blonde hair and dancing in the rain, hot sweaty shifts
running around a crowded restaurant, being sad about how much time
I still have left until I get to see my favourite person again, and I will think of
boredom and sunburns and bad poems and love and hope and willingness
to overcome fear. And music. So much music.
This isn't really a poem but more of a very lengthy acknowledgment
regarding the importance of timing, especially perfect timing,
and how even bad timing is usually disguised as
perfect timing in the end.

Thuds
I only knew
that I was a fool
when I left that bubble
and walked down a path of rubble

I asked my eyes
why they were so blind
I asked my mind
why his thinking was so behind

They refused to answer
and left one noise afloat
a beat that I know served as a moat
from all reason and logic
leaving me in a state so tragic

I heard a whisper
my mind said "listen"
sunken in tears I did
and I heard it beat with candid

"It was I oh silly soul
hang in there, I'll recover soon
I'll guild my cracks
with a new love so bright
and even fall in an abyss of fright

It's not my fault ask the powers above
for I myself am mysterious to the
game
of love" - heart

You uncovered me,

With a shovel, from the sand

All good and well

I tried To swim to you but the

current too strong, pulled me beneath the waves

tangled in the ocean rubble

overcome with rue and pity

that I had not stayed afloat longer

or that my breath had not held out

So that my skin could feel the

warmth of your skin and embrace.

i was washed over with your words

a thirst to whisper to your ear,

almost touching.

hair twisted.

A never
ending tread.
Keeping my
head above
every roaring
wave.

Desire, depth of which plucks into my utmost guarded string,
Wholly definition of self I hear in the reverbial melody it booms.
Louder than my name, this cantor I find that I find in all that I sing,
Yet so guarded I hold it, woven deepest into my darkest solitary room.

Knowledge of its name eludes even myself, its captor and creator,
A fear of its power cripples my hands from playing this chord.
Yet, I hear it’s echo afloat in music and mountains, this power greater,
I feel the harmony in union with these and those who too remain unexplored.

Held onto so surely, so rigid and taunt, I slip,
With her, the melody rings loud yet without any sting.
It sings in my laughter, it tastes on her lips,
This defining secret note weaves us together and we sing.

This harmony is not pure, or true, nor real
This chord is alone and searching out her who too sings this tune.
One day when I find you and my chord’s song you steal,
I will join you in concordance, our song at last not concealed.

Distraught,
Destroyed,
Dis,
embodied.

My halls,
The walls,
my wicked falls turn'd from stone,
dissolved to nary a diffid tone thrown by ******* bones.

An amorphous form born from the aimless mourning that now has no space to face and call my own.

Telltale swarms of which I myself did warn would come,
Once and again I crumble from what once which I would succumb.

Myself. Dear. Gone.

I am,
afloat in limbo forever struck with what,
I Left only to silence my mind until once again,
I would find the cut.

...
Page 2

My totality revised,
Scratched through like the words unworthy.
Smoothed over the rough draft,
Autobiography progressive,
Nary writing another day's pages.

-------------_


Sobbing into palms on the front porch.
Is this our story?
Highways, rushing speeds, is this our story?

Little Marra's wide eyed opaqueness.
Is this our story?

There's a line in a song, it's Pink Floyd, not their best song, I'm sure a Tibetan monk words it better but I'm lazy. I do not wish to search the google gods to find a deeper way to say it.
The song is "I wish you were here"
The line goes:
"We're just two lost souls swimming in a fishbowl, year after year, running over the same old ground what have we found? The same old fears"

So I'm sitting on a mountain facing new realities.

Is this our life,
Layed out over the back table
like the time **** played memory games with the cards, sprawled over white plastic,
That wooden deck,
winds blowing cards into ruffets of thin air.

Is this our lives,
As we try
to apply
Ourselves to these forces before us,
As we move our bodies to rhythms
Only to deeply aware of
The disposable landscapes

Is this our earth?
As ancient hands
Let sands
Slip
Through fingertips
Is this our story?
We ask
When death rips
At family
And we run away from the emotions
Streaming from our lips.

Who are we but souls in bodies
Living out picturesque moments,
Gritty unpleasant moments
All the moments

Is this us holding hands on swing sets at twilight?
Using all our might to hold on
When the rabbit hole has opened and we're slipping down
But even when we've hit the ground
What have we found?

A million moments before us, a million shapes we mold into
Running into open blue
Unwinding into
the only thing
true
This light behind the minds eye,
Looking into you
until you
is me
is you
is we
What do you see?

Is this our lives on a standstill
Ferocious oceans
Or just moving motions
Broken down to a cell,
Is it hell,
Or heaven as well?
Whose to tell?

We just orbit somewhere between
A gazillion worlds
Trying to place it,
Trying to hold on
But this molecular wind
Is moving strong
and
We're drifting
Along
May as well sing a song
Get lost, so, so, so lost
Get found
Get wound
Unbound
Round and round

I heard a Pink Floyd song "we're just two lost souls swimming in a fishbowl year after year, what have we found?"
Nothing yet everything,
so just keep on living it
(whatever IT is)
For all its glory
You get the pen,
It's your story.

I don't wish you were here
I've let myself fall
Until I'm not me at all
How can I wish when
I go swish swish
At the speed of light
Your on your own flight
Diving off the deep end,
Somehow we're still in the fishbowl
No matter how many times we roll
Out of this moat
What's it all about ?
Trying to stay afloat
Or releasing
as this boat
Rocks us deeper
And deeper into
absolute nothingness.

This is our stories

Splayed before the minds eye

So cry all you can cry

And live it for all its glory

Feel all you can feel

You get the pen,

Now write your hearts story.
------

-

So windy outside,
it feels like this house is a boat,
sea sick feeling queazy a bit,
dizzy from the commotion of being afloat,

she loves me,
she loves me not,
if you even have to ask you already know the answer,
it’s exactly what you thought,

what’s it going to be,
choose your own adventure,
use get used win lose,
game over add another quarter,

see it feels like Time stopped,
went to sleep a young child woke up an old man,
it’s got me saying things like “When I was a kid,
we’d go down to the arcade and play video games.”,

who’s world is this anyways,
and why do I feel like this is all a dream,
I suppose I loved her because she made me feel this dream was real,
but I guess this as in us wasn’t as real as it first seemed,

I’m bursting,
at the seams,
taking the glory of this torment,
and displaying it on the screen,

so I’m back writing again,
it was either that or emotional suicide,
swear to God it’s easier to not feel at all,
than to have all these emotions bottled up inside,

see if ignorance is bliss,
and genius it torture,
than being Emotionless,
is better than being a Hopeless Lover,

still searching for something that doesn’t exist,
like a Conspiracist searching for the Loch Ness Monster,
swear it’s a curse to not live every moment as a blessing,
because there is still only now there is no happily ever after,

there is only now,
that’s how it’s always been and will be,
and right now I’m alone in this vessel that feels like a sailboat,
caught in a windstorm lost out at sea,

so windy outside,
it feels like this house is a boat,
sea sick feeling queazy a bit,
dizzy from the commotion of being afloat…

∆ LaLux ∆

Friday The 13th, April 2018

Read/Download the newest book for free here: www.scribd.com/document/367036005

Awake and thirsty
So thirsty my tongue goes out on its own in search of the oasis
the basin
my sink.
Full of dishes laminated with food
The faint odor of, is that dog or food or me?
I can barely see.
My eyes hurt, my head hurts and something else within hurts.
Water alone cannot quench a thirst like this
A hole I built with my bare hands
Cigarette conversations waft from my hair, their smokey words faint and familiar
What did I say? What didn't I say? What can I say now?
I drank too much
Needed too much
I felt alone among dozens and alive to myself.
Bottom shelf
What a bad idea.
I can still feel those well worn tables tapped by fingers reinventing themselves.
Buoyant ideas too big for small spaces
and small minds.
I can almost taste the salt in the air, bodies in motion, tangy sweet.
Lose yourself in low lights and laughter, afloat on madness.
A place where late and early are the same.
My mind is fogged in, a great lighthouse within keeps me wondering what lies on the shore.
What happy insanity did I witness?
A pause.
Still nothing.

Take a sip / let’s say bitter acknowledges the roots of my tongue / stepping over my taste buds / tingling over milky sweet dirt / flushed adrenaline like water and soiled hands // let's say milk mixes with my apple-strided heart / fill in the VSD and soften the calluses / can an apple regrow? A fruit is it not? / fragilely mush, reverting rot // let’s say it cradles the blood in my veins / melting my celiac-bound leukocytes / none fonder for the umber / and I will cry / rid me caffeinated tears / with no other pool of puddle. / this bitter. hugs me afloat

we did what we could that night
and a supernal being is ashamed.

this is the drift of thought
in the vast ocean of gilded gold
frothing at the edge of rotund:
giving back a silenced enigma,
spewing the answer in an exhaust
of white rancid smoke
dharma burns plastered to cigarette.
burning and burning, afloat are the high-pouncing embers looking for fleeting shades and dagger-ambulations
of a shadow's swagger in tectonic soiree.

we did what we could that night.
like a flash of lightning at the back
of hoarded hills,
or say, something brutal and brash with
modern sensibilities we never jell —
we come not with softness or life
peering out of our eyes like little girls
serenaded by mad men in the eve of
forlorn nights. we did what we could
and some god cringes, winces away
like the erratic dance of candleflame.

the leviathan black spreads its parasol
and we are no strangers.
when our veraciousness starts to pierce
the veil, the populace should start
to worry of their trapped conditions.
we came here for something:
be it flesh, be it wisdom, be it plain inebriations — we will never flinch
at the squalor of tomorrow's sobering.
keep in mind, kaibigan.

    it's all levitation and transcendence.

the darkness wept as the car
groans near the end of its immaterial life.
i flick the last cigarette into the grey-faced pavement.
all oceans drowned,
all shadows burgeoned,
all fires emerged plump,
this silent radio rivers
through the wave of this ephemerality,
the onomatopoeia of strangeness,
the   thud
      of the senseless head of metal
     on the body

the   clackety-clack
       of hours thereafter!

ayeayeaye! the streets sing no mild
  appendage. the solstice is lost
    in the length and precision of all things.
bringing ourselves to the brink of absence,
    our pallid selves set ablaze, emblazoning
the quick life of matchflame or rumble of    
    thunder — the steady phoenix of
       that night! this is learning
  to breathe again, o, what currents purloined in vicious swarth as we keep
     this river flowing into our throats,
  jamming our souls to compelling music.

   remember kaibigan,
it's all levitation and transcendence.

My lungs keep me breathing, but am I really alive?
24 years later, and I'm just living to survive.
Because cowards end their life,
With a gun, pills or a knife.
And none of those are the answer I'm trying to derive.

My life has been flipped, in every possible sense.
I fear I'm becoming always mentioned in the past tense.
I work at night and sleep all day,
No one to hear what I've got to say,
I'm staying afloat, but at what expense?

These are my feeble cries to a unconcerned crowd.
I continue to chant "when will I make you proud?"
Because the people don't care
All they will do is stare.
As I cause a scene with a voice that echoes loud.

I find myself paddling against the current.

Those ahead ask why I am falling behind.
Those behind don’t see how every stroke wears me down.

It takes everything I have just to stay afloat.
"We began this race after you and have already overtaken you, how pathetic."

I want to give up.
"You have to keep going, you’ve already made it so much farther than us!"

I want to be better.
"Then BE better."

I don’t have the strength.
"You wouldn’t have made it this far if you weren’t strong!"

I worry the current is stronger than I am.
"It is no stronger than ours surely."

My canoe strains against the pressure.
"Your canoe is a GIFT, you mustn't waste it!"

I close my eyes for the briefest of spells, try to steal just a moment of rest.
As I reopen them… I realise that it’s gone.
My goal. What was my goal again?

I have been paddling in this current so long...
Where was I going again?

All I remember is the agony of each stroke,
The words of condemnation for my failures
The presupposition of my achievements.

"You’re a disappointment, you should give up."
"If you give up, you will be a disappointment."

"You’re not good enough to be here."
"You’re too good not to be there."

"Look at your failures!"
"Focus on your accomplishments!"

My canoe breaks, and I am plunged into the icy waters of uncertainty.
I have forgotten what my own voice sounds like.
I need to hear it.
I open my mouth to remind myself, but nothing comes out.
Instead, the current consumes me; inside and out.
What could have been and what could never be are gone.

I am gone.

I laid there wide awake
Listening to you breath
Such a stunningly familiar sound, every breath you take.
And the many months we've missed gave me cause to grieve.
My mind drifts out the window to mingle with the sounds of the city
Remembering the times we walked those streets and laughed,
because you were always so witty.
And the city sounds are tonight my life raft.
Keeping me afloat as the memories rush by.
And even though you are so close to me, wrapped around me like a shell.
There is such a gulf between us, caused by one small lie.
And my heart begins to swell.
It aches because you are not mine and yet here I am
Pretending to belong here
Your gentle snores hit me like a battering ram.
So I walk to the window to peer.
Perhaps the breathing of the city will give me more peace than you
Because its been two months since that night
But the city always gives me the attention due.
The love that is mine by every right.
But it cannot fill the hole you left.
Twice now.
Just by your sleeping breath.

I wish you came with an instruction manual, because loving you makes no sense.

I take that back because even if you did it would probably be written in German.

I try to put together pieces and all I see is handle with care but when I reach out, your body language says "don't touch me there." Not physically, not emotionally, and when I try mentally you yell "get out of my brain." Even in the same atmosphere our breathing is not the same.

I cling to your exhale and forget that I need to inhale. I pray that you're alive not worried about my imminent death, because once again, loving you just doesn't make sense.

Maybe if you had come with subtitles, I could love you better. So that I could read what you say instead of hear it, since the two never seem to be the same.

You make me feel deaf. And that would be okay if only American Sign Language was enough to make you stay. Why can't you just say how you feel so I can feel what you say?

You drown me with complacency and get mad when I can't stay afloat.  You're screaming you can't handle this yet ask me why I'm walking towards the door.

We were supposed to be two beats, and one heart. I was supposed to love you right, but I don't know how..

You came with no instruction manual.

Loving you just doesn't make sense.

The alarm got us up before the sun fully awoke
we pulled our sleepy bodies out of bed
got on our grungies not even fixing coffee yet,
got our gear together in the pickup
and headed for the peninsula
where we hoped the sand bass would be schooling,
searching for some breakfast of worms or flashy things that looked to them like food.
If we were lucky we hooked a few which we would cook later
or save for the freezers back home.

When we got back to the campground
we’d comb our hair brush our teeth and head into town
for Pat’s Cafe who served the best biscuits, eggs, hashbrowns, and pancakes in the region
and if we were lucky Pat herself with her long black hair and **** lips
and substantial hips
would stop by and in her Texas twang and charm
she’d tell us about their farm
we’d speak of our wives
and some of the small details of our lives
and how we loved that large beautiful body
that sparkled and sang to us each spring
and how we savored dipping into Lake Whitney.

In late afternoon we would laze about the RV
discussing Theilhard and Jesus and Charlie
he’d speak of Bob Wills and we’d share
trying to make sense of the spirits there
and how they made us leap and soar.
We spoke in sync and explored
lines of novels, and fascinating texts
that made us eager to discover what was next
that would make us laugh or shed tears
of all those memorable years
we’d been brothers
afloat of the same waters
becoming men who hoped to make their mark
spark something good in the minds
of other seekers who also drank wines
fermented in corridors of learning
who had the same yearning
for knowledge and truth
embedded early and deeply in our youth.

The Skipper -

welcome aboard The Lady Mother Earth

if this ship sinks, it will probably take a while

DO NOT PANIC
MUTINY WILL NOT BE TOLERATED!

some may still have to walk the plank
after sinking

lifejackets are available on the starboard and port sides

when looking toward the bow
the left-hand side is the port side
the right-hand side is the starboard side

sometimes you may have to switch sides to keep her from rolling
we do not want this lady to roll!

first, it will tilt to one end or the other

the bow is the front end of the ship
the stern is the rear end of the ship

the stern will probably go down first

you all will probably run to the bow, in that case
sometimes this can cause a teeter totter effect
sometimes that effect may keep us afloat for a while
sometimes not

although this ship was built
by the finest ship builders ever
the stern has less mass, but more density

we will have no time for physics lessons, if it starts sinking
deckhands, cooks, and even gilligan, must work together

WOMEN AND CHILDREN FIRST

I will surely go down with the ship, if she goes down...

for now, let's just try to sail on, and not think about it
let's think of charting the best course

I heard you speak in Greek just now
To a man who's barely alive
He was too unconscious to hear you in this world
But your words will forever echo 
In his heart. 
I need to find a way to look at you
Without falling in love all over again. 
And when I hear your voice 
It's like the call of angels from heaven,
I don't even believe in heaven. 
Was the light of your life for a few weeks there
Now I'm more like
The guiding light
To your darkened eyes
I don't know man, sometimes it just feels like
Something beautiful could've happened, and we just 
Couldn't seem to fight
For all we saw in each other, all that life
I really would have had you not
Shown me it was all for naught
Now I'm laying in lukewarm water
The soggy ends of my hair
Drinking wine someone else bought
But nothing feels as right as you,
Nothing felt as true. 
Sorry, sorry I won't shut up
I know this hurts, but please don't cry,
The happiest thing I know
Is that you're alive
And when my breath stops
When I breathe my final sigh
Years from now, a couple hundred stones down the road;
You'll still linger in my breath
You haven't been breathing well, my darling,
Because I kept some of your air for myself
To taste in the times I feel most alone
To remember your hands, and eyes, and oh god
I can't stop. 
You were meant to be in my arms and I haven't known it so strong
In so long
Once a miracle happened
when I knew he could be mine
Turns out things fell right in line
Even if I was a fallback; the second time. 
I think life works in synchronous ways
And I've seen it far too often in us, these days. 
All of me was a song we both knew,
And we both tore ourselves apart in the tub, same time, and just with you
I'm so sorry I broke apart
And quite literally terrified your heart
Into being so scared of me you can hardly look in my eyes,
But believe me when I say, this connection is one of a kind. 
I carved your name In my skin not to be spiteful,
Rather to remember you, forever, even when our ships set sail
I took your soul by the handfuls
And showed them to you with no avail 
I wish I could give you my eyes
To see the angel I can't seem to ever deny. 
Please hold out for me, when the tides get rough
The current may pull, but I am always here
To keep you afloat. 
I know in the deep end, it always gets tough,
Nightmares and daylight fears;
But I won't let you go. 
No, I won't give up on you
Until the day you no longer want me to stay. 
I won't even doubt you
When you say everything will be okay. 
Because I'll believe you, till the day I die,
When you talk, I'll listen,
You're the only truth I won't deny.

I’m not who I wanted to be
I am the sum of my broken parts

This is my acne
These are my scars
These are the creaks and cracks of my joints
This is my unrelenting back pain
This is my hypertension
This is my hypermobility
This is my loud mouth
These are my blind eyes beneath the glasses
This is me

I am not who I wanted to be

This is my living hell
This is my loss of hope
This is my lack of will
This is me giving up

And this is me dragging myself
out of the gutter
with the help of
some words

These are the words
I’m using to breathe
Myself back to life

The words I’m using to breathe
Cause it’s been too long since I have

I’m not who I
Wanted
To be

But I am me.
And me is who I
want to be

And me
Is me
Is me
Is me
And me is ok

This is my face
My acne is allowed

This is arm
My scars were a mistake

These are my joints
They creak and crack
But they try to keep me standing

This is my back
It holds my pain
But still keeps me straight

This is my hypertension
It causes my pain some days
But it reminds me of the work I need to do

This is my hyper-mobility
It causes my joints to do what they do
But it gives me some fun party tricks

This is my loud mouth
You can judge if you want
But it lets me speak my truth

These are my blind eyes
But under the glasses
They’re pale sky blue
Is unbeatable

This is me
And me isn’t perfect
But me tries
Every day
To keep me afloat
In this rocky boat

These parts are broken
But that doesn’t make me broken
I could use some work
And I always need a helping hand (fixer-upper)

I am more than broken parts
My sum is greater than these parts
My flaws don’t define my worth

So here I am

Standing in front of you
I don’t know how much longer I’ll be able to stand

But I can still sit in front of you
I can still be in front of you if I can’t stand
And my legs don’t stop me from writing
My back doesn’t stop the power my words hold

I still need to figure out who I am
But whoever that is
I’m proud to know him
I’m proud I’ve made it this far
I’m proud I was able to live and love and laugh
I’m proud to know some of the people I’ve known
I’m proud to be me
And I won’t apologize for that


-unapologetically me