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Claire Waters May 2013
walk into a bookstore where a poetry open mic is going on. the man previously nursing a lager in the back now has all eyes in the room on, flowin to the beat like drums to a song, this is all he has left that doesn't feel wrong.
"these words are all that matters," he says. " ’cept poetry, liquor, and the duality of man, i confess, these pages store my sanity and reveal my real friends, so i'll keep writing until these calluses have bled."

Lately I’ve been talking to Michael Larson in my head
And yeah, I know it’s a little weird to have a real imaginary friend
But we all need someone to turn to when feelin like we’re burning at the stake
To remind we’re still human and there’s no end; ending’s a mindset you create
There’s not really walls to hit unless you tell yourself there is,
just the narrow hallways in your mind where you lose yourself to negatives
See, you can always bend to be more
but you conceive a break, cause breaking is what you do
when you think you can’t create

and if you spend too much time wondering if you’re a particle or a wave
your thoughts manifest into the mental circles you repave
self fulfilling prophecies are subconscious misbehaviors
ignoring synchronicity in the universe’s behavior,
always waiting there for someone else to come along and save ya
caving in you dig a shallow grave, crawl in, and lay there,
blaming everyone else and yet expecting a savior?
from the wayward pain of exacerbating these anticipated cracks,
you still can’t seem to break, just blister and bounce back.
from this controversy in the name of your unsure authenticity
each flaw you extract from your skin is your own vulnerability
the world is not black and white, flat, or statistical see
just rife with impenetrable culpability
so everyone grows up and grows out with restless mentalities
time and age are isolated perceptions of our static reality,
cause we’re changing and flowing together, and we always will be
the only differences between us all are the ones we want to see
to comfort our dogmas and convictions as we atomize our selves obsessively
what matters are the paths we pursue and the wisdom we seek,
not our genetic abnormalities or the ways that we feel we are weak
when everything has innate duality, there’s no good without the bad
good’s an infallible syllable completely unpaletable til you realize bad
can only be in your heart if you perceive that’s what you have

there’s just your belief that you are either trapped or free
and realizing you want what you always had, eternally
if I’m gonna live this life, I will not sit and wait,
I will skin my knees and bleed and then get back up and create
In public Michael Larson’s hanging in my headphones loving the attention that I pay
Telling me earnestly not to worry, cause everyone is a critiqued critic these days
In burn fetish he tells me, “empathy is the poor man’s *******”
And now Krishnamurti is on my other shoulder repeating once again,
That “being well adjusted to a sick society is completely insane, the end.”
everyone gets nervous on the first dinner date, and everyone craves the safety of a friend who has their back
everyone feels like a literary hack the first time they take a paper to their thoughts and attempt to translate them into rap
we all feel a bit misdirected, and a little bit hated, but collective requires an equalibrium of giving and taking
while these days everyone treats each other as if life’s just about getting your own slice of the cake
and blatantly crazed by the toxic disarray
of our modern society transgressing and yet we just stand by and wait

Michael looked shy on camera as he expressed to me that, “what makes us human
Is how we’re a collection of our mistakes and the reactions that we have”
And what makes us individuals isn’t our lifestyle or to whom we pray
The stratosphere here that stops us from cooking to convection
is just a collection of perfections formed from love within the human condition
the gravity that keeps us from falling, is the art that we make
self actualized individuals, not feeling so lonely or crazed,
because paradoxically, art is also how we all relate.
zebra Aug 2020
YAH
in a dark laboratory **** hospital
blood in the mouth
**** & **** thank you

bleeding milk cow
needle kissed
love enema
for a wild ***** monster in heat

***** of love

gnosis in action an anti path
fires of existence burning Sulphur

third eye bleeds light beyond existence
the left handed path

desire
the creative gone mad

after the liberation
comes the revolution of spirit
through sexualization
of the human world
a life beyond the ritualistic gesture

dissolution into the abyss
containing all
comingling the divine
and human spheres

devolutive
i consolidate my desires in her

addiction file
smoke
drink
****
die
and thank you very much

the flesh of god
"melts with the one who
creates him"
......
In a universe created by the separation of Void and Chaos you are your Flesh – העין שמאלית
....
Q.309 is the definitive rite of exit from ritual and separation; represents the code of access to metabolic energy flows that are cognitive tools.
The atomization of the rite, the rupture of the chain of being.
The ardor of prostitution (πορνεία) is intended to solicit the dynamic contraction of the Divine.
intertexted from quadrato 309
V.L.F. Laboratories.
an ode to humanity, possibly …..


back in the day
a message was preached
there's no such thing as society
just individuals, only individuals
in pursuit of self-interest
which rooted, grew, flourished
and community crumbled
a little

back in the day
a message was preached
there's no finites, no absolutes
just bubbles of self-defined reality
alternative facts, truths and meaning
with certainty in my diversity
common language failed
a little

back in the day
a message was preached
there's no definable morality
no fixed behavioural norms
you choose yours and I'll do mine
in widening ethical divergence
culture and family withered
a little

back in the day
a message was preached
that in the hierarchy of being
my individual freedom, my rights
trump social responsibility
with licence superseding law
common good decayed
a little

back in the day
a message was whispered
along the corridors of power
copied in the markets, out on the streets
the eleventh commandment rules
'Thou shalt not get caught'
kicked away, foundations fell
significantly

but others say
‘a person is a person only
in relationship with other people’
atomization is not good enough
self-interest will never suffice
‘who is my neighbour’ they ask
so community coheres
a little

others search out
diverse patterns of meaning
evidence of the truths of being
explored by artist’s brush, writer’s pen
lost chord of the universe sought
by scientists and musicians alike
the language of infinity grows
a little

yet others ponder
humanity, this social animal
that despite survival of the fittest
‘it takes a whole village to raise a child’
so I doing me and you doing you
will never be good enough
for we must do us
a little

others wrestle
with those rights of being
of believing and becoming
that we owe ourselves and others
of what we can expect of them
and they can require of us, to
'love mercy, act justly, walk humbly
a little

still others know
that might is not right
ends do not justify means
God’s not on the side of big battalions
that secrets will always out
and lies will never hold
so integrity takes root
a little

in this present day
what hope is asked, dreamed
amidst humanity deconstructing and rebuilding
society disassembling and reconstituting
community disintegrating and reforming
family dismantling and reshaping
for what do we strive
a little


The Eleventh: 4th February 2025
..... Reviewed: 8th February 2025

— The End —