~for better days for the poet betterdays~

mournful tunes play silently, but still too often,
eyes wet but in corners kept, recurring then the
memories, keepsakes, letters, books, small trinkets,
not dusty, but dusky, resting on in-between ledge of a
mountain-sized twilight of well lit shadowy haziness,
edgy dark brilliance, a comprehensible contrast non-comprehendible

tunes that bless with equal measures of grief,
comforting, by memorable card flashes of good relief,
a dividing line, hazy and frequented crossed, a sort of path,
with no destination signaled, as if the path itself was an end,
to a meaning, a solution, with no clarity divined, a division
of sight and insight, providing an ill fitting reconciliation

mourning is electric, morning is electric,
letters, words bottled up in evaporating perfume bottles,
seeking the comfort of dissipation unto a larger atmosphere,
the scent in everything tangible, stronger still yet, in intangibles
that can erode but never ever fail to return instantly when voked,
by vision, odor, a particular child’s smile, line in a poem volunteered

recovered, uncovered, a post first writ to be written, discovered,
when time and place coincidentally breathe together, at last,
beckoning you to places where memory serves only as a pleasuring,
upright mind marker, decorated in chains perpetual reforging,
absent pain, gleaming dreamings full-replacing longings for pasts,
new verses composed, passing, a grand addition to a child’s legacy

over and far away
across the sea
the ghosts i see
they see through me
silent mockery casts
around my steel composure
decays my hope by
truth's overexposure
i seek shelter
in my contradictions
i seek power
in my prided perceptions
raindrops on starboard recall
beat me to mud
i am blinded by
what is misunderstood

they hold me to every word relayed
always remind me with a nod
that i'm always searching
for those lost at sea
always returning
to my journey
to the dead

they're comprehendible
never moving
never touching
just between
real love
and imperfection
i coast these waters
at my own self speed
i long for something
which doesn't exist

Time spent on the current day,
Forgotten in future sway.
Lost in the moment.
For a moment and for time.

Escape is futile

The passage of time
Does not exist,
As our bodies perceive it.
Nothing short of death
Can stop its passage.

Escape is dangerous

I marvel at the idea,
Of stopping, staying,
Not having to... anything.
Not having to anything at all.
Not having to sustain or endure.
Not having to follow
The seemingly fate decided path
That is the cycle
Of the moving matter
That takes up the space
That I occupy.
That anyone occupies.

Escape is paradoxically pointless.

As everything and anything is,
Life is pointless.  
As nothing but moving matter,
My only biological function
Is to further the survival of my species,
To enable more endurers of my kind
To enter, "existence".  

As my mass slows,
All thought and memories
I have are lost.
To what have I accomplished?
Nothing of value,
Nothing unique,
Nothing of importance.

Whether or not I let pass
Another endurer into this place,
All I have done,
Is been part of the cycle.

Surely I would like
To leave a mark.
To better the world
Because of my influence.
However, to what more have I accomplished
Than changing the statue environment
Of those who endure.

To leave a legacy, is to extend a memory.

Nothing is permanent.
All is part of a cycle.
Nothing is of true importance.
Escape is unimportant.

Escape is inevitable,
The body cannot last forever.
The unavoidable moment will occur
In which the mind,
Due to its physical state,
Will cease to function.
Will quickly cease to exist.
Breaking down into the cycle.

No demand
Nor desire
Can stem the flow
Of time's passage,
Escape is as wasteful
As its counterpart.

To escape.
Meaning to end, stop,
Cease, die,
Or to not be,
Is a waste
Of what could and will be.
Those moments of joy
And sadness that will be lost.  

The sadness spreads
Through other's mourning.
Caused by a selfish action
That wastes the time of others.
An act that steals their happiness
Without using it for one's self.  

To continue is to
Pursue the earthly pleasures.
To hope that one may
Skirt the void
And it's moral dilemma.

To live is to
Selfishly seek a change
In one's state.
Be it happy or sad,
Slight or grand.  

To avoid the void is to
Blaspheme. To consider one's self
Able to avoid the clutches of death.
Immortality.
For we are all immortal
Until we are not.
When we are not,
It doesn't matter what we were
Or would have become.
Once one ceases to be,
One cannot wish to be or reflect.

Do I have a death wish?
No, as it is morally repugnant.
That enough is suitable reason
To stay in the world that is
Everything other than nothing.
To avoid passing into nothingness.

In hard times we wish to stop.
To seek the relief of
Not having the stresses of life.
However, upon death,
No relief is gained,
No stress is lost,
No happiness or acceptance found.  
For one simply is not.
Simply, one does not be.
Does not exist.

Being nothing seems
No better than anything.
For at least being something
Is comprehendible.

At certain junctures of a journey you feel you connect to certain people, places and situations at a different level, hardly comprehendible, quite different from the hundreds of people you've ever met and many places you've ever been, they leave you with a spirit, their inherited tastes and an obsession that you will go back to it all someday.

They will say I was only a delusion, few broken words hardly comprehendible and a room full of tobacco scent, they will execute me for my outlandish brain and hang me on public every single day . And I wont be there to tell them I was something more than few mad absinthe drops and love letters to a mysterious man, I knew it from the beginning that they will not find the secrets I hid under my curly locks.

words in a poem
must they be comprehendible?
you'll read it regardless and get a sense
what I'm feeling is different
something you havent
I'm in a weird place
a high medium
charged by the moon
drained by you
time apart to do what we do
disappear into the day
hide in the night
don't you know that im the light?

shine bright like a diamond
atop a neptunian peak
colored skies
more power is what I seek

forget you, I've got two me's to handle
a duality of ego and asceticism
conflicting sights
one light
its time to help myself fight.

This chaos is choking me
And here I stand trying to make something of it.
The world demands order
Yet I am unable to connect these dots into a comprehendible picture.
My thoughts burst through the floodgates.
Leaving me to bear the full force of this raw confusion that is sweeping over me.
I want to be able to rearrange this disorder into something eloquent,
To be able to state it in a way that will make an impact,that's all.
I want to make a mark that will last long after my body is dead and gone,
But the marks that we make are too often scars.
The constellations we arrange in the skies too often fall apart.
It is a cruel cycle that I shall now become a victim of,
Yet hold on
Hold on and grasp those broken heart strings that I leave behind
And use them to tie the stars together and show the world the beauty I see in you
Collect the lights I found in your eyes and paint a picture
That will immortalize the way I look at you
Our time was short yet it seemed like an eternity
And I will always rest in that small infinity we shared

"The worst emotion to feel for me to feel would be happiness."
Moments after I said that the words "the high is never even comprehendible to the low " came tumbling out of my mouth...
Chemical imbalances in my brain are the ones to come hurdling down at me like raindrops of thunderstorms in Kansas because I can't seem to ever catch a "good umbrella". Happiness dwindles just as fast as it came and the low is something that the doctors can't prescribe medication for. The doctors can toy with your emotions and not in the way THAT person can, but in a way that they prescribe medications to do it for them.
Happiness is the worst emotion because if your brain is as completely unbalanced as mine, (as you can see from the work previous to this) then you know the pain and aching loneliness of the low.

No mixed Metaphors involved
But our Twisted actions dissolve
Into undesirable Daydreams
We, inept Bedroom playthings
Our conspicuous Smokings
And Ridiculous sayings
Now as dryer sheets We cling
To Consciousness
Hand-holds to Simple infectiousness
Our molecular Communication of listlessness
In life, alight, Foot-falls in an empty forest
Our comprehendible Topics list lost
Sea-saws and Gravity laws
A dependable Action with no tire traction
And a Lack of retention
For the liquor You spill from your mouth
EXTENSION
Hello? Hello. Someone has to Do
The things We say we do
The legitimacy of My call
Never came Through.
Or maybe you Never picked up in the first place
I know you never Try
Like your Conspiracies
To Trace
The red Line
Up to the Top of the charts
Elevated Above average
Sweet, and Then ****
Rolling thunder Inspires art
And breaks my Bones
And my Bread
In Zeus' Bed.

Times of innocence pass,
day spent running around without a fear.
The future non-comprehendible,
not that it even mattered.
It was a time of living in the moment.
Of Mommy can fix any problem
and Daddy can do anything, and knows everything.

A time of complete and utter bliss.

If only I could re-live that time
and remember the exact feeling
of Daddy spinning me around in circles.
Of feeling like the whole world was my playground
and forgetting any bad things in a matter of seconds.

do you know how to feel,
while not feeling real?
or is even feeling at all,
a real feeling?

can you steal a feeling?
can you feel someone stealing,
your feelings?

is this even comprehendible?

How can I be there for
Everyone if my  
Loneliness
Prolongs the

Morning and  
Evolving into sadness,

In turn absolutely
Mortifying,

Sacredness is beyond
Common practices
Almost taboos, possibly  
Rare to what the eye can
Ever deem comprehendible
Demanding of death.

Friday has approached.
The day we’ve all been waiting for.
The anticipation is spilling out of you like nothing else.
You think this is your time to let loose.
Making bad decisions because “you’re young”
Sure weekends are great,
but when you are making all these great mistakes,
imagine your mother’s face as she sees your eyes bloodshot and your tongue unable to speak a word that can be comprehendible.
Look at you.
That’s not the person she raised you to be, is it?
Be smart,
if for nothing else, for the sake of your mother.

That which pains me,

  is not what I have been

  contemplating, but how

I can transform my autistic

inspiration, form dyslexia, to

a comprehendible version,

for run-of-the-mill minds.

we are so blessed and grateful
there are butterflies on that wall
imagine blue and black and ciralac
an entity of something more than the comprehendible source
infinity belonging to something outside of these walls
this body rejects and releases trauma, accepts and reinvents
new ways to throw it out, transform into awareness
consecrate this body:
consecrate the space around it -- integral space
consecrate this soul: integral yoga:
this circulates with meaningless words for Symbolic:
fluff and buzz to reach your world -- yoke together,
King Narmer brought the world together:
look past these words, listen to those birds
within you, don't let the illusion get you
avidyamaya ; vidyamaya
reprimand nothing: drastic change occurs when you finally sleep
jai guru deva om
look past these words, look past your own words
don't attach to any thought
do not create or destroy, this is demiurge: beware of all 'lightworks': be still: waves get you:
vidyamaya, the door is a step above you, the door is
always open: the door, you are next to: egress you are in

no fear i'm safe
within this space
i experience, i have created it
and up light my eyelids to a sky
perceive the perfection with my eyes
to dream of a better wise
i yawn to reach Ultimate High
wisdom surrounds my sleepy eyes
curtains drop and i don't fear
they were once light too, they are still light:
they need a light, there is just shadow and it is light:
light devoid of light: devoid of light:
devoid of light: devoid of light: there's light:
turn on the light: you are the light: beware of light works,
balance is compromised, beware of the worldly things,
beware of those flashy things: balance not compromised,
please be wise: take yourself on a journey, relax the waves got you:
you see it all glow up
you see it don't you? look at it with your eyes and you are so tired:
your body thanks you for your trip, and now your soul will remember it:
don't flinch: you've got this, beauty: all you are are wings: all you are is a way, you are a vessel now, your eyes are spoken now: i sing in a soft voice to us, i rest my hand on your shoulder: the angels they're watching us, and you are watching us too: relax, you're safe, we're fine, we've created space. a beautiful rushing in for us to go to: at this time where your mind always go to, where is it? does your heart lead it? what is your higher soul telling you? drink the dance, the transic trance: put these blankets over you, a newfound warmth from me to you, from you to you, from me to me, us we are : i know these are words to you, and i know these are Words to you; remain still, look past how i dress these truths: not words they are, not thoughts they are, not sentences or form: it is a Truth to you, it is something incomprehensible, something not being perceived: and you make use of it with these words stuck in five-dee. relay the message into your heart, don't trust the heart it is treacherous, it will inflame thy ego: break your heart, break your ego, break your matrix, but your soul will never be broken: relay the message into your soul, let your ego drink on these words, and let your ego take this milk, calm down, soothe, sleep and reassess, absorb: the pain you feel in your chest, it soars. a feeling is fleeting, and you are still evermore. your body may come to a halt and you are still more. dreams: experience breathe.