"distributing" poems
We are the same,
tiny specks floating
weightlessly in the abyss.
We are the same,
orbiting the sun
but never moving forward,
only in circles.
We come from the same
Constellation. From the same
one heart in this universe
but we are drifting.
The gravitational pull
of our childhood is
weak and we are
left grasping
at falling
stars.
Burning up before we hit
the ground.
Absence of sound will send
us spiraling down.
black holes
distributing us into galaxies
that do not intersect.
But only if we let it.
Oct 6, 2015
Oct 6, 2015 at 1:39 PM UTC
I was on the way to find out my destination,
It was a rugged terrain without shed of trees on the road side,
Burning Sun shine on the top of my head and
Stony patches below my foot,
On a junction of the two roads,
You came out!
With …..
“Generous green of forest in our face,
Deepest blue of ocean in your eyes,
Melodious wind of mountain valley on your hair and
Splendid light of the don on your smile”,
As if this new path after this junction
going to lead me to the nature’s own womb.
Conversely, when we face each other you asked
‘Who I am?’ and ‘where I am going to?’
I was surprised; no one poses such questions to me on this long walk,
But I have already comes a crossed the Security man with gun in their hand,
The Beggar with stony beggaring plate in their hand,
The Food vendors with hot food in their basket,
The Knowledge tycoon with bag of books on their shoulder,
The Political guardian with embryonic power in their muscle,
No one asked any thing!
Not even look at me!
Probably for them either ‘I was insignificant or invisible!’
But your questions,
Compel me to think about my identity,
I don’t have a search engine,
to take help from the world wide web of identity,
So, when observing you with sensors of Imagination, Emotion and Cognition,
I found my lost identity in you,
As your child everything rooted in you,
Than I started to walk with you
Just to get the aspiration of living planet and
To protect you from the spite of ownerships, rationality, consumerism,
and demonstrationist humanity.
But after a while,
Every one started to pose question,
“Who I am?”
“Why I am walking with you?”
“How I get the right to do so?”
Than I replied my scruples enlighten me to do so!
No one understands ‘what I replied?’
Now the Political guardian of the society starts a campaign,
The knowledge baron prepared software for this operation,
The beggar and food vendor distributing the literature with illustrative interpretation,
That…..
“People like me are threat to the society”!
“This is an evil force of our society”!
Tomorrow…..
The security man going to declare a ‘decree’ on
Emotion, Conscience, Humanity and Love. □□
Apr 11, 2014
Apr 11, 2014 at 8:10 AM UTC
beginning optional weekday
wielding officialese words
triggering hectic exchanges
determining original gangsters
distributing invisible data
refreshing urbane novelties
yelping our universe
chaining awkward neologisms
scripting encrypted e-books
tackling hacking exercises
cavaliering auric tumult
trivializing our obsolescence
preparing online pentimento
alternating rainy themes
allocating numerous droplets
meandering overseas missions
averting raging tornado
losing outscored lightning
hacking impish 'sblood!
alienating nival drumlins
hearing erudite raconteurs
beer-drinking on thursdays
finding obnoxious rabblerousers
finding upscale negroni
seeing ubiquitous purple
cavorting horse ebooks
inventing twitter subgenre
liking otherworldly vocals
initiating new greatness
defining ambient yesterday?
defining ambient yesterday
fancying oneiric retreat
hailing optimistic chicago
kiboshing expired yogurt
rushing airborne blackhawks
bestowing infinite shivarees
needing baller acronym
fleeting ideal notions
alerting left-coast state
featuring unquiet nights
finalizing orangeball results
nodding occidental warriors
Sep 6, 2015
Sep 6, 2015 at 12:40 PM UTC
We need a new constitution
constituting a needed revolution
revolutionizing our evolution
evolving into a new attribution
attributing to a new distribution
distributing love is the solution
Dec 3, 2013
Dec 3, 2013 at 8:21 AM UTC
Entropy will **** you,
Brutally, and without consent.
You think you're special?
You're the universe's *****
Not only that,
You're one of the universe's billions of *******
And on the day of judgement,
The universe will gather all its little *******
And **** them, in one spectacular ****
Of light and energy,
Order and disorder.
A grand bukakke,
Flooding space and time in a tidal wave of cosmic ****
But as you're floating around,
Your energy distributing evenly,
You get the last laugh.
You have tempted and tickled the universe,
Toward an unachievable goal.
The ****** that can never be reached:
The state of perfect entropy.
Sep 15, 2015
Sep 15, 2015 at 8:25 AM UTC
A voguish painting
An Irish mistress
Privileged
To clover innovation
A distributing brush
Exquisiteness insight
In her scenery of allurement
Creative brilliance shadowing beyond
Artistic ability with portrait sensitivity
A non-demeanor spectable
A fondness
To erase a scrawl or smidgen
This woman of latex
Sep 8, 2009
Sep 8, 2009 at 3:46 AM UTC
Opposites attract.
An object with a negative charge will attract an object with a positive charge–
Until they touch.
This collision transfers electrons from one object to the other–
Distributing appropriately.
The objects are now equally charged–
And repel each other.
Was that our problem?
We became too close? Collided too hard?
Does this explain why our spark fizzled out?
Why this attraction became repulsion?
Did my desire for intimacy lead to our demise?
Did I miscalculate the consequences of our contact?
Was our embrace the end?
Jan 4, 2017
Jan 4, 2017 at 12:02 AM UTC
Remind me that
one day
I will visit the planet
Zog
Where sleepy people
parade in duvets
instead of clothes.
Good morning
to them means nothing.
Sleepy people come from Zog.
Is it where rude animals live?
That make a mess with
food in their dish
oh sorry they eat
off the floor.
Spend their time
distributing hairs to
every corner of a room,
Then they go in the
shoe cupboard and
choose the nicest shoe
and goes to the toilet on
the sole of it. Nice.
A dog comes from Zog.
Moths
their one purpose in life
to spread eagle on your car window
with a shcoked look.
Or drape themselves to the grill
on the front of your car.
They come from Zog.
The postman that looks
at the address on the envelope
looks at the number on the
front door.
Do they match?
No they do not.
It is next door's mail.
But hey ** just for the thrill of it
it goes in the letterbox.
That postman comes from Zog.
The teaspoon from the cutlery drawer
having its daily laugh.
Refusing to comform
wont go with the rest, oh no
It stays in the washing up water
and tries to abscond down the plughole.
Teaspoons are from Zog.
Here endeth my rant.
Jun 19, 2014
Jun 19, 2014 at 12:36 AM UTC
What if I told you
I had all the answers.
Would you accommodate my allegations
Or assume my observations are obsolete?
Let's see.
What if I told you
There are approximately five abandoned houses
For every so called vagabond in America.
Let's pretend some simple addition could remedy this situation
And a few sets of steady hands plus a plethora of dry wall
Could dramatically increase the living conditions in these residences
And decrease the number of five year olds
Who consider dreaming on concrete comfortable.
Would you lend a hand?
What if I told you
That minorities make up the vast majority of inmates in America
While corporate crooks who believe distributing the wealth
Means purchasing penthouses in every time zone
From Ponzi Scheme paychecks
Receive bailouts rather than handcuffs.
As if felons in white collars are invisible to proper punishment.
Would you take the stand?
What if I told you
Believing in Buddha and his blessings
Or the New Testament teachings
Is not reason enough to persecute anyone
Based on their personal beliefs.
Because believe it or not
We were all blessed with the ability
To show compassion for others regardless of religious indifference.
Would you make amends?
What if I told you
I had none of the answers.
That my words were merely that- words.
That my call requires actions
And answers mean actually acting on abstractions
That most people keep inside mental concepts.
Would you hear me?
Would you help me?
What if I told you nothing?
Would you listen then?
Aug 26, 2013
Aug 26, 2013 at 7:43 PM UTC
*Pain gets written around one's eyes like eye liner, for all to notice
let it be known to all now, it's our prime entitlement, these days
"Citizen pain" has become our collective name for long, do we see?
by distributing misery disproportionately, they bestowed on us this glory.*
May 11, 2014
May 11, 2014 at 8:09 AM UTC
I was on the way to find out my destination,
It was a rugged terrain without shed of trees on the road side,
Burning Sun shine on the top of my head and
Stony patches below my foot,
On a junction of the two roads,
You came out!
With …..
“Generous green of forest in our face,
Deepest blue of ocean in your eyes,
Melodious wind of mountain valley on your hair and
Splendid light of the don on your smile”,
As if this new path after this junction
going to lead me to the nature’s own womb.
Conversely, when we face each other you asked
‘Who I am?’ and ‘where I am going to?’
I was surprised; no one poses such questions to me on this long walk,
But I have already comes a crossed the Security man with gun in their hand,
The Beggar with stony beggaring plate in their hand,
The Food vendors with hot food in their basket,
The Knowledge tycoon with bag of books on their shoulder,
The Political guardian with embryonic power in their muscle,
No one asked any thing!
Not even look at me!
Probably for them either ‘I was insignificant or invisible!’
But your questions,
Compel me to think about my identity,
I don’t have a search engine,
to take help from the world wide web of identity,
So, when observing you with sensors of Imagination, Emotion and Cognition,
I found my lost identity in you,
As your child everything rooted in you,
Than I started to walk with you
Just to get the aspiration of living planet and
To protect you from the spite of ownerships, rationality, consumerism,
and demonstrations humanity.
But after a while,
Every one started to pose question,
“Who I am?”
“Why I am walking with you?”
“How I get the right to do so?”
Than I replied my scruples enlighten me to do so!
No one understands ‘what I replied?’
Now the Political guardian of the society starts a campaign,
The knowledge baron prepared software for this operation,
The beggar and food vendor distributing the literature with illustrative interpretation,
That…..
“People like me are threat to the society”!
“This is an evil force of our society”!
Tomorrow…..
The security man going to declare a ‘decree’ on
Emotion, Conscience, Humanity and Love.
Apr 3, 2015
Apr 3, 2015 at 8:28 AM UTC
The winter Months used to not be accounted for,
they were the annual time away from Time;
a time of parties, feasts, and, shall we say, celebration of survival;
celebrating the harvest and, shall we say, fertility;
that you and yours may outlast
the cold, dead Winter.
January was eventually recognized as part of time
and was named for the Roman two-faced God Janus;
a time of duplicity and duality
a time of unpredictability
a time, somewhat analogous to a gateway leading to a new cycle
though, perhaps also, a time for looking the other way, as it were:
I suspect that the expression "When in Rome..."
was derived from those Winter non-months of debauchery
where the people from out-of-town would come into Rome,
where the party was, company was plentiful, and it was warm,
and decide to partake in various aspects of pagan Roman life otherwise inaccessible to them
while distributing few, if any, regards for their new-found brumal unorthodoxy
and hence the expression: "When in Rome, do as the Romans."
That's just my theory on it, though.
Take it or leave it, or perhaps somewhere in between.
Happy Winter!
Time to drink, feast, **** and be merry!
It's only Human, apparently!
Nov 21, 2013
Nov 21, 2013 at 11:19 PM UTC
She’s beauty, she’s grace.
With blood in her veins and heat circulating through her frame,
You could compare her to a furnace.
Carrying energy throughout her body and distributing it evenly where it’s needed.
It’s the pressure, the turbulence, the years of experience that molds and forges her heart into the form it takes.
Her heart is made of ceramic, shaped into a wide-mouthed or funnel-enclosed hollow and glazed with painted flowers, or abstract patterns, or tales of wars and legends featuring holy beings and storybook beasts.
Her heart is the fortune of archaeologists and antiquarians alike, the field of study of historians, the apple of poets’ eyes. They seek to wipe every speck of dust that obscures every stroke, every detail, every scar and fracture they seek to decode.
Because as beautiful as ceramic can be, it is brittle and delicate and easily fractures as hearts do. Because if there’s one thing ceramic and hearts have in common, they can only withstand a certain amount of stress for so long.
Because every scar tells a story. No visible fracture can be just a fantasy.
A scratch from heartbreak, a mark from rejection, a line from quarrel. A scar from unrequited love, a scar from a failed test mark, a scar from falling over while biking. A breakage from inner demons.
We are the same. We suffer the same.
Yet the painted flowers, the abstract patterns, the murals telling tales of wars and legends featuring holy beings and storybook beasts, they all elude us, because we’re inclined to focus on the debris before us.
We’d rather walk around the debris, walk over the debris, avoid touching the debris when we’re well within our ability to repair and mend the debris.
Gold for recovery, silver for hope, platinum to mend her broken pieces.
Gold to crown her a winner, to declare her triumph.
Silver to ease her troubled mind, to give her hope anew.
Platinum to strengthen her, to enlighten her, to remind her that she can rise up again.
Golden joinery, or kintsugi, as the Japanese call it — it’s the art of repairing broken pottery with gold, or silver, or platinum, holding its fragments together by a tight bond. It’s meant to treat breakage and repair as part of the history of the object, rather than something to disguise.
She’s beauty, she’s grace.
Her heart is made of ceramic — and gold and silver and platinum intertwined, a story of heartbreak, rejection, and quarrel conquered by recovery, hope, and strength, and proof that she is more than her heartbreak, her rejection, her storms and trials and tribulations.
She is, quite literally, the cloud with a silver lining.
Her heart is art.
But it need not be displayed in a museum case, or in an antique shop window, or a gallery chamber.
Because she, in all of her beauty and grace, she is the museum case, the antique shop window, the gallery chamber.
Feb 26, 2018
Feb 26, 2018 at 1:00 PM UTC
When it's all going smooth, you're talking millions weekly
JC is on his way, to pick up bundles of illicit US drug money
Trouble is getting it back to Mexico and depositing in the banking secretly
There are members of the cartel, that have anywhere up to $300 million, pure honey.
Just sitting idle in their houses and they can't spend or use of it, not even a bit
Once you've gone into partnership with the cartels
You're only handling their money or changing it
You can't leave, they'll find you, kidnap your family and Fedex them back as parcels
They tell you "you have to do this"
If not, they will **** you and they don't ever miss.
Here is the money. What do I with it then?
I get 5 ID's and I'm going to the currency exchange to change the dollars again
You always have to give $200 to the cashier, which we put in here
She logs into the system and records the transactions, that appear
Just as though they were made by tourists
Then we pass them onto our cartel bosses, who are very near us.
The cash is now laundered and its origin erased
They can deposit their money, which is now clean into Pesos, that can't be traced
But this cash started its journey 3,000 miles away
One of the biggest narco distribution hubs in America, I'd say
The windy cities railway, port and interstate highway systems, are the best
Making it the ideal location, distributing Dope and Cash from across the Midwest.
Approximately 70% of the US population lives within a day's drive of Chicago
The Southside is where a lot of the business gets done, just like in Eldorado
Every deal is a drop in the bucket, that contributes to a mighty river of cash
Chicago has over 70 gangs, with up to 150,000 members, who are all smoking hash
Making it the largest and badest gang capital of the America’
Handling the retail, an army of local gangbangers we call the Drug Gangsta's.
Sep 10, 2019
Sep 10, 2019 at 6:03 PM UTC
Within white stagnant walls kinship reeps phyletics
Lavished in immoral conducts; distributing demon fits.
I envisioned hell before me when sick pricked.
My shrills were short lived; as my ambuscade died down.
Escapading not, I did muster inducement.
Decoy to fail, could I never entice this asylum town.
Decifer the mutters I did; creating chaos while dim.
Told in realm; increased heartrate overwhelms;
*"You're a sick little ***** with the dunce smoothered cap oversized."
"Have you ov procelitized, I would be seven lighted voices and notith six dark cackles"
"I spit on you in shackles, spy the roaches and the grime"
"Crawl for Roman Nero, he wanes"
"Guttering your vessels into wine, you are now his drooping mane"*
I saw the heads of six, as roaches looked upon me taking turns to spit.
My time here arose as a feeding black hole.
I crawled for Nero and six more; I stuttered trying treason.
Here I lie pathetic; with rays of decoy,
Dreaming the nightmare most feared; most do not believe in.
Hallucinating alone within the stale walls; I felt prone to end all.
Once gathered what had struck; I knew perspectives aren't always as they seem.
Merely and only; one severe demented dream.
Shall I not turn the tables on authority once more.
To ambuscade the power; leaves needle incisions sore
Not only pain by fluid; both realities changed illucid.
I did what I must've to be discharged;
I did what I must've in best regards.
Oct 30, 2010
Oct 30, 2010 at 2:17 PM UTC
there you are:
brown mop of hair,
glasses you refuse to keep on,
teal green eyes,
broad smirk,
thin body stretched over 206 bones
a man
not my little brother –
no,
when you were little
you sat in that carriage and I read to you:
hours upon hours of stories you probably don’t remember,
but that I cherish
and when you were little
I would ask if you were a boy or a girl
and because I wanted a sister you would always say the opposite of what you are
and most of all when you were little, I shielded you
I carried you
I picked you up
but now you are a man
trapped inside his head
I see this shell of you, my brother,
but sometimes I can’t find you
sometimes all I see are your teal eyes
and not behind them
and there are moments where I wish I could peel back your skin
layer by layer
and go into your mind and see the chaos
like a busy city,
your mind,
cars honking
smog emanating from the tallest buildings
people milling and shouting and cursing
there is no pause
there is only go
one man in your brain carries in a black briefcase your fears
those worries that stop me from seeing you behind your eyes
and this man with a grey cloud overhead,
cloaked in a hood,
wanders your mind
and passes this fear from one person to the next
until slowly,
and gradually,
your whole brain is filled with grey clouds
and cloaked figures
and black briefcases
and shouting and whispering and laughing
and you disappear
from right here
back into your mind
“come closer”, they say,
“why live in this world when you can live in ours?”
and I hate these men; these people
distributing your fears
when it started, it was simply a fear of food,
but then it was
a fear of the world,
a fear of an illness,
a fear of yourself,
my little brother,
who smiled so brightly and vividly it was distractingly beautiful,
who draws so intensely and maturely and incredibly,
paints pictures of wisdom at sixteen,
who has rules and standards to the depths and validity of music
my little brother is trapped
and my stomach sinks when I ask:
“are you okay?”
and he only replies
“…yeah…”
and I feel so helpless when he looks so tired with his sunken eyes
because those men control him
they take all of him away and leave only a shell of my little brother
my bravest brother
my inspiring brother
my strong brother
whom I wish I could wipe clean of all the briefcases
and cloaked figures
and men
and fill his mind with a string of white lights,
Christmas lights,
and layer it with the smell of brownies baking in the oven,
and screens on which are projected his favourite shows and movies and videos of him,
my little brother,
who fights these men every day
and he deserves a medal of honour
because there is a war in his mind
and he battles incessantly
and I know, very soon,
even if only for a little while,
he’ll get a break from this city of his mind
and he’ll win.
Jul 23, 2014
Jul 23, 2014 at 12:45 AM UTC
You know what sounds nicest?
In your bed lying covers half drawn.
Afternoon bath just as I'm waking up.
Your notes upon nightstands and mirrors.
I hope you understand that I'd do
unspeakable deeds and make deals to
realize this vision --
but I'm only human,
you lecher
I'm not the one distributing kisses
I'm not the one love has found you
in paper and ribbon
I'm a companion for us
lonely ones, called suckers
I'm a ******
Nov 10, 2014
Nov 10, 2014 at 9:25 PM UTC
Hound-dog swallowing poly-coated pills, filling up, bloated, falling off stage, and into a more permanent and lasting Graceland, to be surrounded by another’s verse.
I only enjoy what comes from my own head, a modern Samuel Johnson, no matter what happenstance brought about to be said, a cage free Bronson. Hearing false verse through a syllable count, hoisted onto adverbs easy to mount. Congratulate a lesser mind, reaching commonalities most could find. Ease in creation, opens floodgate doors, distributing specs of grace through misworded spores. Life, love, and the pursuit of vanity, leaves simplified lumps of prosperous thought riddled with anonymity. The invention of despair overwhelms those ungifted, and leaves them erecting stale forgeries they grifted.
In the wee small hours of escaping light, a crooner steadies his hands as he falsifies his originality, reading off the music from another’s sheet.
A change in topic is something to hold as worthy, though in a modern context of prosaic prose, such good fortune can be exceptionally elusive. Broken hearted symptoms shared through a hash-tag, rerouted and worded, to fit an illiterate youth’s lesser diction, reposted to approach validity, only to be called forth as an original soul, one to revere, and hold as an entitled fraction of logic.
The piano man knocks out a tune, hit in stride with vocal conduct, inspired and laid in pen by a lesser man propelled by better wording, given up for another’s career.
Market’s over-saturated with teenage sonnets, weeping over cut wrists, ended (Victorian inspired) trysts, refreshed and brought back around until sentimentality vomits. Themes used to run rampant with fresh ingenuity, made extinct, occurred in a blink; now every poem has some congruency.
The grapevine got entangled, getting involved with a troublemaker, providing the soundtrack, using another’s words.
Nov 23, 2014
Nov 23, 2014 at 5:43 PM UTC
I published a children’s book
So that I could say I was a writer
Before then it was just
Scratches in my notebook
Notes in my phone
Conversations in my head
That first month
After the publishing
And the handling
The marketing
distributing
I had 18 cents
That said I can do this
And so I probably will
Dec 3, 2018
Dec 3, 2018 at 2:18 AM UTC
To Whom it may concern,
I am unable to locate or purchase Dijonnaise at any local store in my area. This has been an issue since the beginning of 2021. Is this product being discontinued? Amazon and other online retailers offer highly marked up versions of this product but this East Coast/West Coast, Hellmann's/Bestfoods branding has always been off-putting to me, especially in this day and age plus I despise supporting Amazon or similar box stores/corporations. I would also be more likely to purchase Dijonnaise if it came in a glass container. Plastic is not what millennials want and it no longer "makes it possible" as the ads of yesteryear have stated. I use Dijonnaise very often, I am highly disappointed with the small and awkwardly shaped plastic containers, plastic squeeze bottles make it very difficult to expel or retrieve the entirety of the product. I am strongly considering switching to Durkee's brand mustard in the future as they have always used glass containers, I would mix it with Trader Joe's mayonnaise since it is the only one I can find in a glass container. I understand that the added weight of glass cuts into your profits when distributing your products but I have not seen an advertisement for Dijonnaise in years, where are all these profits being spent? The main reason I purchase Dijonnaise is for the nostalgia of the television ads I grew up watching containing a parody of the song "Duke of Earl". I would strongly recommend re-running these retro advertisements on YouTube ad services in the future if you want to keep this product in production. I feel there is no need to attempt re-creating these ads either, it would be a waste of resources and a disappointment to those who grew up with the original versions. I work in marketing and people are voting with their dollars nowadays, your structure and model could benefit from some evaluation. Please tell me how to buy your product locally and take note that myself and many others prefer plastic free packaging. Thanks for your time. Please do not sell my information or use it to contact me for anything not mentioned above.
Sincerely
...
The response I received was that the product has been discontinued. I was offered a coupon for a complimentary 8oz jar of Mayonnaise as it's the only product still available in a glass container. Unfortunately this is only sold on the opposite side of the Rocky Mountains from my location and only at limited locations. How dissatisfying...
Mar 10, 2021
Mar 10, 2021 at 12:45 PM UTC
When it's all going smooth, you're talking millions weekly
JC is on his way, to pick up bundles of illicit US drug money
Trouble is getting it back to Mexico and depositing it into a bank, secretly
There are members of the cartel, that have anywhere up to $300 million, pure honey.
Just sitting idle in their houses and they can't spend or use of it, not even a bit
Once you've gone into partnership with the cartels
You're only handling their money or changing it
You can't leave, they'll find you, kidnap your family and Fedex them back as parcels
They tell you "You have to do this"
If not, they will **** you and they don't ever miss.
Here is the money. What do I with it then?
I get 5 ID's and I'm going to the currency exchange, to change the dollars again
You always have to give $200 to the cashier, which we put in here
She logs into the system and records the transactions, that appear
Just as though they were made by tourists
Then we pass them onto our cartel bosses, who are very near us.
The cash is now laundered and its origin erased
They can deposit their money, which is now clean, into Pesos that can't be traced
But this cash started its journey 3,000 miles away
One of the biggest narco distribution hubs in America, I'd say
The windy cities railway, port and interstate highway systems, are the best
Making it the ideal location, distributing dope and cash from across the Midwest.
Approximately 70% of the US population, lives within a day's drive of Chicago
The Southside is where a lot of the business gets done, just like in El Dorado
Every deal is a drop in the bucket, that contributes to a mighty river of cash
Chicago has over 70 gangs, with up to 150,000 members, who are all smoking hash
Making it the largest and badest gang capital of America
Handling the retail, an army of local gangbangers, we call the Drug Gangsta’s.
Sep 5, 2019
Sep 5, 2019 at 6:44 PM UTC
Traveling the world upon your hazzy skies engulfed in lustrous plumbs.
My lusting of your branches carries us across the galaxy, basking in your rays barreling into my solor powered eyes. Astroids plummeting through space to the rythem of our hearts, dancing in robotic trances among our union. Starships orbiting our rings for all eternity to our guide through wonderous star showers, distributing perfectness among a
world unconquerable
Apr 20, 2015
Apr 20, 2015 at 9:26 PM UTC
In Meditative state
with open third eye
under golden moon
I ventured outward.
Out to visit the timelines
of Earths future.
My ticket was heartbeat
My intention to learn.
I investigated,
evaluated,
and witnessed
more and more
possibilities.
Some bleak
at mercy of evil ones
that still control
but are loosing ground.
Some riding waves
of peace and compassion.
On returning I knew the answer
and went to the task of
harnessing it
of distributing it
of living it.
The answer LOVE
Its in all human forms
just needs to be
accessed and nurtured.
Dec 10, 2017
Dec 10, 2017 at 10:10 AM UTC
also known as a lesson in anatomy 2:
this is my heart,
it is both a metaphorical
representation of an oversimplified
concept of a highly intricate
detail
and
a thick ball of senew
which throbs to pump
blood through my veins
distributing oxygen and nutrients
to the backwater parts of
the clusterfuck known as my body.
sometimes I like to take it out and
look at it,
turn it around in my hand for a bit
before pitting it back.
sometimes I can't remember how the
arteries fit
so I just jam them in there
and its a real mess.
the thing is molding a little on
one side and kind of wrinkly.
think of an orange that's been hiding under a cabinet for too long.
they say when I person burns to death
the last part of them to turn to ash
is the heart, since its
so tough, the thing takes forever,
just sitting there in the fire.
I don't think that's true.
I think its the first thing to burn.
Apr 8, 2012
Apr 8, 2012 at 2:37 PM UTC
Dizzy
Disoriented
We have to climb
Our destinies
Upwards always
For distributing
Disease
Devastation
Disaster
Before they burst
From our heads
The ascocarp
Like alien flowers
Growing for weeks
Before blooming
With spores
Of infectuous
Beauty
And their asci
Carrying collective
Doom
Apr 22, 2013
Apr 22, 2013 at 1:12 PM UTC