In between shear white and jet-black
with a strong dollop of indigo blue,
lies the pale uncertainty of grayness
the most God-awful hue.

Grayness frustrates the senses.
Grayness stipulates malaise.

A shroud of indecision
arrests the imagination;
chained in wisps of doubt.

The definition of things
routed in a solitary
palette of insincerity.

Grayness negates options.
Grayness obscures landscapes.

Objects disappear
into walls of foggy smiles,
whispering repetitive monotones
of monotonous monologues
in incomprehensible language.

The mind is muted in a pall of haze.
Endless colorlessness of the days.
Days upon days of arctic blight.
Midwinter's endless drama.

White dust
sprinkled on the brain,
layering coats
of a suffocating
ashen pallor.
Dimming the wit,
Quelling the spirit.

Thoughts of light are captured
then lost
in craggy crevasses
of a dull blackened cranium.

Light can't touch the eye
Plaque builds in a hearts ventricle
Warmth escapes the body
and evaporates through
the magic of convection.
A vision remains;
barely an apparition
of a distant
dissipating ghost.


Belgian Café
Hudson St.
NYC
1/29/99

Music Selection:  
Roslavets, Three Etudes

I am Hephaestus,
Festering,
Alone in my home
Of infidelity. Pestering,
My goddess, my queen,
With pleas, that I may reach
And touch her beauty,
That my ears may hear her sing.
Hoping I could snake my way
Around her olive tree,
With the courage of Athene.
She's the amor in the air,
Armored by her disgusted stare.
And I'm ensnared. Tangled,
In her hair. Amongst dead roses,
And broken mirrors, I repair.
Mending what was never there.
Convincing myself I'm not impaired.

I am Hephaestus,
Festering,
In this forge.
I'm scorched,
By my heart's
Endless scourge.

-SLuR

The city was hungry. A mewing came from an alley. A hollow exchange.
The innards of the district had been gutted by libertine sons.
We were scared of the silence, so we filled it with shootings, and lynchings, and stabbings, and rapes.
You came an empty reflection. It was the night before the bombs fell. I remember the way my atoms shifted. You lying there in the morning.
We fell into one another, like rabid dogs at corpses.

Limbs lined the streets.
You were distant that day. I broke ******* climbing over a fence, and lined them with the rest.
The radio tower looked abandoned.
You told me three years later you didn’t care either way. I walked you to the bridge and watched you swim the Styx.
I’d never cared from the start.

The world ended soon after.
The moon’s belly cracked, guts spilling onto the earth.
Children pelted one another with flesh. Parents stood in doorways, smiling.
The swell stretched infinitely, reaching neither peak nor fall.
I fell asleep on your grave, nestled in the cold of yesterday’s ache.

You kidding

Lived a long time coming,
Picked up yesterday my three year old boy,
Third of a third of a third of a third
Of a half of me,
Who I only see once a year,
And we fell in love once again,
all over as is our style,
Annually, annuellement.

We belly kiss,
Fist bump,
High five, talk jive,
Tell each other grand stories
Of dragons in pizza parlors.

Each of us,
Trying the other out,
To ascertain just what
Stuff we are made off.

I love to put him to sleep,
My fingers, rhyme writing like Pradip,
To the turning tires of mom's Toyota van,
When the tired is a steady stream
Of word mumbles of which I understand
A word here and there, but an epic poem
He recites, a verbal dream, a slippage
To that place where three year old bones
And crying go when they pass the point of
Exhaustion.

Rub his cheek with circles of forefinger,
Stroke his head with full palm of my hand,
Close his eyelashes with gentle fingertip kisses,
Take the toys from his fists without any resistance,
Sure signal time for both of us to nap.

His surprises endless,
His cunning now legend,
Alternating disguises tween
I a big boy,
I a baby,
As the situation arises that will
Get him what he wants,
A masterful manipulator.

Which is funny cause I still do that too.

But when he stops me in my tracks,
It is when somehow the brain that has
Just crossed the thousand day alive marker
Says the profound, the uncanny, the
Philosophy of the world weary that is something
That I think just about every thirty seconds.

It is when after some particularly wild reverie
I compose, of seals that swim from his Frisco bay
Around the world to mine, on Long Island
Pacific to Atlantic, and after ten minutes of
Escapading with Batman and his mates,
He looks me and takes me down with this
Almost clear-spoke sabered wisdom,
But in the juvenile voice soft sleepy, of a babe of three,

you kidding(?)

Half statement of fact, half a soulful-questioning,
How does this three year old comprehend
The essential difference between dreams
And reality, that is separated, wheat, chaff,
Milk curd, cheese, the spider silk line that differentiates
All of life essentially.

Yes kid, I am kidding,
I tell that to myself every thirty seconds,
To keep me sane, straight, true,
But I whisper it to myself grownup style,

Who ya kidding?

So it appears that when they say
Out of the mouths of babes
They were talking about adults
Who are hoping they can still be three,
When wisdom and silly are just the
Same-thing.

You kidding(?/!)

Yes I am.
Just a kid,
Kidding you, kidding himself,
Pushing his very own stroller,
Writing crazy stories he calls
Poems, lovely little things,
As soft as your skin, stories of him,
That always end,
With belly kisses and a
you kidding.

Her spirited soul sweeps by through the rain

I feel her in my nails crawling through vains

Her blood running in my blood

She will live forever through me

Through us

Through family

The care and courage has

Concealed itself in me

I have quivered away my entire life

Holding in the tumultuous shards of emotion

Like Williams to the barrow

With her inside me

These things I carry are to be let go

Showing you all of me

Grinding my teeth on food

With two of her teeth in my mouth

She who walks with beauty

Shall be kept

Alive

Scouting Minerals with some pirates.

A while ago- Stopped and thought, drank some tea.
A little while ago- Watched American ******, read Fear and loathing in Las Vegas while watching the movie Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas while on Lsd.
Some time ago- slept in, Slept with someone, listened to "Endless, Nameless" on repeat for four straight hours.
Not too long ago- HaD a DrEaM tHaT i CaN't ReMeMbEr, had an acoustic nightmare, melted the atmosphere of my brain with *****, and had a cancer attack.
A light year ago- Watched Live Leak while eating smores, more and more, more or less, she was *******, which was cool and all but I got a little scared.
A minute ago- typed the last line which isn't this line but is supposed to be, I guess.


Garrett Johnson.

In a realm of endless doors, seekers roamed,
Some embraced the light, others the shadows, stars they comb.

Yet a lone traveler, wise and keen,
In the myriad doors, found unity unseen.

like a desert, in the middle of July..
I wonder why..
Your arms stretch out, touching every grain of sand hidden...
keeping warm, even the most cold forbidden...

given a chance to,
be nurtured by the life the desert springs in summer...
an oasis, endless in its love, precious in its wonder..

warmth never felt this warm before,
even as a child under blankets when i feared..
and unlike the blankets, you would never disappear..

heaven is, the feeling of gentle protectiveness,
calmness and power..
ability to devour an hour..
simply spending time describing that one particular flower...

..that bloomed...

Because were not the huggy type, never one to show affection..
momma never kissed us but she gave us her protection..

never said i love you, but we never went hungry..
I got a job at 14 and she never asked for funding...

Quit a career, hopped the border left her favorite shoes behind..
all just so her seeds planted had a chance to see divine..
and even when theres happy times she never says its fine..
still she prays to God, in times of troubles every time...

what does heaven feel like? ......

Heaven is,
that moment once a year when we embrace...
its almost mothers day, i can see it in your face..

Warmth unmatched,
Love endless and pure...
She'll never know, but all the good i do is for her,
and of that im sure, of that im sure..

Momma, I believe in heaven,
heavens my cure.




-afj

I dream of a master, a conqueror who roams
Leading an army of half-empty drones
Ambitions begotten yet souls abolished
Tongues ripped apart and spiders come polished
A realm of no living, dying, only dreaming
The fruit of the mind, the only place worth breathing
Sand is our time, no clock to betray
Our perception under the universe's display

I dream and I know of a very tall castle
Set in the centre of all worlds, all cattle
I conjure my brothers and sisters, they scream
Of human emotions, long-lost and redeemed
I have laid out my tools to carry my life
To settle the dreaming, the abominable strife
The sand to blow into my children's nights
The mask to conquer hell's realm-less frights

Though I may never walk among you again
I will be happy, remembered, well-spent
And you may live on in the real life we wonder
Where dilated truth, reaching the deep sea and under
I will be eons yet I shall be young
And you may age until kingdom come
For all the living, may I rest your soul
Into the land of dreaming, the years in our control

Shall you want a sea? Should you need the moon?
I pluck from our minds, your life is festooned
I am the passenger you never knew
I am the redeemer that dreamed of you
I will hold strong, for millennia and more
In this dreamless castle of endless doors
Disenchantment is no oddity
For I am the mind’s great commodity

So I am not broken, nor sad, nor begging
I am just tired from eons of dreaming
Sustaining a love that the void must embrace
And merely waved off by the human race
My tongue evolving, yet bitter and dry
No dream could change my saliva and lice
Eat away, for your demons, I feel
O blood, o mama, o touch of cold steel

Death, my sister, why must you succeed?
For all our life, you only plant your seed
So many plagues that I must heal
Countless nomad tears concealed
Our time will come, whence the world will sleep
And no single being will move or sweep
We will fall into eternal slumber
Later awoken by a cascading number

So maybe, I see, that we will carry on
Manifested as gods, manifesting the dawn
And as I see the races die
I can't help but see all of you as flies

I dream of a master, and it is me
I walk down an aisle of obscurity
You will dream until it exceeds your breath
And kneel to the teeth of almighty Seth
Then you shall fly briskly to oblivion
With images falling from your pavilion
Your last breath is put through me

And now, see all you can see
Be happy

The endless reaches for you, my long-dead dreamer
I will send you off into that goodnight
And you will be safe

You can’t tame this beast inside of me that wears my skin.
This monster within knows the secret to making victims give in.
Like a werewolf during a full moon, I turn into such a fiend.
The only way to stop me is to bury me six feet under in quarantine.

Love comes in endless flavors and I’m addicted to tasting them all.

One day, darling.
One day, we shall meet.
One day,
We lock eyes across the room by pure chance.
Whilst I am playing a wallflower
and you are playing a rockstar.
In the midst of my seeing
and your being seen.
We look directly into each other’s pupils.
One day, darling.

And I see a town crier,
my voice and feet,  in your face.
Maybe you see a poet, a dancer.
A storyteller.
Your spigot. A minstrel.
Like a fairy that whispers
charming sweet-nothings in your ear.
One day, darling.

You give a smirk
that gives me flutter.
I touch your shoulder with my pinky
as I reach for the plastic cup to fill it with another dose of cheap wine.
Your skin perks up and contracts.
I act as though I didn't notice,
but you know it was deliberate.
And I know you know.
My half-hearted bashfulness.
Your half-arsed cockiness.
We drink ourselves to semi consciousness.
As we indulge in our awful drunken dancing,
your hand slips in and rakes across my abdomen, and
my hand lingers around your bony hips.
I want to just grab handfuls of your ****.
However, even drunk, I am not that bold.
One day, darling.

I ditch my friend who dragged me there.
You fall straight onto my bed.
My bedroom in a flat I share with my best friend.
I look at your feet dangling off the edge of my bed,
kicking off the shoes.
I think of how quickly you have claimed my space.
And how much it excites me.
I slither in next to you.
And you engulf me, wait for me to overflow.
Both of us half aware, but fully euphoric.
One day, darling.

In the morning, you fry up my flatmates bacon,
scramble some eggs.
In my kitchen wearing nothing but
your underwear and t-shirt.
I make tea.
When you ask, I simply say I don’t have any coffee.
There’s a bag in the pantry. I just can’t be bothered to take out the press.
We eat together on my balcony.
Barely dressed.
Sober but painfully hungover.
Your smirk is now a softer grin,
but with the same glint in the eyes.
We don’t speak a word,
because it gives us headaches.
I put the dishes away and
set up a pool chair in the balcony.
And we cuddle up under the sun,
feeling the light breeze on our ears and brows.
So naturally. Naturally.
One day, darling.

We break every rule written in Cosmopolitan,
told by our friends from school,
by people on television.
Those mind games to test each other or
guess our feelings become moot.
Because your hands become so
comfortable to rest my head in.
and I enjoy the weight of your head on my back,
like it belongs there.
And because there is no time to ask, wait, or waste.
One day, darling.

We spend countless days on the beach,
bathing in salty water, sand, sunlight, and each other.
We smoke kush and you buy me a ****
because I can’t stand spliffs.
I drawl on about my quasi-Marxist stateless communist utopia.
You stare at my face, not saying a word
and smile, even though you don’t give two ***** about a word I’m saying.
And I know you don’t.
You take me to bars and parties and social gatherings,
and I go everywhere you want me to.
Even though I never leave your side,
or speak to anybody else.
I go every time.
The days I cannot move an inch away from my couch
because I drown myself in useless, endless influx of thoughts and emotions.
You stay-
Sometimes, just far enough that I can’t feel your over zealous heartbeats full of life,
but close enough you can see me.
Sometimes, pressed up right next to me so I cannot make a move.
We drop acid together and spend the whole day
doing nothing but hallucinating while sipping my signature honey-lilac lemonade.
We pop a molly and have ***.
Which short-circuits my brain a little,
and brings you closer to the thing you call god.
You sing my words and
I dance your tunes.
So quickly, your fingers learn my hair.
And my palms know your chest so well.
I have never been so excited and comfortable.
You, of course, have never been so fascinated. Enchanted.
One day. Yes, one day.

And the summer comes to an end.
Because the earth didn’t actually stop
the day we met (no matter how much it felt such to us).
You go back to school, and I probably move on to a new city.
I give you my email or whatever.
But it’s useless.
Because you are young and new.
You have many things on your agenda -
people to become, things to acquire, places to be.
And because I won’t keep still.
Because drastic changes are so inevitable for both of us.
The world is so large for both of us.
Still, I know (I mean, I know) you have carved
a permanent spot in my mind.
But I can only hope I am the same to you.
Because, suddenly I don’t know a thing about you.

.          Design is flawless of the diamond city,
an organic stone equation spattered messy
green according to plan
and yes then red and then white and dead,
but would a single cloud churn the heavenly blue abyss
had it sparked against the steel will of mankind?
          So maybe the stars do play us for puppets
on threads of gentle gravity,
          And maybe the mountains move us
more than we ever wished to move them anyways,
          And maybe Gods thorny love spat you out
at exactly where you're just about to be.
          But what were the chances that still recovering our vision from the blinding eyes on the day of judgement, we couldn't yet see
that we had already made it to paradise.
          What better world have I to explore than this one
where every traffic light signals the endless passing
of the rhythmic energy of living,
and every passing soul reveals yet another bridge to cross or street to follow
behind their wild eyes where America was never short of lands uncharted; In the Diamond City I spoke to the warrior ****** masks
and recognized the voices of the restless spirits of the west.
          Their feet pitter patter between
colossal walls of natural and carnivorous symmetry and ponder the pillars of ancient Greece so everything feels so modern, as if its own existence were somehow premature, and it was.
          Young, in their claw
towards a concrete cocoon they sleep past these cement giants
who channel rivers of breath through hands and hairs
and endless leaves and lungs that rustle around above them awake,
all of them oblivious
of the showering accomplishment of now.

But the lovebirds turned into ravens and heart warmth into heartbreak. The pain felt inexplicable as I crumbled to the floor, face scrunching up to let out a gasp through the heart-wrenching sobs. It was as though someone ripped my heart out of my chest and bore a hole in my mind and soul with no hopes of repair.The future we painted was tinted and washed with the tears that scraped my cheek, that once used to blush. Our love didn’t have a Disney proof happy ending or of the star-crossed lovers that fought by one another’s side.
Visiting areas where we spent time dragged me through memories, attacking my nerves and ravaging upon what was left of my being. The home we built and leveled with intimacy, trust and love reduced to ruins, crumbling and collapsing. It’s like my heart is dying a slow death, shedding hope like leaves every day until there is none. Our love sailed for some time but only to end up shipwrecked. Fragile like the glass that awaited to broken until the shards fit no more.
Defeaned by the repetition of the melancholiac rhythms that soothe my spasming and scorched heart as the beat resonates with my heart and lyrics echoes in my skull. The wound that was cut bleeds deep for there was no scab to heal; endless anguish and agony. The pain felt like a constant ache, a constant stain on the floor and the pillow. But then it came in waves, crashing and enveloping me in its depths, stealing appetite and sleep. Drifting away from the shore where the people lie, I find myself drowning in isolation. Inhaling the heaviness that made me one with the sea.
The echoes of your words in my skull send pulsating self-doubt questions that make me question my worth. “Was he not the one?”. The world seems like it’s going to end and that I will never find love. But instead live with a heart yearning your name and the broken, hollow vessel that I have become.
You changed the way I thought of myself and now I don’t know who I am without you. The world seems to ripped from my arms for I didn’t have you to turn to. No one to catch me; to caress and to soothe. Your face is engraved in my memory, without you, everything seems meaningless. Saturating myself further in dreaded apathy. In a shattered state, I am further tortured in dreams if I were to find sleep in the darkness that consumes the night.
Plastered on a smile and laugh occasionally, when deep down I am longing, drowning and gasping to breathe with your name on my tongue.I mourn the unspoken words while my head hangs heavy in the thought of you, every fiber and cell missing you.

my brother Ami,
from the land of
Pineapples and lemons
wanted to write to you
in late hours,
to wish you good
travel tomorrow
to the desert land with camels,

Please, be safe on the road,
may Allah protect you
in the weather hot!
in endless sand dunes
the time is so slow,
even letters from your
lovely sister are
out of the law.

Take care with the guns
and weapons
and how you wash
your blue jeans...
I pray Allah to help you
in that distant place
i'll miss you as always
drawing your portrait
with black ink.
i'll think of you and write,
and dream to be by your side.

My brother
mon frère,
mio fratello,
saudaraku,
kardesim,
akhi, bhai,
you know
I love you,
waiting you
back
after may!


....nour....
    may-013

A thing of beauty is a joy for ever:
Its lovliness increases; it will never
Pass into nothingness; but still will keep
A bower quiet for us, and a sleep
Full of sweet dreams, and health, and quiet breathing.
Therefore, on every morrow, are we wreathing
A flowery band to bind us to the earth,
Spite of despondence, of the inhuman dearth
Of noble natures, of the gloomy days,
Of all the unhealthy and o'er-darkn'd ways
Made for our searching: yes, in spite of all,
Some shape of beauty moves away the pall
From our dark spirits. Such the sun, the moon,
Trees old and young, sprouting a shady boon
For simple sheep; and such are daffodils
With the green world they live in; and clear rills
That for themselves a cooling covert make
'Gainst the hot season; the mid-forest brake,
Rich with a sprinkling of fair musk-rose blooms:
And such too is the grandeur of the dooms
We have imagined for the mighty dead;
An endless fountain of immortal drink,
Pouring unto us from the heaven's brink.

I took care of others, walked in their shoes,
got their trivial pains and forgot my loyal legs...
If I present you the baneful thorns I have trodden,
would you be ready to follow me again and barefoot?
My mind will always be bitterly cold
as an intact valley and never understood...

Though I am sure that you do not care,
I feel well, very well, except longing.
Your dreams are flying even everywhere
while I try to stop contemplating...
You know, I am a bit chatty when I am inspired
and the poet inside me never gets tired.

You can't grasp how painful it is to emanate a poem,
how you go out of your infatuated mind...
When 'clevers' seek for justice, but only for themselves,
there is nothing else purer than the tears of madmen.
So, happiness would have been an evident injustice,
if all of the people attained their desires.
I have faced many types of mental battles,
but no war is harder than the lack of love inside.
Love is living your life for another one's sake,
sacrificing everything with honor and pride...

Now I am sure that there exists no hate,
but just does the love of hatred indeed.
Before the absurdness of irrevocable fate
only love will save us in eternity...

No feeling will help you to be deeply blessed
while mass is spurious and loners are obsessed...
As you **** your hopes you gain fake freedom,
but free slavery will still be going on,
sometimes feeling oppressed, depressed, repressed...

However,
Invincible I am before such odd jobs
and I have found ways to keep myself up.
Now I live slowly till the time begins to blur,
paradoxes take place within my dark thoughts,
I divide the time to its perpetual aeons,
all the rules and limits I swear to deny
and save the endless time when we were eye to eye...
Through your looks the heavenly sky is clear
and all the possibilities are real there...
My benevolent angel,
let the eternity recur from the start,
only the eyes of blinds do not show their hearts...

I feel very sorry and deeply upset,
when the human inside silently regrets ...
Yet I am too clumsy to move mountains,
to achieve sanctity which I want to serve.
I wish I made you happy at my any chance,
But I can only make you happiness itself...

~

If you were mine…



If you were mine…our footsteps would

dance on moonlit verandas
while candle lit flickerings enticed my smiled reflections
with your arms tightly around me

symphonies would play to the rhythm of your charm
as we swayed in the essence of forever
on cloud soft concertos of affection’s melodic whispers

eternal echoes would sing in harmony to your eyes,
hauntingly dark invitations to my endless destination,
soothing reflections comforting weathered longings

If you were mine…satin beaches would

eclipse tan line passions
beneath glistening waves of aquamarine salt water bliss
gently caressing the depth of our love

palm leaf shadows of cooling design would weave embracing patterns
of ocean fed breezes tickling our naked forms
as sea foam fingers probe pearl smooth valleys

sunset tides would tease beneath star orchid heavens
blooming of every wished for fantasy…
lasting happily ever after upon sandcastles dreams


If you were mine…my life would

be a mosaic of delirious euphoric visions
in constant creative motion delivering sincerely
every ounce of joy your heart could desire

painted in the sweet essence of everything that is your spirit
vibrant in wonders of fragrant poetic offerings
versed in accordance with your every need

believing that happiness can begin with a smile,
walk along endless streams of worshiped blessings,
remaining satisfied and forevermore yours

If you were mine…oh, if you were mine

We are the duet
Of water meets dust
Sky meets ground
Heaven meets earth

We are the duet
Of a mucky dance
Crying over the crops
Stepping upon the seeds

We are the duet
Invented from the mess
Of creation, turning
Into devastation
By the hands of the
Coalition

We are the duet
Pouring hands and feet
And cranking necks
And exposing wrists
And lengthening legs
And loosening tongues.

We are the duet
For the dried up leaves
In need of a drink
For the endless fields
Silent in their thirst

We are the dance

To grow and harvest
That will give and give and give
And keep feeding and keep feeding and
Keep feeding
Both types of souls:
Those who believe the duet is worthwhile
And those who believe they can live
Without the smallest amount of rain.

She scribbles endlessly,
waiting for her true love to see
the aching in her wanton heart
pen'd in crimson's darkly hue'd soul
inky passages of the past
when the sun still shine'd a'glow
and all was write with the world

As the wind rushes over the moors
she thinks of her Heathcliff'd dreams
reverie of timely love season'd skies
when spring sprung eternally
old man winter was only a notion
frozen in another's memories
til stormy nights overcame the fantasy

Still, she revisits her place in the sun
bleeding out on paper without conscience
a wavering inner voice triumphs demurely
as emotions spill over the tethered wastelands
once a land of wide open lush filled pleasures
this place now only a reminder of tormented defeat
yet, her resolve for passion's affection remains

The passion of my heart.
Could wear the river rocks to dust.
Relentless like the tides of moons.

The passion of my heart.
Could travel any distance.
It knows no barrier like the fading Ozone.

The passion of my heart.
Could melt with invisible fire.
Like the polar ice caps.

The passion of my heart.
Could feed the hungry.
Full of Endless substance.

The passion of my heart.
Could be inconceivably large.
Rivaling the Sun and the stars.

Every heartbeat is an endless defeat
A ribcage jukebox stuck on repeat
Slow on sleep and heavy in high heat
Fever pleads to end the beat
Suffer a sudden death alone in the street

This isn't about you anymore.

          I'm starting to see a pattern. It's kind of like, staring at the tiled wall in the shower. You want to slip and fall, maybe break your head, but you can't seem to stop looking at the wall. The art.

             The faces and the places on the wall, they talk and breathe, and the more you see, the more you know. And the more you see, the more you want to know, but it all seems to stretch out into nothingness. Everything blurs together, and the more you know, you find you actually know nothing at all.

          That's where I'm coming from, I've always known where I was coming from, but I have never known where I was going. This isn't about you anymore. I've come to realize that my life is a lot like that wall. Winding and endless, like if Satan was a snake and he made a home around my neck. Coiled tight enough to make me see stars in your eyes, but loose enough to make my head pound with pain.

              So it's all about me, and I'm endless. I'm sad and I'm tired, and I have no answers, and I'm all alone. I know that I'll have to keep going, but I also know that I think I'm going to leave you behind. This isn't about you anymore. I'll take my heart back and leave it for someone more special - maybe my dog or my best friend, Carolina.

      I think they'll take better care of it, and I can focus on what really matters: living a life that doesn't involve drowning. Drowning in thoughts, drowning in tears, drowning in possibilities. I think I've had enough of that.

I think I can swim.

Dump: A Commissioned Poem

Someone commissioned me to write a poem about the word, dump.  Not a pretty word, but a workingman's word, full of possibilities and mystifications.  Gratefully accepted.

so many, endlessly endless.
bringing paper, cans, compacted
words,
all in need of special disposal,
special handling,
individuation of caring.

I split myself into multiple personas.
blue, green and some other color,
divine myself into receptacles for the sounds
you write, that must be read aloud, slowly,
in order to properly, allocate,
to dispose,
of.

sustainability.
not the planet,
something smaller,
more
man-ageable,
man-agreeable.

your verse!
you in verse is multidimensional,
yet unified,
one theme,
single answer to a questioned couched
a thousand different ways,
a thousand different poem titles!

how can I sustain myself?

sustain
— verb (used with object)
to support, hold, or bear up from below; bear the weight of, as a structure.
to bear (a burden, charge, etc.).
to undergo, experience, or suffer (injury, loss, etc.); endure without giving way or yielding.
to keep (a person, the mind, the spirits, etc.) from giving way, as under trial or affliction.
to keep up or keep going, as an action or process: to sustain a conversation.
to supply with food, drink, and other necessities of life.
to provide for by furnishing means or funds.
to support (a cause or the like) by aid or approval.
to uphold as valid, just, or correct, as a claim or the person making it

you are in the dictionary,
did you know that?

now I will answer in a free man's verse,
written without hesitation but with plenty of
tears and tissues
and rememberings of his own
wasted days, major successes,
bathtub ships,
righted
and passengers saved.

Words written in a single breath,
no exhalation just simple purity,
best wishes that any man can have,
if daring, he reaches inside and,
rips himself open,
saying it's ok, and meaning it,.

so here I am
standing looking you in the eye,
sitting with both arms draped
over your body,
saying
dump,
dump it all on me.

Cause I got a billion words that rhyme with
comfort.
Bring me the past and the future uncertain.

I already told you
never read a poem I did not like.

got slots for cans paper and compost,
got slots for fear, heartache and a big ole wide one for
pain.

got a heart shaped dump
that never closes.

The city council complains,
your name ain't Moses,
you are a city boy,
why you hanging in the wilderness for forty more,
didn't you do your time?
ex wife that brutalized your soul.
two sons who barely speak to you.
let someone else take over,
and I smile saying exactly,
I got experience,
I got Kleenex,
don't know nobody else better
Boy Scout
Be Prepared.

See,
even you can dump on me
effortlessly.

So.
ask not what you will bring.
cause I got an opening for anything you can
dump,
and land fill of me that has so much space,
billions of acres and neurons that will lay fallow,
until your poems, plaints, sailings and wailings
fill them.

so that is my poem,
dump,
even,
I like it.

May even dump some of mine on someone
like you.
after all
who in this world cannot use some
sustaining.

A brief statement about certain controversial questions and issues relating to some core religious topics such as:
What is God?
Where is God?
Who Is God?
and a new or old philosophy and perspective (depending on the readers views) offering an explanation to these age old questions.

Prelude:
The proof of That which is not restricted to any construct of the human mind and is beyond imagination is Divine. This is sometimes revealed to a select few in the form of a revelation or philosophy from time to time and is what history calls religion and is also uplifting and blissful.
The ordinary human mind and intellect cannot comprehend or fathom that which is beyond it but only staggers at the attempt, bewildering as it is to the ego which is the seat of the mind and limited individual personality. (See Note #1)

Standpoint 1
It is generally stated that neither the existence nor the non-existence of God can be proven. But if there is absolutely nothing or everything is somehow taken away, then whatever is left or there is that remains can only be the place, source or state from which everything is brought into existence and sustained for a while within its own infinite being and by its own infinite or unlimited latent capacity of power, knowledge and blissful freedom of imagination and creation.

Standpoint 2
The state of absolute nothing (colorless, formless, odorless, indivisible, unfathomable), if there ever was such a state, would then be the complete and infinite unmanifest state or prior condition of this Boundless and Eternal Being or God from where all the universe, as we have come to know and see to date, has come and in which it still must exist without any exception regardless of what there appears now to be.

Standpoint 3
All the planets, moons, suns, stars, galaxies, nebulae and whatever else there may be are nothing other than, relatively speaking, like the atoms, molecules, compounds, cells etc that go to make up the body of a living physical entity, and in this specific and particular case, the manifest cosmic being known as or called the universe, and the so called black holes would then be found to be the arterial pathways of the energy or substance known as dark energy and matter which is of a non atomic nature (See Note #2). It should also be noted that the simplest and first atom or atomic substance or element is hydrogen, which is made up of just an electron and a proton, and is the most abundant atomic substance in the universe. In other words from the one formless substance of dark energy and matter come hydrogen, helium, lithium, etc (in the order of the atomic scale), from the simplest and lightest to the most complicated, densest and heaviest.

Standpoint 4
This then is the reason why we should consider the infinitely large of the outer universe with all the cosmic forces and objects known and unknown on the one hand, while its opposite, the infinitely small, being that of the inner universe, in the form of man’s mind and emotions together with the sub and atomic forces on the other, both co-existing at the same time without an apparent beginning or end, that make up the whole visible and invisible creation which is seemingly expanding, until the endless end, in something greater than itself, for how else could this ever be? (See Note #4)

Standpoint 5
The preceeding points help to validate the statements in the scriptures which say “as above so below” and that “we are made in the image and likeness of God” (ie: our soul or spirit within), and an aspect of Einstein’s theory of Relativity that mentions or postulates of ‘the curvature of space’ and certain aspects of Quantum Physics. The preceeding points also bring together both views of the so called ‘Big Bang’ and ‘Steady State’ theories that have gained popularity in modern times and where the former seems to be the more widely accepted view.

Standpoint 6
The five so called elements of Earth, Water, Fire, Air and Ether mentioned in certain philosophical texts and which correlate to the five lower energy centers (or Chakras) of the human body are complemented by two higher ones being those of Light and Sound of the two higher centers. This also explains the scripture where it is written “in the beginning was the Word and the Word was with God and the Word was God” and where “God said let there be light and there was light” (See Note #3) which indicates that from the ‘Word of God’ or primeval sound came light, then ether, air, fire, water and earth in a descending order. The last five mentioned elements deal specifically with life and conditions on our own world and also other worlds where one, some or all of the seven kingdoms of evolution are to be found in various stages of development. (See Note #5)

Standpoint 7
If man is made in the image and likeness of God then whatever can be seen outside can also be seen inside in the sense that there is nothing but God that really exists and that the essence of God is in man's soul and spirit. An analogy of this would be to look at a drop of an infinite ocean (without boundaries or divsions) and to recognize or realise that the drop of the ocean is nothing other than the ocean itself which may apparently seem to be separate or limited due to a bubble of ignorance and limited perception (the effect of duality or God's Cosmic Illusion or Maya). The illusion of duality becomes less apparent and is indeed negligible to the point of non existence as man evolves spiritually and realises his oneness with the essence or real part of his inner being which is non other than a drop in (not separate from) this indivisible infinite ocean of God. When this 'essence' is made the focus of an individual's consciousness and is continually invoked upon by various means it then becomes activated or awakened, so to speak, from a dormant latent state, to one of a highly charged and source seeking intelligent energy that is returning back to its real home or state from the lowest center of consciousness (gross, dense and material) in the human body to the highest centers being those in the higher parts of the body which are of a much finer or subtle consciousness and associated with light and sound (i.e. the primeval sound and light of creation) which come from God or the state of infinite consciousness.  This is also the state of Absolute Nothing mentioned in Standpoint 2 above from where Absolutely Everything has come from or manifested within its own Being and the Infinite Existence (all that exists does so within God) due to the infinite latent capacity of power, knowledge and blissful freedom of imagination and creation (Standpoint 1).  
-----------------------------------------------------------­---------------------------------
Notes:
(#1) See also my other prose titled "God is the Highest Good".
(#2) The universe is the infinite creature or creation of God. It resembles more or less the atomic structure of a living infinite organic entity and is the physical manifestation of an Eternal Un-manifest and Unfathomable Divine  Existence or Boundless Being which is the Only Reality or God.
(#3) See The Old and New Testaments of The Holy Bible.
(#4) We use a telescope to see into the body of the universe being incredibly large and use a microscope to see things or signs of life that are incredibly small.
(#5) The Seven kingdoms Of Evolution are: 1. Gaseous forms including stars, suns, planets etc, stone and metal. 2. Vegetable forms 3. Worm forms including all insects and reptiles 4. Fish forms 5. Bird Forms 6. Animal forms 7. Human forms.
________________

My loving Child "I miss you"
Every second you are gone I cry.
With endless love I left you sleeping,
The day we said goodbye.

As your eyes closed for the last time,
You took with you half of my heart.
One day we will be together,
As it was from the start.

Until the day I join you,
And once again we are side by side.
My loving child I will miss you,
Every second you are gone "I will cry".

Sheila.

Under the Mirabeau bridge flows the Seine
And our love
Must I remember them
How joy always came after the pain

The night comes, the hours chime
The days pass but I remain through time

Hand in hand, face to face, let us not change
While underneath
The bridge of our arms gives way
The waters’ endless look is grey

The night comes, the hours chime
The days pass but I remain through time

Love slips away like this running water
Love slips away
Just as life is so slow
And as hope is so violent

The night comes, the hours chime
The days pass but I remain through time

The days and the weeks pass by
Neither past time
Nor past loves will return
Under the Mirabeau bridge flows the Seine

The night comes, the hours chime
The days pass but I remain through time

Poetic visions of heavenly moments captured in mental pictures as if by old-time cameras. 
Black and white bodies with silken skin and moon kissed hair touch the stars to invoke
color flavored scents of passion and whispered promises. 
Only glimpses of things to come. 
Only possibilities sprinkle the vast landscape of open minds and tease the back of the eyes 
where dreams play on wide screens like drive in movies. 
Extinct now, except where it counts. 
Rarity causes sweet sensations across the tongue that hints at juicy strawberries eaten on sweltering summer afternoons. 
Perhaps watermelon passed across the fullness of lips swollen from kisses.
Endless roads mimic endless desires and dreams. 
The scenery constantly changes and sleep is something vile.
A cruel optical illusion no less tangible than aged lace found in an abandoned attic.
A heart slumbers amidst the sands of the desert-like rib cage, rearing it's head to roar for it's mate unexpectedly and frighteningly loud.
Impossible to ignore for very long.
Placate the beast with promises of more sleep, more dreams, more voices, more silent movie moments of words spoken with veiled glances and feather light caresses.
Promise to acknowledge what it already knows as truth and to stop dancing in shadows of fear and safety.

Drip… drip. The endless soundtrack of that leaky faucet,
Drops of water waste away, minutes trickle by.
Melted wishes flow on down, those pipe dreams only that.
Drip… drip. They all collect in that sea of broken promises.
Drip… drip. The Pacific, the Atlantic, they are dwarfed by this, the broken ocean.
Drip… drip. The waves do not crash, the storms do not roar, they do not recycle this endless sea.
Drip… drip. No ship has ever dared sail, for none will come running back.
Drip…drip. Not a ripple above, but a wail from below, those hopes just don’t want to let go.
Drip… drip. Maybe there’s a girl up there… maybe a boy… maybe they’ll go fishing, maybe they’ll brave a sail on that lonely river.
Drip…drip. Maybe they’ll care to mend piece of that broken ocean.
Drip… drip. Maybe. Maybe someday, someone will come. Maybe someone with know-how, and some brains to match it up. They’ve got to have a heart, but maybe… someday.
Drip… drip. But for now, we just listen to the soundtrack, of that leaky faucet.

Sitting by the roadside, and watching
      Traffic
                 urgent horns
                                        bright lights

Sitting by the roadside, and looking
      Hunger
                  begging children
                                          endless fights.
                                                      
                                                                                                    Mittal S.

No more lords.
No more rules.
Dictated by cloud headed fools.
Dogmatic commands issued
from chairs in the sky.
Telling those without wings:
How we cannot live,
And terms when we die

Speaking endless promises
yet speaking in riddles,
circles, and lies.

Life is a game
Of slicked palmed
councils on clouds

Telling us,
Work hard enough!
Aspire high enough!
And you can earn your wings
(of feathers and wax)
All your hard work
Will be rewarded at last!

So, work hard today
and pay us our taxes.
Perhaps tomorrow,
you get your wings.

All lies.
We toil today.
We toil tomorrow.
We toil until our loved ones
Gather in shared sorrow.
Buried with unfulfilled dreams
Of flying
Tomorrow.