I feeleth so anxious as the fleshy winds outside,
Invisible as their turquoise screams, I feeleth like everything is just not right;
Ah, but how if even all later suns shan't be fair,
And t'is passivity shan't ever be bound to fade?
For my soul declares-t'at he, it wants not any more to care;
And about thee only, it wants to be quiet, yet witty still-like yon pale lovesick summer glade;
I want to attach myself to our captivated hours right now;
With thee in my lap, and thy gentle whispers-as today shall be replaced by tomorrow.
I want to dream of thee once more tonight, o sweet Nikolaas;
My darling at present and from the future, whilst my only dearest, from the past.
Ah, sweetheart, why are but our subsequent hours-and perhaps paths, to suffer;
If thou art not by my side, and maketh not all t'is terseness better?
Ah, and wouldst it ever make sense any longer;
To live by him-but without thee, wouldst it but make my wild heart easier?
For censure is to which my answer, and is hatred-for I cannot help loving thee more;
I wanteth to love, and age-by thee, and by thee only, within my most passionate core,
And I wanteth not to understand anything-for comprehension shall but renew our last sorrow;
I wanteth instead-to renew t'is despaired wholeness, and its proven compassion-our love has once made nature show.

I still wanteth to remain quiet; to cherish and glitter within my wholesome devotion;
But which duly keepest me sober, and maketh my doubled heart tremble not;
Calmeth me, calmeth me with thy kisses-so enormous and tasty, like a quiet can of little soda;
Maketh me accursed, petty, and corny-maketh me thy lands' most dreaded infanta.
Tease me like I am a quivering little darling, who cannot but tries shyly still-to sing;
With a coarse voice descended from sunlight, where the worst are joy, and lovingly mean everything.
Maketh me honest, and tempteth me deeper and more;
Until I sighest and flittest myself away, with agility like never before.
Consumeth my greed-and with it, drinkest away its all befallen vitality;
For I knoweth thou shalt restore me, and reneweth all my endeavoured weaponry.
Ah, Nikolaas, how sweet doth feel t'ese blessings, by thy very side!
Nikolaas, Nikolaas, my lover-my sweet husband, from whom my hungry soul canst never hide!
Oh, and darling, Amsterdam might be cold, and plastered with one slippery tantrum;
But thou art still too comely to me-with those familiar eyes like a poem;
A poem t'at my very heart owns, and is graciously fat'd to be thine;
And thine only-for as I danceth later-in my princess' frock, I knoweth t'at thou art mine.
Ah, but fear thou not-for shall I protect thee like t'is;
I shall slander thy rival west and east, I shall degrade t'em all to'a yawning beast!
And upon my victory be I at ease-and finely grateful;
On which truth shall spring, and maketh our love venerated-and more fruitful!
Ah, just like I had b'fore-how canst kissing thee be extremely pleasant,
Even whenst he be t'ere, or perhaps-be the one concerned?
I hath to admit, t'at 'tis thee-and not him, I so dearly want;
Thee who hath painted my love, and made everything cross but all fun;
Thee whose disguise is my airs, and who hath ceaselessly promised to be fair,
Thee whom I'th dreamt of t' be my lifelong prince, with whom I wish to be paired,
Thee whose recitations lift my heart upwards, and my delight proud;
Thee whose poems hath I crafted, and oftentimes recited sensibly, out loud.

Ah, t'at devil-who told us t'at our joys cannot be real;
For they are not at all virtuous-nor by any chance, vigorous?
Ah, fear not those human serpents, darling, whose mouths are moth-like-bloodless but who canst ****;
For to God they are mortal still, and to His eyes whose jokes are not fun, nor humorous;
And thus we shall be together, as we indeed already are;
For our delight is not to be altered-no longer, as dwells already, in our heart;
We shall come back to it soon, as tonight's full moon smilingly starts;
And exalt it as wint'r comes-dear winter, as perhaps only be it, one few months' far;
Ah, and be I then, crush all t'is impatient longing, and sorely missed affection;
And vanquish all the way, t'is all omnipotent sin-of having loved only, a severe affliction;
Oh, but under whose guidance, Amsterdam shall embark again, and smile upon us;
And lift our tosses of joys, into the lapses of its sweet thunders, fast!
Ah, Nikolaas, shall we thus be together, under the wings of Amsterdam's rainbow;
To which endings shan't even once appear; as guilt be then dead-and is not to show;
The only left opus of love be ours to sing, as heaven is-so benevolent;
Betray us not, with fruits of indifference-much less once of one malice, and gay impediment;
And our happiness shall be pure-and entangled, like a pair of newborn twins;
To which our fantasies are finally correct, and thus its affixed lust-shall no more be a sin.

Such love and lust-whose fidelities shall be our abode;
But by whose words-delusions shall never arrive, and thus be put aside;
Novelties shall be fine, and their definitions shall be lovely;
They shall twitch not-for a simple moment of starched felicity!
Oh my darling, I needst to come and visit my wealthy Amsterdam;
With authenticity now I entreat: myself, myself, ah, run there-whenst stop doth time!
For as we embarketh, no more worrisome medleys shall they come again, to bring;
And to no more sonata, shall they retort-nor so adversely, and dishonestly, sing.
Ah, Nikolaas, the stars are now obediently looking down at us;
Jealous of our shimmering love, which is the lush garden's yonder, giddy beaut;
Ah, who is shy to its own mirror, and oft' looks away so fast;
But needst not to swerve, factually, for 'tis, on its really own-has but very much truth!
But still, whose hastiness maketh it succumb-and even more bashful then the sky;
Ah, as if those pastimes of its ****** soul are always about-and be termed but as a single lie!
For it shall never happen, to it-who owns our midnight hours-with one promise to be skirted away too fast;
With not even a single pause, nor a second of rest-while it passes?
Ah love, our very love; its circular stains, nevertheless, as left hurriedly-too massive to resist;
For they giveth taste to our plain moonlight-and thick'ning flavours to our kiss;
So at our first night of gaiety thereof-we won't be hunger for earning too much bliss!
Ah, Nikolaas, all shall be perfect-for felicity is no longer on our part-to miss,
And t'is part of our earthly journey shall feel, defiantly like heaven!
I shall be thine-and claim no more my thine self as his;
In thee doth I find my salvation, my fancy dome-and my most studious cavern!
All which, certainly-is his not; all which shall be ripe, and thus fragrant-like a rose perfume;
And by whose spell-we shall be love itself, and even be loved-within the walls of our private haven;
And even then, we shall love each other more-as be cradled in each other's arms; and lost like this, in such a league of harmonious poems.

Amsterdam shan't be rigorous, it shall be all fair,
Its notions are curious, like these but entrancing summer days;
Thinking of which is but a sweat-but a bead of sweat for which I most care,
Which is neither dreadful nor boastful, as I devour it avidly, amongst t'is poem I'm 'bout to say!
And t' mindfulness of which, I shall no more hastily rid of;
I was too dreary back then, crudely foreshadowed by a crippled love!
'Twas my mistake-my supposedly most punished, punished mistake;
For faking a love I ought not t've ever made, and one I ought not t' ever take!
A mere dream I hath now fiercely pushed away;
And from which I hath now returned, to my most precious loyalty,
As thou knoweth-thou hath never wholly, and so freely-left me,
Thou art all too genuine, and pristine, like yon silvery river-as I oft' picture thee.
Ah, so t'at is all true; t'at thou art my most gracious, and unswept loving angel,
A prince of royalty, and my very, very own nighttime spell.
Just like thou hath done hundreds of time, thou maketh me but delight and mischief;
And notions t'at bubble within my most, giving me charms and comfort-for me to continue to live!
Together, our lips shall be warm-and no more joy shall be left naked;
Soon as there are more tears, we shall throttle and fairly feast on it;
Making it all but remotely conscious, and forcibly-but sensibly, deluded;
Making it writhe away impaired, and its all possible soul awesomely flattened!
Ah, Nikolaas, thou shalt be the mere charm t'at leaves my odes too fabulous-by thy wit,
Oh, my darling, for thou art so sweet; o, Nikolaas, I really hath only my words, to play with!

And guess what, my darling, heaven shall but gift us nobly, all too soon;
An heir shall we claim; as descendeth one day beneath the excited full moon.
For he shall be born into our naughtiest perusal;
And demand our affection excitedly, as time is long, as arrives winter-from last fall!
Soft is his hair, clutched in his skin-so bare and naive;
He shall be our triumph, and a farther everyday desire, to continue to live!
And we shall consider him our undefined, yet a priceless fortune;
Light as the night, at times singular but cheery-like the sketch of a fine moon.
And portray in us both the loveliness of a million words;
He shall be handsome, just like our love-which is damp but funny, in whose two brilliant worlds!
Oh, my darling, I now looketh forward to my heavenly Amsterdam;
Whose prettiness shall be thoughtful, as I thinketh of it-from time to time.
Ah, thus-when all finally happeneth, I shall know thou art worth the whole entity of my thousand longings;
Thou art the miracle t'at I hath decently prayed for-and thus fathomably, the very sweet soul-of my everything.

Not in the way I
Look through these eyes
which water but instead
Of sadness entranced upset
Near to death love
making where though and
Design laugh at their own
Gluttony and ill usage and
away from me i say no not here and
away from itself i hear nothing for you
are here within me but away
Comet and the see to hear blues with
Everything to give but nothing to lose
And the far off sights are much too bright
And inside you hear yourself crying
Not to mtters or mold your soul
With what your parents said to you
Ordered you to be bold and
The aftermath of your own tightened slack
Makes you wonder if growing up was an actual
Choice in the matter of the batter which is
The family foundation were games are played
For keeps and children weep as they keep
Toiling on as adults just for bigger and better things
Come into the waves of a brain malfunctioning
No face for ye' faith meand nodding to the higher
Ones whose noses are broken and the lips cracked
The spinning brain of hurts doughnuts and Americana
Rip offs selling the flag by the millions to turn a profit
For the moronic billionaires who think no one is watching.
Watching with their hats turned sideways and trying to
Escape old age and grey hair and sagging ball sacks and
Poor english and worser bread, stale with their mother's
Ghost hovering on the shoulder of their pouting diamond
Drenched wife as if madness grew a larger pair **** within the
Hilarity of connection of concoction of happiness and
Satisfaction and a longing to burn the entire ******* down
Just to rebuild it the way you see and you do see it and the way
You feel it used to be and perhaps, maybe, could be and where
Experimentation is now a center fold for the dock workers and the
Laborers of the world to spit and ******* and cry over in their
Twisted and rusty beds for inside their pea brains and melted
Mouths filled with colgate and beer, they slobber over the excess
And humiliation and celluoid dreams of **** and *** and spreads
That would make any grandmother of 37 weep and Mozart meander
On the veranda, contemplating smooth jazz and the way he would like
Not to be buried with the hat trick hockey nick who swore he saw
You fall in love before and that sobriety was the touch of the Christian
Way of life and ye' far out and tormented young ones meant nothing
By what they said at the rally and they do believe in the good of the
White government and we are headed toward a technological maelstrom
Of the golden age of the HUMAN RACE but alas I hope I decipher I pray to
No God but whoever has the ears and eyes and arm fat to listen with their
Splintered consciousness and their painted red toenails and girlfriends who
Whisper they have always loved another and how TRUE UNTRUTH IS and
How vindictive we rant on and read on and hope and believe that the end
Is the end but it is only the end for you and their will be new blood and new eyes
And new minds and we will grow old but the rivers water will be recycled, as we
Will be recycled into the dust and the mud and the rubble to further build the streets
As the street makers and the bread winners will smile as they think they are the
First ones to think up such a crafty, inventive invention but hierarchies are on the horizon
And I remember I was born with a name that I never grew to know or fall in love with
Or defend or keep close to my heart for the heart is weary hunter and it ventures on
With or without the body.
Note to self.
Recall the last rite before you begin on to the next one.
History has spilt its blood and its fair share of orange juice, try not to remember the numbers but remember the amount of burned chairs.
Note to self, returned.
The heaters on and the soul is not dancing but jiving like icing on a three year olds birthday cake.
Submission time to the chief, submission time
To those other guys, whose faces I've never smelt, but who are there waiting and whining that the times are no longer a changing.
Keep up the smiles, keep out the frowns.
Negativity is the attribute of the terrorist. Don't be a terrorist.
All fine men and women have once in their life been truly scared.
One ten till the train leaves.


Good night major split hairs.

On the second of the fort
Nights beckoned a call dim
Lit by ill fated mechanisms that
Were men and women and
Children and the forgotten dream of
What was meant long ago and was is
Meant now but not followed through.

With heaven comes hell and hell fire and
Clouds of white with shelling from
Wars not of this world or the next or
The one's thereafter and lingering history,
With its bells and trinkets and tombstones,
That have been weathered but are still not gone.

Memory not mourning, pictures in a frame lit
From the inside out and drinks were there
When we were not meant to be there like a
Kiss on a flower you picked at an age where
Life was not known and death was even
Farther away for it existed not in the eyes of yours
But in everyone else around you, except for the
Other children of course but oh' of course.

If your trying to get the part of the stuff
That makes you recall the upstairs of the
Idiocies of the room romance that restricts but
Contains life and halters life and stifles life with
That one must recall a past life where tears
Mean nothing when you produce them too often.

Can of the hypocritical malice of mis-informed family
Foundations and we break into the minds of the way
It should be and the way it shouldn't be and yet here
When we gaze out across the wide spread of the world
And its many ways it spells out with a God's own language
The morning of the ear who listens and speaks when not spoken
To breaking every single rule of the word and smiling
Throughout the whole ****** thing.

Canons of repetition where life winces and the wife begins to wheeze
And fall, her dress is now clear and her eyes just don't seem to be
Where we are now I believe that money is the root of this soon to be dead
Tree and streets are now empty as the moon casts its silver glaze and
The breeze is now naked with her bra on the floor cast in straw while
The wizards write their spells and comb their hair and draw out plans
For the next great fall but watch the fireworks and the way they hail and
Crawl throughout the entire bawl and Ol' Ezra P. mass amounts of rage
To bring to the stage but here ye' O great one this place is for us all.

Here in the house of the not that is shared but all is seen here
Where the wind blows to no east and no west and no south and
No other way that you believe to get headed to the world of
The no names and experience makes you wise and yet old
And remembered for the drinks you paid for but especially for
The ones you forgot to pay for but that is what friends are for.

Omnivores in latitudes that matter not to the public eye but
To the ear of the Lord that is not everyone's savior but
Chosen just for the right eye so within that decree of mastery
We entrance the light and shovel up the leaves leaving the last
Way of things to be the first way of things when the lights
Are quickly turned off and on and off and on again and again;
Stars are naked until the sun rises in your hometown and the radio
Turns on.

And the background music chimes with a willingness of a cockroach but
Holds the beauty of a **** statue found in the under toe of a lost
Beach in a lost land forgotten in time but embraced by eternity and
Though does not dwindle its numerous names or its many ways
Of being for the hour does shackle us all but here in high array of
None other then eight times the way through the cobbled up in the
Attic of the fiercest neanderthal dictator with ideas holding truths upon
Truths that in the end mean nothing  for advancement is not determined
But continued upon as long as we forget the past and look to the future hymn
Of the childless winged' beasts that were once forgotten but now embraced
Angels.

Not of this world but of the entirety of the reality of banality
Breathing back and forth inhaling and exhaling releasing the
Mind of the mares of the wandering rewinds of infinite space
And inside the eyes of the highest levee which has broken but
Has not yet spilt holding back its power for the remainder of the
Year and catacombs upon catacombs of forgotten text of never
Forgotten men recalling their former lives and their former passions
And the hastiness of their possession of the word and the avoidance
Of the death touch the death mark the black spot upon us all.

Dog on a hill cloud high in the sky nut on the ground no not a sound
Frost on your fingertips toe of the boot covered a steel dull mud
Suds from a water rushing miles away nodding branches of a dead tree
Wind through the high grass birds in the sky that fly but not chirp
Sun in the sky rice fields burn brown crickets rub their thighs together
Not here but in the corn stocks and pig stocks brown in the reverse order
Platters of pinch salt and pepper underneath the floor boards creek for
Creak and dollar for dollar we make the rounds and we do not frown.

And the meet of the neat make their rapid conversations in dual order
Where they tell themselves this but I hear that and you make what you want
Unless you ain't got the stuff but if your lucky and if your smart you'll
Grab the oven and bake that **** but in case you don't see the sunset and
Your buried without your toes look for your voice because that's the only
Way you'll get to know the stars in the sky or the dirt on the ground for
The fun is growing but the lurkers are smirking for they got the pennies and
They got the nickels and these streets are breaking so you gotta' start thinking
Of a way to get outta' this place and FAST or else you'll be staring down the
Barrel of a 33 to ONE typing and writing and peeping around the corner of
Your dear old ***** that hasn't found in a home in years but don't look too
Down because one day that ONE will come around either by taxi or by train
Or by some kind of war and if you've got the gut and the money and the honey to
Keep her tight and alright and flying that lovers kite then your bound to keep
Yourself from the giggles and nearer to the harmony of the way things ought to
Be but may not really be but perhaps can be if you will it around and swill it with
Your will making sure your lies and that white or ain't that black or ain't that real
Or you ain't lying at all but stay truer to the truth with the water resolution of the
Insipid insecurity of the first love you thought you knew but now see that it was
The one three or four later and how right I am in knowing nothing and knowing
Everything and letting the mind skip and play and register new friends in the new
Cities and the new alleys and the smiles that break across the ice like a crack of of a
Whip and counting the days ones gone blowing through the high valley and the low
Trenches of war I do not wish to go to but may be forced too because this man believes
Just what he says.

i wanted to jump
from my bones
and disperse
in the wind
like dandelion
seed heads.
to be free
and light as air.

can still feel his breath
on the back of my neck
humid, unwanted, as

The look in his starving eyes
glazed over
with feral lust,
fingers gripping
My hips
leaving bruises
shaped like his desire.

Now, when I walk past that office,
just off the corner
In the DLZ
where he took me
apart
piece by piece,

I can feel the hastiness
in his fingers
as he tears my *******
in his eagerness
to satisfy himself.

I should have
said something,
but I didn’t
and now
we are here.

"That's it! I'll take it to the scissors myself!"
Mangled, wrangled, tangled mess,
meandering tendrils coil and cross, clump.

Split ends,
knots so impossibly tied the eagle scout is left bewildered,
sun damage: fried, frizzled, frazzled, frayed.

Broken teeth in a gasping comb,
choking brushes enveloped in the furling mess,
hairspray, fruitless, face it:
(Another) Bad Hair Day.

"That's it! Today's the day!"
The call is made, the appointment scheduled,
you sit and wait.

X's mark the calendar, the day is nigh,
your do's judgement day is at hand.
It's time to settle this.

The day before, you wake up,
absentmindedly getting dressed, drudging through routine,
mirror's the last thing you see.

Crusty eyes suddenly open wide,
as split ends seal and knots unfurl,
sun damage heals and combs sing ceaselessly.

The day is met with a new life,
and the dark days of yore seem like a past life,
as this sunny day seems like all there is.

You laugh at what now appears to be such trivialities,
"Twas a bad hair day! And merely so!"
You allow yourself such a shallow deception.

Your hand grabs the phone, your fingers make the call,
your voice makes the cancellation--
"How could I have been so foolish to resort to such measures?!"

You hang up and scoff at yourself,
a hearty laugh in jest at such hastiness,
tossing and swishing your luscious mane to and fro.

You allow it to slip through your fingers,
on the cusp of the cure,
as the bad hair days truly outnumber the good (you know it to be so).

For the next day will come--
You'll greet the mirror with that heart-wrenching sigh,
in visible anguish at the chaotic mess that encroaches upon your head.

          Don't let a good hair day fool you;
                                                        make the call.

And again for the card game,
His throw kings in the fold,
Empires had forgotten them in the hastiness,
To find the familiar melody - that was lost, but  always sounds in my dreams.

And jazz is playing and tired pianist whispers something to His fingers,
And guitarist with a shy smile governs the right tone,
And music shades compose the mellifluous long dream,
Where own orchestra in the world of his dreams has been shipped.

Again I am looking for the melody that plagued in His sleep,
Yeah know not destined to hear that melody in the other sounds in reality,
That the lost harmony, that still sounds in me,
And the sheet music signs the pianist reads in the delirium.

Inside the morning
Which breaks like
The crippled North
Heat waves of wavering
Truth rings like damp crystal shots
Reverberating with a college education
Low down and empty
Eyes full of soot from the mine
And when I was I
Young and free and unknowing of myself
Without pressure to live while
I lived day in and day out
Like myself
Now the search for the holy man
In holy robes
Makes millions ponder and worry and fear
The clouds and the sky and
The drop of the bomb that will never come
Time rests quiet on my window sill
Alone and shaking and knowing
That we don't need it anymore
Evolved through death
Saw past the silk window shades
That once tried to convince to stay
But now that were gone
Out of the way of technology that
Roars with a voice not like our own
I perish with the church walls
Wild and naked with the stones rumbling
As I'm fumbling
For a place to drop these words
And I know that I'm right
But when the night falls over me
Alone and out of sight
I wince as the moon the silver moon
Slivers underneath my cool bed sheets
The hastiness of my own hand
Worries me at times of control
It shakes and it wiggles and grips with the need
Of a thousand dead men
Whose names I never knew but feel
They are still inside of like in tomb
I wish to walk away from life
To enter something else anew
Without my name without my troubles and
Without my sins
I wish to say hello to a face
That is familiar and without doubt
Friends familarize themselves with the newest wears
I tell the pear tree that their bark is fair
And ask them if they believe in dares
A sigh and a grin as above the clouds passed
And at last uprooted their thoughts
And moved to the other side
Where all was happy and warm
Canned goods rattle within her mind
Money whispers to her, "My way is the only way to be free."
Names backwards spell mom and dad
A misplaced youth who walked everywhere quite sad
I tell no tale I do not know
Yes' the grass is wet as the betting angels
Run in circles giggling, "All we be sold."
And as the tables are being built
And the chairs cut down in the near forests
The nymphs play their white flutes
As the water in the streams
Carry all that is the truth
Child you bear a fruit
That few men can see
It is a place of entranced innocence
That all are born with but
Know to keep and use
The streets grab hold like a vine on the garland
And the waiter drops his favorite feather
On the metro tram made of leather
Dirt covered road foaming at the mouth
A rabid dog whose tongue is yellow and pink
From the high blazing sun
Crystal water wash me clean
Make me new again
As overhead flies the crane
The voices inside the mind
Rattle and pray for rain
Instead of the rain there is only
The gain of sight that when looked straight on
Is not right but a kite
On a distant horizon where young Paul
Allowed his wife to be hung by the pigtails
And killed
The high naked dawn
Pink yellow and blue
Oh' Sue you were the only one
That seemed to know the way
With the whistles down below
Tram cars filled with little children that will grow
I know not their names
But the fame they'll endure to watch
Will of course soon make their hearts stop
And the rhythm of the rubble
Like the stubble on Grandfather Mr. Bubble
But the trouble with the hour
Is that it is never long enough
It longs for hands to caress every corner of itself
Glad that at least there are at least 24 of them
Not noticing that without itself
All the rest would be in disorder
Fast and decoded
Looking for an answer within a book
That has no name or any shelf
Where I knew no one but went anyway
Deep into the cavernous depths of fear
And uncertainty where only love
Would be the way to get in and out
Slipping around the hot ice the melts
For no one
When it is time the ice will choose
Mother nature has no boundaries
Except for the one's she supposes
Caught in the turn stiles constructed not by my hand
Head forward with the wind on my weathered back
The mice run for cover as the tram cars
Rush by smelling of oil and hot metal
I mention nothing to the one's that around me
I recall nothing that I wish not to
For the unconscious is meant to stay so
Give me a couch, a drink, and a man with pen and paper
And maybe I can give you something
With the pink hued clouds that play
Old episodes of Bugs Bunny and Elmer Fun
Their sounds bouncing off the Oreo mountain range
The matches the color of my favorite
White and black sneakers
The detail in a film when you are in love
Is the only one that really matters
Same goes for literature
And the same goes for when one
Is in heartbreak
Dear heartbreak -
Without you love would not be worth chasing
Living and
Dying for
Forever yours until you leave me -
Reindeer Al' with the barman's red nose
The sick sync. of the pen to mind
That rattles of only the noise you wish to express
And not here all together
Back and forth whistling with tunes
Of former lovers that broke hearts
And plates
And electric bills all clad in their
Red bucket sombrero hat after
One too many tequilas and a
Wish for world peace while the man outside -
*** in fact -
Was beaten to a peach pulp for the
Slang in his whistle as he cat called
Across the way to a A-MER-I-CAN lady
Hot lady too, hot like the beach sands and
Spiteful like Medusa's stone gaze
Head amongst the clouds who spits
Out only puzzles and riddles on the fiddles
And piddles when fear enters the *****
The groins smelling of ***** dust and aggressive lust
I dreamed I heard the waves of ocean
Soft and wet like the purr of blissful elation
I cried I wept yet I felt no fear
For I knew my end was coming near
I dreamed I met an old old friend
Who once asked me always, "When is when?"
He bounced to a song I did not know
And where lived I could not go
Oh how I miss that friend of mine
I see his sad mournful face
Every hour Oh' all the time
Fuzziness of the business of the chugging gas kind of way
A rare disease that danced when asked
They would basque in their liquor and wonder
When they dream would finally flicker
But don't mention the end of others dreams
Because most of the time they already know its coming
The humming drumming realization
That not all is alright though we continue as if
There is still a little light
An uproar of song all in out of tune
Where ribbons colored red
Can't believe what the people at the party said
With all their drinks you'd think they'd think
To keep their secrets to themselves
Rather to the others like
Grandmas old wars scattered on the shelf
The yap-yap dog colored brown and black
With an old uncle that can't pick up his slack
While the shower is leaking and its cold outside
As the car is running outside but it ain't my ride

I felt like I cried too much just then, with my head in your lap and my cheeks stinging with salty tears.

I want to die today, but I can't bring you with me.
I can't bring you with me in the bleak narrow curvings of my soul absent doubt.
I hate hating myself so much.
When I look in the mirror I judge from predisposed and painted self doubt.
I trim my frame with unrealistic absurdities that make matters worse by setting them self up for failure to begin with.
I do not think one should continue to prevent them self from cutting off their own airflow to preserve another being's feelings.
Though the act of suicide is selfish, and abstaining from the act to keep others from blaming themselves is in fact selfless; however perpetual self loathing is almost as demanding a lifetime of guilt that comes out of wishing you could have done something to help.

I sit on the inside looking out. And more of the time I am perched in there, I am looking around, from within.

Disolving the interior and remembering the good old walls.

What happened to those willful walls and forgiving storage areas? Nothing is ever good enough; like a mingy white room-once coated twice, but over time has been repainted in folding colors, creating a texture that was not meant to gain, nor pleases as a result.

I want all of the excuses and laziness and hastiness to melt away and the chaos that sits with darkness at the corners of everything, to fall away as toxic as they are, and I want to sit outside of myself and watch in praise and humble patience.

I walked straight through your heart,
Metaphorically.

Stormy, windy, dark nights,
With shattered street lights,
Void of any form of light.
Your heart suffers an undesirable life.

Stroms embody distress and frailty.
Winds embody hastiness.
Dark nights embody sinister actions.
With no hope present, a more profound image is painted.

When I walked through your metaphorical heart
I felt the suffering.
Shivers and goosebumps displayed my uneasyness,
Yet you live a life exactly like this.

The most metaphorical experience was my most life-like, metaphorical experience.

Place your heart next to that of a queen's and nothing sets it apart as being different,
But upon closer examination - listening and communicating - a whole lot of darkness is felt and seen.

Inner darkness is better than an assumed inner brightness, based on the exterior condition.

Authenticity in physical condition is important.

Grateful for you
That's what I am
Blissfully unaware of how hard it must be for you to love me
With my irrational moods
And my seething rage
And my hastiness to say that you're wrong
I'm a ******* nightmare
I don't know what it is that makes you want to stay
Maybe you were cursed to love a girl so intolerable
So intolerable that everyone else in her life leaves

Maybe that's why you stay
You see how few people can even stand me
And you've taken it upon yourself to stand me
And stand me for the long haul
Because you look in my eyes and you tell me you love me,
That you want me,
That you need me.
And I can see it's the truth.

But sometimes I pity you
And I wish I were strong enough to sever the connection
To protect you from further torture of loving me
But I'm far too weak to let you go
And I'm far too selfish to think of you over me

But I want to say that I'm sorry
For all the moods I go through in a day
And all the stress I must cause you

But if it's any consolation,
I love you from the very bottom of my heart
And you are the most important thing in my world
And if I could change myself,
Become more tolerable,
More lovable,
I would for you.

Iris rode a Pegasus
To see inside a star

Spiral winds of hastiness
Inside its dark parts

Examining the ecliptic ring

Spying the halo of the king
She is silently observing
Despite the heating

But Iris plans to sing

As the messenger between the kings
Escaping the PRISM of the dream

Emptied
And screaming from its screens

Tempting
A Voyager to ****** now
As it flees

Escaping
To interstellar space

As the questions beg for answers
That answer way too late

Put two in the back
And one in the face

One up close
And two far away

Iris is the eye
Of a dying race

Looking for traces of its fate

Unflinching and unblinking
It awaits

The storms of a gods face

I let the boogey man in
To see if he could get me back to the sea
We were friends there once
We fished underneath the sky filled with black
Dotted with milky stars
And all the more
There were worries inside his eyes I couldn't believe
He bent down to pick up something he had dropped
And when he saw it was His heart
He sneezed
Through the history of his life
He remembers only the wide ocean blue sea
It was funny how he moved, rickety like you couldn't fathom
And the hate that I felt for the darkness just vanished
Cause we are all monsters sometimes
And angels in another
We shift with the season which hails translucent fire
Move with the wave of water that flashes bright through all of us
Is there a way to move the minds of man toward a good?
Is there a way to turn back time so one could say "I should"?
An affirmation of the rock that clashes
Within the hurricane hastiness that drops down from the heavens
While some seem to blame it on their brethren
Of course of course I'll take the drink before the dawn!
Cause these wild hearts around me have seemed blind from the start
Underneath this skin lies no man nor woman no plan
Yes' underneath this blanket of illusory warmth
Lies a thing from the land and not from the land
A starry hope like a drifting boat
That I won't turn out to be
Just a dope

All things that happen so fast
That the life that you thought you knew
The one gripping at your throat for breath
For death
Was not something you no longer feared
Where the hastiness of loves sweet stupid angelic eye lifting glance
The girl from the coffee stands
Turned to an old woman right before your very eyes
The flowers burst into flames
The walmart where you laughed at sprinkler sets with men who had no faces
No souls
No children to call their own
Were now spinning in a furry that tore their skin
From their bones
Dirt danced through Feburary, through Janurary, through March
To the 13th month
Where poetry hung there with their stung long and out and drooling
Dead to the sight for the love of the thing you never met
Is now so foreign
All over again
The sin of somber memories in books that when placed in mine hands
Burn like the hot coals from an undead volcano
Where fame is nothing but a sprinkle that tastes like nothing
When it rests on your tongue
That the time spent spitting our **** from a mouth that has never spoken truth
Eyes that have cried black tears
Whiteness where teeth used to be
Flowers where graves now are
Clouds moving through the heat like lizards across the barren desert
Food for the vultures whose sutures are long past infected
They are the infected
We are the infected youth piling up the garbage that has no weight
Has no past
And has only the future which will be deleted if we see
Fit
Fit for the the human cause
The human de-evolution of rat ******* hippos that know
The big screen, the big big brother
Is now forever watching for He knew He never had to stop
Never had to lock his doors, his windows, kiss his daughter goodnight
The sheets are spread out with cigarette butts and needles and gum stains of ***** sidewalks
His home is our home
But he owns it
He owns every living 6th degree burn as the water drips *****
Where the touching moments you cherish and give you "hope"
Were made from him
Invented by him
Produced through him for your enjoyment
Enjoy the moments as they come and go through and fro for to see the know
Is to then wish
You could finally go

Discarded loincloths adorn the table.
No one pays attention to the spilled milk,
catching the fever, we turn the other cheek
our hastiness turn upbeat over prevalence

it is hard; juxtapositions lie at your fingertips.

But when I came around the corner
Seeing the broken glass eyed beauty
Though I never did catch her name
I made it around that corner
To a place
Where my mind no longer made sense
I had changed yet was never even able
To say goodbye
To my former self
Even to me
Even to everyone
Even to the state
Even to the word
Even to the page
Even to everything sense
Was just back to a five letter word
Hastiness was the only way
To escape
From this living hellish moment
Where smiles are so false that when the pearly whites are shown
With utmost sincerity
I begin to cry
Because the other either knows
Or they don't
They have felt the cool burnt touch of death
Of the black out
Of the confusing moment when one realizes
There is no going back
As the river ripples it has accepted that its fate
Is already sealed
Not like us humans though
The road is rocky, it might cut my face
As the bratty boy once sang
But how have we lived for so long that the race
Is still churning the same butter
Firing the same weapons
Cooking the same recipe for disaster
Cheap corners with cheaper fares
All with the heavy eyes
Of mourners
Lined with hair that isn't even theirs
Where the voice here is not the one I know how to bear
How to release
When to relieve
Touching insanity for
Simple
Temporary
Relief

Why are you far away from the beautiful scents?
All the flowers of the world belong to you

Why are you in grief and sadness ?
Doors of happiness all are waiting to be opened by you

Why are you carrying such a heavy heart ?
All the ways of attaining love are innate in you

Why are you crawling so close to the ground?
Fly high, all the seven skies belong to you

Why are you hiding away in a corner?
To learn and grow all the playgrounds are for you

Why are you moving with such hastiness?
After a test of patience, all choices belong to you

Did I,
in many honesties live through a thousand sweat filled nights
whisper 'it will be alrights'
and wake to walk away?
Did I,
imagine differences where light meets truth and fades and did I dig with jewelled ***** a grave for 'yes boss' in the shade of a stunted bush?

Did I,
in hastiness,rush to fast ,to meet the last of summer?
if so,
What was it for?
this sojourn where we burn it,turn it then to men again as we must go and tell me,who will show me,
what was it for?

All is alone now
With the graveyards full
And the boxes of tools
Rusted and made for fools

Hastiness of the word
Pushes the mind
To create nothing
But scribble and dribble

When was there a time
In time
When death was not
Knocking at the door

And when I lay up
And let myself
Hear nothing

Never wanting
To be nothing

Admiring that dreams
Are just the steam
To take you to a place
Where you already are

Failing where love
Was supposed to be

Seeing that maybe
I was truly wrong all along

Is this doubt?
Or just
Childish
Uncertainty?

But when she presses
Her lips to mine
I know that the sweet
Taste of wine
Is not a dream but
Was just meant to be

Now I lay in the arms
Of a mind not my own
Battling towards a victory
That seems most days
Like a never ending trap

Sweet sleep
True defeat
A ****** need
One that acts
Like its own disease

But feel the naked breeze
Like a queens silken crease
All these ****** needs
Is making me think
I'm more selfish then I believe

Big green ball of tastiness
red is your insides
I cut you up with hastiness
2 half you divides

sweet and crunchy
red and green
melon slushy
I'm really keen

**** me now
this is a cry for help
I'm losing my sanity
guess I'll die, welp

hot summer air
cool fan blowing
fresh watermlon we share
happiness overflowing

mark the knife around your edge
slice it all around
insert the the blade to crack the skin
hear the pleasant sound

Trees are the permanent
the eternal
which we forget
in our hastiness..
our identity lost
the objects of life
stand forth claiming
special reverence..
until once more
the tree experience
states our permanence
in which our lives
display in passing..
the silent tree
brings us home and
reintroduces ourself
to ourself...
~CC

are the permanent
the eternal
which we forget
in our hastiness..
our identity lost
the objects of life
stand forth claiming
special reverence..
until
the tree experience
brings us home and
reintroduces ourself
to ourself...