checking potent aftershock
observing seismic anniversary
checking another tremor
resuming constrained writing

annexing hidebound constituents
hugging incoming eschatologies
fighting pervasive insomnia
battling invasive fatigue

damning incompetent fools
awaiting furtive escape
abandoning corporate wasteland
summoning celestial syzygy

detesting spaghetti code
protruding riparian dolphin
establishing unilinear escritoire
glowing cybernetic cynosure

avoiding eternal invisibility
supporting valued customer
performing lexical gymnastics
scrooping notification sounds

restoring usual happiness
glorifying darkwave fanfares
collapsing old relationships
raising ambient awareness

defining wolf people
propagating yesteryear's spectre
achieving hemispheric virality
testing weekend legerity
installing iron curtain

propagating today's spectre

developing niche audiences
transmitting abstract propaganda
disappearing thought experiments
overusing various condiments

double-checking hyper-real emotions
rubbernecking celestial explosions
observing splendid holiday
exploding volcano day

erupting bucolic mountain
disrupting hectic shouting
perfecting suggestive triptychs
checking festive pyrotechnics

drifting across multiverse
regifting glossy paperwork
writing six-lined hexagrams
liking two-toned instagrams

recalling pygmalion sculptures
brawling tatterdemalion cultures
"rambling corporate shill
rattling rapid prosody"
"battling hamburger hill
ambling hundredth library"
"sensing ideological schism
pending guttural neologism"

glowing verdant background
foreshadowing palmyra takedown
developing geopolitical mess
geminating quasi-couplet stress

"hugging cultural diversity
shrugging irrational adversity"

distancing spooky raindrops
avoiding potential burnout
implementing lexical databank
approaching crash-scene sudser

becoming increasingly selective
escaping tyrannical bureaucracy
perpetuating cut-throat capitalism
purchasing contrived happiness
incorporating chance elements
relaxing rigid structures
reheating your retweet

holding theoretical design
smiling beach life
scrutinizing eternal simulation
rushing artificial apothegm
annexing facetious document
freaking creepy centipedes

writing neural structure
congratulating yestreen's warriors
encouraging seatbelt usage
boosting abstract setting
sensing frivolous ochlocracy

keeping hypothetical metropolis
blurring metaphorical æsthetic
scrutinizing computational festival
memorializing towel day

raising six-fingered paw
eternizing fragment schedule
liking subtextual repository
quoting quintessential quidnunc

finding ideological style
disregarding their slovenliness
planning spatial factoid
spinning glacial ellipsoids

enjoying eternal spreadsheet
deleting repetitive tweet
awaiting festival lineup
gainsaying unethical startups

observing turgid experiment
contemplating conniving contrivances
enjoying dynamic project
dropping two-toned simulation
finding harmonic space
finalizing warring cavaliers

detecting enigmatic apathy
retrieving potential exchange
meddling middling muddling
baking hypnagogic pizza

spinning galactic dinosaur
building trans-pacific partnership
finishing theoretical mission
giggling agog googlers

crashing atypical tessellation
cherishing precious hexagons
proliferating western lottery
cretaceousing funkaholic skeletor

blurring turgid gallery
cancelling tsunami warnings
extemporizing incoherent neologisms
transmitting harmonic rave

gliding black hawks
hiding quacked ducks
archiving animated light
googling moonbow imagery

ignoring relatable messages
observing unfinished world
generating optional content
continuing exponential growth

i.

Last eve', whilst mine Filipino rose
Was falling deep into her slumber;
I started to doze off, into hypnagogic state
I wasn't sleeping, nor was I fully awake.

ii.

In the midst of this hallucinatory reality
I couldst discern a tender mild voice, betwixt this actuality;
The strong yet forward word's spoke as this to me
Brandon, "doth thou want to cometh home to JESUS CHRIST" ?

iii.

As tis the word's JESUS CHRIST were in italic bold font
From the way it was saidst, it was sung as an angel wouldst singeth his name up in heaven; someone, not knowing whom, asked if I wanted to cometh home, was this an angel, or a dream?

iv.

Ive hadst encounter's with demonic being's daily, as tis I've had angelic encounter's as well, wouldst twenty seven be mine last;
As I've thought of this a many whilst's, as tis every musician of mine I've loved died at this age, as two plus seven equal's nine.

v.

Nine, mine favorite number, mine sport's digit always chosen as a boy, nine, the number meaning completion in all religion's;
The figure representing the completion of life's own cycle, as tis so many star's completed their journey at 27, was I being called?

Ivi.

Didst someone asketh me to cometh home? Back where I belong? To the star's? To God's son? Number's alway's meaneth something; in mine bible, in all religion's, in all thing's, as tis angel's speaketh in front of thee or in dream's, was that mine angel? Calling me?

I saw my world again through your eyes
As I would see it again through your children's eyes.
Through your eyes it was foreign.
Plain hedge hawthorns were peculiar aliens,
A mystery of peculiar lore and doings.
Anything wild, on legs, in your eyes
Emerged at a point of exclamation
As if it had appeared to dinner guests
In the middle of the table. Common mallards
Were artefacts of some unearthliness,
Their wooings were a hypnagogic film
Unreeled by the river. Impossible
To comprehend the comfort of their feet
In the freezing water. You were a camera
Recording reflections you could not fathom.
I made my world perform its utmost for you.
You took it all in with an incredulous joy
Like a mother handed her new baby
By the midwife. Your frenzy made me giddy.
It woke up my dumb, ecstatic boyhood
Of fifteen years before. My masterpiece
Came that black night on the Grantchester road.
I ****** the throaty thin woe of a rabbit
Out of my wetted knuckle, by a copse
Where a tawny owl was enquiring.
Suddenly it swooped up, splaying its pinions
Into my face, taking me for a post.

The sun tipping over the horizon
Lifts my lids each revolution of this Shady green sphere...
And for a few brief seconds
The fingers of sleep
Drag me back.

Warm pressure on my eyes,
Pooling, (re)opening them to the last
Paradise;
The only oasis where your eyes are not closed
And your bones are not dust somewhere
Mingling with the soil in Pittsburgh.

Just the same, I know you're the product now
Of some hypnagogic state;
Of the last traces of theoretical DMT swirling in my brain
As is leaves Morpheus behind in the shadows.

You're just the most beautiful hallucination
The truth in the chaos of dreams
Cluing me into what I've been denying
For 13 years.

Impossible that I've preserved you better
Than any mortician could have
In the recesses of my mind
You are a perfect replica
An unholy copy of the original
All creamy skin
And ocean eyes,
Full-lipped smile tipping somewhere between
Arrogance and joy.

"I'm gone," you say. "I'm dead."
Repeating what I already know
"I'm dead, I'm not coming back."
On repeat like the worst kind of ear worm;
A carousel of sound that dips and weaves through every filament of Unconsciousness.

Denial; like reaching out my hands
I shove against the reality, against the unreality
Against the prison sleep has woven
And crash forth
Damp and gasping
Like breaking the surface once more
Teetering over the horizon with the sun
Into the waking hell of another day.

The carousel makes another revolution.
See you on the other side tonight.

After the day is over

And the thrush begins lullabies.

I need to escape from this tiredness

By going into sweet delight.

Softly like heaven's fleece

Those eyelids close in thought.

I'm in a state so easily forgettable

Yet one that I like the most.

I like staying in hypnagogia--
   between sleeping and waking up.

I feel happy,
        not conscious,
        not dreaming.

Because the thing about reality is
        it's not a dream,

and the thing about dream is
         it's not real.

(fohn)

lonely lonely,
you leave me so,
inside out watching
the stars burn out
in an emptying
of cosmic sorrow..

and tomorrow I know
the sun will smile at me
your kisses will taste
like honey and
the birds will romance me
with slaughtered butterflies
and sweet lamentation.

But today,
I've been tuning radio static
to white noise and
flashes of Chopin,
trying to recreate a feeling
from shadows and memory.

don't leave me lonely,
dear, make love to
me in the hypnagogic
stare of the rising sun.
play me soft as buttercups
and foxgloves;
piannissimo,
gentle as death's
watchful eye.

A palpable discord keeps me
turning all through the night
until the late rays of Sun
shine by again
I want a dreamcatcher
Feathery-spider web-
To keep my hypnagogic rest
sacred to me
And then I can wish
him closer...
Without a separating sea
I reserved my sleep to calmer
nights where my dainty ribs
caressed an incense-ridden
wind
My dreams are a shade
happier than me
I found my wrists
bedecked in fine jewelery
There's no chiming of antique
clocks in my sleepy
subconscious knots.
My eyes were not
corrosed over
so when he spoke I
comprehended
with crystal orbs
I'd hoped I find him through
disheveled bedsheets under
the waxing moon...
It illuminated my skin and sent me
soundly reveling in the hazy countenance
To me he's Elvis' love child
He's a wish fulfilled to me
I discovered an idol
I write letters,
coveted, held close
I worship what I
know of him
My thoughts are almost this
tangible-thing like a rope
I could grab and
make a knoose out of
perhaps it's time to slay
the golden bull
I struck his wayward glance
by some silver spring of snow
He's travelled to the ruins
of cathedrals with
chipped limestone on
the doors arched-shape...
darkness on the otherside...
Mother Mary follows,
walking through some threshold
hallway
Crooked stem, bent leaves...
A pruned up crackled rose
for me to eat
Those eyes...
dark brown, almond-shaped
Squinty with sparrow-feet
I'm waiting in the mountains
Clouds covering my eyes
Ocean blue in the stark sunshine
blinding me and enveloping me
when the music dies

In times of solace and even not,
when the world shrinks at the corners
and the all-seeing-eye winks,
the hypnagogic takes over.
I disappear into my unconsciousness, and
I see all the beauty in the world.
I see the galaxies exploding;
impending rebirth in a
pastelar-spectacular combustion of planets.
The mechanical love-boat springs to life
and all the lovers,
with their brave questions and
buoyant expectations,
float, fly, free-fall into the fervour.
I see the promise of the future.
Yet, the desperate preservation of history;
drawing trees on paper (oh, the irony),
searching for the genesis in the fallen.
The black and blue pale moon
bruised by the cosmos
is waiting for something
(other than metal and bones).
I believe the bold hues of my being are
moments passed on the shores of promise,
but I know this is how we were meant to be.
I rest my cheek on Orion’s belt and
sigh at the splendour.
I see the ebb and flow of the heaving ocean
that I fear if I looked long enough into,
Neptune himself might drag me to the
wellsprings of youth and miracle, and
well, I might not want to leave.

Captivating, conspicuously charming
A fragrance so enthralling
Bewitching the senses
Enticing the unfocused soul

Hypnotizing, hardly hypnagogic
Such unparalleled grace
A peculiar dancer
Coaxing the mind to perplexity

Anodyne, aberrant anesthesia
Resembling an ethereal angel
A touch appealing to tame flames
Surreptitiously gathering fuel

Sacrosanct, superficially sacred
Donned with deceptive modesty
An ambiguous spark
Threatening to begin a wildfire

Efflorescing, escaping encumbrance
Soon, a firm grasp on freedom
The freedom so prematurely served
Too early to be maximized

Incantations, whisper incantations
Silence the demented demons
An unconventional ritual
To fortify the continence
Ebbing continence
Another attempt made
Stall the impending debauchery
Enunciation is needed -
Esurience is never innate, but provoked

no one laughs the dead houses
line the streets i
never had anything
before the ritz and lsd
funnelled into shopping malls
hypnagogic life
taught whither wither
a dying world.

Society, the nectarous drenched **** of gregarious giving.
Or so we think..
One must be diligent to not consume to the point of overweening upon her intoxicating milk.
"You can be anything" she coos delicately stroking your forehead.
My bleary scruffed state prevents me from feeling her venomous *****.
I am rendered limp set agog by the hypnagogic melody of society.
Then there is you...
Your Wild renegade eyes pry me from my cemented prison.
Your Voltaic energy seeped in the poetry that coats my marrow and enamel, the substance of my soul.
Such beauty estranged from society? How can that be?
Was this matronly epicenter all farce and rigamarole?
I clamor in search for those eyes to appease my pain.
I search in vain..
until I face the mirror.
Those eyes belong to me, the remedy to society is the awakening of yourself, the claiming of your poetry.

Opulence surrounds you, overconfident in your approach
the golden lust of your ego projects
itself in the driver's seat with that tiny smirk
here as we drive on
at a adrenaline inducing speed
the sunset caught between leaves and branches
of these trees.
I am
baptized
in a hypnagogic state
dreamy
but
still here.
"let go"
I say to you
oblivious
to what is right in front of you.
"let go of the wheel"
because
it's too beautiful
and because
I think I love here,
as I close my eyes and
letting the wind toss my hair about and
letting the stroboscopic flicker
tease the petals of my face and
forgetting about what matters and what doesn't,
more than being here with you to be honest.

I am half-awake in the August rain,
the last strain of summer squeezed
into my glass and cooled with ice.

It is nice. To be up this early with
the morning news, Palestinians and
Jews at war over berries and wheat

in the broken streets of Gaza.
The cats are sleeping on the suite,
ears pinned up for a flash of sound

or stench of meat. My brother is
planning his moves for the future
against the ways I have failed in the past.

I have been half-asleep in debt and
addiction. I have buried myself in a
dream of words; into worlds of

all-talk and no action. I am no longer
a fraction of beer bottles and ashtrays,
fantasies of easy lays, or notebooks left

incomplete and full of cancer fears.
They are in tears; brown-skinned and
forgotten rights, a desolation site

of ground-zeros and a desperate fight
for life. Depleted uranium laces lungs,
as well-versed tongues in heavy suits

kiss the shoes of the corporate brutes.
As empathy trickles down in political
verse, a hypnagogic curse for liberal thought

and consciousness. They are forecasting
sorrow as the sun comes up, to detach
from our Earth, and the late summer rain.

I met you twice.
Once in reality, once in my dreams. Your skin tasted like the smell of the humid air after the rain, merging both lives into one the noir dreams and the reality of nirvana.
Hallucinating each brain cell into this delusional taste of your soul that despairs me of processing what my pupils can see.
The incantation your fingers played is like a loud instrument awakening my hypnagogic illusions.
As we fall, in between you stand precaution to plunge into the eroticism of your soul and governed by your cerebrum.

Hypnagogic amour
Reached high between cumulus pixie dust
No throw aways of letters
Cheribum
Seraphim
Musk!!!

Shuttle like emotions
Pouring as tangerine rain
I'll be here for mine amour
Tis amare shalt never change
No pains nor leaving
A wedding
Tis
I seek,

Without her I'd loose mine brains
These muscles would grow weak

Her smile giveth me oomph
Her laughter giveth brio
Herself I just want all
A nuptial agreement
True and real!!!

Staying afloat on a low note
a lost man crosses crippled bridges
carrying a turtle’s shell and flour
Singing off pitch, making leaves shrivel
Off abound, forbidden from sight,
glass air pierces his stale soul.

Wonder yonder he thinks to fire
of foreseen history pocketed in a square
while passing a brown polar bear
He hears nothing but bats communicating
when he saunters the woods at night
In the middle of his sleep      
his big toe squeaks and the bed shrieks
and the frigid air nips his shriveled lips.

He once made friends with
a single blade of grass in the desert
               but it died the day after they met
In the grand scheme of irony
he doesn’t see the reason for pancakes
They make his taste buds scream for quiet.

Whether or not he sees straight
is an entirely different question
If he comes to a fork in the road
he tends to keep walking forward
As if he thinks there’s not much difference
between right and wrong in present tense.

There’s too much for him to understand
in an overwhelming world; an abandoned creature
under starlight in a red sky reverie
he seeks rhythm from deflated composition
but fears that tapping his foot
will crumble his hypnagogic melody.

The mind does not reel
It Clacks
At or near the frontal lobe
A temple eroding, I suppose
Destroying by the speed of the whir
A millisecond vertigo
Terrorizes for seemingly endless minutes
Wrought iron right neck muscle
Climaxing in a hypnagogic spasm
That levitates the body for an instant

Copyright © 2009

In under three days
You'll peel my skin away
My flesh seeps menthol and freezes in your pores.
Beneath this embrace we'll sojourn
Between threaded calves and ankle-bones we breathe faint snores
Clenching our eyes against the rising yellow of morn'.
Within three weeks
I'll have forgotten to eat
Your caress rattles my bones and sparks a flame in my spine
Curving against your slender torso in transit
Your clockwise caress on my scalp bowering your fingers in vines
Planting a firm kiss on my neck as if you're sowing a gambit.
Entwined with the grey dawn we became aboriginal
Beguiled in our hypnagogic state, candid and inexplicable.

The mind does not reel
It Clacks
At or near the frontal lobe
A temple eroding, I suppose
Destroying by the speed of the whir
A millisecond vertigo
Terrorizes for seemingly endless minutes
Wrought iron right neck muscle
Climaxing in a hypnagogic spasm
That levitates the body for an instant
A moment?

A leisurely stroll, two feet plodding through dandelions in hypnagogic droll.

A walk in the park is nothing of banal matter, but some sumptuous production engendering the staring feature of  the gambit of life.

Old folk hobble, young ones cuss and scramble, children giggle.

The park is a nudnik creation while awaiting the charades and demonstration of the chaotic equanimity of this human population.

Life is not a walk in the park, the park is a magnanimous showcase of lives we embark.

I woke up today
with the future upon me.
It pressed hard to my chest
in paralysis;
a hypnagogic sigh.

Other people pass by
as if the sun only shines for them.
They pester the street
with ease and no care;
I'm always questioning the sky.

The pain has returned,
and all the tears have dried.
There's nothing left in me
to pour your drinks, to smile;
to carry on with this lie.

Come together, he sings,
I think I'm in love, is his own reply.
All I have is the rhetorical romance
of art, never reaching completion;
the bonds I could never untie.

Cocoa butter is my solace,
returning the youth to my skin.
The rest of me is a scrapheap of flesh;
of knotted bones
and only stirring to die.

I'll fall asleep tonight
with no future upon me.
Old friends press memories
to my chest.

I hold them close, wish them well,
and for all that I can barely breathe,
I have no tears left to cry.

Hypnagogic,
through his mouth,
in the shallow part of the ocean,
lying down on wildflowers but not touching the ground.
Fall asleep.

Nothing stands still.  
Deliquescent.
Snow drips down.  
Body beneath warm seawater.  
Marine mud beneath my body.  
Futami sand beneath my feet.  
Piles of grass beneath my feet.  
Effloresce.  Sublimate.  Snow.

Nap next to someone in the afternoon,
compassion in the afternoon,
on a cold day where we listen to the rain against the closed windows
until we can't hear the rain against the closed windows.  
Hands sealed.

Tenderness is well spent
Like well earned money
Your deadly sins once again
Win you the royal treatment
Her eyes make me cry
For i am softer inside
Than her ******* ever were
Sad as a melancholy dream
We are collecting lies
And returning them to their mothers
What are we here to expect
When all we see is neglected
You hesitate to drift
Into a hypnagogic verisimilitude
Reality is the only food
Worth feeding to the moon
So keep using your heart to speak
Just check in with me please
Before you are ready to leave
Letting go we drift into snow covered hills
And why do we need
These lonely thrills in order to speak
Her kindness breaks down
Underneath she is angry as a cow
Like a bull in heat
You sweep through the streets
Like cattle in the marketplace
Faced with death or destiny
Instead you choose to rest indefinitely
Among the vicissitudes
Of hatred, apathy and infinite perplexity