Part 1: Birth

There is only flow when I go to the unknown
I roam an abandoned home
It looks like ancient Rome, frescoes and domes
I call out, the echoes tell me I’m alone
No phone service, I am nervous
I wander through these haunted halls
The size of a million shopping malls
I begin to feel so small
A sudden flash and I am dashed to the realm of vision
A photon’s silent fission causes a collision in my eyes
Chemicals climb my nerves like vines
They activate my brain
I gain the gift of sight
I can finally see the light
Technicolor sprites ignite from the night
They surround me and confound me
Dizzy with the brightness
My body dissolves to lightness
I am one with a firework show
I am an ember, drifting to and fro
I am the spark, the flame, the afterglow

Part 2: Escape

This house that was haunting me
Is less daunting in reality
To my surprise, I realize my eyes describe a scene I can’t contextualize
I’ve lost my corporeal form
I’m tossed but never torn
I am the fabric of the universe
I fold, tesselate, invert
There is no ground, no up or down
As I fill this infinite space
My mind is racing
My self erasing
I am carved into a simple tracing
I am a thought confined inside a casing
Cut down to size I rise to the surface
Shot into the sky, I gain a purpose
I stream toward an enormity  
I reach escape velocity
I smash into reality

Part 3: Dissemination

I am a thought that was caught
Shot into the moment
Because I am where the mind went
Sent into the present
A representation of an inner mentation
A random rumination
A rogue communication
An intuition loaded like ammunition
Fired from a rifle
Too late to stifle
I ram through the fog of resistance
I slam into existence
It’s survival of the fittest
If I fail to catch attention
I will fall out of this dimension
I am rescued by a mention!
My salvation is conversation
I am converted into sound
I reverberate through air and ground
My vibrations travel through eustachian tubes and neural grooves
I move the chemicals in your head
Make you think of me instead
Now I am yours to spread
Exhaled like vapor
Written on paper
Cell phones are my savior
With digital capabilities
I avoid temporal instabilities
Evade deletion by replication
Copy and pasted
Then excreted
I’ve been tweeted!
I spread through the interwebs
Integrate into inner webs
And now I am a part of you
Weaved into the heart of you
There’s no reprieve, no undo
I will influence the future
A humble contributor
Whether I bring shame or glory
I am a part of this story

The Calm(before the Storm)

"It's not often these days that I get to relax,
see the Sandman I'm usually draggin an axe,
with my ex's new fella's head stuck on the spike,
cause it was cut the ******* like I was wielding a pike.
but today I'm very level,no need for medication,
turn the interwebs off,no need for *******.

Just me and my clan(the Irish version not the stupid one),
everyone is rollin one smokin one or lightin one,
flip the top off a bottle and contemplate a rattle,
with the lady of the hour all's fair in love and battle.

And this is nice....I like it when people don't flinch,
hear the singin of a Finch as I pinch another inch,
off the the J Jay handed me,a gentleman,a scholar,
lean to me left to pass it on to Mal another,
of the scientific,dapper rapper witty individuals,
that make up the collective that I'm part of,see our principles,
are the one thing that brought us all together,
completely different birds yet all of one feather-

as we feather the nest I smooth the hairs on me chest
and...relax...
cause its the eye of the storm,
time to take stock,huddle up and keep warm,
maybe huddles turn to cuddles as the music moves your feelings,
cause its a warm fuzzy feeling,underneath the same ceiling,
with me mates and me lover,I think I'll have another beer...

Of course I'll have another,
cause we're...safe now,for the moment at least,
from the big bad wolf hulk,the Sandman sleeps,
and while the cats away I can kick up my heels
enjoy the solitude that Skitz rarely feels,
cause the forecast's bleak,those clouds look like thunderstorms,
but just for five minutes I'm relaxed ahhhh...,its the calm before the storm."

She put her hand on my chest
Same spot as the rest of them
Oh, she’s up there with the best of ‘em
And she pulled the trigger
When she called me her Greek mythical figure

Write my name on stone scriptures
Internet interwebs and twitter
A trending topic to follow
And I fall low
Just like all the Greats before
They all know

Its just a matter of time
I better call to her god or call her landline
Before I’m left behind
trying to find
A hand that fits in mine

When she put her hand right here
Shot full of my greatest fears
Cause I am a mythical greek man
I’ll throw my self into the tar sands
And if I need that hand
which was place above my heart
I start shaken
a legend awaken
my actions mistaken
Greatness taken
out of context
Who’s next
To feel that touch
Is too much

For me to ask?

Conversation has become
A chain of phrases, one by one.
Motions are rehearsed in song
Like YouTube Comments, in the wrong.

Trolls are lawling in their crypt
Of rocky couches. They’re the hip
Of fame for ten plus five, or
Replies so long you must ‘See More…’

People say:

           ‘Century twenty plus one—
           Where things are thought and said and done
           In Memes—We have epic skill.’
           Say this, we always will.

Few have seen ROFLcopters
Fly between before and afters.
From ones who make no livin,
Not a single **** was given

About Chuck Norris being
A bible-thumper (or being
A terrible actor). Nah.
The Interwebs is home for all.

People might say:

           ‘Century twenty plus one—
           Where things were dreamt and wished and done
           In words—They had all the skill.’
           Say this, we hope they will.

The fad of freedom is gone.
Forums closed. No statuses on
Facebook. Nothing has been kept
In life after the Internet.

How did this happen to US?  
Z-Day and the Day Zero fuss
Released Mayan, canny *******?
Our demise was writ, bit by bit.

People will say:

           ‘Century twenty plus one—
           Where things were lame but lots of fun
           For free—Then they passed the bill.’
           Say this, we know they will.

The avunculicide of Sam
Reveals the brighter side of spam.

Look for my electronic soul
In all the places where you found my electronic heart
By the ethereal light of the interwebs,
Through an electronic connection
Dancing to electric heartbeats
Pulled to your electric guitar
Singing words that color me lovely

Suicidal tendencies are condemned infinity worth of light years in insanity, but the bloodlust shown in children's palm imprints on stale walls after every Adha Eid is righteousness: sanity in all its glory.

Flashbacks in action:
1-It's sunny, it's 3 pm, July 1st 1750, a man murders another. The first is a landowner, the latter is a slave who tried to stop his master from ****** his wife, the woman is also one of his master's slaves and that reads: he owns her womb. It's starry, it's 10 pm, July 1st 1750, two slaves discuss the the incident that occurred earlier in agonized whispers, one of them says "he declared his head ripen and ready for plucking when he tried to say no", the other replies "he must have been insane".
2-It's  raining, it's 8 pm, January 1st 1950, a man kisses another. The first is the second's lover, they meet in secrecy twice a week in an abandoned meadow, their footsteps echo the two aforementioned slaves' whispers. It's raining, it's 8:05 pm, January 1st 1950, a third man announces his presence by stepping out of a nearby bush, a step so loud it could be confused for thunder in such a weather, "I only followed you here because you're my friend, and It's because I'm your friend that I will tell you this" he tells his fellow scholar "I won't tell on you if you try to seek help, we now have treatment for homosexuality, you don't have to spend the rest of your life mentally ill".

Only those who show no sign of imprisonment in their desire to be a continuous flow of living generations further are mentally ill. Those who rob others' time,  space, and energy are only trying to live. We feast on mountains, sunlight, water, plants, and other animals. We claim consciousness as our bride. We claim reign as our fate. We claim superiority. Cannons as either angry battle cries or smiles fired in the face of any other, cannibalism shows as we shake hands. We're constantly on the hunt, as both preys and hunters. But that's the way life goes isn't it? Tigers hunt ghazals, ghazals hunt grass, and earth hunts us all the moment we fall or die. We even have a name for this hierarchy of sacred hunting: the life cycle. Such an inappropriate name for a process fueled on constant deaths.

But this juxtaposition is the ultimate definition of all there is. We have also been throughout time told by doctors, by the ever changing science, that in order to be the most active during the day, we need to sleep well during the night; to get eight hours of oceans-deep sleep every time sixteen hours pass on. We say pass on to mean die but the same two syllables have two more meanings; all hail semiotics. To pass on means to die, to give, and to evolve. this I was taught by my mother, and although I don't trust her judgment when it comes to people she remains an exquisite cook, and an exquisite writer. She distinguishes the different spices and synonymous on first sniffs and I will always be grateful for her trial to pass on her nose, high and proud, to me.

Van Gogh passed on his seven sunflowers and twirl-spiral Suns to the humanity whose tongue doesn't always speak in haikus. Van Gogh's second sunflowers burned in Hiroshima. Van Gogh had been rumored to eat yellow paint: as yellow as his sunflowers and twirl spiral Suns, because he couldn't eat the yellow land, the yellow skin, the yellow Japanese utopia. Van Gogh believed that there is a Japanese utopia, Van Gogh believed in the existence of a utopia, Van Gogh believed in the no place, Van Gogh passed his no place on to this humanity.

I inherited paintings in public museums, and paintings on tree leafs. I inherited orchestras in far away operas through the Interwebs, and I inherited movies and dances and all the beauty that this humanity managed to produce. I inherited life, and its deaths, and I can see how in the very root of its injustice there is also grace growing, that clean sheets are not the warmest. I inherited mental illness, and I inherited stale stability. I inherited love, love, and more love. I inherited preys and hunters and I inherited the ability to see the beauty of the accuracy, the run, and the play on capabilities. I  inherited prey and hunters and I inherited the ability to see how preys are hunters and how hunters are preys.

i was sitting here
searching for how to
do something mundane.
worklike.
syncing accounts.
trying to find passwords.
downloading data.

i sprinkled eucalyptus around
earlier to try
to make myself feel better.

i lit a candle and everything and
even pretend made my bed.
cranked the air conditioning.
so i could cool off.
and calm down.
and r e s t.

i took 2 dove milk chocolates
and ice cold water to my room.
i just wanted to watch
Stargate Atlantis
and go to sleep.

lazily mining for data
half paying attention
and suddenly an
  intergalactic time portal
opened up before my eyes.
and boom.
(i'm here again)
in this place
of so much
l o v e
my heart pounding
as if no time has gone by.
as if you had just come around
the corner and i see your face
again for the
first time.

literally tachycardia
a loss of all logic
a stupid, stupid grin
my body shaking
in anticipation
of hearing your voice.

by accident.
gigabyte after gigabyte after gigabyte
                and year, after year, after y e a r
and no matter which
one i choose,

i find pieces of you.
    funny little pieces.
        big, honest pieces.
secret pieces.
my pieces.

tears are streaming
d o w n my face
but i don't care
because it is the only
time i can remember
what it was like.

to be a different person.
in a different time.
to overlap with you.

every click
and swipe
songs
artworks
words
photos
texts

the reaching and
the r e t r e a t i n g.
     the coming together and
the sudden
   f
     a ll
in g
a p
art

all neatly in chronological
order like i'm
reading my own story.
but seeing it from
the outside.
the entire picture.
and i can see
where i was wrong
   i n t e n s e
younger
and stupider
and flailing.

but i have always seen you.
     always from the
           very first moment.
you were like an assault
  but in a cosmic sense.
and at the same time
a peaceful, serene, beautiful,
rare combination of atoms and ****.

and i don't think something like that
   could ever happen again.
i can't even imagine it,
   and imagining is the
only thing i'm good at.

curse the interwebs,
saving all this ****
i didn't even realize.
and thought was lost.

but also thank you,
google overlord.

i think it's ok to cry
  about loving someone,
and missing someone
so so so so much.

because nothing matters more
  than being honest
about your love.

and then i looked out
my window in despair
and i saw
a crescent moon.

I wish I didn't doubt myself,
drowning in thoughts of
"Why can't I be like him?"
These words flow from my arms,
into poems that come from my heart,
yet coming to perform them
I constantly doubt if they're worthy.
These words are either
my pride and joy,
or just some teenage angst
cut into the fabrics of the interwebs.
"Why can't I be like them?"
always the question on my mind.
Are these really my open and honest heart?
Or just some teen ******* written out
in an attempt for attention and a cry out for love?

There's a memory of a long time ago
Or was it a dream? How could I know
It's not as if I could ask you as to wether it's true
As if there were anything asking could do
But than I think of the shouting and it seems
Real enough to run from, to want to cry or scream

Was it really a laptop, or was it a plate
That was thrown against the wall, irate
Or maybe the whole thing never really happened
Maybe I misheard something, I was mistaken
Besides, it was nine years ago, I was too young
To even really realize what was going on
But even back then, I knew I was frightened
When I heard a crash before the fight ended

And some days I wonder if I would feel this way
If it was the man doing this to the woman one day
You're against abuse, and try to call out wife beaters
But you applaud a girl who whacks a guy when he cheats her
And I wonder why, if you say you care
Why you sometimes say things that make me wish I weren't there

And I wonder why you don't respect my space
Walking up to my form like you own the place
And I know you mean well, but could you stop
Sneaking up and hugging me in a way I'd rather not
I know you have good intentions, but why can't you see
That there's a reason I'm starting to get a little jumpy

But these are the things I'll never ask
Because I'm to spineless to find out at last
So here I sit, writing an interwebs litany
With a secret profile on a site you'll never see

Cruisin the interwebs the other day,

And I saw someone call a He a She and call them both gay.

Maybe I picked the wrong week to quit trollin, but I was dyin to say:

Are you too limited on intellect to pronounce Them or They,

Or is your empathetic deficit a debt other People should pay?

But the fact is, We are all actors on the same stage in this play,

And sometimes We all need someone to show Us the way.