Batman, Superman, Iron Man to I cant  fly I can not turn blue?
Captain America, Wolverine, Flash, I cant shoot lazers from my eyes or be there in a dash.
X-men, Watchmen, Xavier too, im not from krypton or mutated from a Zoo.
Im not another hero I was rasied as a zero, through words I can inspire and now retire.

I was in the backseat of a 1988 Prelude
listening to Conor's sonnets and etudes,
moving my tongue in uncomfortable loneliness
because your passenger seat was occupied and
I couldn't decide if you were quiet or shy.
I hadn't met you yet.

Hennepin was good to us at 2AM and
gave us space to sip uncommon grounds
in the typically uncommon Uptown.
I saw bright eyes in your words
and unrecognized yellow birds.

I remember things and I don't know why.
I remember the paper mache lady on Nicollet and
I remember that you sang about how it's neat that we all own guns and
I remember wishing that I was born on Independence Day and
I remember walking past empty bookshelves at the end of the day and
I remember remembering when they were stocked and
I remember loving the way we talked
about Huxley.

and it's a year or so later and I'm your passenger
and the streets are still full of images and hidden messages
and faces with whiskers.
"I saved a cat from a tree once,"
and my cackle secured the shackles on my ankles that
I picked out myself off the mannequin.

and it's always just us because Vic is always
with Lucy, Molly, and Mary Jane and
they're having dreams and hearing secret frequencies
(like the ones you pointed out to me)
and doing drugs and discovering Christianity
and decorating themselves with ashes and ashes with Ashley.

and the people I used to know from St. Paul
are working and growing small and
trippin' and slippin' and sippin' gravy,
but we're still sippin' uncommon grounds
and we're all still living in these twin towns.
But none of them are wearing the matching heavy crowns
that you and I picked out ourselves off the mannequins.
They're the same shade of gold as the birds in your words and
they're the same shade of gold as the shackles on our shins
that mold our golden grins
that we had our faces when you said,
"This is the world where dreams come true, right?"

and we're confirmed by a blinding white light that shows through
the windows of the theater in Bryant-Lake Bowl that compliments us
like you compliment me, like I compliment your skinny tie
(the one that makes me want to die.)
But we can't die because this city doesn't have any double-decker buses
or any other us-es.

and I watch you program lazers into my heart
and I think;
What a beautiful old man
What a beautiful growing boy
What a beautiful perfect cylops
with an eye of my color green to shower me in scenic joy.

and as we dance to the records we bought from Minneapolis antique shops,
I look into the eye of my cyclops from a centimeter above the ground
and realize that this is the dream where the world comes true.

You wanna be a cool kid,
But your not a cool kid.
You wanna be a winner, but you've never won before.
You wanna see the real world, but you've never lived before.

Disco ball above your head,
Lazers, lights, the beat in your head.
You wanna be a cool kid, but your not made for this.
You wanna be a cool kid, but your not cool kid.

Dreams come true, but not for you.
Love is real, but you can't deal.
The perfect life is real,
But your not cool enough.

You wanna be cool,
You wanna break all the rules.
You can't be cool because your not a cool kid.

.                     this is an ode to moody summers; to beautiful girls who paint our lives and cruise the streets thumping sound from their cars; colors transfigured upon pattern-diffused lifescapes and brushed off; to fabricated memories of retro teen hackers and their stylish computer labs buried deep within the garages of time; to television boardroom execs gnarling their teeth like new world warlords or shepherds of glamorous violence; & plastic; to new life; new life experienced most vividly through microsoft encyclo- tropics, and tasty lazers. hefty love we heave.

for love,
configure this:
                           you sweet my urge /
                           you float my pulse unending /
                           you you you
                                                  inspire /
                                                                ­   so simply.
                           you are as they say /
                                                                ­   the substance of life.

somewhere…
in the hopelessness of our moments is an energy like none-other.
           could say it rules me…                          …like the moon rules deep.
                                                           ­                      like the way we move/speak/****/

our molecular this,
                                    is
                                         drifting

                                   & found
                                      beyond far away waters,
                                      beyond folded trees
& elephant burial grounds.
earth hewn is the extract of earth grown. skin husked
or the liquid mint of mind.
                                            [alleged consciousness]

      
         life proceeds into a stunning mandala of moments.
acts of love      &
acts of death.
smoldering bodies
                        &              cradled belly.

              [beautiful is just one word.]
              [love.]
              [one word.]

for life,
configure this:
      savor this,
                this beautiful thing that is, this elusive thing that is,
us gusting.

owls know.
owls somewhere in the backyard.
         they tell us of our kaleidoscope colors.
         show us, of our sons & fathers & mothers.
         inform us of our mysteries.
our plots beyond white fencies/subdivisions.
sundays & sunrays & somedays we’ll glisten.

by beer.
by shelter.
by daughter most precious. long walk.
                         a father watches his baby crawl into a patch of pumpkins.
                         pink little baby hands
                         and the orange gourde field of fruit.

                                           a young man dreams this.
                                           thinks this.

journey far you way-far-man.
importune to that force from within and pursue humanity’s best shapes of goodness.
me & you & everyone we know.
forever persistent in the etchings we make.

we are illusion movements.
librettos far flung from what love might want to be.
                      [the universe heaves in the corner.]
                      [it throttles on the edge and beyond.]
                      [begging for starry dynamos to impact.]
                      [and blossom.]

us
together
by mere pinging, ponging, bonging.
vibrations and hurled bits.
she/you.
girl beside me.
girl who speaks in verse and words and thoughts nothing short of realization.
she harpoons the meat of inner-me.
& from then on in
& into the tones of our children,
i brunt nothing but to want her poetry.

Acid cyclone on the horizon,
Shroom typhoon on distant shores,
Mescalito tornado on desert sands,
Psychedelic weather on the floor.

"What's your name?
What have you had?
Reach for the lazers.
Safe as ****."

It is art that oils the moving parts of me
the free flowing nectar in the seed of me,
art in ******* tips and the half full skips,
the 'tramps' that ship the coal around the coast.

I play host to the wonder of words that make up the rhyme,
more 'fog on the Tyne'
the lowlands and highlands within these Islands and bridges to cross,

It is art in the heart and what we see with the eyes,love it,despise it,ignore or get wise to it,
everywhere I look, I see that someone took time,moulded , transformed it and changed forever this world a bit
and every bit helps.

My fingers are lazers ,blazing out art,starting to burn in every sentence that turns and turning to light,
gutters that utter to me prophecies and in the pharisees I see only samaritans who give
salute to the pimps and the prostitutes,the Kings and the courtiers,those who buy and who sell,who are
milled in the gin of it,the thin and the quick of it,tied to the wheel in the cockpit and spitting out what could be me for the hell of it.

I see art in the  faces that stare blankly,to flicker at screens in store windows,art in the glow of the cigarette end,in the bending of imagination, where salvation is palmed off to an ungrateful nation as corn from the candyclouds,art in the female,the he man, the mail man,the banter of cantors,the whispers of sisters the sadness,the badness,the joy and the gladness is there,
out looking to share,insiders,
outsiders,lone wolfstate riders and in pairs or in threes all looking to please,
street paintings,feint bread  lines on fences,dull
brush strokes on brickstock
unlock your mind
find your
art.

Trippin and falling, high like i can’t touch the ground proper
im stallin and falling like prophetic time stoppers

so stop!

and watch a television show, because when it comes to us you just can’t know

inside the body, outside of time, shulgin synthesized drugs parody the mind.

seen black holes ebb and flow, but you think you on a ro’?

Put on ZINNs shews and check the news

HEADLINE TONIGHT:

PSYCHONAUGHTS PREACHING TO THE MASSES
FROM THE pew pew pews….

our lazers are in favor

ignite the light,

PEW@!

mind blown dead slaver.

2) Silence as my psyche gets psychedelically psychonaugtic, toppin my minds eye-conic depiction of psychotropics, an ocean of dreams, im sailing through thoughts, so potent it seems, l on the drop, this is some ******-logic……

3)…..Naughty nautic.  Sailing through waves of rhymes, try to , but when it comes to the jugger-or-naught, you can’t stop it.

so we dreadlock the dreadnaught just so god can fill the hair lock,

fall from the sky, slow down and reverse this verse,

cause there is no up or down, just forward or rewound,

straight

****** LOGIC

Euphoria descends
when bass waves pound
feel myself ascending higher
despite two feet on the ground

eclectic, we are connected
children of the night
swaying in a lovely
conglomerating haze
obliterating the dust collected
from everyday life

i feel it with every fibre
every molecule, electrified
its like i've died and woken
found myself inside

heaven on earth?

sensory overload
no shortage of feel good vibes
lazers flash, colors strobe
front, left, center, right I see
smiling faces, warm embraces
never want to come down

my heart is in the movement
the music embedded in my soul
undeniable
i've found
paradise
and i still bask
in it's afterglow

The huge bird tattoo on her  
Back burns like lazers when
Her skin gets warm,

And I, a human radiator
Favouring a sub-zero bedroom
And thin covers not to

Burn an imprint of myself upon
The sheets,
Massage heavy lotion onto her

Cringing canvas, occasionally
Kissing that phoenix rising from
The ashes of her history of

Colder lovers.

I woke up one morning and I was sad
That's how I remember it happening
The next day everyone's eyes had Lazers and I was always the target

I went to bed and woke up
And went to bed and woke up
And everyday I woke up sad

It was scary at the time
I didn't know what jumped inside me, but voices I heard in the halls would echo themselves around my ankles and my toes just felt this constant need to wiggle
Id have moments where the World flipped itself around and around and then landed normal again

It happened in a day. One day.
I woke up
And I was crazy

It is a four way intersection
With no street lights.

An unlit cigarette

It is a car
with no headlights
No taillights
No signals at all

It is a hearth
with no fire.
It is no television

It is a chruch
with no windows.
An unlit candle

It is a stage
with no spotlight
It is a rave
with no lazers

It is an uncharged cell phone
It is never having a cell phone

It is crowding to watch an aura boreailois
With nothing in the sky
It is starless nights

It is a storm
With no lightning
It is a ship sailing to land in a storm
With no light house to guide them.

It is naked and safe
It is surrounded by dark
Surrounded by snow
Surrounded by spirits

It is grey eyes
that don't look back
they look through you
Into the light.

We have ourselves a dogfight, in

Elysium.

Where the daylight shoots rays like lazers against the darkness.

Until all is covered in light.

The snow is tears, the winter goes cold, and freezes over.

The mirror reflects endless eyes shone.

It is the infinite overture, that humanity imitates.

It is like your bodies the wooden bars, and your minds the inmates…

https://cascadialegends.wordpress.com/category/poems/

White light.
Beams blazing like lazers as the blind slightly shifts and back
Back to darkness.
Again. White light. Black. White light. Black.
Blindness and blindness and light and black.
Back and forth.
Tap. Tap. Tap.

The End.

WALLOW WALLOW WALLOW moonlight BLUE EYES \ LAZERS BURST INTO FINITE — WILTED BABY’S BOTTOMS —> CRITTERS RUN INTO MY HEAD , THEY’RE BIRTHED DEAD <— RUN INTO A BRICK WALL // MY HEAD FELL OFF \ WANDERED IN THE FOREST, ALL ALONE : CITY LIGHTS NEARBY SCREAM, I CLIMB TOWARDS // STRANGERS WALK AMONGST ME, SCRY EYES :: CAN THEY SEE IN MY MIND? IT’S TERRIFYING

Incarceration on a vacant spaceship
My empty cell is blood count
Anti vaccination
Like egyptian hyroglyphs deemed by early humans sacred.

Meaning this horus (  ***** is)
Taking ra gods raw dogs
Naked. Loving space ****
this prison is the greatest
Facialize the false gods
*** prophecy illuminates
A date with God
And ill be waiting...
******* tucked on vessel
Nestled up both nasal
Passenges in case I get impatient
Sabotage the spaceship.
On board lazers
Made of ether dust.
Made it to the pod crafts.
Out the gate
Disconnect
All the seeing stuff.
So no one digitally
Creeps and sees
My ***** ******* stealing stuff
Like angel wings
Pencil shavings
Angel dust and ****** fuzz
I left the orbit.
In a mod craft.
Received in the farthest reaches
Of a need for drugs.
Orbiting venus
In between intervenius drugs
Not wanting pain
Like vanes and blood
the ******* needle does.
Or ****. They love.
But to me its ******.
I escape the fate of drugs.
Only if I change
Into a demon ****
With cleavage stuffed
And the meanest ****.
Eyes like ***** brooms
Better be cleaning stuff...
Her hair is always clean enough.
Her curves are too
Windy just to speed it up
Stay on track jordan
Thats me you wanna beat it up
Don't freestyle its me you want
Yep you just told the internet
I got your ***** up
Its a split personality.
Pit versus gainst.
Either one of us they
Teach this stuff.
I think its me they love.
But you can chris brown
Rihanna. Ba ba beat it up