untitled (vs. imperialism + its idyllic head, which is only idolic, cult of personality)


The tug of war between our better, worser angels, voices in our heads that aren't,
an aspect of sociological schizophrenia that Westerners were all programmed with
from birth on, tears at us as it was meant to, for the divided fall to ebony, ivory,
the black and white supremacies, conquering in perfect harmony, neigh, perfect war,
which can only beget more, thus the global unending unnecessary war against all life
only increases, as the irrelevant pieces are discarded ever more, for more, now, 13000
kids a day die of lack of potable water, hunger, while the 130 running for manager-
in-chief of the world's retail store, the united **** of assassins, won't mention it
once, what the real left always fought to end.  Like genocide, remember when it was
commonly understood if you knew about it and weren't fighting it you were a genocider?
Just last year Coates on the Hayes show said, "...if you think whites shouldn't be
genocided you're a racist...", a song of economic sukkkcess by ebony over ivory for
them and the republican conspiracy, for, the only other things, besides neutering of
newborns, assassinating infants in cribs, anatomical destruction and mass-****** of
kids, teens, that they have enforcing their 35 % ruling the 65 % are all the inter-
locking, laced economic systems based on scarcity instead of nature's abundance,
ever increasing the supposed garnering of ever more short-term delusional pleasures,
profits and powers, in ever more cyclical, centralizing patterns that dictate
astronomically larger real deficits over the long-term, in a word, Earth-******,
the central organizing theme of global defacto-slavery of all by the non-renewable fuel
industrial complexes, the real left vexes with our unifying song of liberation from
and abolishing of fossil fuel use, keeping it all in the ground, which is where they
pound the real (non-socialist) greens.  Why don't our hands demand "...We(e),..." climb,
our streching demand we reach only more over time, our lungs only more wind under an
only greater wingspan over time, instead of the opposite?  "...We(e),..." need to
turn 360 degrees around, back to the evolution and the future humanity will only
have if you, illimitable potential, indivisible as life, leave no footprints that
follow none, which will echo forever on, in all ways, always.  Viva la Evolucion.

At goodwill Buy the Pound
every day is black friday
Hundreds of soccer moms line up their
white sneakers on a black and yellow caution tape line
zombie over it streching for yu-gi-oh cards
wait for hazmat suits to wheel out eight bins full of trash gone treasure.
When the bins are locked in place the hazmat suits go back to pack another load

The air horn sounds.
You do not want to be anywhere near that caution tape line when this happens.
At goodwill buy the pound
If you're not part of the fight,
you're part of the floor.
They need to find their
puzzle peices lost in cat liter
Johnny really needs
every single nerf dart
DID YOU TAKE A NERF DART?!
WE TALKED ABOUT THIS JO-ANN
THOSE WERE FOR JOHNNY.
Johnnys grandma is not the only elder throwing elbows
varacose veins are curb stomping dads hauling consoles to make a quick buck
Skinny College aged video game collectors swim through the mom-pocalypse
raid the stashes for disguarded NES cartridges
Jo-ann grabs a twinky boy by the black graphic hoodie.
Tosses him back into the horde
lunges for a barbie doll hidden under some wires.
This is not a place for nice children.
If you aren't willing to push around some nanas
you will leave covered in nike prints.
This place turns people.
Ever look at someones mom and think
She looks like she's always wearing a mask.
She is!
Buy the pound is her natural habitat.
One grandma keeps so many cats, her living room is a Petrie dish
I think she just wants to be in charge of a small third world countrey.
Granny needs to go rally up the soccer moms at buy the pound.
To lead those cats into a mother thirfting revolution
These woman leave feeling like they saved their family a fortune
Dumpster diving for sport.
Every tossed or trampled stranger
One flip flop closer to
feeding their children
clawing through poverty

When that airhorn sounds again.
They scurry back to their carts.
Tell their children
"Make sure nobody steals this"
as they line back up in haste.
Touch their all white nikes to the caution tape line.
Hold their family close like brass knuckles.
when that airhorn sounds.
It's time to fight.

As I was bound to the vortex
in my head
and the odd shape -
no gap, no threat to the void -
came - awkwardly moving
and its core being
outside
It was me
and it was seeing the rays of light
streching-
streching their bright edges

and those edges: folding
and doing so
in a permanent way
for they multiply strangely
and without my hand knowing

their poles none,
neither minus
nor plus -
don't fuss, I tell myself -
a pious wish,
for my eyelids are shaking.


this was the dream.

I belive it was in a rest stop outside of Nashville when I first discovred just what lost truely

was.

The people moved ants to a hive.

Ghost's to the shell so to speak.



Looking up routes streching worn stiff leg's and existing in personal bubbles.

Affraid a seconds conversation would burst a moments ******* cast

existance.



But I only sat watching happy to be a viewer to many seperate acts in a bound for nowhere

play.



Hey you have the time?

I dont even have a watch.

I replyed to some lost south bound kid more ******* up looking

than myself.

He said nothing more as he simply  faded into the herd.



They were all bound for somewhere  and me I was just killing time.

My home was wherever I could catch a few hours sleep.

And hopefully I'd be outta this state befor long.



I was a nomad most called me a ***.

A traveler of fate and a lazy ******* to caught up in my own personal gains to settle down.



The voices of reason would seem to echo through strangers.

Whenever I'd take time to speak like some twisted record player

they'd always repeat.



So where you heading?

Nowhere and hopefully it has  a bar.



Why you on the road?

Well really I just decided to take a walk one day.



Where from?

North Carolina.

Wow why you in Texas.

It's a long walk.



Man your weird!.

Arent we all in some way?



And with that the conversation would fade into my beloved silence.

And I would view the highway and it's ever changing landscape.



The mountian  sunset's ,the desert  in the moolight ,

A city slum to a rest stop outside of Nashville where you find me now.



I'd seen Americas watercolors and her sharp edges and still charming sleeze.

And from a shared ride to a cold park bench.

I was embracing the forbidden fruit spoken of by

far better  fools and writers than me.



For true freedom was seldom safe.

But I viewed this world a travller a stranger to all including myself.



And from strange looks to even more bizzar remarks from  thoose who couldnt fathom

someone existing with no true purpose.



The question always was asked

from so many forgetable faces.



So where are you going?

Im just taking a long walk home.

A Sunday morning out there that
Makes me want to open every
Window and merge outside with
In-.
I could eat the weather; it's so nice.

She smells like fresh laundry
When she sleeps.
Slight dreamsmile on lips that say
They love me daily, and when I run my finger
Over her latest tattoo, they part in a smile even
Fuller. She stretches with a morning moan.
Never interrupt a streching girl.

God...
I hope to God that there is one
So this gratitude is recieved
By The Deserving.

I never pray; I never don't.
I've never been outside a church.

All I have is the same as the richest man
In the world.
The currency is just slightly other.

Beauty seeping from the pores of
Everything, and contrary to the claims of mr.
MC Hammer, I can -indeed-
Touch this.

Stretching thin
A yarn
Streches across the world.
Another thread, as thin as ice, spreads across continants.
A string, pulled taught, carries across oceans.

A web keenly woven by some sinister spider
Streching me thinner and thinner
waiting for one to snap.
and suddenly its all gone.

She plays guitar with my strings, making the most frightening tune
she hums and grimaces
A bug in her web
slowly dying
it twitches
and twitches
and wrestles with the bonds holding it down
and fights and pulls and
falls
into
the
arms
of
some
sinister
spider.
It's
no
longer
fate.
It's
choice
Was it ever?

the soft snow bed
that lays on top of  the mountains
melting down
into the frozen lake
with soft slippery rocks
that feels good to drown your feet in
and feel the cold water dig under your finger nails
your hear beat,slowing down
you feel the clouds move
and you feel your skin streching
and for the first time
the trees became your best friend
the wind becoming music
to your brain

you slowly open your eyes
and slowly part your dried lips

you whisper in a sleepy voice
"i never felt so alive"

To lay down on my back
And feel the freashly mown grass
Like the feel of a short hair cut

Friends to the right and the left
Trying hard to see there best

 we lay in this moon lit feild
 staring at this stary gaze
To my left Orion's belt streching far into the velvet black sky

who would think such beauty could be found in this baseball feild when 
All you had to do is look up  
And see this sight witch I do love 

I lay and wish this time could last from now till forever past

I miss those days

i really do

you know those days

the sunset clouds
streching arcross the sky sea
the color of peach
and bleeding strawberrys
the crying blueberry clouds
the bright blue  sky pushing it away
all in the horizon
it almost looked a forest fire

We sat under it all
the fallen yellow leaves
flying on the air
and landing on our head
stickling to our hair

those fall days
i miss them

I watch intently as the flower petals
Unfold under my amazed gaze
Streching as if they were waking up
From a deep long slumber
Blooming in fast forward before me
And then they withered
Lost their life energy
And quitly died

It's kind of cold in here,* I think as
I leave my
Laptop on the chair and
Pick up the last pair
Of wool socks my late
Grandmother knitted.
Spoiled from spending time
At my girlfriend's place, its shell being
170 years younger than that of
Mine, I suppose...

Old houses breathe.

The cat is balled up on the sofa;
Sleeping within its own
Body heat, only responding
With a flick of an ear to
My patting it.

I light fires in living room and
Kitchen, and
Recall how I used to sit at
Four in the morning
Under a blanket with a cup
Of coffee and tried to

Shiver less as I waited for the fire
To take. My parents' living room,
Having had to move back.
Late twenties. Divorced.
Undergone heart surgery.
Declared bankrupt
(On most levels of Life, in fact).

The ****** Months, I used to
Refer to them as. When it all
Came down.
The following years -spent working,
Saving, drinking the weekends
Away and lying to my doctor

About it- I got to know my parents
Again. My father would knock
On the door to my room and make
YouTube requests; recalling songs
From decades ago he never thought
He'd hear again.
He still brings up those nights
On occation. It was good.

Mother's knock meant room service.
She loved waiting on me like
That. Feeling useful.
Having me there. After all that
Had happened.

I had all I needed up there. Guitars.
Weights and a bench. Decent
Internet. Sometimes I'd just sit in
The dark in silence, hearing nothing
But the ticking of my St. Jude aorta
Heart valve, feeling the soreness of

My fresh scar fading, tracing the
Uneven bones of my rib cage
Where they's sawed me open.
Gutted
(On most levels of Life, in fact).
But it was good. I was
Aware. I was still here.

In the mornings I'd get up at 03.55,
Light the fire and sip my coffee,
Watching snow land on the
Windows, or stars illuminate the
Fields of white outside, perhaps even
Dancing northern lights
Above the pine tree tops.

Winter. Summers were summers.
Bird calls preceded my alarm.
Coffee on the stairs outside.
Sunrise streching her hands above
The horizon as I awoke.
Nothing I could see wasn't home
(On most levels of Life, in fact).

Three years until I moved out again.  
It got quiet for them, I know that.
But I had healed.
Trained.
Grown.
Smiled.

Three moves later, and I'm back in
My home village.
Neighbouring farm.
Countryside silence.
Home.

~

The room is getting warmer. I place a
Piece of wood on the embers and lean
Back in my chair by the fire.
The cat is now completely outstreched
In a full feline smile of fur and limbs.
I see movements in the trees outside in
The corner of my eye, but the winds
May blow as violently as they want.

I have four walls and a roof.
A belly full of salmon, a job that pays,
A wonderful woman who
Loves me as much as I love her, and
From my bedroom window, I see the
Lights from the
House where my parents live.
Where I grew up.
Twice.

If I could leave my consciousness
And travel across my heart
I would see every rock and every drop
As a work of art

At the beginning I might find
A fairly nuetral place
There's never sun and never rain
And too much empty space

But soon the journey isn't smooth
Rises and falls that you might call extreme
One moment snow, the next mad heat
The former like a dream

The next chapter is more puzzling
So many routes to choose
Along one road I gained so much
The other had much to lose

At the end I saw a mountain wall
Streching as far as east to west
I knew I had to climb it
And at the top let my feet rest

When I finally turned around
I could see all the places I'd been

But then I tripped and fell off the edge

*Since then I have not been seen

Your just an arms length away, within grasp of my finger tips Down a long streching runaway making more of an appearance that seems like a mirage rather then a finger tipped length away.
I reach out and grasp nothing. A thin, empty air is all I feel in return.

My head is filled
and to the same degree
                 so is my heart
with nonsense
                with nothing that
                         from nothing comes
with memory
and irresistibly
this draws me in-

Silently collected words
              and shadows of their universe
drew nearer-

In silence their exploding hearts
         come floating by
                 and inky melodies
come streching-

until they reach
                                my skin.

Disturbed mind
empty heart
draining our blood
from our veins
flowing freely
in a delicate network
hope
delusion
falling into despair
bones streching skin
sighs
smoke
so much smoke
and dust layered mirrors
we fall again
and it ***** out
again
from us our momentary hope

Standing in feather white
Vast sky blue above
Green meadows running far and far
Arms streching wide

twirling in love with the breeze
Hair dancing their way
Soft kissing rain
And sweet scent of clay

Rolling down
Hearing the clouds say
Voicing my beats
For them to play

Breathlessly running
Leaving the feathers behind
God's winking and playing rewind

Manisha

I was so broken
the cracks in my heart went so deep
deeper than the ocean
all I did was sleep

I wanted to sleep my pain away
sometimes I still want to
but I don't
because im trying to better my life,
keep my **** organised,
stay away from my knifes

but last weekend I was alone
not lonely, but alone
I was connecting to my body again
nobody was there to judge the things that I did
I was laying in the grass
looking at the trees
meditating, streching, praying, painting
all the things I like to do but I'm scared to
scared that people judge me doing them

but in that moment
after the weekend reconnecting with myself
I finally felt happy
my cracks were filling up with joy
I couldn't sleep because I couldn't stop smiling

that moment
that short moment
I will never forget
I finally felt hope again

Thinking closely, Walt Whitman was right
For there is a peculiar delight
In streching one's limbs
Admiring the machine within
With eyes that can see the world's night

Falling asleep in dreams
Of warm silken thread
And hearts blood string
Forming a cloud cocoon
Waking up in this slumber
Streching arms into wings
Butterfly beautiful blue eyes
In this never ending sleep
In these clouds
Where my heart
Now only dreams
And only falls
And I only have
Love for
You

Sunrise and my eyes blurring from light
morning's chilly air touching my skin
cool water on my face
coffee's bitter taist on my lips
birds singing waking my ears
deep breath streching my neck and hands
the bitterness on my heart comes back
but i'll have a day...