Every time that I have fallen you have told me it's all I need

Dreams of light sound expand in threads woven in paled limbs entangled

Players find their match and falter only to find the path of feeling free

Im feeling good why would we have dissidence

The sleepy stories climb up the spine and bud into wings

We all know we have already found it but there is so much more inspiration

A soft plantation sustains the restful heart

A good pounding sends us surfing

Waves inspirational in there exfoliation

The water meets the sky

And the beats that gifted a time in cellular reality

come with a price

Stop bitching

accept that it is met with sultry eyes

accept that it has been kept quiet

accept that a random text left me smiling

except that the physical can never be described for its purity

and well wishing will never end when it’s lustfully drenched in realness

I love you

Why not?

mixed tape

Less talk more write

Edited flirtations grace the stillness of aloneness

Love is passed casually through cellular channels

A dissemblence of touch leave thumbs contorted

Love is blind I guess

A soft sigh leaves us laughing

Planned fornication lends to throws of passion

Ashing this cigarette makes me feel young

And I need to remember sometimes that I am

Age is a state of mind I’ve been told

Pleasure seeks to activate memory

Delving deeply into the coil

Sharing love songs we dance til dripping

Flashing notes that travel distance

Sound capitulates the moment

Laughter escapes lips moist with liquor

Echoed whispers through fallen leaf song

Leave them all behind he bellows

It was then she knew it was all a dream

A story she read in the paper this morning

was it really interesting?

and we fell
not once or twice
but forever
then we got back up
and saw ourselves reflected
eyes don't lie
and neither does your face
we are honest
and i like that about us

and you told me
innocently asked for what you needed
desperate for something familiar
held me and never once expected
anything more than what i could offer
thank you
that was just what i needed
no pleading

and i gave to you
no fear or promises either
just moments
simple and with respectful eyes
heart spilling open
then opening thighs
the rain today was a sensory reminder
cold impends upon the season
it's beautiful

rhyme for an old friend who's too cool for school

illusions of what has been drift amongst pages
turned in a box of vestibule phases
dreams dissipate the political concious
energy melts into meteorific conciousness

eyes speak to moments dripping with wonder
ears then awaken to unexpected thunder
a message can tilt towards a life now asunder
placidly drifting upon games where we plundered

and moonstrokes paint images soft upon sky
leaving confusion as we ponder why
and a hand that once caressed upon innocent thigh
leans towards buttons that later deny

Through the looking glass I saw my own reflection

There are moments in our lives
This is our life
I have moved through life
Intuiting myself
Then listening to the “rights and wrongs”, the ethical morality of my mind
I have let myself be washed over by my brain
Exfoliating the dreams and soaping away self trust
To fall in line and “do the right thing”
Rising to the ebbs and flow in a salty jetsam
Meeting myself in the mirror and congratulating myself
That the expectations are met
Slowly contorting backward
In a dance of doing what I “should”
Expressing need and want
Pragmatizing my experience and choices to save face
Adjusting to the structure that has been presented to me
In a walking backbend
So that I can sodomize myself with my head
Like a dragon chasing its own tale
Until now

Living one day at a time has become living this moment
Being who I have been molded to be has become who I inspire in myself
Like a Barbie doll impressioned into being who later runs away with the circus
I am the face in the mirror and I’m sick of saving face
I drew these eyes I see and I will draw them again
The same and different based on the crossroad of each moment
The indoctrination of fear will always be
I can choose to be consumned by it or I can accept it for what it is worth
I am open
I am no longer a sex slave to my own self imposed domination
Rather a pleasure activist obligated to being
Creating a reality that exists only for the audience of the moon
Then re-molecularizing into myself moments from now
The puppet master playing the harmonizing melody of my heartstrings
I like
I love
I laugh
I can
I see
I feel
I dream
I am

just like i read upon your wall : it's all crap until it isn't crap anymore

wisdom can come from the strangest of sources
without rhyme or reason we set treason upon others
and other times find support in the unlikeliest of places
faces can be foreign or comfortably timeless
debunking euphemisms propelled by the motion
and a notion occurs and from it great inspiration
projected in treetops with family memories
a rooftop of dancers ignore the reality
of intuitive voices drowned out by the music
a bare pussy feels like a freshly shaved man face
childlike visually to eyes jaded by porn scenes
obscene to the populus and honored by some
the hum drum is drowned out by scrotums and cum
and the knowledge gets lost in a succulent sauce
til morning awakes us to a newness begun
and from love a moment obscures to the beat
as tattered feet slowly take over the street
and the wise disappear to save grace without thinking
that this all might be equal to discarded past sentiment

Hindsight 20/20 or I didn't think I'd feel a thing and now I know I loved you more than I thought

So I cried and laughed and felt the world dissolving around me
Growing momentarily then again and again
Dissolving into a puddle of love me love me not

My thoughts drink me under the table of understanding
Too rapidly to ponder before my gut already know the answers

You made me feel loved in the simplest way
: you made me love myself :
It’s inspiration dripping over cum crusted lips
And fantasies sordidly welling wetness over a hardened clit

I gave you my love not to fill a void
Not to see what could have been
But as a free sample of my secret pleasure factory

I wish I could hold your hands in mine and look you in the eyes
When I tell you that you are my favorite flavor
But instead I’ll give up ice cream for the moment and sweat until I see you again

pondering the beauty of opening your heart freely and still loving despite everything sad because it's simply love and love is good

And once again I gave it all to build the confidence in another
Got so naked I was skinless, dripping with want
Staged with light and the shroud of new experience
Unfortunately this time I was the one hurt
Apparently payback is a bitch
I’m not ashamed to cry
Death is the process of life and from it blooms a wonderland of creativity
Naivety rears its lovely head again and again and someone ends up alone
Drones swarm and the queen waits for the newbie to fly the hive
Driving long distance has never been a problem
I am a vortex open to those that desire and never to be found again
I was reminded recently that love never disappears just dissipates into the dream-state
Alive in a moment then lost to dark eyes cautiously pictured
The wind continues to pollinate inspiration
And the longing for what could be will never go away
Yet we continue, nomadic in intellect and fallen like acorns
I just wanted to be the seaweed and the rock
I just wanted to be the waves and the sandy shore
And yet again I am the boat and the dolphin
Dancing forever in a deadly love affair
Someday you will look into the mirror and realize love was easy all along
I pity the fool that stands in the shadow
I’d rather forgive and disappear too but consequence is real
Whether you run or face it head on
I miss you though and just wish for once it would make sense
Like a glowing casino sign pointing the way to hope
Thanks for the Herpes though
That was classic

for new orleans

brothers rappin
tappin the beat
with tapped sneakers
stompin the beat
watching people
out in the street
workin rythmn
so the can eat
and in nightfall
slowly retreat
to courtyards

pork lard and beans
clean wooden floors
protect secret
shared garden lore
and the wind blows
while children snore
breathin heavy
while out their door
drunk tourists shout
and riots soar
like Bourbon

urban mornings
mourning the night
locals awake
early to fight
the heat to sell
tourist delights
and earn freedom
from the dark plight
of condemned slums
with all their might
and Voodoo

true to haitians
nations rely
on the sacred herbs
that mamas dry
making potions
from bones and eyes
with blue balls and ritual cries
'tween the Earth and Sky
so don't spread

sacred stories
glories untold
you'll catch a glimpse
buy what is sold
local paintings
may reveal gold
pay attention
to what is told
every whisper
may soon unfold

history seams
dreams in a bow
infinite paths
and fields to sow
with cotton sores
cleansed by the flow
waters don't slow
setting the pace
for jazz to grow
like Taro

automatic new orleans 1

cafe of the world
trellised curls
fall from triangular hats
over the ears of fast moving waitresses
who will retire to trellising balconies
and brood up potions
to bring enough money
to pay the bills
cults of dark night walkers
purse the streets looking for vicitms
worthy of violent carnage
unsuspecting drunks
pan out
lost from the heat of night
and too many hand grenades
strange run arounds
and circles spun by voodoo priestesses
in attempt to keep the mystery
in line and in time with the history
while small shops sell
tastes of religion
for three times the price
thrice you may pass the same place
only to find that it never existed
in haste you run to the river
bounding over train tracks
while mississippi smells tingle
your senses mingle with the thick moist air
not a care in the world
as everyone celebrates
eatin' crawdads and gumbo with cornbread on the side later
eatin' po'boys on decater
staring at waiters as their faces begin to shine
from persperation and trepidation
wondering why they don't play sax in the street
to earn their eats
ants crawl over feet
in retreat of larger bugs in the kitchen
and i'm itchin' to see joe
he's an artist that i know
he paint's the world through bottle bottom lenses
and questioned the millenium for the sake of young travellers
street dwellers
turn to stone after 2am
avoid arrest
is this a test
can dreams come true with a little voodoo
hoodoo in time with ritual chants
drummers prance out into the street
keeping the beat
rat ta do do ta bat bidat ti do
and the sax screams through the night
drudging souls
out of the cemetary
to do their dance
in a trance
and the colors are streaming out of bead stores
and the tourist bars move quicker
as the air gets thicker
and my movements get slower
and the river is flowing
out into the gulf i gulp
close my eyes
but the beat is too strong
rat ta doo do ta bat bidat ti doo do
and the tones piercing
boo doo do wa ah ooh bododoowa ah oh
and the chants too true
and there are spirits in my shoes
morning comes and only the memory of drums remain

automatic new orleans 2

i stroll down the french quarter
admiring the trellesed balconies
old time jazz music gently drifts out of store fronts
mixing and mingling tones in a barrage of rythmn
bod doo do wa ah oh bododoowa ah oh
saxaphones hum out licks and artists fill the streets
taking in the sounds and the heat
sticky humidity that can be cut through
by tourists and business men
then coffee
fast moving waitreses in triangular hats and white medical shoes
glide through the busy cafe du monde

automatic new orleans 3

the morning came un-expected
with screaming sirens and local bustle.
not tired i stroll the balcony lined streets
now quieted for a brief moment as the day dwellers softly awaken
and the night crawlers crawl into bed.
i find a lone mother of thousands lieing beside a potted tree.
i sigh reclining myself to the sidewalk.
it is refreshing to see plants in this city; so old and material.
life is shaded here.
even the homes are hidden amongst courtyards with storefront facades
and no invitations.

prove me wrong

if i were to commit myself to writing
it would take me 2,085 days of writing one worthy idea a minute
for eight hours a day
to compile a body of 1,000,000 worthy ideas


we must forge towards higher elevation

the old days

it's that sound
that makes the sun spin
radiating my skin
i turn within
my thoughts
begin to spin like ink drops
my heart stops
skips beats
to a blue monkey rythm
as i stomps my feets
to Chuen my meditation
communication my motivaton
and also my methods of creation

a pound

i was pounding
silencing the pounding
that was going on
around me i was pounding
to quiet my mind
but my mind was pounding
pounding the sound of
quiet all around me
pounding me
a pound a pound
a pound

prayer to a false guru

fon woman with one long tail
of hair that draped like a tapestry veil
hear my call and do me well
and i promise not to tell

skat attack

rat a batidote
ti bopdop doo
dwadote ti skeet dat
opibat ti dat ti dat
ti batdatdodat
ooh bow dote
di skeedat
ti dat ti dat
ti dat ti dat

nursery rhyme

"who do you know?
so why you here?
don't ask questions
and answer clear
listen careful
and don't show fear
they'll spin circles around you, hear?
and for lost time you'll shed a tear
of dread"

how the rain came

the first women ripped the flesh from her body to skin a drum
so that millions of hands could send messages through her skin
to the feet of dancers dropping beats
and she floated above them through unified conciousness
until one day the clouds fell in love with her and enveloped her
sending their children back to the earth in raindrops
-now when you beat a drum the music arouses the clouds and births the rain again

repetition of space

space is important
is space important
space is important
is space important
space is important
don't be ignorant
ignorant don't be
open your eyes to see
your eyes open
have i spoken
your eyes open
open your eyes to see
ignorant don't be
don't be ignorant
space is important
is space important
space is important
is space important
space is important

I have never been worried about safety in numbers

Palm fronds abscond safe conversation, pleasantly distancing lives confused by a momentary weakness. A flow of energy escapes conversation, leaving one speechless in a search of solidarity. Amazing how love can leave one without history as synapses delve into spaces yet to be filled. Vices leave me sitting still. I like that we don’t need to speak or fuck or relate to love each other. Worlds set apart by distance can be pulled closer, imagining nothing, while life takes its course. A rhyme like mélange of other psyches are dressed in a reality another can never know, and so, acquaintance seeks friendship elsewhere. I promise I can relate to any situation as I’ve rolled with the fucking and the punching of the ages. Distance can be timeless as evolution continually takes course. Forced conversation seeks like-minded thoughts. So what do you do? It’s the question of the hour. Empowerment comes from relinquishing ownership. Pages are never wasted to the thoughts of a moment. Japanese stars will be ours. Money has corrupted our artistic value in a positive light. Discomfort is reminiscent of the pulsating that erupts out of the depths where the heart holds light. I sit watching mother and child in sequence. They are developing a new speech. The love of multiple generations is extracted from the moment. To seek and find a time of happiness in a fleeting sun can be undone by nothing. Circumstance is set into motion by salted nuts and small pants crab walking backwards into memories of innocence. We are constantly creating a second of realness.

for love and money

$700 don’t just buy shoes girl
it buys piece of mind
inspired by a life of have and have nots
thoughts manifest into afternoons shopping
dropping dollars justified by helping the economy
Dramamine to ease the nausea of poverty
a full moons light shines upon karma
darkness is lifted from tear swooning eyes
deriving pleasure from wax smoothed thighs
dripping with a longing desire to be cared for
emulating waves sounds through peppered vernacular

and more and more

fortified laughter
awakes to mornings after
words hurt
cutting actions
pass to dreaming
scheming plans
for a future built on good intentions
built upon a future of good intentions
I can’t remember which

drudging memories
lost to bloody maria’s
poetically conversing
in fantasies passing
coercing the convalescence of youth
in a purging of energy
inspired by music

forgotten bondage leashed to expulsion
one last fuck to prove your manhood
stranger interest streams moments digital
forgive and forget it’s straight from the bible

libel bears consequence
to mental-logical

residence in moments flicker
convolution expands like water on the floor
a door locked hides a shadowed confusion
loves fleeting arrows flank
goddesses and whores
forever more

sign on the door

Years ago I was about to open a door. On it was a photo of a doctored street sign. It read DE END. There are some crossroads that we come to that have the same DE(AD )END message plastered to them and at each of these points we are faced with an option. What of it? What of India? What of true love? What of liars? What of drunkards? What of lost souls? What of rumors? I am not a part of your lost reality. I am strong. What choice do you make? The act of questioning creates a current to synapse. A judgement creates a transformational manifold. Within it a wormhole divined by options. Ever present to divided ideas. The inner space is the outer space. DE END.

a meditation in edition

Defined by existence aligned with lyrics
We’re reminded of a time when things were much more simple
It’s a ripple; we want to see our future as an oracle
A time-lapse miracle makes us stronger
And we hesitate to stand up
Rise up as economics tries to tie us up
Fill thy own cup relentlessly
Intellectual prosperity is our destiny
Spread the word of voices heard
Living in a time of galactic change
A derangement of values define systematic control
A shot of Hennessey… a comic trilogy
People dying; pounding the earth
Space for the rest of us
Protection given to consequential rhythm
Bouts poetic reason
Viscerally honest
Happily ironic
Time dwindles thumbs twiddle
Concepts riddle questions channeled
Handled by amassed power subliminal
In an abysmal sweat of break beats and tangled tongues
We are all the same
Fumbling frantically tantric
Silly antics uprising planetary phonetics
Dressed in fragments of Druids, Mayans, and Africans
Plummeting spherically within a spiral continuum

i wrote this while dreaming, so sue me if it's too fast

There is nothing like breaking your own heart. Fear of failure combined with a lack of trust that I will ever be satisfied has reared the gorgon’s head once again. The ironic part is that I actually could have avoided it all if I wasn’t such a pussy. True love sometimes kills the imagination leaving one speechless. I have let myself, out of a desire to be dominated and consumed by love, forget the strategy for which it is played. I have over thought and conceptualized the sensuality so puissantly that it has left me dry and smelling of an aged woman. I sometimes wish I could have the freedom and sterility of a man, that the vestal responsibility that comes from soft curves and a male dominated history would fall from my cock in a provable pleasure cream dripping down your face. I wonder if it is really the heart that breaks, rather than the psyche. Like a mental submission to the societal insecurities strapped to my sex like a cerebral chastity belt. Fondled fodder is everywhere, but to possess ones heart is like taking on the responsibility of a conjoined twin. You want to kill it off sometimes, but understand that the shared organs would no sooner take your life as well.


my gaze falls softly explicate aginst the philodendron
its curves arise within me a peace of mind
long tempered by meditation
dressed in a thought of you

pursuant thoughts
dripping with inconclusion
send chivalrous shivers
to cold hands

i dare myself to chatter
overcumb by the inability to move
solitary monotony derives power from
paralytic drifting

tonal sounds compress lingering desires
dancing conspires a late night retire
wind swirling leaf songs tranquils the evening
placidly dreaming of loving and feeling

the stuff i never want to write about

shoot me now that i've seen the polycubic boundardies of reality!
it's too funny and the laughter that wells up in my eyes could illuminate any wall.
so what are you going to do stick a clove of garlic in your ear?
let's go to the zoo...you didn't forget did you?
the rain outside has me crying the way running water can make you have to pee.
the dawn is approaching.
without consistency of pattern, life has me floating through space.
yes i did realize that everyone i know will die.
it's for this exact realization that i want to ride an elephant with you.
it's why i've lived beneath fallen eaves of timber.
heated by embers flickering by day.
i love you so much, i think i forgot how to do it.
as much as i hate to admit it, i think i'm afraid.

no apologies

sultry eyes mourn abstractions
lost to errors bearing distraction
passion lingers past bordered fences
salty eyelids so repentive

drenched in chill and under cover
types a lovers wistful letter
sunken in shadow cast by glasses
and lit above by incandescents

your presence moves me to be better
falcon dreams of soaring pleasures
antiquitous curiosities meet
modernity's leisure

draped in curling tendrill waves
a poet remorses loves last refrain
and sings a melody to the rhythm of rain
kissing pictures understanding pain

50 things to try to do daily : could change your life

this is not a quote :
i am writing this just as much for myself as i am for you
all of us are coasting in the endulating life current
and sometimes the wave takes us up and other times it brings us crashing down....
such is life....all we can do is live....
so i sat down and sent this to a friend in need
for the both of us
and then thought i would share it with the rest of you
wherever you are on the wave
here are 50 things to try to do daily : could change your life

: 1 : get up in the morning : 2 : actually get up : 3 : look yourself in the eye : 4 : now, look yourself in the other eye : 5 : gesticulate in the mirror for one minute minimum : 6 : brush your teeth while humming a different song each time : 7 : do something for another living being : 8 : exercise; preferably with the radio on....so it feels like a job : 9 : drink water : 10 : work for yourself even if you have to work for someone else : 11 : go outside : 12 : smile at everyone you meet : 13 : tell someone you love them : 14 : take the time to be still and listen : 15 : do something for the good of all people : 16 : do something good for yourself : 17 : do something that benefits a friend : 18 : adopt someone or something new : 19 : try to kiss your elbow : 20 : try to find spirals or various pointed stars in nature : 21 : write down your thoughts : 22 : blatently observe packaging in the supermarket like you are in the museum of modern art : 23 : touch your toes : 24 : call someone and tell them that you just wanted to call because they were on your mind and see what they say : 24 : help a child : 25 : try to invent something : 26 : now try to see it's faults : 26 : breathe : 27 : cook something with love : 28 : plant a seed whether tangible or ethereal : 29 : love : 30 : clean : 31 : learn about something : 32 : eat something healthy for your body : 33 : make yourself feel good : 34 : sleep : 35 : do something you don't want to do : 36 : practice moderation : 37 : consider your finances : 38 : try to remember something in detail : 39 : send out positive aspirations : 40 : run water over your body : 41 : eat something fresh from the earth, even if it is a blade of grass : 42 : use your imagination : 43 : make music : 44 : meditate : 45 : laugh : 46 : dance with another person even for a second : 47 : listen to and try to feel a piece of instrumental music : 48 : lay flat on your back and try to imagine your self as equidistant slices in a pie : 49 : do something to benefit your future : 50 : come up with something you feel in your heart is life changing and share it with a friend :

meditation triptych

harsh words fly from open wounds blinded by bloodshed
a tyrant trapped by their own shackles screams
pleas to themself through withered time soaked glass lenses
it is only the prisoner banished to the same fate that can hear these cries

the prisoner lies guiltless
enveloped in a sphere of gratitude
an indefinite buzzing of external silence
the opalescent bubble unscathed by the swords that fly from loose lips

yet from this meditation comes energy
positive phlange like super rhythms
light speed ebullience masticating receptions
to forge roses from steel words sharpened
propelling them through 13-D
within and without the audience

all space and time vacuously whitened and expanded infinitely
I like argyroneta aquatica am encased in a bubble eco-system
egocentric in location
the floating opalescent energy phlange dissipates
and earthlike physics cease to exist

decorated paper crisp in value
floating with magnetic intention from all directions
absorbing into cellular mass meditation
in an existential merging of microscopic energy

lucid dreamlike state
phlanged thoughts release into white light piercing pores
light becomes sphere like
clears like stage fog
spherically emanates in a bubble
encompassing the body seated in lotus

the journey
like a great opalescent glass elevator
mind controlled by purest aspirations
conspires above the sand
exchanging energy with the rewinding ocean

s poem

satiated simpletons sink supercilliously south.
substrate sine substrate.
systematic sacral salivations somehow sanctify supressions superceeding sanity.
suppose sanctions slice scaremongering.
snickering sabertooth saboteurs stand statuesque.
supporting shapeshifting s.l.a.n.
swirling sentences
subconciously snakelike
santimoniously scalding scandalmongers
savvy scenesters suffocating sceptical schemes

the dog of love hell

charles bukowski wrote love is a dog from hell and i'm here to clarify that not only is love a 200lb hell hound, but that it's a un-trained purebreed pitbull that will piss on your leg and shit in your house and chew up your panties.....i want to kick this dog........but i'm afraid i'll break my foot.....i want to just take this rabid dog out into the back forty and shoot it....but i'm afraid of the alternative... of the sinking black hole of lonliness... and the strange alternate dimension i could end up in.....i have never been more confused in my life.......i'm like a frog who swims too far out into the pond and can't find a lily pad...and i'm tired......I feel like all the displaced people of the world......like somehow i didn't realize how miserable i would be when i boarded the plane to the burmuda triangle......like a rubix cube....and now the sex is all mixed up with the sentiment....and creativity....and career...and family...and friendships.......and i'm so impatient as i try to make sense of everything and put it all back to its proper place ... i just want to begin peeling all of life's colors up and resticking everything where it properly belongs....but now i can't stop sticking them all over my body....like sequins

tacos tacos tacos

franscois breut and three tacos alone in a booth
orange juice and earl grey are there too
it occurs to me that the veil of our energetic conciousness is getting thinner
and the water that is all that is
more disparate
like the nephrates
and like a desert night cold and alive
taco the third may not be as good
but it grows on you rooting tentacle lips
into tastebuds stripped by your confused kisses
by the letter b
be fore
be fore lorn

solitude in the key of g

sitting alone i sit
across from you sitting alone
you read and i write
you eat while i drink
in solitude in the key of g
and i look to you only long enough to see the forshadow of you looking at me
to see the shadow cast by my turning away
i wish i could scatter this broken heart to the floor
and stamp it out like an exhausted cigarette
that you would join me for dessert
a fantasy dipped in chocolate soaked in rum and enraptured in flame
if only for a moment more
solitude in the key of g
tragedy today is entrenched in our control
yet control is what drives us insane
don't lose it or you may never get away from it
but alas fantasy prevents telepathy
in solitude in the key of g

automatic blog

i have automated everyting today in honor of the surrealistic instalation painting i have been living in as of late.......a great friend of mine said she felt she was living in a bad movie or maybe a good movie where bad things happened.....i think i must stumbled onto set cause as of late it has been series after series of automatic behavior requirements......automatic phone venting......automatic freestyling.....automatic bathing.....automatic eating and drinking....and automatic writing......automatic passing of time.....automated reality shake me of this fog.....give me sanctity in the passing of time.... give me peace and expediate the transitory into migratory.....bleed me of this venom that course towards my heart....that i cannot shake this depression....tatoo me a rose to honor my spirit ....to remind me of what drives me......to lift my lovelight onto the unicorn bridle.....that it bathe in prismatic freedom....

complicated love trap

your smiling eyes penetrate my heart
your uncomfortable smile wells up my mind
my contemptuous eyes
pleading for one more kiss
that i can suckle your sentiment
that i can live in the love lake of your heart
I penetrate you with more than my eyes, you become thus sullen when I am quiet. in the calm there is deep knowledge. I must climb but I have equally retraiter this is where I Am. it is less than ideal for you, but you have your own tests to bear. am I in the habit to become what of others want me now break this habit and I To be in a higher morality of place is personal and important please like me carefully just the manner than I am.
ahhh, the catacylsmic chemistry of a fated destiny......
i have always been smarter and truer to myself then recently.....funny that you should speak of the sidekick... the simple inpressionable youth....what do they see that brings them beckoning.....
funny that you should speak of irony.....the thin skinned extropath, the strong demeanor that hides the tortured soul.
why does a pursuit of spirit and intellect burn tears of acid cleansed mercury down my cheeks...
that i cry under rain in the dark before dawn, travelling highways with the fresh smell of awkward sex and lonely company....
that i might write this here in tongue because i don't know that you could handle what i really think .....
that i am your friend......

wet paint

i am so careful these days with the wet paint
it moves in thin lines carefully
not to be smeared by clumsy hands

i am the engineer of this paint
guiding bristles in unison
always confident

i am the alchemist of this wet paint
concocting colors from mud and earth and mineral
guilding accents in flaked crystal

and now my paint is dry and i reflect
what experiences brought me to this place
and what was sacraficed by covering it all in wet paint

bullshit poem that i wrote but could not read again

you and me
at the av
reciting forlorn poetry
you're all over me
i'm just trying to eat
and i'm dying to have you rub my feet
this disceet
infatuation is driving me insane
i'm drained by all of the pain
and strain and thoughts innnane
that you can steal a bite of my food when that's all i have left
that you could touch me just enough to leave me longing for more

talking poem

the mind expounds repeatedly
like a rampage of children
deviously devouring candy
deceitfully like poetry

I owe it to me
a dream believed unconsciously
to formulate words
unbeknownst to thee
I’m free you see

the hypocrisy
of language creationism
segregation and all of its isms
divisions lead to visions
my friend and change

deranged derailments
of systematic obsessions
depression ended
conciousness regained
reclaimed then

and again and again
the sounds of the speech
reach bounds of time
continueum breached
and for a moment I sigh

why we don’t know
if we like it or not
if we want what we got
if we’ll make it or rot
the plot is thin

a tin foil bandage
flanges a broken heart
apart from sadness lies the truth
a sleuth unties a locked box
and sets it out in the rain

all sing the refrain
drain meaning
from longing for belonging
singing in a spring vernacular
it’s spectacular

the birds trill pentameter
chitter-chatter in character
breeze through my hair
I’m there
in still tranquillity

sexual tension

i’d like to mention a thing or two about sexual tension
it’s an uncharted dimension riddled with have and have nots
dirty thoughts swim in schools of not yet
lust lingering in abdominal pain that i haven’t came
just the same i tried to avoid it but it was too late
the game discussed bylaws formulated in sanskrit
which i won’t even pretend to understand
i can’t demand from you that which i want
and i crumble in a pile of long hugging
cock tugging and ass rubbing
you feel my startling frustration
yet i have no thoughts on the matter
a clatter in the vaccumm of possibility
sings me a chorus as i return to the daily
fraily waiiting until i put on the dress again

poem for a one ended conversation

listen to me … I’ve so much to say
I could talk at you

gemini mind

a mentality divine
construction of the mind
of chameleon design
I cry over freckled fields
my eyes yield glimpses
nymph like honesty
and you see a side that blends right in
thin skin draped in shimmering cake
fake for the masses
we are the masses
and the veil we wear protects us all from sorrow


borrow a sip of moon shine wine
an equinox equilibrium
the resurrection of spring
fling aside in stride
contemption and fear
my dear
our minds are fertile
like matte lemon myrtle
namaste to the turtle with the 13 moons on its back
it’s fact that we dream streams of code
we approach our world in divine knowledge then slowly purge our beliefs for confusion
infuse the soul with ebony and amber
water pure and air breathed deep
steep the heart in muslin and baby wool
stirred in a pot of desire and lust
trust in a moment
without question
rules are meant to be broken
and life is meant to be spoken

stream of conciousness(like wow that was totally inspired by dasia star)

hope for the day before and the day beyond
its cheap and wow
you sounded sad
and today i guess i say too much don’t i
anymore and now
why aren’t you going to bed it’s one in the morning
i’m just touching my dog
that sounded weird
it’s really frustrating
she doesn’t like being touched at night
yeah the fingernails are actually fake
she’s struggling to get out of my grip
i have no control over her
it’s true
trips me out
evreythings spinning
i’m not drunk at all
guess i’ll go to sleep

love loss unrealized

atomic execution of the dimension we call daily
assails me through lamellar phases of reality
accountability beckoning for redemptive hypallage
doubtful curls prepared in toot sweet hyperbole

then it occurs to me

maybe I’m not living a fantasy

an existential transaminase of what happens trans-sonically
but silently undeniably beyond rationality
so casually detached

or am I just an erotomaniac
my heart a stellarator
of intuitive fusion

my enlightened conciousness imbibes honesty unabashed
proffer me this integrity as I teeter precariously
swinging trapeze
true to two meanings
denying that I am nothing more than fodder
effectuated as eye candy
then pitied for my thin veneer

poem to a muse

little black dress I wear to impress
you serve only to laugh at me later
through stains long forgotton
denied and begotten
by lies or truths tangled in unrealized amity

living a fool of my own design

what a freakin calamity
that i live for secrecy without secretion

that you avoid frustration by passing it on

that somewhere between rock-bottom and doing the right thing
lies an innocent love lost to the foolish heart

for every man i have ever loved who loved me back

i am a well of unbridled creativity
a vessel bursting with sentiment softly spoken in black and white
a wild horse running through time
supporting bare-backing inspiration
assending into the wind
i have been your sprite
your nymph
your lover
erected each and every one of you a pedestal
and you have all loved me in return
and it was very real...
i sealed you each into my poetry
spilled myself out naked upon the page for each and every one of you
loved you with my tongue literally liberally literarily
and the words i spoke still hold that love for its irreplaceable moment in time
so for all that have ever been loved by me
please for a moment remember that love for the purity and innocence from which it flowered
remember the abundance of cosmic love energy exuding from my eyes
remember for a moment how i bled my heart and soul to you in every medium imaginable
and forgive me if i have hurt you
i too have been hurt, hidden away, mistrusted, lied to, abandoned, violated, denied
and now i am lonely for lack of love and it’s killing me
devouring my very being that i cannot touch softly, stroke playfully, arouse curiosity, stare into eyes that love me back....so if you can reknindle a glimmer of our love
love yourself for the beautiful lover that you are
to be loved by such a lover
and to have loved in return

maybe i’m just not inspired

and where do i go from here
washed up fresh on uncharted shores
revolving doors leading to new corridors
unexplored circles of lonely faces
traces of past and future places
phrases the same from tongues no longer mingled
tingled flesh sears beneath siren fingers
your smell lingers and so i try to stay away
avoid the fraying heart you sculpt like clay
and play with
each day i awake stiff from thinking
focusing on priorities exalted by convienence
i stagger home dreamless when i see you smile
drive miles singing to drown my longing
fawning over cold steps to an empty bed
my head pinned by a heavy heart
i start
like a balloon being over inflated in a cage
you only see parts of me
depending on which way you turn

future poem

this is an omen for the future
this is a revolution
peaceful manifestation for love in the world
lightness of being
i have a garden beneath my feet
i have walked the world in golden slippers
i have heard your voice from miles away
dimensional compounding
confounding power
bursting at the seams wth joy

party conversation

you’re a lot more comfortable in person
you write whatever you want
it’s hot and shit
we do it like that
it’s not about being shady
oh oh
you want to fuck me up
whats up
where are my shoes
digitize it
she got that shit from the quarter machine
i’m gonna hurt myself

phone tone song

simple and nimble i write
forgetting the words intended
lets end this
i fear that a simple joke has gone too far
bizarre how fear can trap us and free us
that through intention any problem could be solved
dissolved into longing lost
that we can ignore the real people we see
that we can forget
the simple truth of possibility

of love and salviation

I am a nation
in a rubber world
and it is hilarious…..
I mean really funny….
My body is an animated card
lying upon the boundry of an existential fabric of time ….
reality, well do we ever really know what the hell it is…
and so I breathe…deeply…
because that is what I have been trained to do…
for a moment I am somehow in the 2nd and 3rd dimensions
simultaneously …
It feels parallel to inflated silly putty
physically I am connected to everything
from nothing to infinity
the planes of mind perceptivity
the tiny spaces between spaces
what we call the dimensions
are stacked like thick doors of gelatin
lean back and exsistence as we know it ceases to exsist
I lean forward for proof that I can also be
at the same time in the 4th and 5th and 6th dimensions…
if I were to stand up
I could swim this golden spiral deck of dimension
My feet one with the nothing
My outstretched arms extending up into a dimension I have only the perception of through
Light and love and oneness and wholeness
The queen of diamonds
And I want to dance
And I want to feel the wind
And I want to shed myself of clothing
And I want to put you in my mouth
And I want to be here a while
And I am

old love left to stale on two borders

if i wash you in the moonlight will you hold me in the night
if i sing out of key will you tell me its alright
why if you love me do you make it all a fight
why if we know were friends are we driven into fright
please give me all the answers in a language not my own
please hold my hand forever while i giggle and you moan

si le lavo en la voluntad del claro de luna usted me sostiene en la noche
si canto fuera de voluntad de la llave que usted me dice que su bien
porqué si usted me ama para hacer usted hace le toda la una lucha
porqué si sabemos eran los amigos son nosotros conducidos en fright
por favor me dan todas las respuestas en una lengua no mis rieron nerviosamente
los propios satisfacen el asimiento mi mano por siempre mientras que yo y usted gime


i woke up this morning and it was so delicious
and all I wanted to do was go back to sleep with you
true sometimes there is just that other shit to do
but there is no rhyme for this reason
just time
and delicious daydreams of scattered loving words
and memories of supple silence
and the middle of me reminds myself of the reflection of your skin
and I smile for how delicious it all is

writings for the infamous

lingering heartache is contagious
enslaving us in cages
bathing us in phases of lust
tangled in confusion and ruin
conveluded intrusions hold loves candle burning
burying intention under waxy sex dreams
it seems we never want to admit it's just dreams
unexplained to the rest of us
emotions get the best of us
it makes me want to scream
water falls from tired lips onto fondled breasts
the rest is a mystery
tucked away carefully; hidden methodically
then shipped away to lost lovers
in what never seems like the last good-bye
I cry because I like to have all the answers
and this time I am just the stamp on the package

oh to be gently caressed by the crabs claw as it contemplates how to fit me into its mouth

alice nickels walks in circles dreaming of the past. crows incessently caw in the distance. a small boy sits alone throwing pebbles at a kitty cat. the kitty cat ignores the boy and continues to lie in the sun. alice stops circling and lays down with the cat. the boy continues to throw stones at the kitty and alice. alice ignores the boy and continues to lie in the sun. the crows continue to caw as the sun moves to meet the dusk.

just need to vent frustration

why is it that life can be such a lesson...that heartache be physical hurt..... that lovers can lie.....that communication can break down.......why is it that pretty girls are supposed to have it so good ....that if your sexy then don't get depressed, cause it's so unbecoming....why is it that men are ruled by their dicks ....that marriage can ruin your life....that money can give you freedom or pin you under it like a giant gold circus cage.....how could i have ended up in this place......i am generally a happy person.....my ego lives in a soft silky california king in my heart of hearts.....but right now all i feel like doing is crying.... becaue for all the myspace friends....all the real friends past and present....there are no hugs......no real understanding.....so in lay here looking out the window at the beautiful fruits of my labor ....and cry while holding my breath....cause i like the adrenaline that comes from suffocation....cause i can fuck better than you in my sleep.....


cool breeze streams though lakeview window
music soothing to ears that tingle
covered in fleece from head to toe
friends mingle

single single

home alone intentionally
froggie jams equipt with footies
somehow sexy existentionally
to all my hoodies

goodies goodies

warm toes curl against teal blue dots
leaves fall upon throaty seagull songs
one sits all giggles with the hots
one lies pensive with the longs

gongs gongs

repetition rides the breeze
fingers tapping to the beat
in another room a child's sneeze
and a rise to the feet

take a seat take a seat

nighttime lingers into morning
drifting sleeplike into newness
out with the party in with the snoring
enter the grayness out of the blueness

your newness you knew this

pulling out old records

tonight a delight
pulling old records from the shelf
hanging on the telephone
dancing with myself

cleanliness close to godliness
equinoxal bliss
kill the sick kill the sick
with a mothers kiss

divine tranquility
permeates the room
silky sheets clingy clean
blue tinsle swept up with a broom

sickness breeds vulnerability

i'm nice....why do i feel the need to explain myself...i'm sick and lonely....i'm so hurt by you and i don't even know why....maybe it's because in a town this small, you were actually a little interesting.....you probably know enough about yourself that you are doing me some sort of favor by not talking to me....in the same way i feel like i would fall in love with you...you probably feel like you would hate me....im so sad...i feel used...im just a little girl in a grown-up life and i would love a road map or a floatie....and it sucks to be sick, because it makes me too vulnerable to smile and lie.....

feed me eat me love me fuck me

a rising star rests upon the counter
romeo bleeds from speakers
i just want to smoke inside
i'm on this celeboat
where's my tug bitches

gratitude and loss

in this cyclical life there are random acts of gratitude .... gratitude and loss
tossing lettuce in the social bowl i move like a banshee through the days and nights
flying silent to the masses...overabundantly supported by the populus...you are all my friends
the end of one life sparks another
brothers and sisters unite....triteness exsists
all of the sadness in the world is balanced by the creative
old friends with new faces inspire transistion
support passionate acception of the re-iterated history herstory
a memory lost without description
a fundamentsl nomadasicsm
bound by ties that need no explanation
aggravation mastabatory in function
persists in a small town
drowning in a low tide pissyness
thriving in a love lost
suckling on time
driving itself to insanity
in an orgasmic moment of clarity
scarcity of understanding
can be a blessing
dressing us in the persona that we see
reflecting upon
the simple concept
"do you know that you don't know?"

the flow

flow grows from beats like seeds under flourescent light
dreams dispose of most emotional insight
a flush of the truest existence exposed in foggy moments of eyes shut
but the wind can blow while air holds stagnant
a memory permeates momentarily
drifting through notes
hairy turns in tempo conspire to envelope you
take you to your knees
and evolutionarily develop who
sees you in the mirror
fear lies dormant in all self-doubt
shout out
your news

science is death if time is death (part 1)

faltering head
black black head
denied by a dream
that broke above you
you bellowed below
the bleak blond
weaving the dream
the dream red
achoo dead

science is death if time is death (part 2)

the blusterous rainfall outside pounds;
pounds down on the paper;
increaduous moving pen speeds across white paper;
in a sterile white room;
the white of flourescent light honing in;
eyes down and hands across;
in a contemptuos rage;
trying to acheive understanding;
boxed in this cavernous solitude;
understanding exsists;
drumming ink encroaches the page;
until the drumming stops;
and there is only rain

science is death if time is death (part 3)

just one more day sitting here
i close my eyes
hello hello
where are you going?
in your worn down cars buses nikes
your reds and blues (now white too)
hello hello
i am speaking to you
who are the dry packed dirt
from which my mind bloomed and blossomed
and i am so tiny mounted on a hill
a dead hill an abandoned hill
forgotten condemned hill
my hair do you see it?
greased and stringy
falling against my white breast
it's you i'm calling
do you here me?
can you bring me home?
i'm not dead yet
the gypsies stole me away
painted me this skin
this inside out skin
i see you before me
in a jungle
a concrete jungle
where i pound the ground
my feet blistering
pounding out the sound of rebellion
pounding out blood into the dry packed dirt
muddying my hand
pale pale hand
pounding like the tepid pulsing rising from my vulva
out into a pale world
with white sky
white rain
bloody muddy dirty hands
suffocating in this tightening skin
and i'm still so tiny
calling out to you
the flare of gunfire
the shape of hand symbols
the soulful wealfare line bellow
government cheese
the unreasoned life
that bore me a fighter

science is death if time is death (part 4)

it's windy outside and i can feel the air growing thicker outside my window.
it's trying to seep past the pane and into my lungs.
i breethe deeply and can feel a yellowness in the thickness of the air. i can feel a yellowness over everything; subtle hues everywhere. yellow in my hands...on the page and in my sweater.
yellowness outside and down the block. yellowness in my lungs.
i close my eyes and my brain is yellow. my thoughts (yellow) are consuming me. the phone rings (yellow) someone outside is shouting (yellow). the dogs (yellow) panting. the mirror (yellow) and my reflection (yellow). i stop breathing. the air outside grows thicker.

science is death if time is death (part 5)

the dew kissed my eyebrows this morning, rose me out of bed and pushed me out the door. funny how it can be colder inside a shady little space than out in the parking lot pulsing naked into the road.

science is death if time is death (part 6)

i see you and for once i wish you could see me in my truest self.
just for a moment though.
i am wasting away in a solitude of discarded energy
energy that rises throated torment like an incantation...
ayah ayah ayah
i may resemble everyone that wells pain to your eyes
but im not
and i can play that everyone if you want
dream like and filled with sadness...it doesn't end.
you will never grace the pleasure of pleasure with pain
for unspoiled insanity is pampered that way.
i can scowl at you and still wish for approval.
wish for the gaze of your eyes
breathe into this void
between us this void
in attempts to swim backward
through a tar world burning
like violence muted through a microscope
picked apart by journalistic tweezers
and my scalple pen smearing this black ink everywhere.

science is death if time is death (part 7)

at some point i moved into this silent desolation
at some point i let it penetrate into the confines of my brain, digging molds and filling them with with an oozing(chard black oozing) much like the aperature of life(pulsating open words)and symbols($%$@)
at some point i lost grasp of everthing beyond the self
at some point i consumned myself with the idea of vast realities and miniature crawl spaces ... crazed with ideas (immortality...conspiracy) ... bludgeoning (ice picks) into my heart and twisting spike rod seering (*****)
at some point i began asking questions
at some point my brain began to go black...shouting words(incorehensible words) pounding on the inside of my skull "i don't know"

science is death if time is death (part 8)

there was this old man that lived next door to me. he used to sit on his back porch in his underware and stare into my window. my mother couldn't afford curtains and since it was winter we needed the few blankets we had for our beds. there were six of us.

this old man would stare into my window. on the seldom day that no one was home in my house and his wife was at the market or out playing bridge, i would undress for this old man. i would slide off my white panties and expose my scarcely haired vagina. i would look at this old man and the old man would look at me. then he would stand up in his loafers and sweatsocks, slide down his starched boxer shorts and fondle his weathered penis.

he never moved his eyes from mine; never smiled or altered his expression. he just rocked back and forth and waited for me to slip my tiny fingers between my legs. i would stare back at him expressionless. i would bite my lips trying to be unaffeted by this new pleasure...and then my neck weakened and fell back....it's those few times that make me remember.

science is death if time is death (part 9)

the only answers are manifested hypothesis

science is death if time is death (part 10)

list of a confused psychotic:
1)stop losing your mind
2)write a resume
3)find a house
4)call parents
5)get a voice messaging system
6)find a job
7)get rid of car
8)find cat
9)go over budget
10)look at yourself in the mirror
12)write about your life(make sure to pretend you know exactly where and when you lost your mind)
13)rationalize that somehow it is all going to be okay

it’s amazing what a little too much coffee can inspire

Love luster lost to tossed around freedom
succumbed to austerity,
clarity comes from momentary consequence

In innocence
inspiration dies a romantic death
a soft breath lost to bad breath and lack of prudence

Disparity only exists in the mind
and moments recorded in mime-like signs
a divine reminder of our intuitive design

In time you express that which needs no explanation
it hurts a lot less when there is recognition
followed by ovation and spared cigarettes

Regrets and Cru stations shed bone to grow
a system we try to then pretend to know
by dissection resurrected knowledge fellows

Erection of new ideals in a moment
only to hurt those that live aloneness
I own this

A simple lack of knowingness
births communion killed
by mental emotional bloodshed

Fed upon weakness
drought and confusion
helpless lack of evolutionary communion

And yet a reunion sheds a faint light
trite in eyes that see not the history
dreams sewn more in reality than mystery

With a sprinkling of alpha
delta hear me I need to be rescued
saved from an eschewed version of beta

Vedic in refuse
reused to profundity
reminded of obscurity

Then sent home
to see and be
the real me

Love seeks no definition
but extradition of a past uncomfortably
simple words awaited

known then



Punctuated through inflection
in Cesaire-like method
I'm dressed in secretion

Completion too drunken
to take effect
retrospect hidden too much to reflect

A sect of prime
numbers fumble
towards infinity

Drug into nighttime
frightened by bliss
missed the right time

And yet
the thread silken
sustains the pull of webbing

Ebbing in a moonlit
calciferous harvest
prolific preponderance

Makes no sense
to vernacular over defined
by new verbiage

Vegetative in function
read in conjunction
to ritualistic spelunking

here a seer

Believer in you
a true blue
friend in the end

No more confusion
contusing impression
succession impedes on enlightenment

Like excrement described while naked
sacred as scratched flesh
on your bedspread

And head for those too experimental to feel
the new deal passed off in proving conversation
elated when left to your own device

Thrice opportunity
leaves us all hungry
thuggery mocking our lack of security

Flowing immaculately
upon keys too friendly
spewed once again

In a stream
fiendishly lying

hones upon eves
above trees

Trellising winters' branches
expansive thinking
precludes the brink

Rhyme exiting
heated energy

Adverb in tow
flow sows seeds
of evergreens' slowly

Holy unwrapped
and awkwardly seen
in mornings attempt at poetry dreams

I gleam like centrifugal motion
a writer's love lost to devotion
through type faced potions

Concocted by the conscientious
prophetically calling for an end to this nonsense

I sleep

another one bites the dust: a meditation on single life

broken hearted
hopeless romantic
fearlessly lonely
under sexed

i don't want to be alone....
i have seen the other side and know that it's greener
the problem....the only men i get all butterfly tummied about turn out to be dysfunctional losers who...depending on age...probably will end up alone for their lack of willingness to shut-up and grow-up....i just spent close to a third of my life with someone who treated me worse than anyone has ever treated me in my life and it was still so much more rewarding than dealing with men that can't even communicate about relationships past a middle-school IQ...so maybe i'm just a hopeless romantic for the assholes of the world...the confused and lost souls who would rather hoard all of their exentricities away in their brain than risk being loved for who they are....essentially committing themselves into a little self-induced psyche ward....and this attraction to the wrong guy leaves me confused and i cry and am heartbroken for the lack of a chance to even find out if i'm interested before i'm shot down by their inability to even begin to grasp what is is that they want...or who they want...or if they want...i want to be loved for who i am...so i left the man who loved me unconditionally for what i represented...and i thought i had learned my lesson...started giving men the benefit of the doubt...tried dating people i didn't have butterflies for...but then i turn myself into a nervous reck...started feeling like i didn't want to talk to anyone anymore....but then i'm alone again...the worst part...i've actually found a couple who seem like real men...only they're usually so young...i just don't see a future in it...what happened to the 70's babies that fucked them up so bad...i have some ideas, but don't make the rules...so here i am again...broken hearted by a fool who doesn't know even the slightest bit about me...insulted and offended by a typical retardation of simple human interaction...so if you don't have butterflies for me...own up to it and let it be known..we can be friends....that much i'm good at....and if the butterflies do flutter through...shut-up and let it be...and damn unless the sex sucks...can't we just fuck 10-12 times before we need to worry about it...cause 1 is the loneliest number that i ever knew!

care for a chlamydia cocktail

so right...the sexual revolution...or should i say evolution...where sex revolves around plastic and pills...where a break could be as long as 24 hours...text messages and insurance...re-assurance and uncomfortable conversation......where do you stand in all this...probably somewhere in the middle...what ever happened to fuck for fuck's sake...i don't need to be drunk to want to fuck you baby...and you don't need to be drunk to admit you're a dirty promiscuous bandit

love is real and don't you forget it...

i just spent a beautiful week at the hands of many friends old and new...i learned that some poeple are so afraid of commitment they can't even pick a favorite color....i learned that true old friends can love you in the moment and still wake up your true old friend....i learned that it doesn't take as many drinks as time goes on to turn us into lesbians...i learned that sometimes the people you care about from far away really care back....i learned that it was not all in my head...that love can be as real as you make it....i learned that i love myself enough to never give up....and that i love my daughter enough to never leave her behind.... (but i already knew that)....i learned that attraction can be spontaneous...and still exsist in the morning...i learned it's really hard to photograph your own ass with an iphone....that longing can make you happy and sad at the same time...that i love you....that your psychic....that you could love me back....that i am living a dream....that it's all working out exactly the way it's supposed to...and...(call it cliche)..but the universe is conspiring to make my life perfect

inspired by the eye of a friend

on an evening yellow a golden illumination of friendship is captured
honest feelings and intuitions exist in the cards
kind words travel by text and lips softend by a sychronisity of color coordination
friends laugh then well wish before travelling through cold streets
conversations until morning
drifting into a slumbered head cradled in fur

Dreams and the Supernatural

In the darkness of luminous rain clouds Sarah knelt down and prayed. It was three hours prior that she got the news of an impending social death that was sure to end her career as the local whore. Only moments before the call she decided that single life was bound to slowly eat away at her soul if she had to live this reality a second more. So in the newly increasing wind and rain she forgot about the fact that she was only wearing a tank, day shorts and spiked backless heels. She forgot about the sooty asphalt. Forgot about the people on the street that may have something to say about this bizarre act of selflessness. Knees to the earth and hands folded to the sky, rain pouring down, Sarah prayed. With no religion, no conscious thought, no perception of the exterior world carrying on around her, Sarah asked for something. It was a simple request, a universal request, “Give me something to live for.”

It was in this moment of simple offering that the phone rang again. Hands unsure, voice shaking, she answered, “Aloo?”
It was the same voice she had penetrated her mindspace only moments before. The same voice that condemned her to a deadly reality of escaping time spoke. “Sarah, are you sitting down?” It’s a fact that being on your knees on a busy LA street wasn’t exactly sitting, but close enough for the hesitant “yes” to roll carelessly from her trembling lips. “Well,” came the voice like a slow tremor, “due to a system error I have good news, life changing news.”

“Yes, I’m listening,” muttered Sarah, more confused than ever.
“You aren’t HIV…(pause)...You are however 10 weeks pregnant”

And in this moment the clouds parted, the light on the corner changed from red to green and sinking down deeper into the asphalt, Sarah’s knees began to bleed.

Swallowing the dry lump in her throat and dropping the phone, Sarah began to cry.
She cried for her newfound trust that there did exist a higher power, she cried for the person who would get the next deathly life changing phone call, and she cried for her unborn child that may never know its father. The sun’s otherworldly heat beat down upon her back through the sole hole in the endless cloud. And as blood and water and salt poured out of her, her heart pounded a house like beat in her chest. Her chest heaving like cellophane over a woofer, asphalt bloody, and phone dead, she prayed once more. This time it was more of an incantation than prayer and the words rattled from her lungs like the piercing sparking halt of a train against tracks.

“Surround me in light and give me the strength to succeed”
“Surround me in light and give me the strength to succeed”
“Surround me in light and give me the strength to succeed”

“So be it”

inspired by the chance meeting of two friends

Like your eyes bloomed after opening up like waves against a failing jetty, so is my love for you explosive. Warmth flows from lips gothic in impression, falling upon moments of newness and bottles of wine opened to breathe. Life doesn’t need to make sense but sometimes it does in such a simple way that it warrants no explanation. Industry surpasses solitude and love surpasses conscious thought. Dreams unexplained seep into a mornings newness.

astral travel can be acheived by consistent meditation