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 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 somehow i didn't realize how miserable i would be when i boarded the plane to the burmuda 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 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 remind me of what drives 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 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 could i have ended up in this place......i am generally a happy 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 real 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 probably know enough about yourself that you are doing me some sort of favor by not talking to the same way i feel like i would fall in love with probably feel like you would hate so sad...i feel 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 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 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'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 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 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 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 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 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