Poetry
flows for me
at dawn;
Spider in a drum,
Monitors enslave dogs
to chew on:
"You-can-lip-this."
I am the architect,
You are the game master;
Whole,
in a sock,
Like a sweater got snagged.
Life's whoopin' my @$$:
But it ain't won yet.
Its only victory be death.
Transversificationalism's
Psyche'Lyrical health food,
Ordered-on-line's: "Too busy for the phone?"
Advertised' designs consume a child's mind,
A cheap world's cigarettes make the beer taste better;
Crowbars and rollerblades, keep'em lit and let'em lay there.
Go ahead:
ruin my life,
I ain't done much
with it yet.
Consider it short-lived
Made all you can,
Unite the Serephim,
A throne a thought away.
Off to another beautiful
brilliant beginning,
Where are all the flower soldiers?
I got time to pay attention.
No changing the future
due a chance for the worse;
Life eternal
does'nt mean
you don't die
everytime.
Commit, said, Crime,
And define mankind
amongst themselsves.
No tolerance
and rub
thier nose in it.
Find those perfect colors
and thier tales will blend.
I left my brain on Stonehedge;
The result of a thoughtless action.
Be a dream to live in one.
Got wings? Ain't afraid to use 'em?
Bunnies wade grass
to tall for hopping, since,
Airborn, rabbits crash
(Whiskered unlike cats).
Ghosts in the grave yard,
Bats in the bell tower:
A flip top box of jacks on parade;
Paper wigs and sheep skin money,
The innocent citizen, devil white,
Legislated by criminals
Two times the ordinary mind.
Trance Verse if Occasional is OHM;
UM? DUH.
Poetry
Is a religion.
If you have, even, so much,
As half a "says-a-me" seed of faith,
You can take paper and pen
And make the mountains
Metephores.
Transposed Prosaic Trance,
Free Interpretation.
Poetic
English
Americanized
Composed
Expression
(PEACE)
The Common Soose
Re-Verse Presentation.
Verbal sadists, Oral masichists:
Trans-Aesthetic Lyrism,
Tongue twisted into oblivion.
Here I am, inside again,
Thinking: “There's so much to know!”
But as you physically get taller,
Also, inside, you grow.
Did you ever think,
You thought too soon to tell
About the dangerous things
That teach us all this life and hell?
We, All, go through this experience
Of two legs and a brain.
Some of us are really crazy,
The rest try hard to maintain,
Except for a few
Going stark raving mad,
Believing, they're just being sane.
I've had my fill of lunacy,
Relentlessly, abusing me.
To live in this awakened state,
Deems long hours rest appropriate.
The stomach of my mind grows tense,
Consuming sweets of ignorance:
Predictions, slight to calculate,
Associations, fools equate.
But such things have their table-place,
Among much finer dishes' grace;
Yet a portion dwell in every bite,
Some sole partake in rank delight.
Though not among the thinker's great,
I don't, myself, make clean the plate;
A little shades my palate gray,
And, from the table, push away!
The deepest minds, our world abides,
Have long been owls personified;
But do the greatest of the great
Give any thought to what they've ate?
Or do the owls selective eat,
To intake not some useless treat?
Since, to their company, estranged,
My age old question still remains:
"Do wisest owls have minds that rest,
When calculations they ingest
To have a stomach full of cake?
Or, do they eat ‘till their heads ache.
Lost, until hungry
Back tracks along heart beats
Pumping strength through
Rushing tunnels of blood;
Incentives flood the barren struggle
From reserves of significant ones.
Foolish notions, gone forgottten,
Sit subconscious, 'bout to happen
"Stupid," caught off guard,
Was the smartest out the barn,
Placing first in every spelling bee, since then,
Summer hasn't been the same old fashion jar.
A pparently,
B oundless,
C onsciouness,
D elving,
E ffortlessly,
F reedoms,
G randiose,
H appiness,
I ntelligently,
J ibes,
K indhearted,
L ights,
M irroring,
N ature's,
O bvious,
P otential,
Q uietly,
R eady,
S upportive,
T enfold,
U ltraluminous,
V ibration,
W ithstanding,
X enoniss,
Y awing,
Z ombies.
Television's mushbrains can't break away;
Get an earthworm razor blade.
A civilized, and subtle, violence,
Time, expendable and priceless;
Who says? "We're not here to play!"
I rarely feel like I' ve achieved
Much of anything.
Egg shells fooled a deviled vegtable,
All-mixed-up, swims inside
Boiled flesh shaped skin solidified.
A Self-composing magical ratio
Of application and alignment.
Ice cream globes, and golden cones,
Flying off Oklahoma's pan handle
Of the southwest American skillet.
One would have to not
Be to see it self as I
Whom which is looking.
Exostentialize: The meaning of life,
An open invatation
To the Enlightened ages,
Not a forced signed bottom fine line's
High draw above all.
How would we stop the autumn
to escape the winter snow?
And after death, control the youth,
where spring's new gardens grow?
Contort the knowledge body
with suppression of the proof;
Holding back the seats of power
from the asses of the youth
Who recognize the mind
control of media abuse.
Now, plague, with preparation,
those chose as "next-in-line:"
Box their ears to deafen,
Rake their eyes to blind;
Disabling to witnessing,
The process and the cry:
“Demassify,” “Demassify!”
Now's the time,
Come together, and “Demassify!”
Organic organization's, now,
beyond its phase of incubation,
And come to compromise mechanicalized
bureaucracy's demand to expand,
Witch‘s feeding off of freedom, already,
artificially preserved in cans,
Stocked and bought from shelves
to pacify malnourished man.
Sick of being sick,
I put the power in my hands.
Sick of being sick,
I put the power in my hands.
The symptoms of the illness
mark the music of the bands;
The arts of literature speak
as if to keep in undereducated lands.
Illustration moves more abstract
as the concrete beauty fades,
While the painters of creation
perfect plan the formulation
of their landscapes,
safe from corporate raids.
Unsophisticated ignorance
reigns with acid rain,
And the eyes, who witness culture,
watch as it decays;
The awareness war's guerrillas
hold the last leg as it stands,
Sick of being sick,
I put the power in my hands!
Sick of being sick,
I put the power in my hands.
A peaceful resolution demands itself be heard,
Screaming through the voice of actions,
both extreme and absurd:
An acceleration is in order, of the process,
Once again, confirmed,
Where the endless circle may be furthered,
And Eden seem returned.
A long awaited, dreamed of, world
survived inside for ages,
And with every opportunity, a new delay
fell hard upon the final pages
Of an unwritten history, whom life
has died, a thousand deaths,
To keep conceived, and fresh
upon the mental tongues
of those who will, and have, believed.
As the only direction, unchangeable forward
Leads to more realities and revelations,
Throughout a single, complex, simple revolution,
Fueled by waves of generations:
An unstoppable collage of forces,
Who brings forth, both,
Destruction and restoration,
But above all, pushes on
The birth of new creations.
International psudeo socio-
Economic politic's faulible developments,
Still, catalyze dependentcy.
We, all, Chiefs, Means Indians too.
Geo-meta-physi-metrically
Withdrawling any advocation
Of seperation for security,
The mete-chema-physistry
Offers the flower, both,
It's to be, and not to be.
A non-linear co-existence of every,
All and point, being interwoven
Boundless life thrives inside
The pulse of eaches frequency.
Unfureled, choas overflows, screaming:
"Overthrow Death Vally's scattered plated thrones!"
Signs sang, swinging, violent, beams and posts.
Across Styx' River, outraged,
Rampid protests rampage roars
For equal right indigent ghosts.
A dead mans revolution sprung
Cemetaries coast to coast.
This world's gone crazy,
Everybody knows,
It's a concrete jungle:
Anything goes.
Parents love us,
Cops are scared;
Our generation's
Attitude has flared.
We're sick of laws,
We wish to war;
The old are Earth,
We are the core.
These rules are stupid,
Who draws our lines?
We are the new fruit,
They are the vines.
Set to rumble,
“They” won't hold us in;
We'll run this show;
Then, our next of kin.
Quit giving in,
Break through the bars,
Cross their limits,
This f*c*ing world is ours!
Dust bunnies
Back at old habits!
Underneath the babbling's quiet stream,
Hoove beaten paths stop for water to drink.
Conceptual inversion
Sips sweet as Southern tea,
Bag brewed: sugar free,
Made from the pickings
Of a new England leaf.
Sways from inner-outer-space
be-stilled whatever happenings
imposed their mortal terror
On Its single instance' paradise.
Time paused inside a thought,
Quick willed, heavily armed,
Imagination painted ink and quill.
The wake stretched miles,
(Wide as far)
Crossing boundries world renowned;
Collecting pages spilling unsoundly propelled
From a crumbling over-stuffed shelf.
Compelling readied ears, all,
Young, wise, and old,
To listen to the things
I tell myself...
"Drug addict," "drunk," and good at it:
An alphabet bowl of soup.
Winding shadows
Spin the canyons,
Seeking answers,
Holding handguns,
Expecting salutations,
Denying salute.
Brilliant minds at sudden odds,
What other human conflict
Compares to the gods?
Jupiter dueling-it-out with Zeus,
And all the sense that that makes:
Never-ending. only. raises the stakes,
And, still, again, with all the sense
that that makes.
Common absurdities rush to existence
at the slightest open door:
The curse of the artist,
The pressure of the poor.
All expression made in the likeness
of an instant's reflection.
A couple more Baby-Steps backwards
lives, overwhelming, the connection,
Made worse when words don't come to mind;
Zeus appears human, bringing forth
The potential of reality and time;
Then, comes even deeper lies,
The Hall-of-Fame,
The twisted fibs of the great,
And, once again, with all the sense
that that makes.
Unchanging grace's
Limitless embraces
Inverted outer space's
Change invasion.
Here and gone,
Time passing on,
The damned and the dead,
Paradise and bloodshed,
To live the idea of Heaven:
The gate lies off infinity
squared times seven.
Numbers, measures: Earthly pleasures,
Like feeling and imagining God's endeavors
Are as dreams, merely, crowns, jewls, and rings,
At the disposal of kings and queens.
Fingertips tie strings. The world swings
Three hundred and sixty degrees.
Estimating: How long All's been goin' on,
Now, discloses as one, of many,
“Heavenly” things.
Sweet, smells the heir,
Who's winds come from there...
Cyclones, Tornadoes, and Hurricanes blare
Warning... Warning... Conditions
mark for travesty.
Destruction cleans the slate not
necessarily a tragedy.
What was standing? What was written?
On the golden streets of “Heaven.”
Rebuilt, from scratch,
No more destruction!
How could you
Infatuate
So much distortion?
No more destuction.
My world of mainfested
Happiness and bliss is
being hinderd by other's
Worlds of confusion and s**t.
If with out a thought,
But, for a moment,
Truth, itself,
Glimpses all,
Which it contains.
The truth
is self-made;
Colors
can fade
with the voices
of the lost
who prayed,
Rusting the chain:
Delicate, unstable, innate;
Pieces
Fall,
Pelt,
Like rain.
“Your-World” won't cling,
"When angels sing:"
Final freedom
From everything.
Less signifacance, More innocense;
Freedom left us reasonless.
“Hello, Illness.” “What's your name?”
“It's good that we can meet like this.”
“Are you having a good time
at the masquerade?”
“Have you listened to the notes
the music played?”
“Wine glasses, chiming,
charming more than just the lips
who receive their kiss.”
“Hello, Illness.” “What's your name?”
“Does your weapon fit the game?”
“I ask you, stranger, hit or miss,”
“Are you having a good time at
the masquerade?”
“Look, see, all the fingers love
to point the blame;”
“Scowling faces suffocate from ignorance.”
“Hello, Illness.” “What's your name?”
“Different costumes just the same;”
“Answer me, stranger, lost in the mix,”
“Are you having a good time
at the masquerade?”
“Have you heard the system's serenade?”
“A flow that lies above the bliss.”
“Hello, Illness.” “What's your name?”
“Are you having a good time
at the masquerade.
Where dolphins swim with sub-marines,
The weary scream at traffic lights,
Accusations of deliberate refusal to change.
Soberity-immunity, Sweet inebriantion:
An old joke funny it's still being told;
Logic and reason are forever
fixed on the ungraspable.
Living life on borrowed money,
No such thing as time.
Cash your ass and overdraw your brain,
One way or another determnined
to be blown away.
Play the role that pays the way.
Will to care, assign no blame,
Who's fault you gave a damn?
We're all just a dollar making a man.
Ablity, encompassing power,
Through titles and symbols,
Take the breath of every heart's
desire wrapped up in riddles,
Provoking laugher in a peaceful.
A feel-good beautiful shows its face,
In an otherwise, ridiculous, everyday encounter.
It's the one thing you could do without
That you would miss if it was gone.
When it comes to care
Not "Shall I?"
but, "How
Do I, persue;
Efforts to deceive with honesty
Manipulate by way of truth.
Tell me you wont, so,
I can kill you if you do.
Your asking me my answers,
While you argue their solution.
“Cut-off” from the world in
a fictitious slumber, envied
By Death herself and the people she loves,
Some-of-which have never seen the grave;
Encasing an existence's history
On pages of nightmarish fairytales,
Where no white-horsed hero ever comes,
Leaving more damsels in distress to save;
But, there's a method to the madness of fools,
Who, by no other means, would
approach the truth,
Which demands a man in the end
to shed the lie, or die alive
Inside a transparent boxes'
walls-closing-in.
Suffocation's isolation proudly acts like a fuse,
Counting down the seconds
To the collapsing of a world
(Even Sampson would survive).
Evironmentally aggressive aftermath
Befalls all engagements of war.
Faceless service, for an unseen purpose,
Unknown, and unrendered worthless;
While conscious revels in the obvious,
Savoring eperiences persuant this.
Compulsive or willful,
Influennce to kill for,
Together survive, together die.
Proportionately even alternate equals.
Reality hurts,
When everybody, seems-
To-wanna stick their world
In between the dreamer,
And the dream.
True failure? Final and fatal?
Man can live by faith alone.
Eccentric is electric.
Where police departments and assylums
Share the same complex,
Words come to quick made less sense;
Presenence unhealthy in
An, otherwise, gifted world.
Instances, potentially significant,
Flash before the eyes.
They propogate as fanciful
Coincidence, familliar in disguise.
Eat, of the body of knowledge,
Mindful, and with grace.
Careful caution shows what
Shall exentuate the taste.
Not leave a table setting place
Compiling courses unconsumed.
The ones where had partook,
Another would not have been sued.
But the realtionship, quite frankly,
Goes easily: misconconstrued;
Like the language of a man
Whose medications got him chewed.
While doctors serve up pscho-treats,
Bent on world domination to survive,
Back at the party, across from
Illness, named: another guy,
Ladies, whom fear themselves
To heathly to participate,
Patterns mirroring ways
Computer viruses communicate.
There, masks parade the globe,
Every night's a costume ball in cyber space.
Newspapers are more perfectly planned,
Positioned, conviently attracting a curious face
Outside the subway. Regional transits,
Rushing nutrition, feeding the system:
Self-suffient societies eat themselves
With an instinctive kind of wisdom;
Pentrating, osmosis-like,
The very lair of lies and ides.
Fully conscious operation
Challenges power vested
In mysteries and controversey
(Like Jesus).
Three thousand years has, but,
Mere toddlerized the latest
Expression of "All-"defined.
Ten thousand to come
Draws multiple, untraceable lines,
Floating, as easy in space,
As the seed of a fruit's
Secured-centered root,
Ready behind the rhine.
A drop of water in a bucket dry,
Working for the money-party, all night.
Changing lives, not a dollar
-at-the-door's prospects
For whores, husbands, and wives.
The bourgeois, fries,
The usaual lies,
End up less for more.
I
am,
A piece
of god,
Divinely related,
Unseperated,
Portion of the whole.
What I am, being is God.
What God is, doing is me.
And God is "All"
"I" ever could be:
Unlimited love,
But, how do I know?
Something, inside,
Telling me, so,
The more I listen,
What ears cannot hear,
The closer I feel
Separated from fear.
The One that We are,
The One that I am,
The One we all know,
And don't give a D*mn!
To stop and realize
You are that I Am.
Anticipating suspense
For the biggest fear;
Finding a place to hide,
Or, pretending you're not there.
Learning dark new corners
In the halls and rooms of "You;"
Remembering safe hide-aways,
While hunting somewhere new;
Locking doors,
Not leaving keys,
Complicating rescue
To the cries
Of "Help me, please!"
