Friday, May 11, 2012


The old man wanders into this room, a windowless 
room, full of ghost of his past he is angry this
old man, full of seething for all his brothers and sisters.
full of the hate is his own gray blue heart. all
the regrets stockpiled before his eyes, blinding his
minds' eye to all the wonders and colors and beauties
of the world that surrounds him. if i can not feel
the love neither can they he whispers into the darkness.
i will make them pay he whispers to his own aloneness,
and then another whispered voice breaks his muted concentration.
against his own will his eyes break their silence and
slowly begin to blossom. for the first time he notices
the light coming from the window, illuminating a door
in front of which stands a young girl.
thin, even frail, she looks at him with a defiance
he just can not place. she says nothing and yet the old
man feels an aching in his fortitude. his eyes
open a bit more and blues and greens and yellows appear
dancingly across his consciousness. she is beautiful?
his mind questions... her skin is fair. her green 
eyes pierce his defiance, his purpose. hope she
whispers in her enchantress' voice. hope, his mind
absorbs... is this her name he wonders. he hears
for the first time, the expressions of the fabric
of her dress in motion. she approaches slowly, delicately.
no, hope is her message. at this thought her emotionless
face softens, subtly, the hint of a smile
appears, bringing her intelligent 
features into this new born spectrum of his light.
my god you are beautiful he says aloud for the
first time. hope stiffens slightly but does
not break her stride. the monster inside him
rages as she reaches tenderly for his hand.
you can not touch this beastly child his mind
screams. and then silence. a warm breeze rustles
the old mans hair. lightly, pensively he opens that
last eye, looking down at hope in her utter brilliance.
her hand is in his and there is no room. hand in hand
they stand together in this field of oneness, together. a
young girl named hope, and a new man.

stick figure of a man

why the fuck do i exist?
what the fuck is the point?
i can't change anything at all.
just here to give the machine its' fuel.
just here to sit and stare and laugh and drool.
here to help others you say?
help them do what?
what the fuck is the point?
i don't deserve this fucking life.
i don't deserve these fucking friends.
i am just careless inception.
i am a laughable ruse.
i am fucking nothing and nothing is what i deserve.
this is why i am always alone.
this is why i will always be alone.
so what the fuck is the point?
stick figure of a so called fucking man.
what the fuck is the point.
i'll rot like the rest, i am no different.
same bullshit outer-shell with a fucked up mind to boot.
watch it all fall apart?
watch it all fall apart.
this is the fucking point. 
this is why i'm fucking here.


35 revolutions around the sun.
everyday closer to the "one".
inhibitions fall ceaselessly from this vessel,
the lies seem more & more inconsequential,
the pride & ignorance seem more & more the illusion.
the filter is becoming microbial,
objective, & indifferent. only the the love is seeping
though. like a fine... high grade life.
thanks are in order for so many that it's hard to count.
the learning process...
the living process...
the ever spiraling cylindrical experience,
filling this wondrous life.
i could not be more fortunate, or loved.
i could not be more thankful for this so called intelligence.
the darkness comes and then it goes.
i know without the darkness, there could never 
be such bright light, and instead of the never,
there is only the ever.

Tuesday, February 28, 2012



And a whisper told me watch out
The devil comes in the prettiest of masks.
Greed is confused with need in America.
Confusion is sought, taught, bought, and sold
Without a care in the world.
I’ve found (and been around a bit) that 
Evil thrives at church.
Does God forgive ignorance,
When one knows they are ignorant?
Or is that stupidity?
Because I know that God doesn’t forgive that…
Yet who am I to perceive what God thinks?
I know he hates me, fore I have been 
Really stupid.
(HaHa (= )
I, myself, am not ignorant, yet I’ve been caught up
In such a mess of crazy lies these 
People call reality, well, it
Makes me question if I even exist at all.
How can I be true to God, when truth is the anti-Christ to the people?
People want perfection, not nature,
We’ve actually managed to make nature, natural things…
We see it though.
My friends I’ve never run across see
It.  Beyond the philosophers,
There’s this eras musicians,
Philosophy to music.
And goddamn I love it!
All my close personal friends,
They’ve felt my graceful madness.
Fore grace really is the essence of all
Beauty in this reality;
From pimping hoes,
To the perfect trajectory on
The mortar fired at your enemy,
To the suicide squeeze play,
To a hummingbird hovering nimbly upon
A flower of pink & gold & violet
Which sways gently to the wind as
A memory of a past love
Rolls whispering through 
That field of knowledge.
Or maybe just a peaceful moment…
It feels good to purge on grace, 
But I do everything that I can
To remember that love is the answer.
It’s slowly being shunned from our society,
And they wonder why it is hard for me to smile…
But keep in mind, this is to the reader, whoever
He or she may be.
I have a goal, that goal is love.
Love plus Intelligence equals Freedom,
Love plus Greed equals what we have now.
Ha! And I’m so alone in this mess they call reality.
And that is why I love hope.
of hope
is all that I need.
That little good to prevail over all of this evil,
No, not prevail; to survive…
Truth is micro-secondly losing the battle.
Yet God is truth…
And I am, me.
It is good to know truth,
In the end.

Stupidity makes me lift my eyes…
But so does laughter,
Why? Why!

Sickness in Health

Sickness in Health

I have this sick feeling of health,
A disorientation and helplessness that does not feel quite…
I look back into her eyes,
Straining to break away from the daunting clarity of the moment.
She smiles blankly with a complete lack of a guilt-ridden thought entertaining this new movement; this burrowing of an instant.
The rouge  of Hopes’ cheeks swell seasonally with meek bewilderment and loving, dyslexic cause.

Sad & Unsought

Sad and Unsought

I thought that our likeness of stature could conclude a so rare likeness of mind, yet this ever doubting thought process has all but counted you out to the fore.  So sad to see the beauty of the butterfly so effortlessly extinguished by the surreality of the fire.  How many like you will fail before the minds’ eye?  Surely you soul has used so many bodies as to find it trivial at your content for the material madness.  The un-conscience mind unites us all in the simply complex terror of the thunderstorm.  Why do you not come out of the rain? Why do you not find the sleepy night so much more peaceful? When will the thunder soothe and relax and make modest your willingness to believe in the evidence of the cycle?  The frailness of the shell is an allusion to breaking.  The blind-less eye evokes the near impossibility of immortality. This is nothing shocking!  We are all invited to the glamour-less grounds of nirvana.  All you must do is accept and see.   Put down your plastic gold, stop drugging your children, hear the cries, legit the lies, and confiscate the surreality.  One god, one conscience mind, one religion for us all, peace is the vision and karma will see to the destiny.  The window is now open and the warm breeze of wisdom floods light and sense and unity.  The energy is a cycled circle; the reality is sad, and unsought.

Wondering Parasite

Wondering Parasite

So many pages of red to fill up
So little time I guess I pass.
For the cause of existence,
For the wealth of silent commentary.
Thanks Lennon.
Who’d a thought one
Aquarius/Dragon would be a
Walrus too?
More they before I?
I am what I am…
Watching, listening.
I am the parasite, seeing, feeling,
Knowing that it could conquer,
Yet thinking that it shouldn’t,
Thinking the image too violent,
Too lacking of sense.
For it is beside itself, looking in,
Feeling the parasite was a 
Case of bad teaching, of rotten truth…
One wonders what could be if all that was taught from birth were truth.
One wonders…