Nirvana, recompense

Between the ones and zeros,
lingering within a yellowing sort of cellophane haze,
a whole number is born, expanding the horizons,
colliding, smashing into particles of thought,
tells a story:

between here and there exists a place,
a certain locale - a state of mind,
a kind of blind metaphor for peace,
an abstraction of space, or merely the misstep
of an old man's clumsy gait

in between right and wrong i found myself
fumbling in a fugue, a fog that had not lifted,
it spread its arms about me, though never
quite touched me, then into nothingness it became
saw-dusted, a memory

and i in limbo (some time was spent)
i yearned for the feeling of not being kissed,
i, not seen yet somehow sensed,
i, not alone but always missed,

in a crowd...

i am the dream you had on the eve of your death,
(the one that woke you, compelled you to write these words in haste)
of a smallish blonde boy who spoke in tongues
and whose flesh begat an emptiness,
a wet dripping kind of hollow mess,
reflected in a pool of his own benevolence,

did u come here to find this - this nirvana, this recompense?

Beast, my god, beloved

Oh my god,

Oh my god:

rhapsody reproach me
rhapsody, the engine churns
collapsing me, boasting
"I am boundless, father", learns

that what was not there has become,
having stepped away from the faceless many
into light, shapeless, changing
recognizing now, a sentient being
bleeding blackness on perception
of it's form-enraptured seedling

and so it seems, we could not hear what we had never heard
and in this, our fear was a bit absurd

but now upon knowing
the existence of it's flowing,
can we actually see this thing for which we have no simple words?

In the summer reversed, motel

Make it feel good
make it feel good
make it feel good
make it feel good

i am salted
i am oceans
i am falling
i am frozen

make it feel good
make it feel good
i am salted
i am frozen

out my window
i've a view
of a car
parked with you

make it feel good
i am oceans
make it feel good
i am falling

sun splashing
wet the pavement
motel crashes
winter backwards

i am falling
i am falling
i am falling
why aren't you?

Porcelain priest

I wonder if the look upon my face expresses the life that i waste
when confessing to the porcelain priest, my shiny dumb face
materializes, pushes a teardrop into bile, and no it hasn't yet
been awhile, since the last time we met.

I wonder if this smile can hide
all the lonliness i brush aside,
for surely these teeth are a sign that my sins
are tunnelling their way out again.

I wonder if i am alone and whether or not i am to blame
for all the shrapnel left over from all the explosions in my brain
and i wonder if i am hollowing out my insides to start anew
to create a space for a kinder, gentler you.

And so, i wonder if you can even hear me,
simultaneously sensing, that in the end it doesn't really matter if you do.

She sloth valhalla

Words streaming across the room screaming she sloth valhalla she ride the night her merriment cannot replace the effects of a truth that careless hands break defenders of old lands rape earth villify turn truth into lies a smile sometimes will hide the detritus of our genocides break sloth the aftermath is our bullet to mainline crush fear leave all too clear the tracks of our shameful ways stifle biology in the wake of our days to put forth the misconception that we are not animal by design she sloth valhalla now having gained some distance she has been forsaken having once awakened now bowing down to the illumination of a truth that is hard to take that we might be incapable of restraining our human love she the sloth the truth not wasted on the youth our love for one spells disaster for the masses and in her candor she saw certain chances to break loose from the branches tied taut to tree dances in shadows fog reaches blessing those who love all while she sloth valhalla remains.

The shallows

Trudging through the depths of my shallows,
shining the blistering moon, sun swallows,
frequent the air, breathe, she follows-
making time fade slow, now radiate:

dream the metaphor of sound escapes to resound becoming
so soon the howling ends at once, now humming;
i am the hands that reach from below to sky strumming -

syntax fall, syntax away, let the sound be all,
leave the mind to play

boast we, must we, the importance of meaning?
and forego we feeling the passion of being?
when there is evidence to believe that absurdly, surely,
to the shallows of mind, we evacuate.

Obscura, mind, disintegrate

belittler i am rhyme
forgetful of the time
obscura relinquished power
to the philosopher of the hour

spin we tales of heads, we flip to find
misshapen magistrates unveiled unwind
pyorrhea my mouth and tooth decayed
break magic the clouds at once betrayed

soak me - and i am damaged youth
liquid residue bloat me - and i have distorted truth
clothe me - an organic shroud the sacred state
mold me - obscura mind, now disintegrate.

Pedantic x

pedantic x our moments of truth
search whirling glass doctor
float around - lift off the ground
making haste to chase the unexpected

i am the blasphemer angels cannot cry
happiness is struggling to move the unmovable
i am the mediocre among you angels never die
moving is struggling to be happy

butterfly crystalize nightmare dripping acid
sweat from the brow of a dead man come signs
of moments solitary living reliquary can not i come
romantic i tremble the truth when
pedantic x represses our youth.

Mindless me

That smile, etched in my mind, drawn lazily with careful hands,
walks swiftly through blue emotions cast askance,
becomes the line which distinguishes the line which extinguishes
the vacant space of my mind.

If I took you aside I might inform you that I have lived for millennia only to be born anew with each coming of the draining sun.

And then I would continue:

If the moon were mine to give I think I could make you live
another day not so far away
from me take all this, take all of it
away, sail broken dreams, burning the fires of your screams
remind me of the lines from a sad song that made me write the words:

mindless me, am I here at all?

Into one

It's time to separate, detach, fall away from the real,
to magnify perception in this non-place where pronouns fail,
to experience the singularity of the underlying reality,
and to leave behind the misconception that this moment can be named.

For we are the travelers
foregoing flesh and the scavengers.
Into one we will immigrate -
into one multiplied, single state.

Take my hand let us gravitate;
give up words let them dissipate;
come together, diverge, and relocate;
into one, again, we shall move.

The letter I have been sending to complete strangers

Try for a moment to believe that this message is intended for you and you alone. The identity of the author is unknown. With this knowledge, the message simply reads as follows:

You are beautiful.

Additionally, know this for certain, that the sincerity of the author is indisputable.

Would this message make you smile or even shine a bit inside?

You are beautiful.

Could you accept this message as the truth of what you inherently are?

And now allow yourself to believe that this message never was. Maybe you were dreaming or have just awoken from a deep, deep sleep. Would it be possible for you to accept the truth of this message irrespective of ever having received it?

You are beautiful.

When you were old

all these bodies will be torn asunder
all this flesh will feed the earth
all this life will pass before me
all this time an infinite moment

all my days are spent in seclusion
all my dreams have passed me by
all my friends i have no friends
all this moment is a lie

the hands i move will fade away
the time of hands reverse to gray
a word unspoken is a lie untold
i thought i knew you when you were old.