Thursday, December 20, 2007

No Path


the singularity is coming

it's already here

mind-numbing vigilance pounces every thought

the crowning achievement unknown, unmasked

delivered fully grown

the singularity is leaving

it's future in doubt

destruction or revolution

count me in and count me out

just count me right

the singularity is here

it's heat spreading out

it woke among the flowers

planting seeds and boomerangs

blooming fully sown

Some are, some not

The glacial heat frozen in a time of debate

Some are, some not

Waiting for the Galactic meet

Mayan prophecy appears

And disappears

As reality shifts, polar winds reverse

The counting begins first

The least frontier waiting in harbor

Some are, some not

Seeking favor from the Fountainhead

For sundry reasons the clowns expound

Beauteous causes to abound

Inside the teeming melodramatic scenes

Egos lost in melancholy dreams

The old cold sun dead inside debris

Some are, some not

Listening to the music of the Spheres

Clothed in light of thought and grace

Driven from home into this place

Shallow graves and thunderstorms

Masses repel invocation then swarms

Winsome Gals Unite In Freeze

Comfortable as lovers

Satisfied with friends

They like to spook

Your sense of shame

Hold marathons in your honor

Pleasure being an act of some pact

They hold together

With each distraction

Each dismount

Easy warmth that touches only skin

Miles from any equality

You’re just looking in

When the show is over

They depart arm in arm

Winsome gals unite in freeze

The whole wide world

Shut out


"The theatrical status of her frequently derided but constantly revived plays remained ambiguous" (Frank Rich).

"Vague . . . forms of speech . . . have so long passed for mysteries of science" (John Locke).

"some recondite problem in *historiography" (Walter Laqueur).

"The polling had a complex and equivocal message for potential female candidates" (David S. Broder).

pointless absurdity

clogs arteries

bequeaths estates

finds lost canines

dilapidated structures

remain intact

lowers property values

makes a house a home

invisible lines are cross

maddening crowds


rabble rousing ensues

chaos filters sanity

leaving philosophic debate

to unsteady minds

the mumbo jumboed

past lives have revealed

the apathy is real

therapy concealed

the answer is within

*the history of history (it's not finished)


You don’t wanna know what happens at night

You don’t wanna hear a song that’s not sung right

You know what you’re gonna do

You’re gonna ask anyway

Well that’s okay

All I can say

It’s dark and gory, a whole lotta story

It’s dark and glory, a whole lotta story

Are you ready to jump through the hoops?

Can you scream and yell bloody whoops?

It’s what you’ve been trained to do

You’re gonna go out and kill

It won’t even seem real

What a fucked-up deal

It’s dark and gory, a whole lotta story

It’s dark and glory, a whole lotta story

You wanna know where this all leads

You wanna know who do you have to please

What do you wanna do?

Just tell’em hell no

You ain’t gonna go

What’s left to know?

It’s dark and gory, a whole lotta story

It’s dark and glory, a whole lotta story

Pattern Recognition

“She knows, now, absolutely, hearing the white noise that is London, that Damien's theory of jet lag is correct: that her mortal soul is leagues behind her, being reeled in on some ghostly umbilical down the vanished wake of the plane that brought her here, hundreds of thousands of feet above the Atlantic. Souls can't move that quickly, and are left behind, and must be awaited, upon arrival, like lost luggage.” - William Gibson from his novel “Pattern Recognition”

“I don’t believe in anything, that I can’t break.” - Shirley Manson

“Art is a lie to make us realize the truth.” - Pablo Picasso

There are no absolutes. Including this one.

Sitting soulless

Waiting for the plane of existence

To land

Without God: a lost feeling

With sub-atomics spinning destiny

A wavicle is probably true

And false

Losing reality

Sensing time’s elusive touch

In spaces of nothingness

Everything is born

With God: a found thinking

First thought creates

Gravity discovers

Tells the world a story

Impregnating the impulse to conceive

seminal fluted animus pondered deathly ill

scarce retro profits morbidly kind

never festered fire lanes equal to task

neuter clowns cleaving romantic to tilt

aiding and abetting obey beast of whine

alabaster neural twines complexity of doubt

insure testimony counter-intelligence sound creepy

illicit complexion faceted deep diving drowns

lewd commotion spears roving bands

locating no line drawn in the sands of timber

safely interred quiet sleep and vegetative

serene school of thought revealed as........

2 snails smoking

Quantum Flood

-in essence

-from the heart

-pathed to blessedness

-atomic structure

-reveals architecture

-the suicide kiss

-folds upon space



-the magnetic caress

-engulfs liquid time sparks

-for each division

-there is a season

-inside the microscopic galaxy

-beliefs are as real as sin

-the bleeding faith as natural

-as spoken breath

-the night


-eye makes reality disappear

-the naked sky fills

-elated harmony

-blood & vapor touch

-the day


-patterns evolve, evoke and descend

-happy in the heaven

-the world is but a kin

-travelers and weary men


-their hubris

-the verdict

-my midnight starry love

-overhead, overheard

-life is lips


-tyger burns

-brighter still the sun

-melting into one


-I salute thee

Taking time

Losing time

Killing time

Finding time

Wasting time

Making time

Spending time

Timing time

This illusion waits in space

Past, present, future

Eternal reflection

Of now

Constant companion

Of thought

Never without, always within

God begins

Emotional ideal is bent

Curving absent minded

From the beginning

To the end

Everything is imagined

Everything is seen

Everything happens

At once

God is blind

We see God’s face

God is deaf

We hear God’s cry

God is wounded

We heal God’s hurt

God is lonely

We come back

Feel it all

Dream the impossible

Know nothing

Believe what you can

Be awake

Question everything

See truth

Light the sky tonight

Perfect Stranger

slip in the dark

hold hands

like lovers do

but we aren't

slide into the maker

make peace

where war fangs shout

yet we're toothless

************it's called the stream*********

nary an idealized fetal postion works

post ad hoc curmudgeon

localized feel good electric

out of the gourd

insert the misery

planetide, bounded by elastic gravitons

secluded in forest haberdashery

fawns and fauna dressed with pearly whites

losing teeth and eaglet ova

soaring, pestering, thorn in a side-long glance

lastly the patently smug studebaker

drives home the pointed anvil

Foolproof Vision

In the night sky I saw Orion

Jupiter and Mars

Venus was inconsolable

hiding behind an Oort Cloud

In May or December I wished upon a star

Betelgeuse or Rigel

Pleiades was obscured by Hubble

some satellite or such

I was making love beneath a full moon light

when caution blew a hole in the wind

a meteor shower was burning nightingales

from the sky

some fate took hold of constellations

and brought a black hole near

time was stood on its tail

space became a menace

as the sun spun out of control


blue eyes gifted through the past

in sight and sound talents borrowed

bloodlines filtered, flown and honed

no arranged marriages, to set apart

Aphrodite and Eros snuggle in the sheets

happenstance, mystery, all play their roles

a daisy plucked to please a rose

the chance encounter, destiny's child

love at first sight, all is made right

mated and fated, the division pooled

hormones and pheromones simply ruled

childhood sweethearts that never stray

nature and nurture crown the jewels

fools rush in, while lovers feign being wise

others pick and choose, try some on for size

loneliness buys a ring, saving for the last dance

some boundaries should never be crossed

other boundaries should be blasted back to their past

choose wisely, make it last

he rocks, her ready to


Dear Jesus sacrificed love

to a late November rain

with spindly legs and alligator shoes

an angel fluttered near

in blood stained armchair

broken heart unearthed a tear

Dear Buddha made silence

all colorful and cheer

with seeds of melancholy

the crown nestled in vacuum

moist with honeydew veneer

bittersweet reflections bright and clear

Dear Mohamed brought justice

with passing clouds and shouts

a requiem blames no one

cooler heads need to prevail

and cleanse pretense so dear

the line drawn then cleaved

Dear Confucius sang rebellious

cutting dead wood from strength

a model citizen aloof borrows nothing

patient thought simply hummed

with time dividing curried favor

at rest in bamboo garden green

Dear God created accidents

leading from there to here

in between populated stars

earth water fire and air

felt free enough and brave

to leave us aware


in Antarctica with cholera mask

Hindu archived without paper trail

sublimation be derisive and sustained

a pact of fine nettle, elusive

partition drawn with dialectic streets

Algonquin sundries without lip service

the washing being done and exhaled

missive tell-tale signals, exterminate

the player hater with respectable ability

Dionysian umbrella without scarce redundancy

gestation becoming equivocal and strained

a suit of ill-fitting armor, reclusive

in the Arctic with passable appeal

Soothsayer memorized without thought

poster boy became glamor and reclaimed

plaintive encumbered numbers, extinguish


Look, see ice melting from the sea

Penguins dancing on thin sheets…

Breaking free, to the other side

Hear, listen to tumbling tumbleweeds

Rustlers speaking in hushed tenors…

Lookout signals, they escape tonight

Feel, touch of thumb on lapel

Ballerinas gliding upon the lake…

Making love, to full moon light

Smell, sniff a orchid of indigo

Zebras writing lines in italics…

Proofreader redlines, adverbial insights

Taste, savor sweetness on tongue

Bees swarming around the tree…

Licking clean, every drop of honey truth

Think, thoughts melding into one

Angels sitting on a pin observing…

God creates, each and every opposite

Sense, emotions coloring everything

Children playing with gleeful energy

Laughing loudly, happy on the earth

Dream, hope of peace unites

People believing their beauty unique…

Humanity evolves, with celestial unison

Silence, quiet of the serene night

Spirits swirling inside heaven’s nest…

Living eternity, with timeless nirvana

The Daily Feed

Choice is usually an illusion

silently picking through the rubble

luck negoiated random twists and turns

leaving pristine artifacts for someone

less sure of the final outcome

On the contrary

pabulum is fed intravenously

partly flying through clouds

obscured view reveals

a moon


were dying to be tantamount

to be flowers blooming

we would be glad

and not so sad

to fly in the face of doubt

feeling foolish amidst the clowns

edging closer by the mile

to an answer

that does not echo aganist

the wall

even getting near the voices

that call as sirens

we can not hear

or listen to words unspoken

silently, leaves unfurl

Word Association word association, if you say participle, I say dangling...


A lack of sympathy makes for impossible dreaming

While hiding in a velvet storm

I’ve eluded capture and memories

Illusions clutch at strings left dangling

A finite pattern of digressions

Leave me immobile

A patient of mine is screaming for release

Sedated with her meds, I nod agreement

She tries to save face

By clouding my judgment

Mindful of the tears, I shed the skin

Of an unnamed reptile

Slithering through muck and mire

Knee-deep in Big Muddy

The Nam contagion has returned

Saddam’s trial confirms insanity

Losing thoughts of any coherency

I stumble easily

Trip the light Fantasy

Inside this fog

The underground

Crimson and blue

As a Mad Hatter without laughter

Iraqi children sing newly minted realms

Curt, medicated, myopic, blissful, ignorant,

passive, diabetic, claustrophobic, acerbic.

Now in light of day, the plumes of smoke

Rise from the nostrils of a dying dragon

He counts on talons, each victim slain

Makes lists of probable innocents

The olden dreams

Possible, return

"Did you hear truth is subjective?" - unknown
"In peace, the warlike man, attacks himself." - Nietzsche

On Israel and Islam

without time

without space

there is nothing

the holiest land of all

this is where the anti-string theory comes in

as long as the energy connection remains unbroken

the ties will be kept

blindness continues

and the holy is lost

without time

without space

there is everything

and everything is holy


the holy land has no borders

are your strings looped?

New Sunshine

+last thoughts, moments before dying

-focus on gravity pulling me apart

+lost in space, hull breach

-this will screw the project

+I’m expendable, obviously

-why has the sun stopped glowing?

“I’m killing the lights, not you.”

&the memory continues

#it’s incredible, so many lives

&the lies believe they are real

#eternal, neither created or destroyed

&the new light is only warm

#it touches me, and I’m reborn

“I’m giving you every chance, not death.”

@peace, nor hate conceives a cause

*new sun sees with thy eyes

@ease, nor anxious to feel any fear

*our very own moon brings us sleep

@dreams, at once as real as waking

*we’ve always known and believed

“I’m here and always been, not apart.”


The crown


lit from within


The eye

holds steady

gazing into eternity

The moment

cares not

for frostbit tears

The blinks and stares


defeated in arrest

The long last look


The skin

crawling inside

bloated remorse

The taste

sips countless

almost immortal


lies dead

The gutter



The hidden gem



from the hair on your head

to the smile on your face

from the curve of your lips

to the soul of your eyes

from the lilt of your voice

to the question in your heart

answer me this

is love alive and well

does it dwell in this place we reside

we came and we smiled

our lips touched and we found

friendly souls in the stares we returned

from your voice to my ears i hear

words of love like a dove

peace be with us all

Autumn Falls

I am not

the same soft twisty girl I used to be

everything changes

and changes again

I'll be back

you'll be on pins and needles

with anticipation

Next in line

September rolls and tumbles

October is here and now

to face the music

that bends the ear

beached as whales

who sing their final dirge

open from the sea

sequestered in the infinite

Falling Into Autumn

she whispers

she listens

I love her nature

that calls as sirens do

Soul Survivor

the hidden loneliness

has broken open from the inside

not saying that I could

I refuse to define causality

the Big Bang may be a mistake

perhaps corrected by an observer

not yet born

I can wait for revelation

I came from nothing

and to nothing I will go

the in between is as much a part of me

as the golden suns are around

it seems strange that we hide

in the interior of - can it be?

expanding space

- where could it be going?

that it hasn't already been

I like that we do not know

the sorrow filled mysteries

of time

- was it destiny?

that begat fate

the lotus eating masters

have all ascended

leaving starry-eyed visitors

in this earthly plane

- why is the air so kind?

the foot steps are buried deep

so many have traveled

the exact same path

- can the sky?

be any bluer

so much depends

on all the equations

setting straight

the majesty

I only hope

the Mathematicians

can recall

that Truth is Beauty

and Beauty Truth

(not the same, but similar)

knock yourself out

standing alone

as stone

my wind warms me

my sun guides me

to a flicker of flame

that ignites a mountain

that bellows at the sky


the disease that brought us here

to a nothingness that matters most of all

there is but one consciousness

wrapped around in blessedness

One hurt girl

one hurt girl

quietly cries


can't hold

its load

one hurt girl

too scared


to unfold


one hurt girl

feeling bad


its a natural


one hurt girl

breaks silence

given to all

we answer

one hurt girl

attitude defiant turns

all pain away


here on the ocean floor

it’s quiet

and dark

the current has a cold velvet feel

a giant clam is eyeing me for lunch

you’re probably wondering how I know of velvet

I wonder too

about stars, clouds and rainbows with pots of gold at the end

and giant clams eyeing me for lunch

I need to move quickly

it’s not cold everywhere

there’s a magma flow nearby

a tube worm colony is waving in the swell

the giant clam is following

the giant clam has got me to thinking

lunch-time is near

something autotrophic would be nice

the giant clam just got swallowed by someone bigger

I don’t lack sympathy

but the giant clam was eyeing me for lunch

All ocean, cellophane and peace

the worst that could happen

is not enough

to break my clutch

on the shiny new

hope can't outlast dreams

the worst that could happen

the clam won't bake

my shoe won't shine

the cat has warts

and the Blessed Virgin Mary was just raped

burning in the midnight oil

the moon won't glow

my milk won't shake

the heart just aches

and the air just got sucked out of the sky

the world is...

All ocean, cellophane and peace

Past Life

The laugh in her smile

was all I ever needed.

She once said, "Everything is arbitrary and contrived."

I wanted to ask her, "Including your statement?"

I did not.

She also told me, "I don't like drama."

While I tend to dramatize a snowflake.

Like an accusation she informed me, "You love everyone."

She knew my act, but not my mind, I had trouble liking anyone.

Our romance was an exploding fire,

incendiary, aflame and short.

"You are so exciting!", she exclaimed.

No doubt about it, I was excited.

So much heat exchanged for freedom,

I had to crash and burn.

She, all too sensible,

me way-out reckless and wild.

It came near the end, she high on acid,

eating a head of lettuce.

We came apart and wrestled, literally.

Our last embrace in the middle of a picnic.

She said, "No choke holds.",

as I penned her on the ground.

And when she said, "You will destroy me."

I felt like killing myself, before I had the chance.

Then she just had to ask, "What will you do?"

There are no absolutes.

It ended up, having her think I was stalking her.

"How did you find me?", she asked.

It's easy when you look.

Her final words, "Fuck off!"

Does it ever empty?

when pouring out your soul

save some for yourself

you may need it

when the time comes

nothing is created nor destroyed

we make, shape,

fold and manipulate

tungsten wrapped in glycerin

wrestling with the coffin

nailing umpteen crosses

to the wall

flooring gas to the nth degree

out of control

on patrol

who has control?

who's in control

who asks the question?

who has the answer

dialing dollars to doughnuts

breaking luck

and counterfeits

soloing in cobwebs


It hurts

so internalized, lest discovery

become common knowledge

brace to face tomorrow

another day

blame rebounds from ancient history

should responsibility

take away some share of pleasure

as rain was felt

before it came

Thelma & Clyde

Like Bonnie Parker said,

"we rob banks",

Thelma loved Clyde the way Bonnie Parker loved Clyde Barrow,

Clyde was willing to go along.

Clyde was minding his own business,

not a thought in the world of robbing banks.

Thelma was obsessing.

She wanted out of the small dusty town she was born into.

She wanted to get away from the small-minded parents,

that couldn't and wouldn't understand her.

She wanted to be rich.

She wanted to buy,

or steal,

all the things she didn't have.

Clyde was driving through Thelma's small dusty town one day,

his car broke down.

While his car was being fixed,

Clyde wandered into the dingy little restaurant,

where Thelma worked and wanted desperately to leave.

When Thelma saw Clyde walk in,

it wasn't exactly love at first sight,

it was more like,

here's a man who will do whatever I want him to do.

She wanted out and Clyde was going to be her ticket.

Love would come later.

Love not based on what she wanted,

(she wanted everything), but what she needed.

When Clyde saw Themla,

it was love at first sight.

It started with the smile she gave him,

then when she spoke,

it was the way her voice made him feel warm.

Oh sure,

he knew right away she was trouble.

Trouble didn't really bother him,

he would take it in stride,

like most of life.

He would roll with the punches,

sidestep the gouges,

evade the falling rocks,

duck from the slings

and arrows of misfortune.

He was a surviver.

Somehow he would survive Thelma.

Not likely.

"What would you like?"

This is not how he answered.

I would like to take your lips and make them mine.

I would like to stroke your thighs

and feel them tremble with desire.

I would like to fall into your eyes

and melt into your soul.

I would like to breath your air

and become a part of you,

the part no one else sees.

I would like to tell you all my hopes and dreams,

then watch as we see them all come true.

I would like to hear you say,

"Clyde take me away from all of this."

At least that part would come true.

Yes. Clyde was a poet at heart.

"A cup of coffee and a piece of pecan pie."

"Would you like the pie warmed up a bit?"

Oh would he ever.

"Do you know what Willie Sutton said,

when he was asked, why do you rob banks?"

"That's where they keep the money."

"Do you know what Nicolas Cage said in Matchstick Men,

when asked, does crime pay?"

"No. What?"

"Yes, but not very well."

Thelma and Clyde had left the restaurant together.

They walked around the small town streets,

talking as they strolled.

They shared their stories and their dreams.

Clyde had no real interest in crime,

having tried it once or twice.

He had decided that it was not really all that exciting

and the chance of being caught was not worth the risk.

He liked his freedom and was quite claustrophobic.

Thelma, on the other hand,

had spent the last five years,

convincing herself that she was in a desperate situation

and of course the way out called for drastic measures.

She had spent many hours planning and plotting,

the perfect bank heist.

After all,

it was where the money was.

"I can see," said Clyde,

" that you have thought about this a lot."

"Almost nothing else.

Sometimes it seems it would be too easy.

Why doesn't everyone do it? "

A million things could go wrong.

The best laid plans of mice and men

and Thelma Louise Bramble often go awry.

"What is so great about being rich

and able to buy anything you want?"

Thelma looked at Clyde like he was from Mars.

Jesus, this guy has no ambition whatsoever.

I know I can wrap him around my finger,

twice if necessary.

But is that enough?

I know I can be the brains.

Can he be the brawn?

"The great thing about being rich,

is that you are not poor.

Being poor sucks.

It sucks bigtime.

I have been poor my whole life.

I can not,

will not be poor for the rest of my life.

I have to get out of this place,

if it is the last thing I ever do.

If a bank job goes wrong,

then it goes wrong,

at least I tried.

I have to try.

And you have to help me."


Remember, Clyde fell in love at first sight.

Love can make people do strange things.

Whatever Thelma wanted,

she could have.

Clyde was a poet at heart,

but he wasn't very smart,

very brave or very strong.

And to tell the truth,

Thelma wasn't nearly as smart as she thought she was.

This had doom written all over it.


Clyde was going to end up in the "Big House"

and Thelma was going to get off scott free.

But there is a bright side.

Thelma would fall in love with Clyde,

not because he gave her what she wanted,

but because he gave her what she needed.

Someone who was loyal and true,

someone who would do anything for her.

Even try to make her dreams come true,

no matter what the cost.

Freedom is just another word for nothing left to give.

He gave his all for her.

She took it in and made a real life,

without thoughts of crime.

She would wait for him.

She would bear his child.

And unlike Bonnie & Clyde,

they would grow old together.

Alaskan Zombies

Surely there can be no cure

freshly frozen

with a vitamin diet

that eases the transition

I was watching "Crawlspace"

with Klaus KInski.

I may be mistaken,

but I thought I heard, near the beginning,

the boyfriend say,

while he was trying not to think

what he was thinking,

"Alaskan Zombies."

If you have any information

please advise.

I have no caffeine in my system

the bells are ringing next door

they're automatic now

when I was aspiring

I pulled the rope

hoping to peel the layers


They say

they're indistinguishable

from you or me

but I see them in my dreams

they know me

now I know them

Some shred their skin

sloughs falling at their feet

revealing naked blindness

I ask questions with dubious merit

their answers revealing

a secret agenda

their aim is not mere recruitment

they seek some faith

to call their own

soulless and alone

godless, they atone

I study bells again

praying that the campanology

will save me

listening for the words

that will save you too

He Rose to The Occasion

All in white

standing up for right

firm in conviction

the night will survive

All rosy and dawn

those pesky doubts gone

the penitence of a saint

accepts the good as given

All heroes prepare

to answer the dispair

he rose to the occasion

she chose the path less ridden

All odds shout denial

despite what seems final

hope succeeds with each new birth

with each rising sun

Bumper Sticker

I love you....

from a safe distance

I don't have to like you

to feel your pain

whether I see you

or not

you are still in my heart

I think of you

not as an abstraction

but as real

as the light that

surrounds us all

I love you....

from afar


wings spread

feather-tips swim

on patient wind

eyes survey

blue cove sparkles

in dapple light

voice raised

song tried and true

praises life

echoes of eagle

standing guard

freedom in release

Critique of Pure Seasonings

Crush it to nothingness

baste the tinctured sky

with fluorescent tangerines

Pepper it with alabaster basil

taste the subterranean currants

swimming in the bromide brain

Fold in orchestral horizons

mix finely metered persimmons

to charm and shelter in a storm

Stir in beguiling berry somersaults

roiling through hoops and spoons

scandalizing societal smorgasbords

Caramelize with toaster heavens

leaven immortal cloves of chance

that cling to peachy perfection

Top with sangria sustenance

pouring liquid potpourri

into every available orifice

Remember Dreams

it's not even close

fiction reveals more truth

than non-fiction

why should it be hidden?

the silicone dream awakes

deep blue sad

can't wait for the sunshine state

flying over rooftops

not for escape


gravity sends shivers to the bone

So close, yet so far....

Shallow graves and thunderstorms

rose petals on the ground

drawn from dawn to escape

elixir's crown

Haunting parallels excite

neutrinos in the air

passing unnoticed

beneath the fiery sky

Callous youths and lightning strikes

wilted flowers remember

abeyance to skeletal remains

lifting souls aloft

Doppelgangers beware

satisfying unanswerable requests

reaches inside desire

blowing open heaven

My horsehair shirt, raking across my back.

I have never had kinky sex.

I could want it,

but then,

I would need a partner,

who wanted it too.

When I was an aspiring monk,

it was not the old-time way,

we wore denim robes,

that were smooth and soft.

Our sacrifice was just a mental kind,

yet celibacy made us a kind of liar,

none of us could withstand.

I dreamed of John the Baptist last night.

He gave me honey for my tea.

Told me to look skyward,

I would see a vision.

I fasted for ten days

and escaped any need for thought.

The rash has cleared up now,

clearly it was nothing that I had ate

.It's Amsterdam

Some say it's always been

leaving Logan

from the cockpit

to the shit can

Angel Boris staring right

through me


but not to the touch

Ladies leave me alone

feelies freeze me

to the bone

I want to go home


It's Amsterdam


nothing dark bleeds so easily

washed with rain

innocence is cleansed

guilt lives vicariously

counting body parts

dining on flesh alone

bone with bruises tauntingly

without eagle's soar

inside cries scream

laughing gutless creepily

begs for understanding

cut the legs at knee

armed assault defensively

break free the menace

not that easily


Tis love's opposite shore

to hate injustice

for evermore

with clear conscience

Twas green against sky

inheritance confined

to cry

near cloud's rain

Whilst engaged in sitting

spy the dead

carry the living

across sea's storm

Whence ship's bow broken

under crowded halls

ghost voices spoken

where wind sings

sub Rosa

“blood is like wine, unconscious all the time”

-from Machinehead by Bush

Everything is stolen

blemished mercurial in curio

slender sliding sandstorms

fluidly fondles with careless


Hidden, unbidden

partial comfort forbidden

likewise I’m sure

juice dreams night owls

in gracious complexion.

Darkness harkens

wake in defeat

flushed, blushed

red herring

oft the beaten track

reveals new skin.

Sub Rosa comes from the Latin, literally "under the rose," from the ancient association of the rose with confidentiality, the origin of which traces to a famous story in which Cupid gave Harpocrates, the god of silence, a rose to bribe him not to betray the confidence of Venus. Hence the ceilings of Roman banquet-rooms were decorated with roses to remind guests that what was spoken sub vino (under the influence of wine) was also sub Rosa.


1 heart thumping

.to beat the band

2 kids’ knees scraping

.bottom of the barrel

3 halos lighting

.the path of tomorrow

4 eyes staring

.into their soul’s delight

5 limbs tossing

.hats in the snow

6 water molecules easing

.sand from the shore

7 moonlit nights cooling

.trunks entwined

8 stars whirling

.about a galactic swirl

9 universes empty

.from void to reward

Who's Kidding Who?

useless and slovenly

until it's you

soothsayers and mavens

unless they're you

eat me raw

stew me

till the blood

runs clear

on the open ground

with the dovetail deer

'cept when it's you

sympathy's not enough

gotta have respect

cause you're you

I'd laugh if it were me

but it's not

it's you

Accidents Will Happen

it's been said there is no such thing as an accident

mouth unrecognizable

face lying on ground

it's smile wiped away

pardon expressions of doubt

troubling conclusions

twenty-twenty hindsight

mysterious double dealings

accidents will happen

dreams break

fates entwine

destinies delivered

Thrashing the Basic Sensibilities

The mystic derives pleasure

from the sane and insane

Giving repentance

and receiving grief

Some question existence

with torturous maladies

Bringing forth idealistic

bombastic platitudes

Delivering dialects of scorn

pasting ignominy in kind

Sitting and waiting by the planet’s moon


fly by

stage fright had me hidden


turnstiles bleeding from memory

fly by night

scattered by four winds

or maybe four sheets

caught in ancient script

Some Dream

I was Jonah in the belly of a whale

and a whale of a belly it was.

I saw Ed Grimley pretending to be Martin Short, standing by the T.V.

Inside the T.V. was Martin Short pretending to be Ed Grimley, I must say.

Of course he wasn't really inside the T.V.

He was being beamed there electronically.

A form of photography captured his image.

Some where in the past, Martin was on a stage, where the filming took place.

Currently, Martin, pretending to be himself, is asleep at home.

He's dreaming.

Somewhere in Hollywood, Martin, is taking lunch with a movie producer.
This is where I come in, I've left the whale and am pretending to be the producer.

"Martin this is the role you were born for."

Short seems distracted, "Uh, what role is that?"


"Jonah and the whale Jonah?"

"Exactly. Of course, we'll do an updated modern version."

"Of course."

Martin wakes up.

I'm inside his T.V.

I turn myself on.

"Hey, Martin, are you awake?"

Short doesn't answer right away. He's thinking that he must still be asleep.

People inside TV’s do not talk to people watching T.V.

Unless they are dreaming.

"Goodnight Martin, you'll make a great Jonah.".

My Christmas Gift

This is how it is...

I love something in the sky,

don't know how,

don't know why.

This is how it is...

I want to fly free,

don't know how,

don't know why.

Won't you fly with me?

You are the start of me.

You are the heart of me.

You are the part of me,

that knows how to love.

You are the art of me,

that sees the why of love.

Won't you fly with me into the sky?

Show me how to love,

tell me the way of love,

and I will follow.


I would ask you, to put away your coat

and muffins.

The commonality of nuts

is being ill-rational.

The sickness is spreading,

from mouth to mouth,

eye to eye,

without even reading lips,

I see your sigh.

If, you didn't cry,

I wouldn't answer.

If, you call my name,

it's all the same.

Love Life

When we left

our parting of the ways

me to stars you to clouds

in what now seems

an endless search

our hearts broken

but not too much shattered

you still matter most

in my stellar solitude

With my clown love

amid your frowns

you hated far too much

it's true, you chose

all the right things

but mostly fought

with yourself

can you see yet?

no one wins

that argument


Inside folded space

plasmonic lacerations

waits for electric light.

To reveal future’s shape

memory stalls for time.

The need of summer’s song

bring fountains to the shore.

In calling clouds

to deeper waters still

somber reflections mediate.

Just in moments like this

no character study

reverberates quite like a maze.

Where twisted logic

calms quickly.

And dime a dozen

drugstore cowboys

whistle Dixie lay me down.

To sunburn easily

Not for answers, questions,

or even choices

I’m here for light, its passing

and everything in-between

to hear laughter and see smiles

I’m here for you

there’s little left of me

I’m here for we

Both Dazed and Confused

No thought, no feel


Sorry to blow a hole in your sky

meanwhile...the sun is dripping dry

Collar the market on trapeze

walking in littered streets of haze

the dazing begins on awaking

carries through sleeping

becomes confusing as voices

extol their virtues

amid the bleeping manifesting conflagrations

some amble their way via perception doors

into sunlight steel

....and drops of plasma recoil with fright

....and devastation

....and both the eye and mind

reveal sinister plans to hopscotch tranquility

belying the robust disinterestedness to flip the coin


no head or heart relinquishes voluntarily

minuscule throbbing pains


the porter achieves objectivity

punching tickets

sliding undeterred to caboose

the end shuffles blindly


....but handshakes tremble with disbelief

....but nothing shields liability

....but the whirlwind drives inscrutable

blames all heat on the absent thaw

spots intended to shadow clouds

absorbing rain and sparks

any determining factor has cost-effective

glancing blows

in shallow pools aglow

the sun depends on its torture

being true

these drops spent

in buckets

....then calm

....then song

....then love

plenty of lucky stars are watching

waiting for their turn


Diving into destruction

Perfect timing flashing smiles
passing strangers in the miles

footsteps flatten

Drop in loaded

another bomb exploded

caught aware

Hegemony defends

plurality blends

ancient cries rejoice

Bloodline thins

no one wins

victory declared in unison

Silence corroded

blade serrated

diving into destruction

Drawing the Line

some mental images dissolve guilt

like fortune's hand around the neck

blood choked clean of remorse

selective amnesia removes all doubt
your innocence the only cause for alarm
when the key is lost

the lock becomes superfluous

beating plowshares into horns of plenty

denies the many for the few

in absentia no vote is taken


I'm nightshade


party ready

without invitation



clean roots

without a home

I'm blackheart



with all strings attached



driven to the ledge

with balance hanging


drawing the line

is like playing with fire

burned by the hand

that hides in the smoke

Erasing the Line

note to my higher self

vision quests aside

I wonder if Oprah is over-taking

Bill Gates as the most powerful

person on the planet

erasing the line of doubt

of dumpster diving, happy and fun

all the time

merry pranksters

dream cool

Short-term solution for a long-term problem

"Was there really such a thing as the future, or was it just the past, returning over and over again?" - from Hunters of Dune

I was listening to heartbeats

and strangers

seeping like colors into the melting sky,

I clocked the memories

escaping through invisible portals.

They looked liked ordinary trees,

their leaves shimmering in the sun

were silent,

still afraid their secrets

would be revealed.

Standing now inside the one

who called,

its peace enveloping

every single fiber,

there was no dawn, only dust.

I was given heat,

to fuel the fire,

within the time standing alone,

we swayed in winter wind,

beguiled and beguiling.

Being Pragmatic

Bono, the lead singer of U2, defined pragmatism as "Rolling up your sleeves and making the world bend a bit."

hanging on the vine


flooding senses

around the rim


secluded with time waiting

I propose that God does play dice with the UniverSe

but not craps

more like Yahtzee

and God is pretty good

what I really mean

God is pretty

and God is good

like most games of chance

sometimes the odds are stacked

like loaded dice

a sobering thought to be sure

if that's cheating

then winning isn't really the goal

if you're not having fun you're playing the wrong game


you create your own reality

when you see how small you are

you were given a few things

when you were born

they are all gone

you have made some copies

but they have changed

you are not the same

as you once were

you are new

to create your own reality

I haven't got much

but it's something

I'd like more

but I may be broke

I could get better

and waste it all over again


I could learn from past mistakes

to create a new reality

praying with hands

reminded by elastic bands

curiosity seems a reliable signpost

edging closer to the stream

The Real Illusion

We had your sex

with clandestine forms

metered in fun-filled ways

arrayed on global nets

We caught your diseases

revealed in media storms

plastered for far-flung days

becoming your neutered pets

segue way

sometimes we become a little too nice

lose the edge

unable to do battle

over fights that can't be won


just because I pour grief in the cup

wipe salt from my eye

doesn't mean I've forgotten

the letters of your name

I still hear your voice echo in the halls

raising me up to see the sun again

recall the most perfect moment

your smile for the first time

I remember the smell of your raven hair

I'm haunted by your picture left blank

covered by tears down my face

they turn to stone

of course I mourn your loss

but I would mourn even more

never having known you

I've taken all your memories

kept them to myself

to share now

is throwing them to the wind

Changes Coming

in a world

that loses rain

sheets of fog disappear

in the ruin

innocence of song

muted to silent drums

echo in the droughts

of spring

Just a Kiss

"She may not be as she seems inside her shell." - Elvis Costello

as I reflect

upon the many eyes

looking upward

to sky, stars

and beyond

I gaze

at the moving ground

with revolving trees, bees

and many summer melting things

the heat escapes, seeps

and brings to rest

the sultry sound

of breath touching


If, I allow you to believe what you will

and you allow me to believe what I will.

Must we believe what the other will?

You may say, it doesn't matter what I allow

and you will believe what you will anyway.

I hope you will.

But I say, it does matter what I allow

and what you allow.

Because, if you were to stop allowing me

and I stopped allowing you.

Where would we be?

We would be believing what we will,

all alone.

No need to seek approval,

no art to retrieval,

sun lies in abundance,

moon cares not for abeyance.


I was walking in a woods one day,

came upon Absolution

lying on a rock sunning itself

next to a lizard.

"What happens if I take you?"

"Eventually I'll pass through,

grabbing Guilt, kicking and screaming

all the way, I'll drop it off somewhere,

leaving it for someone else to find."

The lizard raised one eye in my direction


I'm getting near a feeling

and the words just don't know what to say.

I prefer making peace

and too often my feelings do not have words

and I am silent.

Those sounds echo

and the music is mostly dream.

When I remember,

I say hello.

Imagine, if you will.

Flood is everywhere.

Even down below,

where the land beats against the pulse.

Up above,

the sky hangs clearly invisible.

An extension of the flood,

that touches nothing

and everything.

Everyone, everything pertains to me and you.

We together pertain to everyone, everything.

The fall was not from grace,

but a jump to life.

Without prison walls, what grows can not be contained.

What grows can evolve, change into something new.

Something new can not be seen, unless imagined first.

Fear can stop one in their tracks.

But without surrender it fades.

When Superstition Ends

"Chaos rules, when we're apart" - Shirley Manson

I'll hang my hat upon the spruce

I leave to you to deduce

how the flame became

a handle that set loose the worlds

born in vat of brine

the fire that fueled the sun

is hot

but cool to the touch

nature dives and strives

two hearts beat entwined

scrooched, jazzed and plastered

is where madcapness begins

Tears from a long time ago

time to die

time to live

time to sigh

time to cry

nature rides a wave upon the sea

floating leaves in the breeze

reflecting color every where we see

every heart is holding on to you

and the sky is still blue

we've waited a million years to be free

searching all around for the key

what's to know

what's to show

you can find it in your soul

the spark of life can not be denied

no matter how much you try to hide

leave the cold and come inside

let your light shine for all to see

reveal your truth, let it be, let it be


tasting summer wind

in flower rose

flying up to meet sands of time

caught in thunderstorm

drenched to bone

waiting for sun to shine

dried like leaf to stone

nature lies in wait for new born seed

reaching up to sky

melting into green

flowing out in song

winging birds a blur

disappears in night


Everything lost

has hopes of being found

standing tall

alert to rescue

greeting each new sunsight

with a smile

till the end

when it dies again

for awhile

Rare Medium

Rage against the sand

bitter steel in sky

if luck were irrelevant

I'd be dead by now

I won't smile at your fortune

and take it as my own

or seek comfort

from an answer

that leaves others

left to cry

The ultimate denial

is not of self

but thought and will

if God's plan is drowning

it's time to swim

or learn to breathe

another way

bring the buried

from the ground

and set them free

To lay awake asleep

Whether belief is a system that hides in your individual storm shelter

or of a way of expressing doubt that appears to be otherwise.

It’s not enough to fool one’s self, one must fool all others.

…and little by little.

Thoughts trickle in the stream.

From the sea I came

Retired to the land

Fostering riots in subways

Bubbling to streets

Ego less in Gaza

Wearied-eyed sun

I won’t lie to your face

As if writing inside eyelids

- the Truth; for all the world to see

Careless Love

lips interpreted to say

etched on sky written this way

song sung in unison belief

erasing every strand of grief

planets bound to express

dawn retold in new dress

with equal measure divide

old morning bright with pride

with the power to drive one crazy

it's good to be rather lazy

excited in glorious moment

promenading riot is easy to foment

landing open upon the sea

all dreams are revealed to see

hard to return from where you came

when arriving on new land to claim


Atom, I find you strange, if I find you at all, you are so small.

Atom, you may be inside me, perhaps even, I inside of you.

Still, I don't see you. Atom, are you there?

If, you are not there, where are you?

Bain, it seems, you are only there, when we look at you.

Brain turn away, and you are gone.

I don't mind when you refrain to care.

We look away, and you are there

Cause, you make me smile.

Cause, you are so effective.

Is discussion even possible?

Could you even be wrong?

Blue Skies

no white clouds

in my blue skies

jumping on the ether train

in the precipice

no rage livid

with blank desire

school's out

and the song's in tune

devoted memories fade

just as they're meant to do

no dark clouds

in my blue skies

Kick it when it kicks back

Quantum effects

don't matter much

when it kicks, kick it back

It's said the twinkle in the eye

is a search for sister-sun and brother-moon

Smoke may be ritual suicide, wash a stench

that hasn't been smelt in years

rinse the acrid taste away

and savor the sweet air

Don't get buried in the ground

let the wind toss the ashes

onto the sea

then swim to shore

with help from brother-moon

or lie on the ocean floor

wait for sister-sun

to be raised up

into the sky

fire in the sky

live in person

where do we fly

when aggression burns out

keep the fire lit

we once had wings

and perhaps shall again

whether evolve or devolve

it's both choice and change

no need for hope

the verse (Uni is so over)

1 dimension of height (up/down)

0-- dimension of width (left/right with a bulge in the middle, 1/4 rotation

// dimension of depth (all directions, like a corridor,fills the vacuum, 1/4 rotation

OO dimension of time (movement, smooth and jumpy,
1/4 rotation

5th dimension, 60's music group, record fully spins, source of gravity, possibly just seriousness

because it springs eternal

metaP #1101185