Category Archives: #mind

ANDRE BRETON is VERY DEAD BUT NOT SURREALISM

THE PRECIOUS terror is realizing
most adults are dead children
or like a day that folds itself into
a basket of reborn night. That long-
necked geese and stiff necks are
either pretending giraffes or self
consumed souls; ignoring the mirror’s
reflecting thoughts introspection
devours it’s own mouth.
Surrealism is hickey upon my heart
that bests freezer burn sunlight any
now. Kiss me you brilliant stupid
fool.

:: 08-30-2018 ::


EXILED

I have become the exiled
in sleep i have become
not the disappeared
but one who shrinks into
a height of awareness.

An awareness as sharp as
fractured obsidian.

And within the silky-touch
moments of suffering inner
journeys my soul rejects
all coherent reason –
leave!

Exiled consciousness slips
from subjectivity into a
gaping eternal void
of abstract form; The First
Land where numbers, thoughts,
and intangibles are born
and return to rest when over-
used.

And tonight as in all previous
nights it is sleep which has
exiled me from body.

To shrink into pure consciousness.

Freedom.

:: 04-02-2018 ::


ALONE IS WITH ME

Alone is with me for just this day

we share together the many things
that only Alone and me can enjoy;

  the space to breathe

  the time to see
  a place with joy
  a mind to heal
Alone is with me for just this day
 we share together the many things
that only Alone and me can enjoy;
Does your Alone share with you?
A  moment of silence then
shall you know!
:: 03-31-2017 ::

PLASTIC CHOCOLATE CLOUDS

Oh Mary is a little lamb
she bled where she lay
and the dead cried “me!”
On a wondrous sea,
saline sailing,
silently Ho! Pilot,ho!
I never knew plastic
chocolate clouds
could ever taste
this — so good
riddance my lamb
She bleats me badly
a blue-yellow bruise
crushed my heart
and we sang,
“Oh, Mary is a little
bitch and bled where
she lay — they shout,
“Me!”
And the silent Southern
moss-grown streets
like a New Orleans
sweet drinking all of me

:: 11-30-2014 ::


A MOMENT OF SELF-AWARENESS

To which THAT one awakens: it is not just the “me”
but the flesh that covers my modesty / we call
it humanity | as though each flesh of island
requires labels to offset such nonsense
as separatedness!

Being born is a moment; first steps then
tears and fears ensue /burst of self awareness
and as you knew: life is not short and you can
truly fly if you do not forbid something
indescribably precious for, “which no one ought
to see …”
i say life is not weird
but the human condition
the ribbon of perception told billions
of times within the lie of separatedness.
If i am alone then 7 billion too —
silliness! One is all and all is One
and all other perceptions shadows dancing
upon the walls!

:: 01-16-2016 ::


TIC AND TALK

tic-and-talk


NEUROSURGICAL EVENT

manipulate my brain damage my connection

i’m your lonely patient like burning liars in

a blanket of ash

so perturbed by my mind you remove

parts of my heart-brain and the voices stop

and i’m so comforted by my loss, of mind;

and i’m so relieved

by the loss of my life;

it creates a circular lesion within my brain

:: — 08-05-2016 — Rev: 11-01-2016 ::


A HUNDRED POEMS – XC THE ART W(h)OR(e)LD

SOME possess talent
whilst others are
possessed by it.
One is a gift,
the other a potentially
fatal disease
of spirit and soul.

:: ~~ ::


HUMAN TIME IS BRIEF

THERE is only one moment
we can live within
and it is called
NOW
the empirical number
of no value!
With arms as wide
as winds and words
that whisper whens
between the spaces
one square foot mired
twisting time’s froth
and we all fall within
each footstep towards
eternity the deepest lap
of enormous mindless
distinction of no one
every knows!

:: 10262015 ::


A PRISON CALLED MIND

IT won’t be long before they cut you down
you can run on for a long time until
they cut you down . . .

with all good & gracious news
have you ever heard the saddest story
in a prison — it’s the saddest story

languish in a dark cell
chunks of masonry fall
stealing any sleep you have
is a long-time never been
where dreams evaporate quietly
an easy place to blow up all
your problems and so easy to break
down inside of yourself

i am the halo around an angel
called My Sweetest Death
i am the core of all i know
i am that i am more
i am so happy with the Divine Presence
the source of all my rewards

have you ever heard the saddest story
in a prison — the saddest story
a prison called MIND

:: 09-04-2015 ::