Nearest is closer than furtherest dead
will you walk with me i am stepping
over tomorrow into my wonderful-est
dreams over and beyond nearest
further than furtherest within my head
and of my heart are melodious feelings
will you walk with me i am stepping
over tomorrow and into a bliss
where tenderest is softest as love
As nearest is closer than furtherest dead
:: 10-07—–2018
i birthed one of my famous dreams
last night and invited the
whole town. every inconsiderate
thought came and the flat shadows
of my dearest fears.
the Child with no face on the sidewalk
outlines in broad strokes
Despair. a piece of dove of peace
smothered in regrets on a wooden table
served on a terrace of blinding terror.
only the smallest of facts carry
the greatest stories of which this one
is condemned to 3 o’clock each mourning.
before heaven awakens.
before sizzling strains
of gravity prove awakened
minds are too heavy.
as the rest of the town hides everywhere
that sanity has escaped i press
hard into my eyes by thumbs to forget.
manifested dreams is a sidecar
of my mental vehicle. again at sunrise
to find that one last star yet devoured
by daylight. a wish upon that remaining
survivor — allow this to be me!
:: 09-10-2018 ::
I had run out of it i’m out of it
mind you my mind that ran away
first by feet then by train
paxil was her name a rotundish
hard skinned pink pill of a pimp
so sleeping a tossing flipping
dreaming dream i witnessed a mess
messing up a dream:
this slot of sliced land jutting
with clapboard housing a shouting
with roaches a toasting the best
of a meal they boasted
the strangest of stranglets in
a land of stranger piglets;
two step eddie backed up to a window
owned by a rider, says he with
back to a drive-thru widow, ‘take
this shotgun, won’t need it, take
this broad sword too, and take this
forty-four again won’t need it,
i’ll keep this grenade cause it
needs me more — see that man there
, snagged my lawn cutting his own
, watch me walk over there.
Two-step walks over there and pulls
the pin and once again they do like
they do the owner of that window
was a copy-cop over 44 and says
to eddie, ‘don’t pull that pin you
sons of guns, sons of burning suns!”
Pin pulled, trigger pressed two slugs
in the valley of the deepest cracks
of two buns and all is done.
And the female dog under the oak
toking-tree says to her male friend,
‘your banging will wake up the
recently dead if you don’t stop
banging and start more slapping instead;
no-step eddie tells the devil he
needs to brush his tooth but forgot
his teeth brush under the bush.
Never cold turkey Paroxetine
and slip to sleep on a Monday.
:: 06-26-2018 ::
i sleep so tired
My head so worn
And talk so cheap
Like when I sleep
They come for me
All inside my head
And when i pray:
They say, “Talk so Cheap!”
i don’t think i’ll survive
Cause every single night;
They come for me —
Those ones within my brain.
Dream police
Come with handcuffs
— You know when we talk
And those false rumors
Keep me awake every single
Night driving me insane!
And those men in black
Live all within my head
— Well i cannot tell
If i fell to sleep Tonight!
Every single night they
Drive me so insane and all
Within my BRAIN:
I try to dream — but every time
They persecute me all without
A judge or jury and now i stay
Awaken with one eye closed
To keep away the zombies,
Vampires, wolves, and
Monsters of this zone!
It’s the dream police —
ICE, and governmental
Whores; the people of
Every shade.
Like, talk so cheap.
:: 01-23-2018 ::
AND WHEN i dream
the world is more
alive than now
while i’m awake.
That i have dreamed
then i have lived
more than this
waking concept of ‘life.’
AND once i dreamed of
the source of all,
beyond my head
beyond my bed!
Soft, lit, travel-worn,
cognizant and bewildered
by all accounts: unborn
was & is my dreaming.
AND to dream is leaving
behind this world and
its flesh!
To return: weeping is.
Beware: to fall in love
with this other side
is to lose a part of one
the line erased by passion.
And those you love.
:: 12-28-2017 ::
THIS dream.
I am walking through a tunnel between the streets. Air as thick
as my misconceptions of life. The gutters are gone but my fears
fulfill the deed.
A passing light of brilliant orbs dazzle me then I am walking
across a cache of weapons and I see my feet amongst others.
The wolves’ den.
“Who are you?” One asks.
I am a dream walker.
“Are you crazy?” asks another.
No. I am here for reasons unknown.
“Kill him.” says the one with shifty eyes.
Why would you wish this?
“He’s a pig.”
No.
“Bro, do you have buffalos running around within
your head?”
Yes.
“Let him go.”
I love you all and please learn from this: if you
do all that is told then you are not living a brilliant
life as you can.
And the buffalos will trample you one soon day.
I wake up.
:: 09-17-2017 ::
DID anyEVER hear patter-
pitter dripping tears
upon the vast roads
of New York City?
And roofs have steeples
as flowers petals
and beggars dreams
as pennies pockets
to sleep within
to taste a Dream
sometimes bitter
to eat a wish
so much sweeter!
And when those dripping
tears splat upon the
path of many-go-doers
it makes me the happy
didWHO someEVER seeBE
the heart who stops
to love it all?
:: 07-18-2015 ::
i cut myself today
upon the thought of
when it is darkest(and
i look up in fear
who sees the reaper,
in drag: it comes to
all of us disguised)
like old familiar ways
so thin like the moon
on waxing days
and the world beats
some say in your head
of course we’ve lived
with how we cling to
our minds always
sharpest when comes fear
until i feel the familiar
sting that remembers everything
the purple flower’s largest
final air
is what we become my dearest
friend internal eternal
plunging everywhere untold
times
of enormous lost dreams
:: 07-18-2015 ::
and all the pain
lives within
a celluloid strip [YOU]
of moving pictures
across the space
of a point in time
it’s the tremolo
score of life
like shoes that fit
within your soul
it’s all of you
so you ride the back
of a bumble bee
it tickles your thighs
but the buzzing soothes
the soul within you
and painted lips
collect gossamer threads
you hold your breath
dreaming of a love
that died within you
it’s all the same
life-life, merry-go-round
:: 02-15-2015 ::
LIGHT MY CIGARETTE WHILE I CUT MY WRISTS
absolutely maybe if wings flew
without a bird’s body and the air
lifted ground as outer space
filled inner spirits
then all things might be
equal and if so then what?
Zero.
Which is arguably a ‘something’
less than 1 but greater than
less than zero.
Words.
The devil’s insidious plot to
madden the human mind with
intangible monsters that chip
away at the glass floor we
all ignore and rarely look
down upon
we might see the super-
structure of reality then.
What then?
HORROR.
:: 09-21-2018 ::
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