Tag Archives: #reality

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 ::


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 ::


HERE& NOW

at times such as here&
now confusion clears my
mind &the wet woodpecker
neverEver wipes it’s beak —
so why would i? In all the most
sincerity an appropriate
response to all ofWhatever
reGardingAlity is i say, “oops,.
it’s time to go completely
&utterly insane right here _x_
&Now.

:: 04-29-2017 ::


BUILDERS OF REALITY

“Time drops all these moments as
decayed, spoiled riches.
And vibrating strings of light
dance the tip of Souls while
enjoying the orchestra
of all life!” — E.P. Robles

[Too late; as late as it gets thought I.]

Upon this very late or very early
morning while i began to realize
i left my dreaming snoring then upon
a glint from parted curtains I was certain
a something queerly missing ~ or should
i say amiss.

There, upon the fabric of dusty thoughts
while peering out my window pane
i came to see a dastardly scene that
almost certainly brought me to my knees!
There upon the shrouded street
were many short blue-clothed things
busily erasing each moment as it passed.
Unbeknown that “i” was one between
the ‘there’ and ‘here’ they froze
all the while i stood and stared;
“Oh no oh no!” they screamed at me
squirming then churning they moved
and rebuilt the past you see
and found myself in bed again
and all ends well that begins
and all beginnings have always been
–endings are myth!

:: 04-20-2017 ::


THE ILLUSION

time, that illusion
it’s cousin – motion
neither exists
beyond human eyes
— all is static
never changing
just a unified field
expanding
contracting
and universal
consciousness
watching rapid flickers
of death-rebirth

:: 04-22-2014 ::


PLASTIC PIECES

plastic falling pieces
into ember-tear drops
and those tree roots
pulling at my leaf-heart
there’s a fire burning
devouring all I see
I could cry like a crow
but my spirit’d rather soar
and people dance and trip
across the blink of an eye
a measure of their life
less than a yawn from nature
and plastic falling pieces
never shatter when they fall
only leaving psychedelic patterns
all across my mind
but I love to walk in a rain
made of broken sharp shards
of blue stained glass

:: 04-24-2014 ::


A HUNDRED POEMS – 060

what longing within
your eyes
a tender sweet belief
I see
a gaze across what is
and what
could always be
and lips apart
expectation-kiss
a slow hand moves
across a breast
a touch of your heart
that which you always give
that brilliant love
which is, but how can it be
in this shadow-world today

dear angel soul-woman
what desires you have
focus upon this man
I am just
a human animal
and not worthy     of more
a man that just grazes
in the fields of madness
learned for sure but so
and surely not enough
to even hold

your tender hand

:: 04-24-2014 ::


BETWEEN FRAMES

the bumble bee —
mid-air freeze
and hummingbird,
tacked into the sky
my walk, molasses-like
and air thick, too cool
i’ve stepped between
the seconds of time
into a place outside
of mind
that low moaning
a groaning slowness
of arrested world
a snap of my finger
the world, again flows

:: 04-22-2014 ::


HONEY DEW

and when honey dew
simply
drips away
that crack from fear
too small
to see
but hate and anger
fought that stage —
I am left
with sad
speckled nest-less
eggs
in tender hands
If a plant, from tears
they would grow
but now, wingless
lovely eggs to bed
I bury you in dreams

:: 04-13-2014 ::


ORIGINAL THOUGHTS

ORIGINAL thoughts
c r e a t e new
u n i v e r s e s

:: 04-03-2014 ::