sorry bunny

sorry bunny

Saturday, December 31, 2011

hope-fiend / dope-fiend , what's the difference?

idontfeelsane and i dont feel well. but i do feel beautiful and that seems to help.
this trip to delaware makes me SCREAM

im a beautiful bird. im a barf. im a machine.

i hold. marriage. like death.

regardless of who you are. can't we be the same?

membrane, membrane, membrane.

long layers of liars.

i cant trust anyone. you will alll hurt me.
you will all hurt me.

i will help you.

let it go. ur a bad baby.

in apparent corners dust grows. sickens us. and the toxins... rabid dust.

if my memory serves correct, we should ahve been dead by now.
and we're not, so there's something hopeful in that.

on being alone.. (allwords to be readaloud)

This wind this grey, ache. This mood this moon, the space shaking, my luminescence dropping down into my belly, a quarter full. Makes me feel like the money-tree leaves I thought looked like ghost-seeds of a soul. Shivering from the wind inside. I'm not entirely sure how to deal with this feeling. Of the ever-present thread bare spinning, of a world always external to my own. It feels like I am a single strand watching and waiting as a whole fabric moves past me, I the dust, left to be alone, just like clumps of thread lint, flakes of skin, and whatever else you leave on the floor. Things that don't stick. I want to do so many things, it seems that are just different from other people. I wish I had the kind of best friend that shared my goals. But all my best friends are so independently creative. It feels like I'll always be alone. And I'll have to learn all the things that seem to be paired, un-paired, only paired with my own anti-matter. I've learned to dance alone, to think alone, to create my own world I live and dream in, to make my own sense, my own voice that can fill an entire sky, my own eye-sight that can see to any distance & through any skin.

This day feels rare. This day dropped. I have so much power. I am the manipulative secretive controlling version of my mother. My mother lathers on authority in rich white heavy cream. I suck and seduce you with supreme authority on the level of a parasite, of bacteria, on the level of crystalline structures, on the level of mirrors, and fawn babies, of seeds, of wombs, of jaw half-dropped never fully allowing breath to come in. She, to me, Grendel's mother, and I, Grendel.
I search for birthdays and cards, and wrappings, and people, for lovers who do not want to cuddle me or know me, for mistakes to be made. Deep inside, an old woman, crowing to herself, singing lullabies, falling asleep to her own voice that shutters loosely as she drifts into faery dreams, waking to her own sun, eating the food she has made, and bathing in the dust that comes from when the corners of her body get knocked off. Off in the distance, of her extremely large and expansive head, the audio from the reverb of the words, "This is Nur Greene Talking. This is Nur Greene Talking. This is talking. This is Nur Nur Nur Greene Talking. This is talking this is this is This IS THIS IS... Nur Nur Greene Greene Talking-Talking talking talking talking-talking..." I think she romanticized the sound of her own voice just a bit too much. Must remove herself from herself, and resume some external viewing. The sheet is now laid over her face. She has no face. She has no name. She is covered, and what parts are uncovered float above her in dis-repair. Her guts, her eye balls, her nose, her childhood memories, the odd feeling that she might have been sexually abused but she can't remember and maybe just wants an excuse for being fucked up, but it could just be the magazine and the lingering longing for Father.

Her claws that bite (bitter) and jaws that snatch, tight tense too put together, put together on top of themselves so that one covers the other. So it is the uncovered bottom jaw that was covering what was covered, that hovers, alone disconnected.

She feels sick at the look of it. She is sick. Ill. Her stomach ebbs, and out pours green gook, stomach acid, bile, vile stuff. It falls on the white-white-white sheet that covers the body that usually covers what hovers, now uncovered. It makes a stain. It has no place. But it is not sent away. It just sits.

And grits its teeth, and bears it. Because that is what you do. You smile, and you hold your mouth shut. You are a good girl. You don't show your teeth. Grind, yes, grit, yes. Now, you curtsy. She always wore dresses. She is so embarrassed of her past.
This is the mind of-
This is the mind of-
This is the mind of-
The happiest girl who never knows why she feels so goddamned sad all the time.

"Is it too much to ask God? Just because I can endure more?"

She, on the morning after her best friend's 21st Birthday knelt before the sunshine, coming in, and saw it grey-blue-white and silky, and felt some sort of allegiance to God, and prayed, abundantly to be honored multiple times by their communion.But this communion, still. Yet. She feels alone.
As if God in all of God's entirety and fullness is not good enough. So who is? Who could be... Presented with such love, a universe full of it, and still she denies God, as being worthy for communion, seeking more physical touch than touch can be. And lengthening her cord, a distance away. Too close to her goal maybe? Want more of a challenge?

But so she will walk another half or three-quarters of a year. To arrive at a spot where she can let go of her dreams of meeting someone greater than God, and allow the earth, to scoop her up. She has no time now for that.

"I'm sorry," she feels guilty.
"I'm tired of fighting," she feels scared.
"I don't want to have sex," she lets go of her bodily urges.
"I just want to be alone," she submits.

Why some get to work together and some go to work alone. She does not know. But the things I want seem to eb alone things, that no one else can understand. The urge to be everywhere at once. The ideas that seems so real but so so far-off into outer-space. The gravity of the air. The wind, singing. You can hear just such a multitude of voices, in fact, the entire history of our terrestrial lives being echoed in single wisp of wind.
And especially when passing through a small slit, can you hear your own voice holding out its fingers as if to say, "Just hold onto me and we can both fly away." So partnered, with herself, she is, and was, and now what? But, again, her voice, so sweet and loving to her ears... But so ghostly ominous. She her I turn our face to the sun. And welcome a different newness that burns, regardless of the depth of what is already known. This depth, called memory, For some reason, I think it is valid, to be forgotten.


Wednesday, December 28, 2011

imaginations are not that far gone. or dead. They come alive in my head. I don't know... The air is lifted in my heart at the thought of a dream... Something unreal, maybe I've never see it. But I can believe it and know somewhere in the stars it is Happening- where light travels faster than the earth can spin. No? Oh No No No. Where stars travel faster than light and carry your dreamss on the wisp of a wind. On a willow tree made of dust, whose leaves like an old wilting beard grow spirally through galaxies and into your star of origin. In this way our fantasies are real. Even more real than the stuff dirt is made of, the stuff blood is made of.. because it knew you before you were born.

An echo of your your future whims, warm and wrapped along your skins. A vibratory message from your place of birth undauntedly found in the space called earth. Raveling through crystals embedded in your bodily fluids, a melody speaks to those who listen.

It shimmers rays of light into your ears. Spins dance beats to get your moving, and into every step you make, the shock is return as some sort of getaway. Can you getaway, get away?

I was a girl. I felt a thing I can't remember either. I just believe and the rings flow through the ether.

"Do you wanna tell a story?"
"Yeah, But it's someone else's. I don't know it."
"Tell the story. Oh tell the story."

Well, it was all like. Well- I was in the clouds and my hair was blonde, but normally it's brown. I had eyes shining blue that could seer and pierce your eyes. I had two dogs, white, wolf-like, beasts. They were chained to my wrists. I was born old. I was a star that split. It was cold, and we dressed warm, and we all knew how to fly. I wasn't afraid of the dark then. The dark was the water through which I swam. And clouds formed upon earth at my fingertips, as sparkling dust. As spiraling dirt underneath.I felt like everything was complete, even as it was completely unraveling.
The unraveling, was forming. The spinning was bringing dust together which had been apart, and spreading what was together back into the further-est corners of the universe, where we tried to figure out the puzzles to make space larger. But space did expand on its own. As we learned, to let the flow go, was to let grow.

It puzzles me how I got here. Confused, lost, but not in space, inside myself. To watch as I turned my insides out, and the cosmos became a destiny inside what used to be my most insane destination.

Now I talk in riddles. But nothing else makes sense. Non-sense makes more sense than sense. And all words seem the same, and all words seem strange and mundane.

Okay. Well... The cavernous fractal that doesn't have an in or an out, is my heart. It is so deep. And it can never fall apart. It is so heavy, in its ever-lengthening length, That, its walls become a burden to carry.

So I shout, "Not my heart! Not my job! Not my weight!"
So I shout, "Weightless heart! Light-filled walls! Moon! Take this imaginary boundary away!"
Just like that a spark and time travel were met. Two objects in TWO places at the same time, paradox found its mate. And I close my eyes and smile deep inside and remind myself so many time so uncovered so all multiply endlessly inside and out of me:
I am whole.
I am empty.
I am full. Never spoiled.
I am beautiful. I am full.
I am never ugly.

I believe in all things. I am truth.

I am God, the Divine. We are that which I name 'I'.
We are spirallly sweet. We are complete.
We belong to no one. Not even ourselves.
There is no Hell. There is only the Illusion of Self.

To Thou And To Self.
To Thou and To Non-Self.
I dissappear.
I am ripe.
I am blind I am sight.
I am the fruit that feeds and the Moth to the Flame that bleeds.

* now whisperring soft enough for brother to fall asleep*
I am Love. I am Pain. I am Tears also know as Rain.
I am beautiful. I am change. There is only hope.
No dope can determine the ridges that're still burning in the opiate of the masses, I can still lift my glasses, to discover what is going on, in the spaces that I do not inhabit.
I am not Everything. There are reasons to go blind. There are reasons to get dumb.
I am one. 

[as a rule, there are no rules, fool]

Tuesday, December 27, 2011

Guatemala Plans School Plans Cake Plans

Step 1, 2, & 3 To Be Completed Simultaneously:
 1: Get Passport
2: Save about $500

3: Get job
3.0  email! to work on a farm with me

Step 4

Buy plane ticket to Guatemala

Step 5


step 6

celebrate 2012 in style near the deAD spirits of Mayans And help them HEAL the world.

step 7

bless your lucky stars that you know me
 and yourself
and the stars
and the moon


the highlands

step 8:

you are a ROCK STAR

Saturday, December 24, 2011

ovaries the bladder the digestive system emotional influence AND the messed up money system affecting OUR BODIES

I'm not sure what's going on. I have had these weird pains in my body since last year. It makes my stomach puff out, feel pressure; I feel pain in my right side, I can't tell if its my ovaries, or perhaps its my ileo-caecal valve( ), or simply an easily irritated digestive tract, or it's the foods I eat, Irritable Bowel Syndrome, ovarian cysts, ovarian cancer, interstitial cystitis... I can't tell I don't know they all have fairly similar symptoms, I don't know how to go to the doctor. I don't know how to hold onto my money. I feel broke all the time, or quite wasteful.
I'm addicted to drinking to feel good and to have fun, I'm addicted to coffee, I'm addicted to using caffeine-carrying drinks to pep me up so I'm not tired. I never want to be tired, I feel it's such a slippery slop into doing nothing an being unproductive, and that is a slippery slope into not accomplishing my goals, losing my chances of going to college, generally being a waste of a human being, and maybe becoming homeless. And I can't become homeless because I will have to lose my cats, and I love my cats and I never want to lose them like that. And I don't want to have to go live with my Mom, because She is so oppressive, but so nice,but so controlling, but so giving, but so confused. And so am I.

But it hurts in my side right now. And I'm feeling quite melancholy, and I feel like I'll never learn how to love another human being. And that maybe I have cancer and I won't be able to have children. And no one wants to touch me, and Am I bad? Am I good? I don't want to hide anything it always hurts so much, and I don't want to play sneaky games of malice and the "laws" of attraction.

So I can't help but to notice how interrelated, Diet, Behavior, Emotions, Environment, and state of mind have to do with the body. Because the pain in my side hurts, and I am simultaneously getting sad. There is some connection. There is some connection to Christianity and feeling guilty and sinful for having sex to this Thing. There is some connection between drinking milk and eating bread to this Thing. There is some connection to drinking too much coffee and alcohol to this Thing. There is some connection to Attachment and the Thing.

I do miss going to the Mahayana Buddhist Center downtown. I feel sick from being here in DE. I must remember that however dark it gets in Olympia, it doesn't compare to whatever always makes me depressed here.

There is some connection in all of this.

I study chakras, I study nutrition, I study anatomy, I analyze cures and home remedies, because I don't believe in a medical system that treats symptoms, that spends money on finding new drugs to better desensitize your self, to your self, that better desensitizes your mind from your body. A system that forgets that we could use what we know to find the causes of problems, that makes it so I feel scared of spending the money that it would cost to even find out what it is I have. I feel scared to be alive in this world where to validate my own actions and awareness of my body, i have to yell and fight and scream and do constant research to provide certification to my own physical sensations, and my own consciousness of how my body feels.

I seek out others who want to study, this in-depth, without shelling out hundreds or thousands of dollars to large spiritual or semi-scientific based institutions that seems to all want to train their apprentices to feed more money back into the system.

In a world where it seems everyone is guiding all their actions by the goal to make money, or the fear that they won't have enough, or the greed to have more and more and more,  I feel so strongly that i have to be personally against that. I don't want to work, but I will. I get confused when i have to show up at a certain time.

I am love and love has no time. I am a target. I am a wormhole. I am a free bird thing that flies. I am time. It is me. It is around but not around, and it weaves through me, as illusory as it is, i choose it. But it is hard my brain seems to not want to follow it any longer, more and more as the years go by, i feel loosened in life when I let go of time. I don't want a job. I will do work, Tell me what to do. It feels so bad to be somewhere at some time. It feels like a huge anvil hanging over my head about to crash down, but I have to keep moving, as it follows, but if I keep moving, at least I won't get smashed.

My body, a temple for my divinity. I have the power to move great winds, and love great things. My body, feels and wants to explore to move or climb and fall, and roll around in the dirt.

My body, the totality of my whatever-I-am-orNot in physical form. I am beautiful. We are beautiful and I don't believe in ugly.

And what strain I feel to be normal, to be older, to be taller, to be bigger, to accentuate my breasts so I am treated as an adult, so i am treated with respect, because in this world. Small equates to Youth. and Youth equates to Ignorance. And even the kindest and most open-minded of people seem to treat me like a toddler when I combine my natural smallness with my joyous childishness. Don't you see it ? Don't you see? I can't talk Sometimes and I can touch and play sometimes, and yes, you associate that with a Baby? And you associate that with not being interesting, even, annoying. So what do I do? I tell you, it hurts, but I can't tell how much of it is expecting you act like this. And this is why it's so scary for me to make friends with tall people who don't look young, because it feels like they will never respect me sometimes.

But really. I probably find it difficult to see myself as a knowledgeable, confident, pretty, secure real human being. Because I feel so strange and foreign. So what is it that I do? Well, I dress in ways that can't be associated to other trends, to excuse my self, I dress sexy, I dress elderly. So I talk using big words, so I learn when I cana s much as I can and I read, and I act serious. Sometimes I forget how to not act serious and I talk a lot, and try to reveal my mind, so you can realize I am real human being and I deserve respect. But what if I don't give myself that respect? In my constant search for a lover who will love all of me... When will i love myself enough to allow myself to be the child I feel inside? To change the world and respect Youth equally to any other form of life-expression? When will I stop judging your or my behavior, Is it perfect? is it perfect? Is it perfect? is it perfect? Is it perfect? Is it perfect?

I just yelled at my brother for staying inside all day and playing video games, I told him he looked sickly, and as if his, "soul and spirit were dying".

What is this? So too do i a judge myself?

I proclaim, i pray, for lack of judgment, and clarity in the feel of things.
One hand to the brim, no thought

Just skin.
"I don't want to drink milk Mom."

Thursday, December 22, 2011

Poems Or Peons

Decemeber 21st Solstice Bang:

my head is banging just after a day at home i lost myself screaming at my mother they kind of liked it. I'm not sure what to do I went out to get some coffee to calm down, but i've been calm now for an hour so what am i doing here. Sit spinning on a table with memories of who i was in this town, no longer all the same, no longer my one hand grabbing for the past. i know now, all not the same.

mother screams her head off in a room white walls and dust growing on the edges of things. brother sits angrily at desk, on chair, at the foot of the bed, waiting to re-join society, a society he only recently met.

i dig too deep. i tell them all their problems. i yell at them. who am i? what the.

text sketch from GodKiller:

  non servium.


     who won out
     the devil as honor
      as armor?

      beckons fingers closing slowly
      foaming into target light
      corners making pockets
      make arrows
      with no stem
      make pockets make lines

      all sheds in a glittery fall

      to look like water
      fell sweater reflect
         in boxes, shaking.
         as they
         deflect their origins
                             your face
                       non        face

      curves clutch and dis-appear.
      circles form'd recede
                                                                                                        into clump'd & green wet cloud

i am not.

i am not
i am not
i am not
i am not
the brother is me.
i am not
i am not
i am not
lest i imagine.
lest i imagine.

the man makes no reply
the non-face
they walk around with that
she pulled out of herself too quickly violently
two hands
flayed head
faceless faceform

i am afraid.

iodo form
idea foam
idea form
i.d. or. form
from id,
do or done be born

will you get here soon? take me to the rising room.

for the sake of a single small moon
just given birth and closing again
in some very rare hour
to the sea itself, went flying
all the stars

a different origin of forth form
from then.
(may then. forget all not.that.I am. and other scattered voices.)

Smile Sun.

bitches smiled at everything, past the sun.

illumine the small child
what a

sanity does not exist in this house: family time during the holidays always sucks

Backstory: woman from Jordan, grew up in Palestinian neighborhood in Amman, next to the church, Christians, while Muslims lived in Refugee Camp nearby. Woman clean a lot for household and constantly feels guilty for 'whatever' and does more than what is necessary, thus causing her asshole family to take advantage of her. Asshole family doesn't notice how sensitive she is and treats her badly, excluding her from things her older brother gets. Girl/Woman gets very good grades in school is one of few who graduate on time, goes to Teacher's School (funded by the U.N. as some sort of exchange for Israel and the U.N. and the British Army stealing their land). Woman graduates Teacher's School and becomes Math Tecaher for 9th Grade school girls at the same school she went to orginially established by the U.N. as well in exchange for destroying Palestinains' connection to their land/earth. Thank You. Woman makes more money than most women her age. Most woman only married and take care of the house. Woman here is a working woman in what the outside world would call a 2nd world nation. Woman begins to trust her environment. Brother becomes prominent chemistry professor, marries Muslim woman, gets exiled from Jordan and moves to .... Delaware.

Woman feels guilty that her brother broke the chain of christianity, she says, since the time of Jesus, a family from Nazareth. Woman holds in the pain as if it was her own, not fully realizing Brother doesn't really care. Woman hold all this against him eventually and separates herself by becoming supercritical of evryone's actions, until they can't stand her and leave her alone. Loyalty is exchanged for Freedom.

Woman marries fellow chemist and moves to... Delaware

Woman has 3 children and they grow up in .... Delaware.

Man divorces woman & children and steals all their things, painting on the wall. Woman comes home and doesn't understand what's going on and is still trying to learn English well. Children are 6, 4 1/2, and 2 1/2 years old. Children then grow up to find out what psychological influence this has had on them. Woman finds out Man has also been cheating on her. Woman spirals into terrible depression and gains weight. Woman hold herself up very well and by herself takes care of three children. Children get a good educationa nd excell in school, in everything. Children feel supported by Mother. Mother hold in deep sadness for her failed life. Father galavants across the U.S. and the Globe making thousands of dollars a month and using it to go to fancy hotel rooms and stay in fancy places with his new wife, married within the year after the divorce.

Man later to daughter on hills of Big Sur California, when asked, "what happened when I was young? Did you leave for a while? it feels like something bigger than I can remember happened?", replies: "I was gone for 4 years."
"Why did you do that?"
"I just wanted to have fun."

Woman yells at children every day and provides for them healthy unprocessed foods on a daily basis. Woman uses her intelligence to carefully plan meals, and financial resources so children never realize they are anything less than privalleged.

Woman yells Woman yells Woman yells.
Children yell Children yell Children Yell.
Daughter cries every single day but for more than these reasons. For reasons that feel like a bullet in the heart from birth.

Children scrape their nails to the doorways that imprison their bodies. Children must get angry and feel terrorism.

Daughter becomes terrorist of her own family's home.
Daughter yells gets angry throws things, And Vaccuums. Daughter is very confused.

She slowly undresses, and puts on the fancy lace tights, and the shiny blue skirt, and the extremely well placed shirt, the beautiful necklace, and the right shoes that match the iridecence of the skirt, and makes her face pretty, with the smallest of subtle movements. And prays to the moon for better loks because she believes she is ugly. And yells at herself and yells at herself and yells at herself. And knows why. But doesn't know why.

Mother says, "It depends on how you look. If they think you're rich, they get scared."

Duaghter is Mother is Daughter is Mother is a land so lost it never existed. Just like our sanity. So we'll scream and cry until those high-pitched dirges grind us into the ground. Dirt people.

The End.

Tuesday, December 20, 2011

i am home

many nur poems start with the word, "I"
or "eye"
as in, "Eye Thou", as in, "I-Thou"
as in, "I am".... You.

jkROFLcopter hurrah

I would like to move from this "i" to a more universal pronoun, but really disregard the whole statement all together. This isn't about me. This is about the all-seeing eye. The one that believes everything in experience is experienced and makes no changes to typos or grammatical errors, because, Not only because it IS so fcking cool, BUT because it IS.

Recently, been reading a new guy, THIS GUY THAT GUY THIS GUY THAT GUY THE GUY THE SKY THE GUY (soon to upload video of my performance to which this a reference), and my mind is already expanded. I've got some poems in the process. Usually I write a big long one high off of some temporary excitement in my life (usually centered around meeting some cool new person, or doing some cool new or dangerous thing...) but, these new poems offer a clear distinction, I feel like I'm growing.

And I haven't grown since I was 14.

Today I could talk about, how frustrating and unfair the world is, again. Or, I can discuss some new ideas:

1$$$$$$$$1 Every day in town I will teach class to my family here are some ideas of what i know to do with them:
- Movement Therapy
+ a series of exercises that stimulate new growth in your brain, and can bring mental clarity and eventual development that will stop all psychological disorders (READING THIS? NUR HAS BEEN TRAINED BY THE SEATTLE CENTER FOR MOVEMENT AND DEVELOPMENT AND WILL DO THIS WITH YOU: tOUR dATES: dEC. 20TH -jAN 5TH nEWARK, de, jAN. 6TH THRU iNFINITY oLYMPIA, wa)
- Chi Gong
- Body Movement Poetics
- Vocal Relaxation
- Non-Violent Communication
- meditation vipassana
- the connection between eastern phillosophy and christianity
- geomancy
- chakras, and meridians
- Foot Massage with your feet!
- Breath work
- Nutrition lesson
- How to Improve Circulation and Lungs for People with Respiratory Ailments
- Eye Exercises to improve sight of the super-sensible world
- Imaginative Storytelling, when all you have to do is let yourself Make Believe (think about it).

Maybe I was born serious. Born crying. Born knowing death was passed and also coming. Born with large eyes, feeling alien all the time. But To scientists of the cosmos and I played ball all my life. Caught the round thing and threw it in again.

Okay so. I am home, and well, home is the one place where I'm not a weirdo. We all talk the same way here. We all think fairly similarly. It's comforting not to freak people out or overwhelm them. I wish it was all this yellow.

Food eggs tables.
Cold. Here.

I'm alittle preoccupied with thinking I'm a weirdo. But until I stop noticing it, it's gonna still happen. So the best thing I can do is try to gain confidence in myself, so at least I can be allowed to be weird.

In the forest they like me. I sing to the tree they don't mind I'm loud, they echo back sound. And I cry and feed them my tears, happy ones. And shake my booty to bushes. And rub my face up against a tree. We get down.

And I swear it's not the technology that's foreign it's the IDEA of being foreign, of being separate. You can point that finger anywhere, where the trends blow the tides... You know? This year's unnatural could be next year's eco-friendly underwear.

Human alien or otherwise
aint no other
foreign special made magnetized
aint no other
aint no other prize to be had
s'all in this circle
i'm surprised it's whirling.
one day i'll take control or won't I
don't believe in falling only flying

[and clear residue of what I used to do, in this house, but act out the part, and the part eventually acts out until it's fried, then ... something new will come. And that's why it's SUCH GOOD MENTAL VOMIT]

Monday, December 19, 2011

ok almost leaving seattle

best write some words down before i take flight

executive platinum:


executive jokemaker:


No one is allowed to take shame.

Number one ticket holder gives out hand-outs by the bucket full. Dumpstered chocolate mistaken for compost. What is that?
Lemon rinds, dreams of citrus shreddings on the carpet.
A backhand to the fleas.
A backhand to my mom.

Some cats are answers, others are prayers. Mine is a Starship.
Holding so many thoughts in my brain, I merely open my mouth to let them breathe and hope they acknowledge my prescence at the pearly gates. God is the crease of my lips. God is the junk in between your legs. God is the space inbetween out understanding of eachother.
Math is just another name for beauty, which does and does not exist. Only lengthens lines on your names, on your knees.

My favorite spot on people is behind the knees. And the nape of a neck.
Sort of a reverse pedaphile. Feet for fortune. I am the 10 year old boy you're secretly attracted to. Wish upon a shooting star, and see what dreams come true so true you'll expect them to arrive until you die, holding that manifestation relaity in your cold dead old dry barren hands until both crumble.

Fly a feather through my hair, disappear, never once was there.

Little girls and little bones grow up to be old trees. Covered in moss green.
Making love to the air, and me.

Feet shivverring wondering when winter is. Come. Hither queen. Unclothe disease. As the DEath Shepard awaits some pie prize, called, True death, or true blood, or true feast. A nice prize might be a univer where ravanging on the bones and the bloody flesh of your family is a pleasure. For all of us.

I'm sorta scared to go home. But I've worked through a lot today. Mostly I trust strangers because I assume one way or another they'll hurt me regardless. This is a sort of trust in their selfishness. The same I have for myself. But sometimes once in a grey full moon, I'll truly trust. This hasn't happened this year yet. But i hope for next.
But maybe trust is a sham, like a marriage, and rather I'd let loose cannons...

I do or don't like bacon or floss.

Marking on my body porclaim:



Monday, December 12, 2011

mis measure

i'm not sure where i am and what i am i am not that robotic. i am human too. I feel somewhat in dis-spare tonight because my good friend is in opposition to me. and i can't think straight anymore. and its kind of cold in here. here is a cafe. here is by the moon. and i'm looking up a spell now to distract my mind from the motion of the table wobbling.

dots beckoning

placid flacid days gone and unmet
I'm sort of tired of winning. Often my solutions involve death. I love life and the sunshine. Someone get me out of here though. I love people and hate how disorderly everything is. I wish I could be in control all the time. I am aware I cannot.

and even though i didnt want to care i did
the music jingled i slumped i sighed and wished something else grew inside

messages lingered, a trail down my stomach. a nausea unsettled about to vomit.

i guess if i was pregnant somehow i would keep it.
i love a child i am a child.
like i dont but i do.
im a game a puzzle.
weird out. white out.
wood out. wiley ee I oh coyote.
we're not the same,
spread of choice

and though she rose she crowed. Like bird she dove into the sky. only to find many children, and no arms to link with. And we slept side by side because of not wanting each other. In the throne on a cloud. looking back, it must've all been a dream. A crazy dream, some crazy girl. Who drinks too much ANd curls her hair and throws chemical down the sink.

I'm so scared she cried. And I loved her. I am her husband her mother her lover. I am an eye. The ultimate Thang. The disgusting drink. The bland smoke. The ruffled arm-sweater sleeve. I forgot a breeze and now I all alone. Eye all alone. I go home the long walk. Because once I held a dream so hard in my hand, it stopped flying, and suffocated eventually. No actually after it suffocated it escaped. I hugged too hard. And I murdered love. Now love never wants me again. Unitil it says,
"Eye becomes You."

I become you, in me. Once what was a dream, now EYE sees, I see. Let go of me too. SO hard my bones a jail. So hard my ribs a cage. So hard my eyes a mirror for this panopticon prisnur.

sliver. And shiver.

signed, sealed, and delivered.

It's not okay. As I see it it closes. The mouth. His-her-me mouth. As full of eyes, it falls out, it eats looks, it smiles in theft of sight, it longs for lashes from a whip held by a guard who looks like your father. But not just your father, your baby's daddy, yourself, your lover of course. YOU WANT A LOVER WHO FUCKS YOU, OVER. DONT LOOK AT ME WHILE I LEAD YOU TOWARDS RAPING ME . Ms. Mr. Mrs. Debauchery. I make a fool of myself over and over and over again and it doesn't make sense. I felt or fee dead inside robotic, alive and real but from another planet. And sometimes I just want to kill myself so i don't have to be so different.

bye mom.

Sunday, December 11, 2011

how to do again what never happened to begin with

"it's a hairy day out there today a very hairy day today. it's a fare haired and wooly weathered day out there today."

Little lamb licked her fingers and toes, in between the nail and the skin, in between the hair and the nail. In a mutter of minuets, a ballet of words, nothing scattered, everything empty. Beckons lead to come out like blood. Beckons lung to come out like heavy dirt. Every breath could beat into the ground a rhythm for feet to step into.

Getting up off the ground is tough for a Little Lamb leathered by Mother Cow Queen Koopa. Cake and Love and Lost and Moon. All the things that get scattered at night end up on the ground in the morning. In the daylight you can find and collect them, and vomit your past dues and ends in the local bush.


hunt and gather all the scattered blather
by the end you'll turn belly up
feeling beautiful
in every man coitus carnal mortal camus
"man is mortal, camus is man, camus must be mortal" bullshit

lovers are tied threads to a not impossible but practically impassable occurrence into the unknown. Once unknown is known is ceases being unknown. Unwired, undiscovered, uninspired.

BACK YE DAMNED CHILDHOOD YEARS ADOLESCENT FOLLY where dreams were constructed of things like Satori, and the Light before Consciousness.

I fake YE. I fade ye. I make Ye sound like a fury, I'm unsure of sound like a clam shitting itself inside accidentally. What then? And who changes oysters' diapers? Where diapers are shams. And marriages.

and marriage is. dead.

Monday, November 28, 2011


sometimes i feel crazy like what am i supposed to believe is real like im always trying to prove my existence to my environment.

more recently i have been having few and far between interchanges with a blue light who i first starting seeing when i felt that i was with child.
she came to me in a dream, and talked to me about waiting to be born with me. her face pale, her eyes a striking blue, her hair, blonde.
she extends from my belly. at times reflected on a wall, sometimes in dreams.
last time she told me she would be a messiah, and raise the dead from underneath the ground. ye, zombie new jesus.

some days ago she exiting beyond my belly and formed a wall between me and another person, formed a heart around us. i don't know why.

did she leave me?

Thursday, November 17, 2011

Warning: Hard of hearing need not scroll eyes down

Every limb in my body is a foreign part. Every skin covers. Man made materials. I feel sick to my lungs. I destroy this body. I destroy who I am. I change constantly to tear off the existence of my under the under the under the neath fairy scary tale. I beckon abstract thoughts to make you bed. Beg for me baby beg baby. I AM not a girl. I don't care who I will fucking become. I don't want to diet. I just want to die, so these foreign energy systems can go home and leave me alone. My face no face but fuck. My teeth no teeth but luck. My eyes no eyes just balls. Fall face forward, and fall fall fall. I light up another magic, magistracy. I lose what I cannot protect. I beckon and looking ahead see nothing but disease. My eyes are gone. Black and cold remain. This over-dramatic foretelling of a future in vein. Which vein this vein is in vein this vein this vein look vein fuck blood. I hate you carelessness.

Wednesday, November 16, 2011

to beautiful. could it be we are all beautiful?

what are you doing when you think a thing is ugly?

it's easy for me to believe there is no ugly, since i believe i am easily perceived as being ugly.

"We are loving people, with distinguished noses."


1. we start out in a blank chair
2. the Object is under the chair
3. the Presenter takes the object and holds it to their belly
4 the Presenter steps outside of the curtain
foreign parts move shifting into & out of gears rusty from snow & salt, hand & feet push levers of motion into holes, interlocking layered signs & signals, move make the move make the mutter... sticky sticky sweaty hands on a cold november unlike last one. waiting in the car steamy & writing love letters on the windows with fingers. smushing dirty barefoot prints. let coldness seep in pleasurably & with wisdom, rest your head on the driver's lap, keep your knees away from the stick. crunch. drift away alone not alone in the seat of your ascendent vehicle, merge flesh to metal. be the lap, the comfort, the creator, the destroyer, be the shift maiden & gear heap, background overlay backgrounds & eyes made from knobs of grease.wet steam. on the lap of your forlorn lovers' parts. alone not alone, because the parts were stolen and shared. car and driver. a november night, wipes away all the letters.
and will have touched your wet hands to a face. who's skin marks no resemblance to your own, steam.

Monday, November 14, 2011

i want to die and fill our tomb up with stones, i want it to be okay to hold onto the things i have become attached to. to enact. construct and reconstruct a shrine. to build something to be destroyed. the beauty of deterioration, the beauty of decomposition.

i exhibit

i am art

i destroy I, am

Tuesday, November 8, 2011

if time was coffee, i would fill my belly until i vomited
if time had lines i would carve them into my skin with a hot staple
if i could ride clouds, i would ride them to see my mom but not tell her what i was doing, and just watch her at night to make sure she went to bed alright.
if i could believe i created this world, I would believe that falling in love was possible, instead of it always having been in the past
the illusory dream

I want to listen to blonde redhead
in completely white room
white on white on white on red
bouncing rhythms with no heat
just memories of being real.

stuck in the dreams of imaginary becoming.

saying i wanna believe we're all beautiful
but they wont throw rice in my ears for that
singing i am tree shining in the wind but but but but

wolf dries

come down _____ lucky.

here/ herro.
man luck trust you. seattle new.

faux sho.

shiny toy guns

gosh darm yarn time

"Goddammit Nur. Godamn left your mouth open all night and all the dry air got in and sucked you dry."
"Dumber, dumb ass, I am yelling at you. Sister. Pick your shit ups, lets go."
"We're all older toddlers anyhow, just dancing around with some big guns... Mine's gots bubbles..."
"Fuck that shit, we're late! Hurry up!"
"Late for what? I'm still getting ready."
"Getting ready for what? You already are, here now, when you were supposed to be there then."
"My legs don't work when I can't think about them."
"No just do do do DO IT! Now."
"You're so annoying I was getting up anyway. I'm just slow."
"There's no time for being slow. Everything is passing you by. We all move so much faster than you, and we wanted you to come play with us, but now you're just sitting doing nothing. And it's not fair. It's not fair to have the WHOLE ENTIRE WORLD waiting for you, just so you can take your sweet time. Nur stop being so selfish!"
"I'm just putting on my shoes, putting on my hat, putting on my face, getting ready to go in. I'm gonna go. I'm gonna drown. I'm gonna grow..."
"You can't grow."
"I have all of eternity!"
"There's no time anymore for that bullshit."
"There is no end we're just coming up on a tight curve."
"It feels so real though."
"Last time this happened that one dude had everyone believing we had to poison ourselves to make it through. You think I'm gonna do anything at all about it this time? ... I'm trying to set a good example."
"The example of taking your godamn time and not letting anyone mess with what you're doing! So go away godamnit and get away from me and never come back you fuckin' time-monger! Black hole! Heathen!"
"Jesus. Christ. Nur. What a professional asshole. I just waited a thousand years so i could come get you to go play ball, and you're putting on your socks, while I wait for you. Yelling at me."
"Yelling, at ME!"
"Yelling at ME!"
"We're yelling at each other!"
"we are each other!"
"Fuck you."

"This is what you get for never believing I was beautiful."

Monday, November 7, 2011

let's move to the future

let's move to the future and pretend time is a ribbon
looping around your fingernails at angles assisting their patterns
and i love the way you move your fingers like that

Hands used for holding things. From the future! hands used to hold sirens and lasers. Hands used to measure light. hands for making spectacles. holding sunlight traveling from the moon, remembering father lines of movement. Gay. Gaia. Ga. Gather.

One to the two to the one to the zero..... (puffed out air from a plastic bag)

lips puckered as valve closes, letting in a narrow strain of smoke.

smoke. or love. pucker patter mutter. flip angle switch bird crows cawss no er i mean . it .. al.

now, out of the smoke, my hopes and fears. the card comes flying out, two-dimensional swift, turns, and develops into a being. my name once Light, a reflection of others, chooses herself. Neon. No Nur. Maybe never always. Was Echo, ecko, icho, whatever, and Lavender and Juniper too. Now wanting to dig deep into the past and the future that was and will be, remembering the vision, Of Flying. Of being suspended in space,

I think . Every time I pick a new name, I name myself, then feel super embarrassed about it. And name myself again. This time. i will name myself in my head. i declare it doesn't matter if it' the exact right name. it's just a character actor actor anyway. so whoever i was shining white and blue and lovely, will eb called, Neon today. Neon Greene ;D Um yeah.

Neon Greene would also be a really good performance persona. Two big wolf dogs on each wrist and magic powers. I grant wishes. I filter your deepest desires into tangible objects and situations. I really want to watch a movie watch the sunset in the arms of blue white light.

more more more blather..

Thursday, November 3, 2011

face or fck yourself









7. POP CULTURE........////////??????????????? SUCKS ARSE

and CLICK.




time takes its toil on us all! and my hairs on my genitals falling, gracefully on your carpet microscopic painters of fiber so much more gray than a harboring pain. little lo little loo little pee in the morning all makes sense to the harbinger of baked eggs. im so hungry mommy.
im so cold.
im so optimistic.
i'm so bold.
i drink coffee.
i make lists about ME!
i'm a fairy
i can hardly breath.e.


kalling all kaleidoscopes. pictures and phrases. calling all liars, bullshitters, and mages. calling all his his his his stupid pants! calling all bark dropping to pick up after yo'self.


Wednesday, October 26, 2011

new post for a new river

one asks their head, "What's wrong with America these days?" and head replies, and head replies, and head replies, and never does stop talking, to whisper. And never does stop talking to answer, on a practical and deep level, what IS going on. No one knows what is going on.
I can't even judge how much food I have been eating anymore. I can sit down and eat 3 bowls or half a bowl or 5 liters of rice and beans... As it morphs flickering from large to small to way-too-much, when it enters my mouth, falls plump in my stomach and expands, I swear. I'm a bird, I can't have rice, it swells in my belly and I explode.

There's something about leaving all the things that make you happy behind that seems so self-less. But really, i know I can't posess anything to begin with. What I'm saying is maybe it's alright to both recognize the gifts ashwern on counter tops full of beer, and table tops in wish-they-were-actually-fancy restaurant land, as being available to others, and the predominant possibility of those gifts being thrown away, and wasted. Like every thing else you bought last year.

Don't forget January is the start of tax season.

And the new year.

We're all finally 2,012 years old. Happy birthday measure of time, and the separation of unity. Who am I? Where am I? Are we still friends?

Later this evening I will compare my hopes and dreams with my anxieties and fears and realize just how far they've come... When you get to the splitting point you either hold on, or let go.
If I hold on, it could truly part, but if I let go, the nature of splitting things takes over. First, they split, then they retract then they split some more. Can two things ever be torn apart? (Here you bend down and brush the ground and think, right here, right here, is where i dropped my old. torn. heart. And let it go.)

A heart like a Magickarp. Tarot this Tarot that.
A heart like a steel refrigerator.
Bones like paper tigers, and elephants.
Ilusion is structure, and structure is illusion, in the same way Reggae keeps the beat going. When the beat goes flat, the structure seems harsh, and stuck up.

I can't remember who you are. Your face scares me though.

So.. I can't remember my recurring thoughts. It's summertime. It's almost winter and I'm scared the cold will kill me this time. I don't want to leave it's Baby Land. It's comfort time. My mother makes the best soup and tea. It makes you feel so warm. I remember being under my blankets and not knowing why i felt so stagnant and alone in a house full of people. People yelling, but sometimes people loving me, and hugging me, and being so goddamned loyal to me.

It was winter whenever I was there. I would like a car. Is this my last chance Jesus>? Jesus fills my heart with warmth and sometimes depression.
Guilt and love are not supposed to be related, Nor fear. Nor Ice. But Ethers were all elements.. Fire & Ice.

How much can I stay at home, your home? My home? Our home? This home? Every home has its own paranoias.
If I expect you to bring aliens to my cabin, will you?
If I follow you like a feather, would you breathe me in?
How dark is the trail from my veil to the lengths of the sun strings? That tug and pull on our hearts. And the cold wings that make it easy to forget just how much and where you were loved. It will take months for you to regain your balance in this shanty town. Half the time I embrace, the electronic resistance. I've thought a lot about the paths of least resistance, in kindergarten terms!
Sticking blocks into places that don't fit, how long until you quit? better get it in quick! Cause your mom wants to see you smart.

There are sounds like bubbles, falling smarter in your cufflinks. They shine with the rhythm of remembering time in line. We can hold it like a branch or a stem. It can reflect or deflect and it's all really pretty.

I wanted something I couldn't give. And sitting spinning in a rolling chair in Dad's laboratory. Spinning over and over and over again. Hold on to the image of sitting in the red chair in the office in the laboratory spinning, over and over and over again. Spinning sitting.
Sut spun out. Always seems more more more more more more.

Hands held and half of me still ever will be a child, not sure who what where but chair is spinning and will be repeated. All sanity made unclear. Would like the 9 to 5 in the Metal Shop minus the asshole roommate.

and quivering lips, for breakfast. Spending money so quickly. I can't believe
it's only a dream.

Saturday, October 8, 2011

1. give them raw organic chocolate
2. lure them to sweeets


i believe in you in me
when you touch me you touch yourself.

touch me, then touch yourself.

touch you skin to me, and touch yourself.
see me touch yourself and touch yourself.
hug yourself. try some loving on yourself.

take your hands, take you limbs tree branches stretch out
against skin
functioning lonely, can you barely breath?
folding over me. now a touch see.

elbow to thigh to fingers to mine'

alone except for hip-hop in a shower with the drip-drops and can't you just dance to the din when waters kiss skin you get excited from within

bourne as if by the ocean
with quivers in rivers and the salty taint of devotion

"Sometimes we forget that we can kiss our shoulders."
[conversation like i had at the coffee shop]
"because you dont need someone else to feel that good warm fuzzy feeling of physical sensation."
"my skin is water. my skin is touch. sensations sens shivers down my spine."
"i lvoe my body:
"i love the way it feels."
"i like the taste of me i like the way it feels."
"i liek the taste of me, it feels so. Real."

[on sign]


[Spoken before going on stage]

Before you, a bubble. Imagine. Water falling. Through it.
I am the water. Use me to sliver.
I am the waterfall. Use me to shower.
I am the liquid. Rub me all over your body.

You have the permission to touch me as much as you want.
In any way- that. you. want.
I have the permission to slip in between you.
You have the permission to touch your self as much as you want.
in any way. that. you. want.
I am the water that slips in between you.

You are the water. You are the movement. You are the water.

Moving closer. Moving farther.


define the difference between sexual and senusual
be specific

then ask them to do what you want

"what makes you want to touch yourself?"
"touch from your hips to your knees"

Tuesday, September 20, 2011

Wednesday, September 14, 2011

really cool ideas:
project influences by R. Buckminster Fuller
- The idea here would be to explain in some way similar to that of Paul Klee's Pedagogical sketchbook check it out: more to come!

Tuesday, September 13, 2011

re translations

you just made my day =
you gave me something i wanted before meeting you =
i actually thought about you giving it to me the whole time we've known each other and now that i have it i'm not sure why i still know you

the real world =
world outside my head =
the working world =
the world where when you find you should be responsible, you are =
the world of having a job, making money, and being sort of a common folk =
not the world in which is run purely off of air, thoughts, magic, and let's be honest the hardworking sweat of others =
the world outside my self

i miss you =
i passively miss you and will be trying to replace you with someone else =
no matter how many people i replace you with, i still think of you often (but less and less often as time goes by)

i will miss you =
until next time =
i feel like i'm falling in love with you, or the idea of you and i don't want to tell you because a) that's weird and b) i've only known you for a week =
i am already trying to plan the next time we take our panties off

solving puzzles =
taking off your pants =
taking calculus =
getting into your pants =
soul union

i wish i had a money tree =
i never want to work =
i never see the recirculation of good in the eyes of the lenses

you suck! =
i probably care about your opinion =
i love you, but don't like you
= I love you!

um yeah more...P.S.

YOU SUCK! jajajaa

one sister to another

and in this time of research and exploration
tug on the strings of your sister's lover

another post unsure of its foundation
in still water ______ falling.

like any hold in my splintering.

black water.


learning names.

veins tightening.
all the same, i guess.

Wednesday, September 7, 2011

hey this is funny sometimes

words seem stupid. I am no distinguished writer. I would like to talk about my feelings. This is what this is supposed to be used for. This is supposed to be release. This is supposed to prevent explosion.

Or a gargley group of nails-on-the-chalk-board poems for you. You who never speak. Silent internet audience. So the panopticon of awareness. Equals paranoia for me.
Watching speaking slowing down your slurs to make movement.

I understand, i do not understand. Why does what could be recognized as negative seem so poetic? And the happiness so bland? This is just a private journal or some small lady who never aged past adolescence. The honey of the eucalyptus tree. Anti ANTI BIO your face in my MOUTH.

Warm feelings feel light. My point must be down. Or horned. Yes, I have felt it on the top of my head, formed and de-formed to reform society. My little society the microbes underneath my fingernails. they come creep up to the outside corners of my eyelids at night and watch as the sandman gentley locks my eyes down, so I don't wake up in the middle of the night in a fit of terror, If'n i ever caught a glance of the real world.

All rotting flesh. But I like Our perspective.

Maybe it really was like it was in that big book Dad read to me at night, Myths & Legends. That heavy book. And every night, from dream to dream I would sleep. From stories of girls and animals who were once humans, and mixes and moxies of strings that I could draw out and into my mind as I drifted. Oh i imagine it was opalescent string. And I yawned it out of my father's magic. It was pink. It had the stink of dreams. The wonder if i could get away from this real thing. But really what if this one is the real fake!

Starbucks Starbucks Starbucks Starbucks. Suck my ass but i like your coffee. I am no coffee connoisseur.
(as lips dress your cheeks, as lips drape over your skin, as lips purse for purpose)
I wait in line to buy organic goods. Under the similar pretension that we all need to be protected from nature. Perhaps what we are trying to do is not natural, but SUCK IT KIDS. Fuck it I'm a tree.

i think worse than the fucked up things they put in the ground to make mutant food we have no idea of what LIFE will be affected by, is the intention spread on the ground, that of dominance and making money out of survival goods.

Anytime you try to make money off of what people need to survive, there will be those who will no longer be able to obtain those goods.

So I think it is swell, yet swollen, that so many of us are being enlightened by random toys and lights and objects that bear no hold on your blood & breath.
For example, super shiny golden track jackets. Blue dreaded hair. Bacon grease. Shiny shiny boots of leather.

(TB More)

Monday, September 5, 2011

waiting in the hotel room in Reno. spelled silly. dropped some letters on the ground. hard con. scratchy and miss-graded. there is a leveling here. floor below floor. below flavor. i messed up skilled scared. to the garden. to the passage way. to the lose papers to the middle man. i was horse. i am cowboy. i killed buddha. i killed myself. i killed the president. i killed Zardoz. I made a mystery out of two lips. breathing words so slowly the wind stops time. I unlocked a door. the door opened into another hole. the hole formed two sides. I exhaled and got taken in. blown through. cracked open. free from walls is what a passage way looks like. maybe the illusion of a wall, the negative impression of 3 walls. The fourth lacking in any connotation.

above my head the air glistens in the way only air can. warm and flowing and coming from no where just being air. the air moving the air as if particles were separated and rubbed up against each other with as much friction as two pieces of paper. two differently colored chunks of bark. two names of a feather, flyin' together.

Thanks to deep Playa

Thank you dear greek deep playa
matted with feet scrapes now your dust is thinly slain
how terribly raw is my face
she called me an angel, i said, we all are.
on my face the flesh boils up
steamed skin now tough
can resist burns in the hot sun
contemplating why he would keep keep telling me how hot I am but not how beautiful.
does not think i am beautiful.

I think everyone's face is so terribly unique they are each their own examples of complete beauty

he couldn't stand my face so I put the sunglasses on. he couldn't bear to look at me, because his penis was growing. And my face was red. He thought I was someone else. He didn't care. He cared. He turned away from me. My mouth smelled bad. I have an infection. I haven't taken acre of myself for years. I kissed him we gave each other tongue. My face turned away. I know when my face is a burden. They try so hard but they separate my body from my head. I think he was embarrassed to see me in the light. I looked unlike his usual girls. Red face Lives lower under the surface of our skin care. death face angel race.
race to the line
divisions of grandeur
who are you and who are you deserving of?
the photo turned bad anyhow.
i never loved him.
we danced till dawn.
we danced in the day.
i used him for my sex-dancing motives.
i was desperate for uh pick me up and let me fly kinda guy
our slow dancing rubbed him
we didn't even need to leave the dance floor, right there out in the open.
he appears confused.
i am not what they belong to. Unlike fear love. Unlike near love or near brine.

he to me stood like an adonis. it was clear the connection was physical. i stood with my wings banging the air around me creating whirls of wind magic spheres. i cover my face in the darkness. it is too much to handle. darlin.
face like death, to remind you of the afterlife

Thursday, August 25, 2011

most people are lairs simply bec. they dont know how they feel or are too scared to express themselves
most people intend to be honest

Monday, August 22, 2011

soooo more to come JOY!

love is not in the color of the clothes you wear
or the friends you hang around
it is not in your economic decisions, we all try our best
it is not in the money we let ooze into our systems
love permeates through us is everywhere and nowhere
we are made of it
skin to skin and bone to bone, cellulose to cell and squishy everything we can't tell

our dead hair our live breath

in the outcast sky, in the incandescent pink glow of sunset

in the garbage on the ground, in the blood from your bleeding mouth

teeth pulled still, and i am yet whole

on a personal note, at burning man, I will generate wind to draw our most sincere energies out of what may seem like a dark and light cloud,

and there will be those who will help me, and those i will help

and together we will
make things LIGHT!
drop our WEIGHT!
and fly, I think, I believe.

spirituality is not in the practice, it is in the heart, and I have the strength to believe in all our hearts. all golden. all good. And all you have to do, is seeee it.

I see it. in us all.

hopefully that's all that required. I know I wear God's armour.

it's happened before. It can happen again.

Sunday, August 21, 2011

emotional robot seeks mind to delve deeply to unlock feeling
emotional lover robotically presses skin against skin and moves pipes to push out exhaust
emotional computer being wants things to be easy
cause hard stuff makes herhim cry
emotional daughter wants lover to notice subtle mind games, like puzzles, not war
cause sometimes pieces don't fit until they can't fit anywhere else
emotional mother weather monster wants to know if her ovaries have fallen yet.
emotional petty monster aks god for forgiveness for the sins she herself judges herself for
robot lover soldier deisres action
gets sucked into sold state stasis
wants what others have
feels embarassed when others like what she has
knows she has fooled them
and that she is not real
only as real as synthetic reality.
wires for veins, and electricity for breath
perfection comes to those who can disconnect themselves
from a conversation
who think highly of themselves
who ponder revenge
and manipulations.

wondering eyes look up, only to mentioned as bulging once again.
i want and i want and i want
only what i can give myself.

beckoning cries.
if you see mine as different.
i look inside.
i see gradation as a mathamatical equation.
your x is y away from my y, my z is your z. at least that we share.

exponents grow larger
and we separate farther.
for as weird as you wanna.
fawn is fearful, have you forgotten?
all the times it got scary, and little ol me hid under the covers
was a dream, were you real?
hovering over me, and the face of my grandfather, with a rainbow.
who was he?

i know my friends better than i know my family.
and i am scared of both.

i wanna house.
maybe a nice room.
i wanna a landlord who cares about mold.
and roommates who tell me how much i need to pay in utilities.

i love a man.
i lust for another.
i lust for the first again.
i love one like real deep, both i hardly know.
one feels deep like bowls of rice, the other erratic, perhaps only a brother.

i don't know how i feel. it fluctuates

Drop a penny on the ground for the ground's lucky day
find a penny and throw it into the sky so the sky can say
"find a penny pick it up, all the day you'll have good luck."

talk to wise people who use colors and common images to breathe
and just try to show them your special unrelated thing
what use is it to be different?
i am the same i am the same
we we we


baby coos softly against skins of trees, lain after slain on the dirt sandy concrete kind of sidewalk. what big scrape you would get if you fell on it,
off your skate board bike thingy

hanging down dangling.....

i mentioned a breath of fresh air
and my body got all hush as if i had just told them about paradise.
"sorry body, iwas just talkin."

i don't know what i want out of love

nothin i guess

i want more out of myself.

dont wanna be scared of my friends they smell it on me

wanna cry no where to be alone...
i suppose i do that.
just dont wanna tell people when to go home
dont want them to go home at all.
wanna eat better.


Friday, August 12, 2011

love at high soon
full mast
pride flag fever
lovin you as ever believen

in heaven

Tuesday, August 9, 2011

not sure

fuck you for not making me feel at home in my own home
fuck you for making me have to feel comfortable with your junk cells
or you won't believe i love you
fuck you for alienating our friends from the east coast

fuck you for making me have to protect myself from you

fuck you for managing to persuade me i was your avatar
fuck you for telling me you were in love with me then getting angry for me not being in love with you
fuck you for never fixing it
fuck you for being a friend who no longer acts like a friend
fuck you for wanting me to just be there for you, when i haven't been there for myself.
fuck you for needing me to be okay with my home and my stuff being fucked with
fuck you
i love you

as if every chord in my body didn't care how it came out
it came out
maybe some strings all black
it came out
goddamn a half hand in my pants
it came out
and a calm air through a needle
it came out

spin that swindle another way
i've got to kindle my inner flame
you want familiarity?
you want acceptance?
i'm sorry i remember all the breath we spent
you want adventure i want a cubby hole
i need you to sacrifice your life
cause in mine, it just don't like
to be mixed with lines... that feel like poison.

aching bread muscles I feed on to get rich, (in soil)
I dont know as much as you about hardship
but we have room to grow
cant deal with the new appeal you have towards thinking but not saying it outloud.

lets say it outloud.

i don't understand you anymore.

and you seem to resent me.

Wednesday, August 3, 2011

- ribbon wrapping body
- all the same , dance move
- seed from the spoil , dance move
- i dunno

about perhaps dna?
yes! dna... must do research

and ayurvedic cosmic memory stufff


Aloe comes down hisher we's throat. She turned her head to the side and looked up at the sun, eyes squinted with hope. "Where is the word weird world....?"

Monday, August 1, 2011

and it was so good naked water
embryo waves, cover womb water-baby
born of a cold wind out of sun touched lake
laying on a broken tree
carved out in between dreers
standing on rock a boat
under neath and watching waves come forward

if all the things, made of stars, can give up, their "placement in this world."
then we can, let go, and reveal
one in being with the stars
one in being with the water
and blood for remembrance never falters.
giving honour
to the tides
without holding on to the moon anchor

moot mother
moon lover
what say you for having a womb?
i want a goddess unlike a woman
i want a god unlike a man
i destroy god man woah man god,

i hurt when you notice large mounds as breasts
but not small ones

i hurt when you see 2 inches of penis
as a woman
as a man

i hurt when we discriminate each others differences
differentiating like we use mathematics
calculating self-worth
unknowingly with the neuro NO non neuro NO non
self, non-typical, everyone

one lobe hangs down, the other stays put
inbetween the lions
roar, our a grumbly gargle of spit
trells down, cheek, eye, tear
broken tree tear skin naked water

look down
and rub your hands in the dirt
and spread it like ganja butter
in the aire
of the wire
holding scraping lowering your gaze
graze now cow
sacred queen
queer dresses.
lattice work.
belief is power
now, the calm calls
cum calls
reality stalls
and walk out of the house early in the morning when condensation causes warmth as well as moist
well as groist

motion blurs
i hear ya
ear turns
to the angle of sound
listening loudly, we join our hand-flames together
and become one candle.

no breasts, all breast, genital, genetic, centro- STOP

no biological basis of behavior

lazurus and i
well, we brought each other back from the dead

and his hand lay still on teh dester path, dusty
hand lay with that coating of dirt on top of sticky grimy oil, maybe just honey
bee propolic prepare potent
my tongue on your .... heart chakra
wheel of fortune i lick
whords whorls whores whords
i stick... just to keep you alive lazer lover


wave goodbye
underneath solaris scenes


Saturday, July 30, 2011

Burning The Man - Part 1: The Beginning

And when we were bodies in the woods, we took The Shingle Path...

Today's Topic: Health of the Universe

Many of us are trying to harmonize our heads with our hearts with our bodies. If we look at it under one perspective: that we are already perfect. That, we are enough. That we are already here now, and doing what we're doing, that we never need to make up for anything, or become something else than we already are.

"It is important to expect nothing, to take every experience, including the negative ones, as merely steps on the path, and to proceed."
— Ram Dass

Now, is this saying that we turn a blind eye, to starvation? sickness? abuse? economic control? Does the Universe indeed need healing?

I think we will come to the realization, that not only does the Universe want healing, but that that is indeed what we humans, plants, and animals are here for. the Universe is a much larger place than the area our minds assign to it. The Universe represents its self in large(macro) and small(micro) levels. It patterns itself over and over again, to reveal more in less space-time, or less in more space-time.

When asked the question, Why does the Universe need healing? Isn't it fine the way it is, and working int he way it should be, even if that is towards what we may call death and destruction... We can relay that question to our own bodies...

If we are sick, do we want healing? O r would we rather train our minds to see through the dream-like essence of reality? Would we rather see through earth? See through pain?

I have observed, that when people are sick, they really do not choose as much. They kind of fall into a new vulnerability, where what matters becomes most prominent, they seem to be even more able to see clearly what is going on.

We are indeed made of flesh and bones, how can we say that that is just a scheme? There is purpose and meaning in this earthly existence. We have come here to learn how to be grounded, how to harmonize our amazing minds with our amazing bodies. How to harmonize our amazing earth, with our amazing free will and power.

So. Healing. Can help. It does not choose what to heal. Energy healing is about letting go, it IS about accepting even the "negative" steps. But it takes a step further. It uses the power and energy of letting go, and helps it to flow, Everywhere.

To believe that everything happens the way it should be is one step, to realize your actions make up the world, is another. To realize that all our actions together influence our reality, is another. there is no Union, but the one we are living, and breathing. Unity is not simply some high in the sky reality, that can be obtained with our minds. Unity is breathing in the same breath that a sick man breathed out, drinking the same water, that passed over a salmon. Unity is both heady, and dirty.

Ever find yourself having fun and immense joy? Only to then encounter a sick and worried individual? Do you ever feel guilty for being happy? Well, your joy helps them! Your love and relaxation of life helps! But what could also help, is recognizing their pain as Valid. Their pain is as valid as your joy.

Their suffering counts just as your freedom from suffering does.
Now. How can we share?
We are all figuring out how to share our personal accomplishments.

The way I am doing this, is through constant energy healing, truth, and the recognition that everyone is trying their best in their own way.

It hurts to be sick. It does. It hurts to not be able to breath, no matter how good life is, if you can't breath, it feels like you can't see. Life is there, we must awaken to it. We can help each other. Just lay your hands on the next person you see.

see what happens when you let your mind move into the body, and become one.
we have all of us, the ability, to never bee sick, or to let sickness pass.
illness is a message from deepness.
to traverse the deepness, leave you baggage behind.
just touch.
just touch.
and let flow.
i love you so much. and when you let it all come out. you realize that words, what youre wearing, what you do, how you believe, what lifestyle you live, how able you are to communicate, what you make, how healthy you are, matter like nothing in comparison to how Deep You Love. how unconditionally you can see the world. And fill it with Love like empty freedom.

Love makes all clear.
Nothing to fear.
And you dont have to be,
you are
your own destiny.

Put your hands in the air, like you just don't care
and shake shake shake.


Thursday, July 28, 2011

not the next post, post

"I am not you, so we don't have to go the same way. I can feel you all the time, so we can be two different places at once, and still get to connect our paths together."

Is this co-dependence and lack of boundaries?

"The various characters in your fantasies are extensions of yourself."

Maybe when I meet someone I feel so strongly for, I am just meeting the recognition of me feeling so strongly for a part of myself represented by that individual.I mean, if reality too, is fantasy. Made of dreams.


waiting out side to clean /meditate.

today's concept: fantasies, how we let our minds' create expectations that seek materialization

maybe I don't want much anymore. maybe i dont want things. don't want to possess. apparently I have electricity on my skin, that makes it soft.

i'd like to manifest. the idea that it's all under the sun.

maybe i think about having babies, and the picket fence dreams stuck way far in the back, at times. the idea of falling in love. how just when he said "synchronicity" the calm fell out of the bird's mouth onto the asphalt in the grocery store parking lot.
next to the water.
told me it was, too dirty to drink from.

i like to eat mono-meals. most people think it's weird, as in, won't share them with me. but... I think i need to be extra weird to control/manage my time.

neutrality feels weird. I am waiting for people to leave the buddhist center.
i am wondering how true it is, that all my fantasies have creates these attachments to how my life should be, or how yours should. I know, deep pit, that it's true, I've always known. I'm just so good at fantasizing. I can make things real. Is that black magic?

I wanna go away and read about nabaokov, in a crater, underneath a tall mountain, where the Mayans used to live.I think I have everything I have ever wanted. It's just... I do fantasize. A lot.

Like how one day Lupita (my cat) and I will rule the world as a huge jungle and eat grapes and play with each other's feets all day, cause we're sisters and all, and i love her so bad.

The one weird thing about my best friend and I, is that when we're having a real good time, and we're bonding, and feeling like the other is the only person one would ever want around. there's this other feeling that makes us separate. the one that comes from how we can't fuck each other. So then we seek, best friends that we can fuck, but we already have best friends... I don't know what this is, i am just observing. Is it just that me and my friends are super sexual? I dunno. I think we are, either that, or just super sexy.

I think that the whole thing that women, as they get older reach a sexual maturity
may be true.
The other thing I am observing, is that part of me is quite an animal. And I would like some unity on these parts.

bla blah blah...

I was thinking. I'm not sure. If I'm supposed to have anything I want.

Cleaning at the buddhist center is so calming.

okay by y'alll

Wednesday, July 27, 2011

This is a post in preparation for the next pose, next pose


In our next post, be prepared. The next installment. Explains. Everything I know.

By preparing you, to under the stand, know what I will be doing at Burning Man.

What I will do at Burning Man. Will entail everything I have learned. About:



Tuesday, July 26, 2011

a song: Kill The Buddha

Taking care of wounds and old
We could feel , appeal
to the
of a
twas a part
of the scheeeee--ma
lake line, do divine, do divide, over time, through the chords of our.
a deer, so discreet, never fears
of the years incomplete

speaking sweet
whisper clear
in an ear in an ear
to be sweetly heard by the fluttering
of bees
pro-polis stings
in your moutn
when you cover it up to cure
to cure
to cure
your disease
gums bleed
spirits dwell
all work
towards the whole
hole hole hole hole

we were spirits well worn in our
fold fold fold fold of our whirl
just twirrrl

and well worn were the whispers that formed beneath the crackle folds of wrinkling skin

and so were all the kisses we gave to each other performing old chagrin
to begin
to indulge
to derive
to be

"i once studied math, as a dream."

and you sink your teeth into the arms of your forlorn lovers parts
and you rip yourself apart, at the end, proclaiming love
but it depends

who are we?who are we?
we are the rain

fortunately free fortunately free
with disdain we stare
at the sun
gaze with love, he ur friend, he our love.

hides in clouds
with a dream
for rainbows bow
their heads
to the scheme

"this is the salt i bring
this is the song i sing
these are my favorite things

ramble-ling fairy kings
mountains of spiral strings
these are my favorite things..

And all the same, is true, For You.
We've all been, play-ing, the fool.

This is the salt I spring
This is the soil I sling.
these are my favorite things

patterns of fountain free
miles of mystery
these are my favorite things

And all the same, is true for you,
We'll all be playing, FOR YOU."

ring ring ring ring ring
a telepathic call to your voice
the commincator spreads
wings through the tele-wind
I spin, the cord, I wrap it arund my neck
it spreads
wings of tele-wind
will you respect?
my burgeoning voice?

the belief you have a choice
to answer kindly
my tele-wings
around your face

touch two fingers to your heart, one to your toes
bend your self in half
and become a ball
i will begin a creation drop of a hair
i sent out our spring of love
could you send it backwards?

no, no, no, no, no
a choice
i lay my thoughts down, and mind is roasted
rye rye rye rye
a thought or choice
bread of a feather slings together

bread is baked with yeast
from the stone
from the cavern
i hold out white goo
white god
no no no
over candid flow
everything must die
kill the buddha - kill the lies.
lo lo lo beckon sweet. old old old.

will you hold me? protect me? tell me sweet things
that i tell i tell myself.

a river runs through my heart
i love you
a river is a an old friend
polishing the stones of lenses
rip rive run rip river raises beds
run river ends river bends

soil makes flat dirt on your feet
pull up ball to chain to change me
i wann change wann change wanna change

speaking of time all rip-chords off in our minds
all the same all the sane

wann change wanna change

sleving and twine, di we lose all care of our minds?
all our pain allour pain
wanna pay wanna pay


stay with me
play with me
just lay with me
oohhh pay, for me

speaking of twine, did we cut off so we'd be blind?
all the lanes, all the lanes
wanna saty wanna stay

earth is our time
to eb sharing with our kind
all the same all the same
wanna play wanna play

ohhh just say for me
ohhh just wait for me
ohhh just stay for me
wanna name wanna name
ohhh just carry me
ohh just haven me
oh just flake off with me
wanna change wanna chnage...


in the stillness of a roooooom
beckon sweetly your mouth
to my lips
love is all i can drink

all i can drip

i am rain you rainbows and time
i am twine i hold lines

this song calms your nerves did you hear
a bird
it was you
and a word
tell it true

like a spin it will wring all your passions
did you fall
no matter

did you fly
we will both, hit the ground
concrete spins in rocks and cracks
crack denote the time it takes for you to come back

i will believe you are a king
i will believe you are a thing
i will believe you are the maker of all things
i will believe we created the world together
that a hope is a feather that helps you fly
away from the lies of time holding us to this space
no soul can disgrace
a love
like this

has no place in this world? what do i make ... of this world
but to prostrate in the dirt
and sky

xela cielo

me oh my

xela cielo
me oh my

miiiiiiiii, nd


with me
like warm yarn

hold covers with me
over our arms
will make the corner spaces

cake my min
with your wisdom
i'l unwind all my ways
words will spine up your ryhtm
i ahave healing for your brain
we can change we can change...."

this i pray

Monday, July 25, 2011

Hello World!

Both scary and shaking, like the lost puppy I am taking care of today. BUT OH SO HOPEFUL. And with good news too.

It looks like I have been approved to volunteer for 3 months in Xela (Quetzaltengo) Guatemala. The organization is called Nuevos Horizontes. They take care of women and children, and others who have been dealing with domestic violence and other trauma. It's pretty obvious in my life, I gravitate towards drama and trauma. I think it must be for a good reason. We are all good people.

I would be going there over Winter.

the city "Xelaj├║" (pronounced shay-lah-WHO) or more commonly Xela

I M IN LOVE i think. Did you know i'm part Mayan? And I feel a connection my people.
Cant write.

I have also taken 8 years of spanish classes. I have been waiting for the opportunity to dive into a spanish speaking country , so I can excavate my knowledge of grammar, vocabulary, and speaking skills, that I had tucked away upon meeting a really wonderful Peruvian in 2006.

Do you believe me?

If you are reading this. You have entered in to an area of time space. Where anything you have wanted (we have wanted for you/us) is able to come out now. You have entered NO*TIME* space. All time now is compounded into all-time or no-time. Now reach your hands into the deepest depths of your heart, into even the unknown dark parts. Reach deep, get your hands dirty and wet, pull it out. Look at it. Hold it up to the sun. Peer through the spaces in-between, use your eyes to see, whatever it is you are looking at, is made of light. Is MADE of LOVE. Is not bad, it is good, and it is harmonious, and we have made it together. As the sun shines through, as the Moon light falls through the spaces in-between it enlightens them, lifts them Into the sky. Your focus guides them. Your eyes are the lines they will follow. and they come from your heart. The one I carry in my heart. the one that is our heart. And shine out your deepest desires! Trust that we ARE all in This together. And let it go. Just let it disappear in the wind. Sands will come and cut it into pieces of crystal, and take it everywhere, to all people. Because You are made of Love. You are beautiful.