our friend is still alive. and there are apples to be eaten.

i don't like my poetry anymore. you should read my old stuff. it's much better.
i need to change my perspective. but i suppose this year something different happened that never happened before and that's why it's so different. this year aaron died.

My summer sublet

A decomposing Paradise :]]]]]  <3

What it feels like to be the wind / weather

Today i. Cry. I am. WArrior. I run. M y fingers backwards on the soil it grows into mud Today i spin like wire and create electricty Today i trick myself into flying up with the wind And pitter patter slosh on the roads Today i am a car Today i am a couch that is covered with blankets Today i hearth my hurt heart TodY i sing songs about the quiet things Today i am a bird like other days The rocks they confuse And the dirt i just brush off my shoulders Old wise crow and who is also the summer wind Blew in today What a babe thAt breeze To flicker beside my wind To warm ,the coldness of my spin The sun and the moon in the sky The death aNd the life in the same breath The blood aNd the breath in the same Squint Towards hope Not as a dream But as real as ice cream When you come home The plants in surreal fashion Brush up against you Wrap them arms around you And whisper sweet nothings in your ear They whisper whAt we all whisper The heart is carried in your heart is carried in mine heart is carried The ground bows upwards The embrAce concave convex Con fuse ing The fuse box dimly lit Dim not dumb Not fixed Fun and Fawn Frolic with fingers in meadows made of green lace I love you so much i never want you to know For feAr of embarassment So i regret to inform you that i need a push Cause i WIll stay on the I love you so much i never want you to know On the I love you so much The lift Everytime i reach the top of the mountain I love you and i need a push But in the meantime will Watch this mountain grow I love you mountain And when i tell you, must you know i am the wind And with all this mountain i love you And with all this wind i love you even when i am stuck on the lift Ready to On the tip top Mix a fever Flowering into new weather

Response is a reminder Rain is falling Validation exits Exists not No one knows what love or loyalty is Not vashti bunyan Not i Not you No hand that caresses is real As real as One or two fingers down my mouth when i am not looking In the morning you revert Which is a response To your baby self You cry Father mother brother lover is gone You had raped yourself With a friend As a tool Again They say rythm But i dont know how to play music And again Youre sad because your body hurts Your body hurts because you raped yourself You raped yourself because you want someone to touch You want someone to touch because you dont touch yourself You dont touch yourself because your body is not your own Your body is not your own because your body is an object Your body is an object because you were raped as a child So in order to regain your body you posess it in the way you have been trained As all things are posessed By becoming objects And commodity fetishes Your body Do you allow to fetish Longer?

In the words of Jamie Stewart..

Dear God, I hate myself
Dear God, I hate myself

writing for the purpose of emitting emotions

WHICH YOU  can or cannot EAT FOR BREAKFAST

dancing for breakfast
break dancing fast
break for the fast
dance for the fast
fast the break down






Hope makes me feel liberated and like I can fly.


Sometimes I want to love every body and cover my flesh in their flesh and return to a time when we were all strings and threads woven into the same fabric, and we are. We are then, now.
But I can't reconcile some of my past actions. I can't reconcile the things I could never reconcile that flowed and multiplied into other things. I can't reconcile the people I've touched and hurt with my hands, emotionally and for breakfast. I can't forgive myself for hitting someone. For touching or throwing some collar up against a wall. For yelling AT a person while they cowered beyond a wall that they could not cower through, but sat on the asphalt while I grew in inches above their head and became what I've always been:

MONSTRO HAILSTORM
GRANIZADA MONSTER


I feel a deep ache in my heart for people who are afraid of me. Why I can relate to my mother, people are so afraid of us. Why are we so loud and coarse? And is it a choice? Is it a choice to be ourselves? When we know a 'self' is a thing you create... Then why these tears hands down on my cheeks.




A beard. A bead a drop from the ocean past, a bare whistle. A slide handed down, inside chords drawn up, like curtains. Am I believing this? When no one hand understands, but mother lies down tired. Our legs hurt with the strain of carrying the weighted-ness of being alive for many years. I sigh and cover my mouth the way a mother cradles here child.




I need to study the Mayan People. They are my people.


The Palestinians and the Mayans. They are my people.


People.                                                They are my people.

A day in the life of the vanity table popped my socks off and embraced the letting. POPPED MY ROCKS OFF

Documentation, just some doxumentation.

Grow tesque

It's official! I can only make grotesque art.

oh my god going insane

oh my god now god deal

going insane on the rectangular

for the pentangles that tangled your brain

electricity travels       through    the     path    of
least
resistance

PERSON IS THE METAPHOR
for the personhood I choose
one cape
one wand
two cats

fine tuned lawlessness

wrestling boots

lots of bouncing

loving up on earth

trying to figure out when and how i SQUISH things that are alive

when and how and oh how Do you do?

do you do it

god i love you
god

who's sat-tin and is 'e made of string?
who is Satan and is 'e made of string?



not gonna hang
forever ago
bland



pillow - table


tall and stable








hello wizard


blink sliver

blind maple

tree favor
more than able anti flavor



DOTE on your anti
DOTE on your anti
DOTE on your anti
on your anti


GOD I LOVE YOUR FACE SMUSH

on beauty

I'm not sure beauty exists. iT SEEMs to posit ugliness into existence on the opposite end!





How can anything be ugly if it was made in God's image?
How can anything 'look' ugly? Isn't our perception of our visual reality being put through the filter of one's own mind? Can't we point any where and call it CENTER? Isn't it all circular, that is, this sphere (aka this realm or plane) has a center that is moveable and when moved still retains its infinite distance exerting themselves radially from said center? EXTENDING INFINITELY NO MATTER where ONE POINTS their finger? From one side, from the edge of said sphere, one could reason the center as perfection, and then therefore call the outside , outside of perfect, and the inside the distance from perfection to non-perfection? Can't you see? What is one perspective's perfect is another perpective's not-perfect?

What is in One, an idea of beauty, is in Another, an idea of ugly.
AND THAT'S OKAY on a moral level
                                    on an ethical level
HOWEVER when we start to differentiate OURSELVES based on these precepts
                                                                                                     these perceptions
                                                                                                              proposals
are we not saying, "This idea of beauty I am okay with, and these other forms, I am not okay with."
and over time, "This idea IS beauty, that idea is UGLY."

For example: What may be 10 people with very similar facial features, through the natural growth of genetic diversity over generations, turns into a multitude of differences. Naturally, our brains will categorize some of the resulting population into groups. When an individual appears to TOO different, TOO different to share in the category of the group (such as: normal or pretty), then they are thrown into other groups where they can fit (such as not as normal, not as pretty).

When categories are fixed resources
When we group each other by our behavior into categories that are based on fixed concepts

WE OTHER OURSELVES and place the possibility of BECOMING THE OTHER and not ourselves at all
AND THIS   is what    we call DIS ASSOCIATION
because first one has to associate them self with SOMETHING, to then become disassociated from it.

And when we realize that we are all part of one organism, we can feel these pulls and pushes away FROM SOURCE, called self.
When we distance ourselves from those who are not like us... we further DIVIDE THE GAP.

But when we align ourselves with  those like us...? What is that?


That might just encourage a movement of seeing more and more things as One's self.

Well if it could.... It might be the solution to my dilemma... Of never doing what I like to do, with my friends... Because in my openness of heart, I find, myself bored TO DEATH.
in my openness of heart, I seek others like me... Plants like me... Animals like me....

in our creations. I think it might help me. to go towards the thing itself I like. And not the people. Since people don't really exist as entities. People are just holes that hold things. From my person perspective, that makes what is outside of person hood, a real thing I can hold.

I can hold

a body

I can hold

a piano

I can hold

a knife

Can I hold you?

because you are not your body
you are not your piano
you are not your knife or your wife or your life

I cannot hold your life in my hands while I watch it die from too much attention (attention like sunlight needs water rest: Night-time. To be in balance)

"People are people so why should it be
You and I should get along so awfully

So we're different colours
And we're different creeds
And different people have different needs
It's obvious you hate me
Though I've done nothing wrong
I never even met you
So what could I have done

I can't understand
What makes a man
Hate another man
Help me understand

People are people so why should it be
You and I should get along so awfully

Help me understand

Now you're punching and you're kicking
And you're shouting at me
I'm relying on your common decency
So far it hasn't surfaced
But I'm sure it exists
It just takes a while to travel
From your head to your fist

I can't understand
What makes a man
Hate another man

Help me understand"

- Depeche Mode

opening day
slept with stoneheart


it is our job to find meaning in this electronic existence


like water through stone
or blood
today i bleed like seawater

meaning in every man on the back alley mumbling heavily

giggles



as bubbles
and bubbles

as bars

like prison?
like night prison?

all these conversations empty into the gradation between melody and disharmonic symphony
the kind i like in between my thighs
noisy noise noise NOISE








NOISY NOISE NOISE NOISE

so i havent been writing as much as i should
i feel my poems have gotten stale
but in truth as james said once
its not about being good its about practice and to practice you gotta write as often as possible no matter how it comes out

vomitous

gross

but feels so good


balanced PH

struggle to define
is

starfish in theory

oh how i love you

like a cat i lick your face



over and over and over again


spuritng out disgust trust lust
year after year
until future thorn horns grow
outta my nose to reverb with the throat opening

after the throat opens to perfect PH balance
then acid base
redux
reaction.

dear michael,
but also
dear tarsila,
dear emma,
dear cassie,
dear kelli,
dear claire,
dear dorothy,
dear carolyn,
dear mother,
dear fadi,
dear elias,
dear dad,
dear clel mel olive,
dear son,
dear jesse,
dear whomever I am embarrassed to say the following to:

i love you from the deepest parts of my heart where i do not question
i love you gently like the wind i expect nothing
i love you with flaws and holes and hopes
i love you angry sometimes but your love helps me let go
i love you outside time and inside time,
i love you loosely,
i love you like laced strings,

in a spit of passion maybe we met each other and embarked on the always beginning
the ever forming newly
and never was , was
and never will be, be
and always just the beginning
as i whispered into your ears dear emma
i remembered it is always just the beginning


spirited wings i know sometimes it is hard to catch me
but
i know
we are all butterflies

a time to sit and a time to flit

dear everyone,
thank you so much for being yourself, that's all i can ask and all that recharges us together


and remember,

one day we will all sleep under a big circular blanket with all our toes touching.



[less cliche & mushy writing to follow]

vata pitta spaz moments

they say there are two periods of the day that share the same dosha, in ayurveda
my time to shine is the pitta time of the day, which is now and why it is 532am and i've been trying to go back to sleep for hours.
it must go on for 4 hours then, maybe 5 to 9pm? huh? huh? That's my summertime pitta. Maybe followed by my summertime vata in which air moves fire. which is probably from 9 to 1p.. at which point there's this 4 hour kaphic window where I can take a nap and CHILL THE FUCK OUT CAUSE I AM.
SO GOD-

                                   -DAMNED EXCITED TO BE ALIVE

                                                                          IT IS MY 26th BIRTH DAY

EXCITED TO REPRESENT THE PLANET. BY SAYING: I AM BEAUTIFUL. NO UGLY. I AM LOVE. NO FEAR. I BURN THE SEEDS OF GUILT BLAME WORRY & SHAME +AND PICK UP FORGIVENESS . TO THE X DEGREE INCREASINGLY ALWAYS.
your chin is covered with dirt oh my what a cutie.
your eyes are dug in the out the up the tree today tomorrow yesterday was a great day for the sun to rise
today marks the anniversary of a determined but lacksdaisical representation of Nur Abir Greene.
a magnificent representation of all that is creation REPRESENT REPRSENT
this is a day for long ballads and spoken loud poetry
HIP HOP ON A BOOM BOX BIKE was what I wanted for my birthday but after today maybe I can start working on it .




GOD HAS GIVEN ME ALL I NEED
GOD HAS GIVEN ME ALL I HAVE ASKED FOR
I GIVE FAITH TO GOD LIKE A GIFT
AND LIKE A GIFT GOD GIVES FAITH IN ME
GIFTING YOUR FACE OFF


GOD BLESS THE WORLD AND YOUR FACE
oh i love your face and i love your name and i love your face
UNIVERSE IN GRATITUDE NOT IGNORANCE OR ABANDON, I STRETCH MY ARMS INTO THE SKY HOLD & MAKE A 'Y'
the who am i - what am i - where am i= game, simply a refrain of self-reflection, i think you've got all the answers, haven't I?
THE SKY HOLDS OUR HANDS LIKE MOTHER DID WHEN FATHER WAS GONE


I WISHED FOR THE SAME THING IN EVERY TUNNEL AS I HELD MY BREATH.


THE SKY HOLDS OUR HEADS & CRADLES OUR THOUGHTS TO GENTLY CURDLE  OUR MIND & SKIN OFF THE TOP.


I AM A GODAMNED FAIRY AND I GRANT WISHES.


THE SKY CARESSES OUR FACE AND BREATHES: oh i love your face and i love your name and i love your face and i love your name and oh how i love you.




NUR: RUN: light & run backwards
ABIR: sweet smelling aroma of a flower
GREENE: i'm not sure after much research


but it's like some sort of oroboros where upon eating one's self you create a new reality


death is strange still










okay bye for now much love to you
safe travels
make a wish for me today, i mean a wish for your self
and let if fly away free from doubt

probably quiet nur: 30 min. free rwite or less

probably backwards Nur acquired a part-time apartment today, lost her greene wallet walking fallen from pocket, and rearranged the entire contents of said apartment; parting, found cold old school pizza on the concrete, found: lights on at Lee's, creep around to check, and don't doubt why you know the code to get in.

[the mix'd residue stirs in the pot]

large and tall cabinets. long and wide shelves.                 stop.

WHY DO I ALWAYS LOSE MY IDENTITY

Um. Mhmm. David is a man with broken teeth yellowed from cigarettes who studies Tarot and Sanskrit. I meet him at Burial Ground. He, old and traditional, but still a child, I have to push to be different. The child inside always beckons to him though. We throw down a game hen hand..

I stand up. Pick up my bag and leave suddenly. I saw something red go by down the street. I have excellent peripheral vision, I know. But it's gone already when I get to the corner. I look down the street and see nothing. My feet tremble and some of my joints vibrate. But this isn't quite how they described a sonic boom.

Furling from me I become encircled by shades of green feary light. My back bows down and my hands bless the soil. Time slows. I remember ritual embedded in flesh and fever.

WHY DO I ALWAYS LOSE MY IDENTITY

Sometimes I wish time would just stop and no one knew anything 'bout no body. Cause they didn't have no body. And I'm a body... And I'm a body... I'm no body... I'm no body.                                         buddy ;P


Ye ye ye ye ye! Baby Olive screams yells laughs YEAH YEAH YEAH YEAH YEAH-YEAH.



i say




YE-YA! = damn straight yeah

                                                   in a crowd at a show. lauren used to say it when she was excited.

all my closest friends are far away but all my new friends are just like me. slow. the s'pace of the united states must bend as it heads west. focusing light differently, and possibly afffects the way time travels. or the way the united states travels through time. and Oh indeed it does.
just an amalgamation of a deranged dream holding on to tooth and nail as one would their binky, blanky, self, ego, etcetera.  eh.

embark on a different foot each day
but hold onto not seeing the golden string
for the chair to your right
fell in a good place once
and a lot of hands pushed time forward
so "the sound actually goes before the plane!"
really? or behind?          BOOM.

a shake here and there. I am shaking she said crying. I picked up her small baby hands and held them and shook for her.
inside the fear police, all i can do is fear-love for now!
i yelled. whispering,
please don't police my fear. i'm trying my hardest. do i let it out?
cause it's in a cage shaking. that fear dog.
race horse. snake king kind enough to show 'er face in here again.
dark , light , it don't matter this time.
rollin kings.
fear police mentions how it is not disconnected, motioning towards the several departments it holds in the spaces around my bones . ligaments. mhmmm. mmmm. muscles smooth and striated mmmm. mmm hmmm.
damn lickin' tasty fingers
my own.


oh .

Lee's Tumblr

http://drrdrrdrr.tumblr.com/

I know a lot of stuff. Jeese christ gawd. I'm afraid I know too much. I'm afraid of all sorts of things. These demons getting inside of me. These attachments clawing at my mind. They'll be able to tell, this spiritual celebrity really does lip-sync, as well as breath-sync, as well as love-sync... And OH it's not real at all.

I begin when I stick my hands deep in my chest to pull up-root these turn-nips in the bud. I am afraid of love, of loving, of being around people, of believing that people won't hurt me, of being myself.. because I know how manipulative I can be. It never seems to be true, until after it's happened. And I don't want to hide anything. So I bear my weight on my chest. ...

It seems things are different. Actually.

My hole in my heart is a fire-pit.
My hole in my head is a vision.
The holes carry fire & light well. They need air to breathe.
Like you, like me...

I dream of the white picket dream in retro, I dream of being the child that dreams of the white picket dream,  because I know that dog is dead.

And what is all this manic energy that fills the space? What is it, cause the hole is not the root, there is no root, the energy fills the space. What space? Empty space. Filled space. No space. No luck.

The hole is empty and filled with fire, the fire burns the pain.

And when I say, "Don't think about him. Think about me." But WHEN I say, "__________", and breathe. We share light.
:Like laughter.

When I fill that space with breath, it fills me with light. When I am lit, I spark, and connect.
To feed yourself is one thing. To teach yourself how to feed your self is another.

You silly fish.

To feed yourself the fish you are. To spare the breath for the lungs, knowing it will spill over into the water. To dunk and swim freely. We are This "kinder-gardener". I color fingers like crayons. Nails make paper straight edges. Joints make stretch. Like when you stretch your hand up to tell the teacher, "I fucking love you and thank you for giving me everything you can to support my education!"

Thanks THanks THANKS YOU. silly fish.

Because you follow your children with knives, we forgot to follow. because we associated points with pain we forgot to make them. Because we are so different we forgot we have to resist becoming the same.  Because thieves come in fives and threes in strains of virus. Because you walk alone you attract loners. Because your feet shaped like whales, you wine.

i miss you too
im angry
i hate you
why'd you leave me
im alone
ill always be alone
i forgot who i was
i turned around and i was gone

keep on keepin on forever kthanks kbye

Poem is the poem.

Hetero-sexuality doesn't exist.
Hetero-patriarchy created it.
Hetero-normativity is a sin.
With-out God is Him.