it must be
at three
cowering in love
wallowing in spritely noise
opening in flower
early
voice of a pretty pheasant caw
voice in shades red mauve pink green
voice in silence wave
at three
in the morning
my bled blessed lips
at the harbor
of the opening
space
clears
space.
mouth breathes in new
wind from above
shadows hide behind
in depths of release
comforts settles finally into the heart all the hard parts
mass of angels
that like dirt get in the way
fall down
and left liquid
a spilling that can settle one's
toe crunching
good time
there is no more to research but
to dream in silence
let this brain talk sense into ya
a force unimaginable approaches up ahead
and with one eye looks out of the water
and with one mouth breathes or sings through the water
and forms sound all encompassing
sound
ALL ENCOMPASSING MAGNIFICENT
SOUND.
i've cried so many times
out of reverence for this body
for this ship
for this ground
for this sun
for this pale blue ocean
wrapped in scarves
for the touch through my fingertips
the electric moon
torch
river
shedding its
how do you say...?
dope shit.
mmmmmm.
it's as if
lub dub
lub dub
i can't breathe anymore
because this air now is too good
if i can sleep, i can dream, if i can dream,
i can wait
i could wait
an eternity
for these shades
filters
of rainbow
grace
so much grace
and begging the sun to slow down
such silliness
because i asked for it
well actually seems
quite right
pace
lengths
i can feel tug not as strings
as clouds
as soft gentle
motion
making it so i can't move
unbreathable air
because it's so good
unshakable mind
so focused on such light
that mesmerizes me
shakes my finger nails knobby knees to the ground
i cant but help to be
grateful
mouth full of dirt grateful
in these dream times
when hands so soft still seek earth
thought tendrils of imagination build endlessly
i love thee
love
thee
these paintings of arid happenings
and was told
it was enough, when i could bear,
just to breathe thee-ease unthinkable dreams
the ones that with a calm heart
make me breathe like a child again
sorry bunny
Tuesday, March 25, 2014
Friday, January 24, 2014
Tuesday, January 21, 2014
the siphon post
sever that siphon
put it in my mouth dear creature
on the rims the molecules must be dancing from the friction
in this gawdd awful status clingawd wonderful designer jeans follow me
genes
like
genus
oh family
oh favorite tree river
so beautiful i shiver
while my laundry is delivered
by the turning mechanical
sun
put it in my mouth dear creature
on the rims the molecules must be dancing from the friction
in this gawdd awful status clingawd wonderful designer jeans follow me
genes
like
genus
oh family
oh favorite tree river
so beautiful i shiver
while my laundry is delivered
by the turning mechanical
sun
Friday, December 27, 2013
steps
step one: go in the kitchen and get a cup of coffee
710pm
step two: sip on coffee
step three: while sipping on coffee imagine that from your heart/chest you are releasing everything bad that has ever happened to you
step four: free write
even as i stand in my lair . wet and full of equipment.
i hold one sword above my head with both hands waiting to swipe and pound down on anytone who comes down the steps
this in not okay. upsatirs there are many ladies there . ladies in waiting . waiting to be taken to the dungeon. waiting for me. waiting for me to slay them.
it's not fair.
they don't really know.
i told them it was all care bears and gummy clouds.
they are children.
theya re waiitng.
fro the death
and
death seemed like so much fun.
a hope and a bead.
of sweat,
wraps slithers down around my waist, leg, ankle, inbetween my toes
hits the ground
turns the ground into ice
i freeze
hold still
arsm still raised and under arms bare to be seen
up the steps freezes
and around the corner slams the door shut with a cold whip of frost
the children. the ladies. watch silently, as a blood thirsty chill rise up in them.
they run away.
it is daylight now.
it is warm enough to walk outside and they run to the fields and lay ont he ground and embrace the sun and smush their faces in the dirty dusty dirt
never looking back
now able to see how good it feels to be lit up by this celestial fire.
and ravage the earth therafter, free.
if i died they'd be dead, if i lived, they'd be dead.
so i lay in out of motion dressed in isa
my gourd my gorge
my LORD
where
in this abyssmal celbritude do i lay?
where is my picture?
is this the kind of freedome i wanted always to staring at myself in insecurity?
or is this massive security enough to breathe?
no, i dont think i can when i'm this cold when my lungs are no longer wet but our solid
in the future, i imagine,
I imagine
beautiful flowers and children and I am one of them. we wear glossy flowers on our heads that fall off and become stickered to the floor and the sun eevry now and then bends down to kiss our foreheads
at night the grass wraps our arms around each other
my only lover might be earth
my only mother might be sun
my only brother might be water
my only self might be the sky
the sssss
kkkkkk
eyyeeeee
damn breath.
710pm
step two: sip on coffee
step three: while sipping on coffee imagine that from your heart/chest you are releasing everything bad that has ever happened to you
step four: free write
even as i stand in my lair . wet and full of equipment.
i hold one sword above my head with both hands waiting to swipe and pound down on anytone who comes down the steps
this in not okay. upsatirs there are many ladies there . ladies in waiting . waiting to be taken to the dungeon. waiting for me. waiting for me to slay them.
it's not fair.
they don't really know.
i told them it was all care bears and gummy clouds.
they are children.
theya re waiitng.
fro the death
and
death seemed like so much fun.
a hope and a bead.
of sweat,
wraps slithers down around my waist, leg, ankle, inbetween my toes
hits the ground
turns the ground into ice
i freeze
hold still
arsm still raised and under arms bare to be seen
up the steps freezes
and around the corner slams the door shut with a cold whip of frost
the children. the ladies. watch silently, as a blood thirsty chill rise up in them.
they run away.
it is daylight now.
it is warm enough to walk outside and they run to the fields and lay ont he ground and embrace the sun and smush their faces in the dirty dusty dirt
never looking back
now able to see how good it feels to be lit up by this celestial fire.
and ravage the earth therafter, free.
if i died they'd be dead, if i lived, they'd be dead.
so i lay in out of motion dressed in isa
my gourd my gorge
my LORD
where
in this abyssmal celbritude do i lay?
where is my picture?
is this the kind of freedome i wanted always to staring at myself in insecurity?
or is this massive security enough to breathe?
no, i dont think i can when i'm this cold when my lungs are no longer wet but our solid
in the future, i imagine,
I imagine
beautiful flowers and children and I am one of them. we wear glossy flowers on our heads that fall off and become stickered to the floor and the sun eevry now and then bends down to kiss our foreheads
at night the grass wraps our arms around each other
my only lover might be earth
my only mother might be sun
my only brother might be water
my only self might be the sky
the sssss
kkkkkk
eyyeeeee
damn breath.
Thursday, December 26, 2013
what must fade falls in place
honestly october
december is where it's at
let's look at some solstice history!
(broken heart but not anything. not broken. nothing. such happiness. in ...)
texas!
oh nevermind
bruma bruma bruma
brooja linweed
single pattern fake father
listen
they said that when
when
oh when
i guess i'll try
december is where it's at
let's look at some solstice history!
(broken heart but not anything. not broken. nothing. such happiness. in ...)
texas!
oh nevermind
bruma bruma bruma
brooja linweed
single pattern fake father
listen
they said that when
when
oh when
i guess i'll try
Monday, December 23, 2013
death winter scales IM A SNAKE
to my friend will:
it would be easy to talk to you
but your face looks like a monster in my memory
it's not even you
i'm not myself
you're a memory
i wish i could talk to you, but there is nothing
nothing inside my chest
no fire
no wind
just some coals
there is however something in my belly
that burns blue light
i don't know what it is
and when i open my mouth
i feel inescapable air
throat implodes on itself
i have nothing to say
but i wish we could talk
there would just be nothing to say
because nothing happened
and there is no fertile ground for understanding
when i walk across
it dips into the soil
mellowness
white mallowness
no form
nothing
my breath for you is gone, as if it never was
and winter frozen words
die
perhaps to be reborn in spring
until then
only the slump of a fading sorrow, that screams
NOTHING
at least not enough to breathe
if feelings could speak they'd say nothing
because they are made of nothing
and one cannot hold up something so ethereal
as an invisible FUCK YOU
with no front nor back
no sides
its form conforms to too many thinkings
and loses reality
there are no words
and these swords are made of dreams
so even as they are sinking never appeared
to be
much like this whispy weather anyhow
it would be easy to talk to you
but your face looks like a monster in my memory
it's not even you
i'm not myself
you're a memory
i wish i could talk to you, but there is nothing
nothing inside my chest
no fire
no wind
just some coals
there is however something in my belly
that burns blue light
i don't know what it is
and when i open my mouth
i feel inescapable air
throat implodes on itself
i have nothing to say
but i wish we could talk
there would just be nothing to say
because nothing happened
and there is no fertile ground for understanding
when i walk across
it dips into the soil
mellowness
white mallowness
no form
nothing
my breath for you is gone, as if it never was
and winter frozen words
die
perhaps to be reborn in spring
until then
only the slump of a fading sorrow, that screams
NOTHING
at least not enough to breathe
if feelings could speak they'd say nothing
because they are made of nothing
and one cannot hold up something so ethereal
as an invisible FUCK YOU
with no front nor back
no sides
its form conforms to too many thinkings
and loses reality
there are no words
and these swords are made of dreams
so even as they are sinking never appeared
to be
much like this whispy weather anyhow
Saturday, December 14, 2013
frilly stain
frilly stain: it's okay
frilly white, nO, stained white- under-shirt, dress, ballerina wrapped lacey nightgown covering a ball of red fabric, covering a ball of indeterminable size and texture.
and they hold it in them arms, with their fingers clasped.
i mean it.
broken fingers backwards on conrete, winter dry skin itch, cracked lips....
i can't hardly open wide.
meadowy music in lime green light comes through the window of white/cold/branches. and makes stale the air, in such sharp contrast, with the mundane acts that come and go through the apartment.
nothing is happening.
freeze. _________. FReeZe. I SAID FUCKING FREEZE.
goddamn professional asshole. professional hole-in-the-heart/hole-in-the-head/in one, that breaks when it falls. lotsa tiny pieces. sugar crack fairy.
the pencil lays very still. it is long, and placed parrallel to the edge of the chair/desk/screen. i play with it. with my mind. it moves. it rolls off. it falls. makes a sound. this is enjoyable to me. i pick up the pencil and place it on the chair/desk/screen again so it is parallel to the edge but doesn't roll off. i use my mind to do that. it falls off. i do it again.
Text: is so texture screams VANITY screams.
just screams. indistinguishable sounds. creatures scratching at the inside bones that face yer organs. crawl up against yr lungs and beg for forgiveness. NO NO NO.
just stay the fuck put away.
here's some water. yeah i'll feed you in the evening. we can go out for a walk later. and you better shit this time, i don't want to see that crap inside again.
Text: is the blessed divine watering of these fingers. self-heal-all kind of water that in its flow outward, creates a flow inward. like making string and singing.
breathe in and you breathe out. it's all the same.
Please. Believe me. When I say how bad I need you to forgive yourself.
How bad I need you to see yourself as I see you. ALL BEATIFUL.
NO UGLY.
How badly I need you to bare yr soul for everyone to see.
No mark can cause shame.
even lies now, i understand a bit better. a bit. for this beggar.
i beg you.
it would help me so much. to see you shiny.
like running through cracking and flaking off shingles of reality visually fielded
in multi-color glow.
so thick and colloidal. so burdensome on my chest.
with every shame and embarassment you feel, another layer of mica is added on. and ya it's all shiny opalescent and see-through. but after so many layers.. it cleaves so deeply. rough cut.
it's okay.
i mean it.
she takes the red ball and holds it close to her chest.
she licks the red ball, and the fabric falls to the ground.
it is hollow and made of cardboard.
not so smooth or rough.
and she holds it to her chest.
hoping it will scratch something inside
said, frilly coffee-stained white, so solidly
frilly white, nO, stained white- under-shirt, dress, ballerina wrapped lacey nightgown covering a ball of red fabric, covering a ball of indeterminable size and texture.
and they hold it in them arms, with their fingers clasped.
i mean it.
broken fingers backwards on conrete, winter dry skin itch, cracked lips....
i can't hardly open wide.
meadowy music in lime green light comes through the window of white/cold/branches. and makes stale the air, in such sharp contrast, with the mundane acts that come and go through the apartment.
nothing is happening.
freeze. _________. FReeZe. I SAID FUCKING FREEZE.
goddamn professional asshole. professional hole-in-the-heart/hole-in-the-head/in one, that breaks when it falls. lotsa tiny pieces. sugar crack fairy.
the pencil lays very still. it is long, and placed parrallel to the edge of the chair/desk/screen. i play with it. with my mind. it moves. it rolls off. it falls. makes a sound. this is enjoyable to me. i pick up the pencil and place it on the chair/desk/screen again so it is parallel to the edge but doesn't roll off. i use my mind to do that. it falls off. i do it again.
Text: is so texture screams VANITY screams.
just screams. indistinguishable sounds. creatures scratching at the inside bones that face yer organs. crawl up against yr lungs and beg for forgiveness. NO NO NO.
just stay the fuck put away.
here's some water. yeah i'll feed you in the evening. we can go out for a walk later. and you better shit this time, i don't want to see that crap inside again.
Text: is the blessed divine watering of these fingers. self-heal-all kind of water that in its flow outward, creates a flow inward. like making string and singing.
breathe in and you breathe out. it's all the same.
Please. Believe me. When I say how bad I need you to forgive yourself.
How bad I need you to see yourself as I see you. ALL BEATIFUL.
NO UGLY.
How badly I need you to bare yr soul for everyone to see.
No mark can cause shame.
even lies now, i understand a bit better. a bit. for this beggar.
i beg you.
it would help me so much. to see you shiny.
like running through cracking and flaking off shingles of reality visually fielded
in multi-color glow.
so thick and colloidal. so burdensome on my chest.
with every shame and embarassment you feel, another layer of mica is added on. and ya it's all shiny opalescent and see-through. but after so many layers.. it cleaves so deeply. rough cut.
it's okay.
i mean it.
she takes the red ball and holds it close to her chest.
she licks the red ball, and the fabric falls to the ground.
it is hollow and made of cardboard.
not so smooth or rough.
and she holds it to her chest.
hoping it will scratch something inside
said, frilly coffee-stained white, so solidly
Tuesday, November 19, 2013
Wednesday, November 13, 2013
OPPiio
what not a sign time and in chimes
wat frog you got der?
what a little froggy.
it is cold and lonely there.
dark and i don't want to go home.
but inside my pockets
a picket line
of white south africa
laughing on the bed
in HIS room
cause we are all male
made is HIS image
jesus was an anarchist
mega churches make me tighten my abdomen in fear
i like basements & wine
no one really knows how to believe that maybe just maybe
there is something
and maybe you won't ever get it
but there is goodness
and well-intentioned words and syllables
can't always get thrown away
Im in love.
i can feel it.
nothing can harm me.
im golden fairy.
i fly and im dirty.
it;s okay a little birdie told me
one of these days
rain away yer eyes out
i love you so much
i dont even know you
we all have issues
like running rolling toilet paper
maybe it was just a misunderstanding
your war that finger on my nose
im not just a wizard.
im not just sad.
i'm an angel.
i'm not just angry,
i'm not just crass.
this blood is mine ya know
i'm a golden fairy
ya kno