Saturday, November 27, 2010


My oh my
My own mind
Myopic, mesmerized
Modal, chordal, synthesized
Oh how now
Open mouths bow
To opiate barons
Obey omniscience, ohmm
Now now now
Near new nouns
Noon nestles not
Neurotic nets rot

Wednesday, November 17, 2010

The Gull of Man

A gull caught by the wing
on the earthly wind
And fixed to the air
he was

A life paused, suffering
material binge
And fixed with closed eyes
he was

A light made for the eyes
feigned an awake-ness
But wired the minds
it did

The wings of death
float by the bed
of red roses
for all the dead.

Wired eyes body shed
to the wild pane
of light and games,
a man made brain,
a system of rules
artificial imagination
bent on recluse inaction
like the gull
fixed statically
to the air we have tainted
with invisible communication.

We are affixed to the cells
staring at us
with virtual information.

Instinctively, the gull swoops from its place
to a new gust granting another fleeting position,
breaking the idea of the fixed stagnation
represented by the gull floating motionless, high.

People are wired,
fixed, staring with a dullness in the eye,
instead of looking for the enigmatic
in beautiful visual information,
and active human compassion
found even in the morning sky.

Monday, November 8, 2010

Bifurcations and Binaries

The Bifurcation
of an anomaly
splitting homogeneous indifference
and fallen to apathy

Who is the caretaker over the soul?
I doubt its order of control
will ever prevail in our chaotic state.

Will you take the brilliance of diamonds
and change them back to stones?

Without great expectation,
there will be no great loss.
A shiny stone is just a shiny stone
until it is identified
as a means to achieve profit.

What I share right now is different
from what I've shed, across
the railway of track-laid thought,
ground down by the whispers
of my inner learner,
conducive to break down the complex
into no more than a few, merely unprovocative parts.

Binaries and bifurcations,
the anomaly is we,
without giving complex due credit
while wearing a uniformity on the sleeve
the meanings are choked
into reductions of one's
and three's.


Chirp     like a radar
Soothe   like a whispered tale
Ride      like a vintage car
Fan       like sound through alluvial streams
Clash    like the waves in my

Saturday, November 6, 2010

Daily Bloom

The flower
unfolds its petals
as the day opens
its colors to your eyes.

Its rise and set,
like the yeast
in the bakers
daily bread,

comes alive,
like the bustle
of a morning city
where work begins at nine,

and the roast
of an Ethiopian brew
is America's
energizing pride.

The day
blooms like a flower,
and opens itself
to be sapped
of its nectar,
drawn freely
from the indefinite
wells of its
palpable beauty.

Good morning
Daily Bloom
You've sent the birds to sing
You've inched the sun
over the horizon
and see to it
that it goes soundly
back to sleep.

Thursday, November 4, 2010

Alien Landscape

A tree that is spectacular,
massive- taller than the tallest mountain,
inhabited by colonies of beings,
creatures, wilderness,
draped in vines, thick brushes
teeming with life, above a forest of geysers
whose small explosions envelop
the organic masterpiece in a dense mist.

A fortress housing the life
having fled from the season of
the burning geysers.

Its thick bark repels,
withstands the heat released
by the core of a beating planet
and absorbs the nutrients
from mineral formations
crystalline volcanoes
having spread in every direction
mineral throats
spewing the lifesblood of the planet
through coughs and chokes
amidst a planet
amidst a landscape that is alien.

AdAware But Not BeWoken

The man floats fetal like,
his veins are popping,
circulatory system runs heavily
to the muscles, seen through
his grey, transparent skin,
revealing the anatomy and process
to how he clutches fiercely,
and in his sleep,
attached to his hands, neck,
embedded, artificial ports to the body,
bundles of cables 
draped throughout space
connecting beings with other beings
an artifact
of silicon and gold,
produced by a vegetable mind
and lit with natures spark
a continuum of sporadic activity
dances holographically in the dark

A shock jolts him,
and all the systems
temporarily shut down.
He floats naked and exposed,
reality comes around
to the darkness he rots in,
opposing others he's never seen,
as they too, have been locked in.
The moment of silence is broken.
Some begin tearing out cables
from the ports embedded in their skin.
An ambiguous commotion,
roars and cries of freedom crescendo
more powerful than an ocean.

The man, along with his kind,
staggers to rise
while rubbing 
cobwebs from their eyes,
and see a world
through their own senses...
but this doesn't feel like the first time.
A second jolt occurred
and suddenly the dream of reality 
was a dream deferred,
as the electric pulse, 
still currents of programming
reawakened the sleeping artifact
from unambiguity of being,
and cradled mankind 
back to his sleep
where the memory of his awakening
was only surface deep.
Still in shock
man digitizes dreams
through the drapery of cables in space
connecting endlessly.

But what of the artifact?
Is its dream without penetration?
Have we not enslaved it
for our own motivations?
A rock dreams of being a rock,
not smoldered to circuitry,
bits and pieces,
and against its will
infused with the wild energy
of man's endless affinity.

The preprogrammed dependencies
are in action between both parties,
their contradiction sustained 
by the need of the the other
Fools and lovers,
mankind remains intertwined
with the cables to his mother.

Wednesday, November 3, 2010

Tuesday, November 2, 2010


And Disconnection
Spreads itself thoroughly
Throughout this whole damn nation

In a period of recollection
Thoughts preserved for our own protection
Designed to prevent the truth
Thoroughly holding back
A wanting expansive youth
From a mind dependent mirror
Enlisting them as pallbearers
From even the most minute self refelction

These days run thin
Like a world on a membrane
Like a film of pictures
With no depth
Contains still, many words
Hides many answers
Within a fragile sketch

Bringers of light you are hereby scrutinized
For lights shine many colors
And brightness blinds many eyes
Prisms allow us to see what beams are comprised of
At times helps us see colors unheard of

Isolate your spectrum
Disconnect from the rainbow
Spread yourself into the white
Into a nation made of nothing but light

Same Step

Many years ago today
These same things happened
Another way

In a place that was the same
But now has a different name
On the same street
Now walking with a different beat
Performing tricks
In the absence of feat

Round and Round the path will go
Where we get off no one knows

Whoever we meet
Whoever gets beat
Will still find a way
To walk the streets


Miles High
Shakes and trembles
Flaps the wings frantically
Wanting the vessel to land
Telling man not to explore the sky
Remain amongst the sea and the sand

This warning we did not heed
From Boeing to Martin Lockheed
Engines Louder Faster Bigger Cleaner
Fixed behind people
We leave this mother further
To find a new cradle that will hold
The boom from all these speeders

Now in place of tires
That have tirelessly rolled


Pale blue alloys cover everything
Ominous control in every living thing
Dead crossed the membrane to the other side
From the skin-tight room
Inhabits our lives

A skin-tight costume we see here
Reflecting posures and postures
And symbols in air
Contact between worlds
Creates a dimensional stare
Out of love and connection we show we care

It is not reality
But a room of paintings
Capturing the reverb of music
In this structure built
In the middle of nowhere
We paint and hum the minds assemblies
To establish order
In the land of insanity


Nothing has gotten this far
To be something
All from nothing!
The blink of an eye
The meeting of the lids
Tufts of miracles at the ends
A lovelier organic eye has never been

The universe must be created
Whenever it is seen
Assembled in a millisecond
And gone in a wink

But the twinkle in the eye will always remain
Outside of life and within
The inverse of the brain
The brain is in the universe
Marked present by the stars
Of redundant speech
Will soon become
Multiversal, merciful, spiritual beings

Light sparked from the center
Of the whole yet broken individulas
Fuels found for the sparks to set ablaze
Did not burn forever
And diverted the curiousity
Of every creative gaze

Forever the sparks set ablaze the new found maze


In the blink of an eye the soft dark corners
Created out of nothing a new universe
Now it's really something, all from nothing!
The light connects the dark
Flickers the creative pulse
Harbors a ship ready to set sail
Ready to prevail over a soft blue corner

As far as the transition from the sea to the sky
The eye can see
The miracle at the end
A light which shines through the tunnel
That never ends
All from something to nothing to something
It begins again

A Fool on Rooms

What would you charge for a fool?
Would you digress to break the rules?
In a waiting line we found we were sane
Now we’re jumping planes
I’m insane and I’m mental
Outside of the room

If I seem to lose my cool
I’ll blame the temperature of the room
As I speak you’ll jot all of this down
Now we’re writing plays
I’m alive and eternal
Outside of the room

Someone else has made the move
To take control of making moods
I've been riding this body all day, every day
I’m on a one way, no way, someday
Free to be nocturnal
Within my own room

I'm Looking For A New Audience

Whenever you're looking for new audiences
be prepared to hear the unexpected.
The bearers of all truths are all humans.
It's good to use a second ear
another pair,
do they hear?

The internet is a funny place,
More trolls than World of Warcraft
More pages than people
Less censorship than television
Less dating, more gaming
Because who has time for a silly girl
Or any real, intellectual debating?

Well, the net has and doesn't have both,
It all happens at once
in a strange pattern of random thought,
evoked and locked in the circuitry of our desires,
evoked and locked.

If I try to unlock and open for all to see,
you have to understand what I'm showing you
It ain't so easy being free, especially when
freedoms got you boiling mean,
and you ain't got a drop of love
to be heard, felt, smelt, tasted, or seen.
To those people I have a delivery.

Deliver you from misery
to the land of felt love,
unless feelin' misery is what you love
then stay put,
and watch me fill this life past the brim
so that you can have another cup.

Monday, November 1, 2010

That Lone Cloud

The sky is lit
a pure blue spectrum
from high noon east to west
to a grey, jagged skyline
where a lone cloud hangs above it.

It's a foreigner to these parts
having traveled across the globe.
Now, it communicates itself here
to tell us of such beautiful presence
and not a single raincloud draws near.

Even though it's community
expresses itself as a hurricane
the lone cloud forebodes
Even though nations go to war
a poet writes of

A gust quickly sweeps away
the cloud from the atmosphere.
It disappears.
Later, a smudge of sky
and the cloud is one again
everywhere else.

Sunday, October 31, 2010

Ingenious Solicitation

Marketeers, farmers, solicitors, telemarketers,
none have ever reached the threshold
of getting something for nothing
to the degree which costumed
children, ages three to thirteen
rake in free candy.
Their strategy is not imitable,
it's genuine and playful.
The goal is worn on the smile,
and the prize is worn on the teeth,
like a drilling company discovering
red treasure past the white enamel,
the cavities of solicitation
run deep.

Saturday, October 30, 2010

The March

All together
As one large mass
Marches through the city streets.
The undead, soldiers
Cross-dressers, Politicians
The sarcastic tee's, Entertainers
Religious figures, Masqueraders
Mythical sorts, and others in plain clothing,
The village is alive with the memories
and representations
of imaginations past.
Yesterday remains and lasts
longer of supposing.
Onward the march of the costumed mass.

Just Before The Moment

When I awaited for the return
to shine brightness on a new day
My waking was deferred
And in sleep, my body taken away.
I had missed the song of a sunrise
I had missed the morning birds calls
I now wake in mid-day, swooned
by the enchantment of high noon, sprawled.

I'll Have Seen It Twice

Because I've been awake
for when the sun breaks
and when the sun rests,
I think tonight I'll wait
to see it wake again
and I'll be in bed before breakfast.

When The Day Wakes

And the glow of the sun
behind the curtains and blinders
lulls me from my dream,
Together, the day and I shall be awake.