Guava guava- Bang boom plop

 The scent of guava comes to the nose. I can feel it on my tastebuds as I get close.
It robs the other aromas of the street. How the fruit and it's whiff grow.

Agressive curved floral scent. Novelty the midsummer lent.
overpowering then low and smooth. Into that melon strawberry half groove.

Goes in through the nose. Though senses it Permeates and holds.
Makes the nose hairs shudder. And the brain sinks into pink rock and roll.

Small cracks in the fruit. Exposing that thin line of pulp.
It's a berry like hum of the guava. Like it's alive through the smell alone.

Fruit setting on the tree that can't hurt. But it weighs the branches down to damp dirt.
The yellow skin tarnished but still nicely pungent. The other fruit goes unpicked and rots into fungus.

The bang boom plop. Quick pick it from the tree. Other wise it'll rot, eww unlucky.

Cabin on the no exit

 They had a place that felt like cheating
Lets call it the ribcage
Half between the ditch and the university
I'm a work horse, Im a rocking chair
Sing to me sweetly

They had a place 
To comb through me
To make me into something better
Force feed my ego to get it fatter
To make up for lost time

They had a place lets call it jealousy
Trying to convince me with loud arguments
They presented it on a two meter screen
With colors and music implications inbetween
But I couldn't relate

Who they were
In the beautiful fraternity
The sense of fomo creeping along
A leper like ghoul a shadow never gone
Hobbling trying to keep up with your steps

You can live here for a time
On the cul de sac Where tractors come monthly
To clear the accumulated refuse
Your limited possessions are supposed to humble you
yeah we have a place to let to occupy to use

A little space where sensation speaks
Through those emotions that own you
like overprotective parents that still do
Twisted recycled metal barriers
The carcass of a lorry outside the window

Part of you just wants to survive
the other is raised through lust and desire
You dream of smoother roads, ones that connect
They had a place not far from the school of life
It was however no exit

The refuge of water

 The diver wrote his name on the sea floor
sediment clouded the water
He looked upward to the surface ten stories above
In silence, dead silence he lay on his back
meditating on the seafloor
distant dark shapes transiting
From this point of view he was not prey

Just an observer, letting the faint light above
Speak to him below
Teach him in the fine twinkling ripples
Smooth him over in the depth and pressure
Invite him back to the surface
where most of the world avoids peace
As if agitation had some reward

On the ceiling of the submarine

 The submarine dove into the underwater canyon a few kilometers down.
Tracy the captain had told his men to adjust everything for the pressure. As they descended further than they had before.
They searched the bottom of the canyon for somewhere to conduct their research from.
The oxygen had been contaminated somehow before it was installed in the sub.
So one by one the men and women on board began to faint.
The captain got himself an oxygen mask.
He then did the heavy work of changing the huge oxygen tank by himself. Usually a job for two men.
After that he waited to see if his staff would awaken again.
He spent the following hour drawing on the ceiling in one of the of the chambers inside submarine.
The more he drew, the sleepier he got. Until he fell asleep on the ladder he had used to get up there.
He woke, something was carrying him. he was on a stretcher.
He asked about his staff. All accounted for.
His writing was found. It exposed his last thoughts as the man believed he and his crew would perish.
They went from full sentences about his love of life, his family and the world. To short words. Then to one last word. Hope.

Throw my heart to God

 Sweat drops from my temple this morning
But I'm fully dry inside
Yearning for the holy approach
Maybe I missed the sign

My thousand faults clap
radiant stagnant audience of sitting naysayers
My hands come together in prayer
My desires divide them definitively

I throw my heart toward God
See it dive back to earth

WELL BLESS ME FIRST
Why must I go through these trials
God shows me beauty and abundance
The next parched land and dry lakes

Pale sun polished carcass bones
Of things that once walked and swam
Then I see God change the skies again like game
Deluge proceeds and God greets me

Open my eyes to this
make me see
The land leaping with life again
Every creature inhabiting

Fish and reptiles return to the water
God speaks to me in volumes
The world his mouth
Inside me his words

I slowly get closer
My heart seems to keep it's trajectory
The audience hushes
As I trek to those holy places

In other lives, on other occasions
he told me to go to

Old boy on his bike

 Old boy on the bike is that me in a few decades
senses and body worn NO
Let me be on the go nonstop
He lost quite a bit of his hair
When i saw him I checked my own scalp
As if it was catchy or accelerating mine
There are only bits and pieces he can hold onto

He tries to adjust those parts until they can fit the rest of his head
It looked ragged his face disappointed on his uphill bike ride
Motorbikes and cars leaned into him as he struggled with the pedals
No smirk on his face just that frumpy frown
He wanted to smile or to liven but the face kept pushing back in
making him feel happiness was pretty much impossible
storm about ten minutes behind him, can't blame him

Elderly groove

 Age doesn't fall over this old one here 
Just other people
It all tries to swarm into her but
fails each time

hoping hopping and pulling back the minidog
Cleaning up it's waster one handed plastic bag tactic oh
Throws themself over the low chain to exchanging leash
So the dog come too from underneath

Now into the carpark philosophically
There it is 1950s dance rotating on a wooden floor
Missing the oncoming cars and trucks by inches
supermarket shoppers keep their peepers out peeping

 

slipping along the track

 I like to see how she shimmies
On the cat wide pavement
Skipping cracks white cement filling
Red brick imitating lips

Like a wilderness joker
when you least expect
Rounding the corner
Curiosity I thought was mine

looking back like a caress
Avoiding the sidewalk debris
In a skip i'd revisit to prove as fact
Moving up boldly to the elecric wire

Those suave cool legs never tired

The color of string

 Why are you so familiar to me
some veil dropped
loose string colored de ja vu
what is behind the silent pledge

some future meeting getting closer
day by day
Will we be the same
Our surroundings fallen

New roads and structures
The ones you'll bounce between
The way you do today
in that familiar way

will you approach me the way you did
Or will I have lost that space I gained
Maybe I'll give you the string colored de ja vu
colored the way the city changes

Ein gedi

 I saw God on the western shore
He had a minute for me
Typically sky had opened
Goodness in his smile

He had brought his small wooden boat into the shallows
Where I myself was wading purposeless
He waved me down and told me to stop a while
The way he carried himself told me I was carrying too much

He took a cup from inside the boat
Filled up and said -do you have the kind of faith that would beat thirst?
The words destroyed me and inside I was distraught
On the surface of me I made myself look composed 

He said -why are you pretending?
I said - because I am afraid my faith is weak
-Drink this water and celebrate this moment
-Which moment?

He handed me the cup
I drank it down, it killed my thirst
released my attachment renewed my vision
I thought it was the cup

He said -it's the faith you drink with
when you eat and drink faithless
You will slowly poison yourself
Can I keep the cup?

-No, just keep the faith

As if it were not me

 

Bronze and Blond I want deliberate
grain of summer, mind like pasture
Glow gathering
Shaped by wind and time

Tanned skin will of open air
Long hours communion with the sun
Gardens dug earth under the nails
sky full of buzzards humming my brow

Middle years in a wilderness of words
They cling to reality and spin it
Run rings of growth hidden in the timber
density encoded in destiny

Focused eye on letter word phrase
measuring the distance from meaning
catching scorpion metaphor in detail
holding the sting until it yields

Dawn prayer opens quiet command
The brain and muscle balanced
breath of gratitude
curating forgiveness

Ambition lurks under vast surfaces
creative channels course with currents
ideas and blood intertwine
Synapses at full charge fire

Under my thinning blond hair
beard lit by ripened age
almost whitening
hands shape soil and sentence

I am composed in daylight
stubborn repetition integrated
aspiration directed
Valley I fully inhabit

Aim follows motion movement and stillness
Somewhere obscure between humility and hubris
I watch this mastery growing
As if external, as if it were not me

yet it is! 

Avoid the tower

 Warned me to ride clear of the tower
standing hard against the ridge
narrow eyes probably my grandmother's
Dismounted under a grand oak

No sign of hoof or foot
nor smoke rising from anywhere
only damp bark, moss and leaves
holding breath in shadow

Low cloud trekking over canopies
air thick with leaf rot
I search for ration, hand and brow sweat
boots sinking into loam

Last scrap of bannock praise be
Between my jaws now
teeth and tongue move to my relief
Hand on gourd what a morning

something touches the air
As if skating on the mist
Some predatory bird perhaps
or will it soon rain down

The spec i see as i turn my head
Thuds into my thoughts
through my skull
My body collapses

I feel the last of me expire
my eye focuses on the slit
Inside that white tower on the ridge
Where some lucky archer hoorahs

Arrow for a gravestone

 A single white tower, protruding from the green mountain range
 lonely tower, eyes over the land
 rising above the silhouetted forest,
 and the lone guard looks out and shivers

The land is silent
No sign of the reivers today
Those freebooters
Marauding the land unchecked

A single arrow flies 
Feathered rear flapping in the wind
The day seems unconcerned
the palms of the cloud so close to the canopy

Windless sky the shaft flies forward
Scout finishes his last scrap of bannock
Hears the distant familiar whistle
Head turns in concern

The overhanging leaves had not camouflaged him
The archer’s eye fixed him with cold conviction
Steel head drove through scout's flesh and bone
burying its purpose deep within the man

One eye open looking up toward that white tower
one last search for his quiver bearing killer
Offering the forest's edge his cooling corpse
A rod of yew to mark the unburied grave

Hands touch

 

Fingers get closer,  threads of impulse sensation loud
veins in wrists scrambling to get that blood in and out
hands close and open, elegance rules
Longing to hold something graceful

Pulse hums, artery soft surround the roar of the heart
Eyes meet initially timidness wearing off
Expression and exactly two ounces of reciprocity
Something tickles her chin

A friendly exchange breath, heat of the hands
Bones, muscle and shadow 
Eyes catch, yearning to hold
like hands do in such moments

Heartbeat drags and picks up as the mind does for memory
Silent flashes trace the curve of the palm
Hands hold fingers touch things fit
brief smiles then separation

I never disengage

 Told me to let it go
That I obsess over certain things
That I want to dive into whole
Inhabit their space

She said just drop it
I told her it wasn't in my nature
The way I desire shines like a solar corona
It clings and it moves me forward like an engine

Told me it would be a good thing to move on
I said - it is where it is, intensity of ultraviolet
These parts of me have been burned into me
Illogical, obtuse I choose what I choose

Just release -she screamed
But I'll insist on this compound longing
Manifests into some lost spirit
Now a willing disciple

Knock it off
walking on the undersides of those clouds
Upside down through dusk
Farewelling the sun, then I am summoning it's rebirth in the darkness

Once upon a Jaguar

 I sink into silence as i do into the surface watery
The forest inhales me the slow river envelopes me
tattooed by the night I growl hidden hunger
I move like rumor from village clusters

Rivers calm these bristles
Undergrowth rustles
Hunger I lick, hunger my limbs move
In the pitch black these eyes still see true

I climb into the wooded mountains
I survey it all from higher ground
My eyes scan and fall on prey
Brawn, thrust, I am away

One dash decides
If I bathe in blood tonight
My Shadow keeping speed
Moon don't betray me 

I fling my sharpened self across the forest floor
Stealth is prayer, blasphemy viscera and gore

In Agar

 Hello I am the petrie dish
I'm just waiting on the cell
Then the experiment
the crux of it all

I am transparent
Sticky and patient
Soon something will grow
I will be its container

We will form the culture
conversing with scientists eyes
thousands of entries
As something moves 

As something grows
dies or becomes stagnant

Vana nerve

 Vana the hardened
The heart has always held a gram of hatred
Not the stock standard manufactured hatred
The deadly wrathful hatred compounded many times
Her dance and her ways hoodwinking everyone

The harsh merciless resolve in her
The domineering aspect of her
The rashness and aggression
The heart containing constant burn of the sulferfire

Her orders were strict
She stripped those young men of their agency
They became tools for her
Lost their true manhood forever

True victory for her was that raising war on the gender
Until she met Liam and fell for him even as he had already given up
His inner strength shone through his sacrifice became the potent weapon
His submission became eternal power robbing the remnants of her soul

And carrying the secret of the universe with him
So even in the face of all her strength and victory
She fell broken by her own needs
Ones that Liam had discarded under obligation

Kingdom within

 Leave attachment
feel now 
I will now
 let go

 Feel my heart unclench
I the healthy child,
but held onto things. 
I let go.

Forgive the ones who hurt me
this extra energy
 administrate my own complex life
 it is not to be simple

 Love in a way that is mine to be.
 Forgive my assumptions
 build my patience and faith
give me permission 

 I open my hand
 let go of attachment
 you have graced me,
 if you see me fall- let me fall

 but give me a soft landing lord
 despite the hundred mishaps
 and bad aims and intentional bad desires
 oh bring me to myself

i will sit before me
 and pledge to let go of my attachments
 knowing tomorrow they will be at my door raving and merciless
  bless you because I know, no part of me or my existence is in vain

 otherwise I wouldn't be happy,
 and my truth is most days for most of the time,
 I enjoy and love this life fully
 reflect this joy back to me again

 like my child self smiling
 at my adult one,
 tragically unaware of what will befall him
 over the years

 but blissfully blessed
 with the flow and deeper wit of the universe.
 yes as the unpredictable wind or flash flood,
 let these good things come to pass

 let my doubt and lethargy dissolve
 with anything else toxic within
 If i could serve God and he wants in,
 he wants vitality for this adventure,

 he wants to stamp my passport for another 45 years of mischief
 come I am open.
 Come in the name of all that is holy
 let me do good work, 

 not just celebrate my own accolades.

The sensory Strom getting struck

 

On the mountain tip
Stimulation accumulates like a volcano

Rivers of molten rock rising
course toward the nipple erect
banging on every door
Jolting them, shaking hinges

This caress across the breast
ignites your ankle
My soft words inside your ear
grip and energize your hips 

I conjure a bolt of lightning through you
A hundred arousals boost and dissipate
Curve and curl through vein and muscle
Through hardnesses uninvited

Skin expresses tautness
Little sensors break through resistance
Thoughts go from inventing excuses
To justifying surrender

Rhythm thrives in the middle
Nudging and twitching sensitive nerves
Pressing in temporarily
The body prays for it to linger

But like an panicked lover it pulls out
It moves in again to reclaim 
Then perpetuates a riot of sensation.
It switches the mind and heart

Until you feel instead of think
Blown and burst over land blustery weather
Accumulating fluidity Strom quietly
Shattering like hail stones

Emotional and physical upsurge
You will swell up and give yourself over
Here is me putting every gram of my life force
Into breaking your perfect wave

Desires that separate

 My desires contrast
They scream at each other
They wear my patience down
Their voices are loud

They want separate things
They follow their own paths 
fueled by their individual curiosity
They don't care about me anymore

I should be the priority here
my balance my will and my control
Like teenagers they run away from home
Chasing these things far from the gates of reason

leaving burnmarks up the asphalt
Screaming through the predawn liminality
Scratching out their own transmutation far from me
BUT YOU MUST COME BACK

COME BACK BE WHOLE
STRAY NOT OUT
DIVIDE ME NOT
I... long to be integral

When love gets lost on the street

 Outer home love strayed
Strayed up where people compare
men who obsess about themselves
Looked for love

Gone down the industrial chimney
Those street men left pining
Their reason's cleaned out
Read their tears

Their lost favorite soft toy
Their mother threw out
In a flurry of sprucing
Something missing

Just taking the time to pine over it
That special emptiness testing the heart
The rest of the day seems redundant
The feeling heavy and glued

Then you find her again
innocent and carefree just being
You put it all back into your apartment
Keep it locked up like your precious heart

The fear of losing it all plays over again
smoke out that brick chimney
Glum street men's faces
A lost stuffed rabbit

Dentist and the dogs

The cosmos spewed up the dentist and the dogs
From out of the wilderness
They hack reality
Lazers and barking

Friends of friends
smooth land
smooth faces
secrets about life

Illumination
Fear of death
The dentist and the dogs
Manipulating perceptions

Polite but direct
The earth is no place to hide
No trench will give you cover
existence begs fire, fire

Soon I'll be outrageous

 Flood me because I am positively outrageous
I refuse to become creatively sterile
Refuse to set, to fossilize
Here there is no safety

Just trying to measure my own pulse
Inside Parallel and upside down
Gravity reverses I countdown to losing the earth
scratching those lines to mark each day inside my own skull

Can I shove my strangeness in your face
Is my silliness all exposed
Why don't we create a formula
get it approved and sent back

Stamped and blank and fresh and sheen
Look at my face straight smile skin clean
Now we can shake hands on normal terms
Except you are a real freak

I 'm the abnormal one but you are a freak
By reason of having your accidental beliefs own your mind
Nothing authentic pops out, it's just the gush of meme
The sewer outflow of cliche and popular slang old

So I talk about something crumbly in me
Ugly below and on the surface of me
 Trying to guess what the greater audience might enjoy
Then flushing it with bleach and all

 When it often works counter intuitively
I need to fill the toilet basin with stinkiest
Most horrid of stomach contents
And even then half of you aren't paying much attention

 I am risking less and farting on the page.
Not in air but in stinky little stains you can call words
 Id like to be more outrageous, catch up on the hatemail
Be more provocative

Create my own mottos that stick
my own repeating esoteric mischief
Thatch the kind of style that breeds envy among writers
 Sweet pondering in the reader

How we differ

 He packed up his things
He would be traveling to a different place
He was unlike me despite our similarities
His bags were put on the trolley

The plane would be leaving soon
We would see him off from the airport
There would be ample time for the goodbye
Where I thought i was the same as him I was different

In some cases I thought I was different from him
Mistaken I was the same
The real illusion wasn't about my father at all
But about the absence of self wisdom

Like sharks he needed to move nonstop
me, I could stay in place
But my words would have to move things
coming out in volume

breaking dams and overwhelming
Atleast that is the power I wish
He'd go from relaxing to full stress
breaking a vein on the forehead

This was blasphemy
flow was everything
slow smooth living is essential truth
I guess we are not the same

On the edge of the set

 A family outing the car was full
With the important mother and father
Their talent agent and his endless sycophant energy
We pulled up near the movie scene

We were not part of the film
People were running across a port
Away from some sort of attack
The explosion broke out

Several containers of wagyu burst open
Brought to medium rear through the blast
Important father burst from the car
He leapt at the rolling can of wagyu

He demanded the agent cut out the meat
So that he could taste it
The talent agent danced like a clown
Somehow produced a large knife and cut

Feeding the important father
And his kidney disease
On the dock a few people had actually died
Even though this was just a stunt

Who would knowingly sacrifice themselves
For an old pacific world war two film that could flop

Stopping the intruder

 I took the intruder
fought him
My dog attacked him
He became me

An appendage
I kept infront of me
Whatever came it would be a shield
It would suffer the first impact

So we walked through
The abandoned airport
Where my shelter had become home
Corridors into the city

It's frustration was my frustration
My hate of it
Was it's hate of me
Now connected we were forced to reconcile

But it saw my ugliness and I saw it's
So It hopped down and joined the needy
At a table of old dead fictional heros
Where they would clap and hoorah

I continued on in my own delusion
Childhood fantasies battered in modern reality
It sat in my book of plans
My plate of food

The disconnected part of me
looking with hunger from it's position now
It lay with it's head tilted toward my life
drooling as if it was still alive on the autopsy table

Hangar = Potential
Shack = Current identity
Intruder = Shadow / ambition / aggression / insecurity
Dog = Instinctual loyalty
Embassy = Higher arena / legitimacy / recognition
Imposter feeling = Identity lag behind growth

At the edge of the sky

 I can't contain the electric chain
it spins and sparks
It connects me to the force beyond
Guaranteeing repetitive victory

These grand worlds exist
 they are ladders you climb
They are symphonies playing
The music through you

You jump between them
You are one note in a vast chord
Cast out toward the stars
Like a fisherman throwing his net

You feel that expansion
Leaking out from another timeline
It's your soul slithering between the planes
It’s your brain temporarily widening its bandwidth

Days when the mind opens the skylight
You may open it immediately
Just don’t remove the roof
Play at the edge of the sky 

Resurrection of Sebastion

 I believe I'm enjoying myself
Ghost on a throne
Noble zombies toast
counting the counties and treasures

Will I exist again
Out of the gloom
manifest into flesh and bone
Capturing life and reacquiring it

The village below moves at the rhythm
that gives my soul relief
forming the body from thin air
I'm really enjoying this

Watch those chartered below
The plodd of the serf
The snarl of the merchant
I salivate

Their mundane routines
satiate my new body

Create her in your mind

 Cross legged checking phone
The spice in the uncaring sigh
Clink clank around
Smell of sweat

So many men pretending
Drenched in their sweat
Trying to scrape by on the standard
Rushed outgoing breaths

You crosslegged in the middle of the noise
On your phone
Preparing for the next exercise
Swinging hair telling your friends the news

Smooth out of the hidden steam
Freshly created in the struggle
I reel it in 
minds like mine need to surf it

Even on those big waves you knock me off
I get back up and invent my own story of who you are
Crosslegged life goes on around
machines move, men grunt hoping to be seen

Uncaring sigh is syrup
I can feel it smell it dream it from anywhere in the city
Slowly creating the person I think you are
But she is not you, you are not her

Nursery rhymes and fairy tales

 Age takes you
pride and responsibility harden you
Visit prisons and hospitals
measure yourself again and again

Ignore those you believe don't understand
how life and it's problems flood in
testing every gram of your spirit
Trying to show you the illusion has no value

Things calm down the world didn't change
But it's back to nursey rhymes and fairytales
A notion that life is something that it purely isn't
But age takes you, disagree with the mirror

keeping up with the trends becomes half hearted
Overspending on your image almost gets questioned
In any game of pretend, in any amazing bluff
It's the person who won't give up the lie

except they don't know it's a lie anymore

Pigeon d'argile

 Clay pigeon
Flies out of the trap
into the sky
Between your favorite oaks

Trigger finger lurches
Did it hit, did it hit?
Missed?
 you can fling it again

Not like love
like practice because
When it shatters
The servant will get it

Hopefully your aim
Your stance and position
Will help you hit
That illusive target

Le pigeon d’argile
jaillit du lanceur
dans le ciel
entre tes chênes préférés

Le doigt sur la détente tressaille
Touché, touché ?
Raté ?
Tu peux en lancer un autre

Pas comme l’amour
plutôt comme un exercice parce que
quand il se brise
le serviteur ira le ramasser

Espérons que ta visée
ta posture et ta position
t’aideront à atteindre
cette cible insaisissable

When the peddler met Shai

Pushing the wagon up the hill
The labor, oh the burden
There I would sell everything I grew
The local wares people had entrusted
I spent the day on that mountain

No one came I drowned in estrangement
The day's raspy voice
Told me what I already knew
I kept my mind from it's obvious implications
Sun gave up before i did

I hadn't sold a thing
The reluctance
The afternoon mists were setting in
speaking to me of dreary drizzle
Telling me to cover my goods

The Old woman from the three story bazaar approached
Her name was Shai
She led me through her shops and deposits
Until we got to the entrance

There she taught me how life music and electricity steadied it all
Enlightenment
Confused I lay back on a sofa as she presented her case
She pointed to the power point where the current hummed
Then her finger rested between my eyes she drew a charge

The sofa buzzed and bounced
As if it too was connected to the load
I atuned my ears for what she might tell me
Her voice completely sincere
Yet the words crackled

It's all farads and henrys she joked
Reactance from deep within you
I watched the power cord melt right there on her beautiful carpet
The sparks shooting out and singing to a chorus I could hear

She gave me the bag of ginger and told me to harness it all
Liberation, hands tingle
A rapid sense of acceleration in my heart beat I walked on
The wagon, the materials, the spinal staircase all left behind
Shai waved I waved without seeing her in haunting conductance

The force moving between us for eons to come

Tyche

 I manifest

Dust collecting into form

I solidify before the world

Whirling and whirring into human

Tangible
foot steps are seconds
In the clear I am one
In the dark another

The wind drags my laughter

across the countryside

To ears that long for the truth

who know superstition only

I crawl across the pavement
Unseen through the day
unrecognizable
meddling with fate

Climbing yourself

 He built himself to climb a stairway
One floor to the next
Something rudimentary 
To something sophisticated

The slow moving and erring first floorers
watch them struggle and fight for machines
The stair case narrow and steep
Not everyone can climb it

The spaces above luxurious lounges
built for the nobility only
Exclusive places for a select few
The rest looked up if they wanted to see

He made his way up the helical staircase
Each step a veterbrae in his own body
The one he was attempting to strengthen
He saw the paupers below and tyrants above

He whistled like a flute and ignored the derision

The tear down

 It slides down to the chin
Wet long and thin
running parallel to the nose
It drops off as if on purpose
Absorbing into the shirt
farewells roads hurt
across the face

Rolling away from the eye
Out of sight, remaining sigh
No such thing as goodbye
Just longing dreadful longing
Following where the wetline clings
So people can't count the tears
across the face, sad and clear

Kingdom's I inherit

 Owner of land and peasant
I tend to fields and forests
I raise armies to engage the hostile
Build fiefdoms my sons occupy

Power is that voice growing louder
It's magnetic voice echoing over this soil
The land is still even the wind can't move it
I can feel the stones and boulders below the surface

I can hear my name on those whispers
Through the farmers sharp hoe clashing
The slow penetrating root
The wayward stream

It all whispers today I am yours
Tomorrow I will be your resting place

Stuck together and peeled apart

 Feel me peel myself off
I need this piece of me lifted
I separate the very margin inside
The layer of me that goes on existing
disconnected from my body
Orbiting these spaces I call my turf
Checking each one outside of my hub

Stalking the night
Hissing in silence
Until once again 
My heart says it's time
It must glue itself back on
I am entire again
Walking that inch taller

Loving that much more
Seeing what was invisible before
In shapes and colors that renew desire
That help me appreciate the world
More than the time I was divided
So much more to absorb
When I am together

The Simon I knew

 I knew him
always moved like he was late
for a conversation no one else could hear
navigating cities that were not there

He was never the loud one.
Never effortless, struggling to be a friend or a son
But he watched
God, how he watched

Saw adults lie with their smiles
He saw children pretending to be strong
He learned early that silence even if it felt wrong
Could be both shield and weapon

He felt small in rooms
The ones he finally outgrew 
Carried that hard smallness in his pocket
Rock he rubbed smooth with friction from his mind

He romanticized possibilities
Built castles out of glances
Turned unfinished stories
into epic myths of victory or oblivion

He wanted to matter.
Not overtly
just undeniably
He wanted to shape the air

To touch something that would provke the senses
Feel it shift
Celebrate it's life
Before being pulled back into the mundane

Why that need for control
Why those waves of intensity
ponderings aloft hovering
at the edge of being himself
Chaos felt more alive

He was evasive
Knowing clarity would expose him
He could hesitate
right when courage was required

He mistook complexity
for depth
Tied up in ideas
lost, breathless

But he also had stamina
When feelings hit him like weather,
he did not collapse
He interpreted the storm

His tenderness for a given few
He pretends is incidental.
It isn’t
It is in his bones

He can hold someone’s vulnerability
without flinching 
Even his own 
He rarely admits it’s brave.

He has a spine for virtue
Bends under pressure
but does not break
Wonders the shape of lies

He wants to be bold
Not reckless 
He wants to feel he earned it
Through his inventions and sweat

He was awkward, yes
Intense, too often
Sometimes too hungry
for proof that he mattered

He was never cruel
Never careless with truth
Never indifferent
Or overly ruthless

That’s the Simon I knew

He is still here, writing about himself like a maniac

Acclaim snuck up on me

 They called me onto the stage to talk about my book
The host sat on the floor as if to humble himself
But didn't show any interest in it's content
Just it's impact on the market

Like a hippy who would ask what kind of clothes to wear
To better meditate and get closer to unity
He did hold the audience in his hand
As if they were just guinea fowl

I could see my achievement was recognized
But in a way where media imposed it's dilution
Then there was the cults that frequently reached out to me
begging me to make their quirky groups official

Book signings were exhausting and required security
Scanning and searching for any Chapmans
The lonliness of obscurity 
To lonliness of fame

As I was signing those books
Smiling my smile
One in five had actually got it
But that was more than enough for me... to keep writing

The petting zoo of weaknesses

 Overthink and analyze everything, Pure clarity paralysis
 Chase shadows and projections, mistaking them for reality

You let waves of desire smash you
 longing control your mind along the way
 instead of directing them

Romanticize your past
 and your own potential
 instead of acting in the present

You carry shame
 fear, and self-doubt under layers
 of clever phrasing.

You retreat into internal dramas
 instead of facing life boldly and directly.


You replay what-ifs endlessly
letting them dictate your energy.

You mix moral heroism
 with vanity
confusing doing good
with needing validation

Shrink from confrontation
even when it would clear the air
You have childlike needs
longings dominate your adult self

You hide behind fantasies
 and exercises
 using them as crutches
You worry excessively about perception
reputation, and “rightness,” instead of presence.

You romanticize struggle and suffering
 turning pain into theater instead of clarity

The game they don't know they are playing

 The outside world
 Losing a game
Present day right now
you need to keep playing yours

 mistakes and errors
 are not a sign of losing,
They are the nature of you son
 They are a sign you are going through it.

 Use your tenderness
Somehow draw compassion for others
 and grit to go through it
indulge people's selfishness just for fun

Remember they won't reciprocate,
Give to feel alive
 So give as part of the game
 This existence they seem to think is real

Self doubt speaks to me as if we are friends

 You read these words and old leather cases full of obsolete verse
Useless fucking gimics that go nowhere
That attempt art and just crash into your resistance
Your belief that these words have no meaning is valid

There is no function
it is a teenage boy with a body of a ninety year old
These are the crumby chalky over exaggerated words you can expect
you read this garbage, I cannot comfort you as you have nothing better to do

There is no deeper message here the whole distillation
expresses just one foul truth about my work
A total lack of faith in the human spirit
What's worse is most of these prose don't even rhyme

Some old critic would highlight this but I got to get read first
People trip over this blog by accident
I harvest numbers through these lost searches
Isn't that just a delicate definition for life a lost search

Predictable dreary four lined stanzas that act self aware
build themselves into routine like latrines getting dug with letters
And the obvious long periods of sitting and filling them 
My words are feces you are welcome

My computer insists im tired
God points his finger and says stay in your lane
But is it him or just this pasty pesky fucking mess society
I wish i could climb it all and blow fire down it

But all I got are these childish words that don't get read
Messages that never get understood
Maybe ill just read it all back to myself
like a raving schizophrenic

Because there is no other use for it all
Cultivate a little sympathy from the bleeding hearts
for shipwrecked men who cannot see the horizon
writing in long lines just to build bridges toward it

Parts of it fall away and no one sees the sharks edging in
To take a limb or my whole life
This should be where you stop
If i was on this page behind your eyes right now

Oh I'd have quit, You can't get what you want
Neither can I ever...
Reading all the way down here won't resolve anything new
It's going to get painful and inconvenient

Step off i tell you as you insist flicking over these cheap twists
theres no genius here, no fine mastery
you've gone and stumbled on a fool
Pushing a boulder up a mountain

just to have it roll over him
With the inertia of self doubt
With all the eyes telling me no
pointing out my weakness

caging them and creating a petting zoo with it all
Yes don't mind me
As I attempt to release them all
As they are mocked from a safe distance

What are you all searching for
One obese cliche
cut open and bleeding nostalgia on your upholstery
My word bacteria getting all over your open sore

You did it didn't you, I told you not to
almost at the bottom of the page, yes that rock bottom
Abandon all hope and slogans of such genres
ease into this despair as you do old wet clothes

Succumb for down here the air clicks with an otherworldly sense of emptiness
The true crushing sensation that the mouth will no longer taste flavor
Neither skin sensation, words here lose their meaning
They only seem to collide with outside derision

Down here gravestones melt and my true nature rises
A gargantuan amphibian that will devour you all whole
Digesting your eyes for a millenia
Slipping back into the flood waters fat and satisfied

Until I realize I'm back down in these relentless words
That must be born and live on these fucking pages
taking everything from me
and now probably taking something from you too.

 

Eroded from within

 The plate is clean
Inside the box is only bubble wrap
No popping no hesitation
Screen is blank

Everything has floated away
I shipwreck I floating luggage
The creek dried up indeed
All of that was my feeling

I sense only the surface of myself
Nothing remains inside
Hot wind infront
Cold wind behind

What rope is my rhyme tied to
Without emotion
expression like that creek is dry
An attempt at pretend I ask myself why

The burden of sanctimony

Things break down, chaos mess 
Who will you blame?
When things don't work out
Have you designated a scape goat
Hold your pouch of righteousness

Nauseated by compassion
it's better to ascribe fault in others
They can take the weight
You've defended and deflected
We can appreciate your umbrage

Who are you willing to defend even if guilty
Some overflung affection guiding your clumsiness
Tragedy the person had that makes their madness look sane
Do you paint your favorites in heavenly white
While you fix your culpability stew

Tides of Languor

 Touch the silt
Smoothness of it's fine grit
The dirt inside it flows off
Without staining your finger
Can love just flow off
Without changing the heart
without altering the convergence

up to my ankles, day stepped out
Night rearranged the sky
I am almost motionless
Lapping up the cooling
Pools of saliva desire
To be drooling
A strange reflection on the water

Touch the margin of clay sand
Crumbly and communicative in your hands
Leaving dust that coats the pads of your fingers
Desire sweet in a dormant state lingers
I sluggishly move tracing the fine line
Between the water and the silty sand
Is love a balance like this?

The first stars come through
Orphans disconnected
Shining on obligation
desiring to get closer
Not letting themselves
Only the tide itself has this audacity
To approach, then to recede

 Stars emerge from the surface of the water
I glance back to the drifting firmament
Infinite panes of early evening craving indigo
Touch the sand with the pad of your finger
Grains sliding off but I can't see them
The penumbra of the land obscuring
Specs of faith in my heart I can't count

Wet Ceilings of the night

 I loved my night
My hands reached up to touch sensation
Luminaries turn on the orange
Anticipation flows out of the bulbs

Tone feminine soft long honeylike
she loved looking up at the ceiling
Banquet table empty
dessert was served hours ago

From the ceiling a fresh creek sprang
With it's own aquatic plants, pebbles and fish
Floating in mid air illuminated falling into the table
Right into her yearning eyes

What does one search for in the night
Is there some whim the day may not fulfill?

Two sides of the estuary

 Estuary reeds hug the sides of the inlet
dusk stars to take on the color of the water
A distant fading blue
I take the call at the ocean monitoring center

It's from the past way up the river
When I played a different game
Taking it all literally
Two voices came through the line

Such a needy tone grasping for reminiscing
Their faces exchanged
They accidentally tricked me
By confusing themselves

Each side of the estuary
bronze and smiling
appealing to me
was I the water

Slowly eating away at their sides
Until I could get a better sense of who they were
Beneath the silt and flood driven debris
Maybe then I would tell them apart

Their voices those last doses of sun a the end of the day
The first drops of night restless and addcited to dew 

Pork rinds cook

 Cooking pork rinds

Oil and fat bubbling ocean

Is it the fatty crispy snack

Does that entice

Part of preparation seems vulgar

The smell and splattering oil is overpowering

Pulling each one out with tongs

Laying them on the paper to dry

The oil and fat at a heat on the verge of bursting into flame

Sexual intercourse at the height of friction

Human's moving like animals inside the fire ant's nest

Wriggling jolting frying in the oil, in their own fat

Absorbing then expelling the oil and fat

Going from that soft jelly state

Into hard crackling across the open pan

Anticipating the mouth

Dog's loose

 They chased him around the yard
The dog had escaped
This was his five minutes of freedom
scrambling insanely

Give it another minute
He'll tire himself out
Avoiding every trap
Causing more havoc

Out of our control
running amok
Testing the street people
We couldn't reach him

He was sprinting around
On his instinct and electric limbs
We just need to give up the chase
Resisting seems to satisfy the hound

Promoted from within

 Out here looking for prestige.
Twenty floors up in that decorated office.
All noses for the same plate of food.
practice in the mirror.

Ground floor is a peasant factory.
You want to be up there looking down.
Still pretending to be humble,
Not really pulling it off.

It will take you up.
They will give you your own office.
Space to frame certificates on your wall,
Pace back and forth. 

Gripping your briefcase.
Staring up at the twentieth floor,
back at the face on the watch.
You've become so important to yourself.

Unfaithful mind

 Confused about her

 intoxicated by being wanted in a new way

 telling yourself you need to “experiment to see what’s behind it” 

 curiosity leaking in from the storm

permission-seeking dressed up as investigation

You know what’s behind it

Chemistry Novelty Ego Secrecy 

You don’t need to discover that attraction exists

 You already feel it

What’s actually driving you crazy is this

You want to be the kind who could cross the line

and get away with it

That’s the fantasy

Control Access Power Optional morality

Seeking the lost lines of dusk

 Lost schedule
Location unknown
Science spoke to me
Pointed the way

My future self guided me along
White beard and reparing a bicycle
Walking along lost lines of dusk
Broken tractors and old wasted shrubs

How I want the truth
But I won't wrestle it out
How I seek knowledge
But I'll make do

Beauty disappears and reappears
getting too close
Rubbing against me
Found my way through some labyrinth

Junkyards from last millenia

Feeling the movement

 I felt the world move under me
Readjusting
Life was a school
God a scientist

Where are you?
Suddenly there
Giving yourself to the moment
Surrendering to reality
Submitting to uncertainty
Find yourself immortal
A ritual in itself

Deconstruct my ignorance
The sureness of my ego
Renew my source energy
I felt the world move under me
The was you, looking at me
Mistaking me for old chaos
something wth lightening and gold trim

I felt your hips move under me
readjusting
Giving yourself slowly over
Opening your world up

Destiny Hostel's maroon deck

 Destiny hostel trying to find a room
Somewhere to sleep for the night
Study during the day
Find a part time job
Live like the manual says
Every nerve and every vein
Fired up like lava in caves

Saw the second story
Coming down from the third
Twice the life packed into half the frame
Riveting between slats of wood 
Does beauty glue gossip
On a marron wooden deck
Out into the sun which I fell into

Moving between the slats
Losing the sense of time
Losing a nice golden chunk of sanity
Know yourself as prohibited
Your code lets you in no longer
The door is locked
Memory of the deck cracks and fades

Children of water

 In sacred pools children played.
Deciphering what freedom says.
The way water hindered gravity.
How it amplified their activity.

Parents learned to follow their offsprings notions,
rediscovering those lost childhood emotions.
It was not simply a celebration away from home.
They were attempting to create a special moment.

One they hoped to extend much past twenty four hours.
Whose events would inspire glee that never soured.
That part of who they were together would fuse or align.
Making the return to daily life smoother and refined.

Sometimes the world gets cultivated like a flower.
So that pure joy may manifest even if for a few hours.

In the blessed pools children sprang like seedlings.
They were deciphering sensation freedom.
The way the water softened gravity,
How it enhanced their festivity.

Parents suddenly learned to be children again,
Rediscovering feelings they could not explain.
It was not merely games of pretend,
But an attempt to make time extend.

A moment they longed to continue all day,
Whose experience would keep memory from decay.
That part of who they were as one,
Fuse together, under the sun

Heed, even in those hours few,
Brightness lingers, unbound and true.

She was all pools and fields

 She was looking for herself
the fields down to the wharf went on for kilometers
The deep hollow hills of ankle high grass
She ran through that grass out running me

She reached the pools
Sacred broad sunlit pools
Where the divine people were set to bathe
And their children to experience joy

Her life was pools and meadows
I pleaded that God give her everything
As she was tragically busy giving to others
very few who reciprocated

People I was too childish to forgive
when she approached life with open hands
she was those sweet meadows
She was those pools of blessing

Nothing cut her or robbed her
The sky reached her and assured her
Under a ton of pain she hadn't deserved
That she was working through
Like a gulag survivor

Using her remaining energy to change the seasons
From winter to spring everyday
naturally with a smile and a knowing
So much beyond anything I could become

I was just the observer
She was the meadows and the pools
i was lost in numbers and theories
She sought the tangible experience

The basement city project

 The basement tour was our only other go to.
Accompanied by the CIA and FBI reps
Using their jargon as if we were supposed to know
I wasn't impressed, the acronyms and abbreviations
Oversweetened and childish
Something moorish for the cornsyrup addicted palate
So into another stupid exclusive elevator we went

Into another level entrance with wirey guards dressed in black
Receptionists whose excess of make up dropped onto the register
Where we signed our names and scribbled dates and hours
All very dark and official, smitten with their own formality
We were escorted down a long steel corridor
Then down under to the basement of the city
Here only the privileged few were allowed

As we arrived the people exiting seemed disappointed
Not a tangible real disappointment
But one that had concocted en route to appear to cool for school
Expressing their displeasure at the tour and all included
How much they were expecting beyond what the experience offered
But it was an amazing whole empty town waiting for survivers 
built hundreds of meters below the city for end times

 

Dining at the whitehouse

 He was disinterested as we sat down on his sofa
We must at the very least pretend to appear important
They interviewed us for two minuted and the president blinked
Overzealous I told him of my ambitions

Ever get the feeling when you bore others, somewhere someone dies
We went downstairs to wait for the next part of the tour
The lobby was fancy and they had hired serious faced people
To walk in and out of their offices denying entry

Even with all of the documents and proof of paid permission
We stood by the large window waiting for the next rejection
It was formal and polite it felt like restaurant food
I needed a napkin to clean my lips

Blabber blubber

 My mouth just kept blabbing
But my mind had lost any semblance of order
The sound of my own voice comforting
I just forgot the value of shutting up

So i continued to talk about nothing
As if there was some point to it all
As if I was discovering something
It wasn't a discussion

It was mince ground from conjecture and opinion
The words that wobbled out senseless and feeble
Communicated nothing that mattered
Words tattered birds flapped

Our minds roughly woven nests
Low risks low stakes how successful we were
Chitter chatter, the old wise ones wouldn've cautioned
But maybe they never spoke enough

Observing Beauty after dawn

 We sat in a cafe next to the mainstreet
Dawn had happened to us, some grand entity had cleaned the sky
People were finding courage to inhabit the streets
Up and down swinging arms, swinging legs
Coffee arrived and we sank into deep leather seats
Skin like containing our first thoughts of the day
Our first observations of the street 

Tongue like thoughts that seemed to taste and think in parallel
Obsessed with our goals and achievements
Watching the people as they passed by
Pontificating about our strategies and secret plans
How we got where we have reached today
Noone cared and most of our own minds didn't care
Beauty seemed to matter and how could it?

It told no lies, it basically shouted that it was fleeting
Temporary, untrustworthy, unstable magic
In the movement of the day something wonderful manifests
Wonderful in it's provocative and illusive nature
You tell me you cannot really understand from where I speak
As you inch closer to get a better look inside the glass
At that item that you will never be able to afford

To recieve love

 He turned to me and asked me how I was able to love.
I told him that I give that, that I would most like to recieve.
And this makes me grateful.

But how do you pass their defects and still appreciate them?
I look at my own, and my own need to continue to recieve love.
How can you be sure you deserve love?

I Know that I don't deserve love,
I strive to be worthy in a tainted world.
Then how do you recieve love?

I recieve love with an open heart,
It is not a luxury, it is a need.
But luxuries are still important aren't they?

Luxuries only work when they fall on a person
who has truly understood the base of their needs.
what is our most important need?

To learn how to love.

Lines and gluttony

 On the bridge
As they were
All the fine people
organized the party

Tight ropes and flying foxes

Lines inside the mind 
lines across the structures
Pulling things together
The sun followed its invisible line

Optimism formaed a web above us
At the exclusive venue we had to wait in line
All the best food, finding a table was hard
Slowly eating getting words out between mouthfuls

Before we could finish another group arrived
Their focus became out table and chairs
Their impatience was a sultry dessert
some of our food fell on the floor

Now an ocean of food layering itself across the floor
These newcomers were embarrassed
A look of apology replaced envy
But it was already done

It's time to leave
So we went to and fro back and forth
Between the tables and fine people
Leaving behind our last drinks

The lines of rope barred us from the exit
We turned and witnessed as professional waiters raced in
Furnishing knee braces so the newcomers could kneel and eat
The layers of food from the ground

The balancing act

 They support new developments
They swore they believed in freedom
then transitioned to obedience and tradition
First restless rebellion then appearances in conformity

Crazy dancing libertine promiscuous and anything goes
into disciplined repetitive choreography that sginifies nothing
Protestant then catholic, socialist then conservative
It's a balancing act- you say you have to live with the times

You preach that collective values have no worth here
Then you start complaining that the world is not black and white
The you start believing and celebrating lies of convenience
You cheer for liberty, screaming from the bars of your prison

Haven't you tricked yourself already, appearances still holding up
Authenticity a sticky disease over you
Honesty bother you that much?

In quiet communication

 The invisible language
Muted tone lips shape to speak
But end in blowing kisses
Through an air tense with desire

Silence clings to her body
Noise bounces off that layer
Glimmer glimmer
words don't form

the mouth only opens to exhale
So when do you say will?
Lets do that silence we always do
looks good on you

Falling into ourselves

 We wander through the streets

distracted by dream sweets

Pretending we know where we are going

Our errands and tasks based on our personalities

We fall into ourselves

miles deep

We wonder through the sweetness

Brain city each thought a street

unending moving heating ever flowing

searing as we bask in our idionsyncracies

nothing to keep us from delving

wild and steep

Liam sought approval

 Liam shakes and Liam breaks
Vana strikes him in the face
days are chains
weeks of blame

distilling guilt
stinging lubrification
bed is hot
House a prison

Working off that last drop
Of radioactive puberty
Liam trembles
submissive and simple

Confusion bubbling away 
He'll pull it off in time
or get a taste of her dismay
get corrected and ashamed

He pleads but she insists
He reads the safe word 
she binds ankles and wrists
He seeks her eye, she his lips

Even snuffed out again

 To question is brilliant.
 I would be relieved.
 I don't know if god
 will give me this

 but if God does
I'll be relieved.
 I'll feel whole.
 I'll change.

  it will sculpt me.
Why do i talk about god here?
 Because i cannot control this
, and not having what i want.
not having god give me everything makes me love.

 I don't know why
 but his pain is merciful.
 the pain i sometimes feel allows me to understand
 the world the way I am supposed to see it.
 I would be filled with love.

 I think i would want to cry
 if she gave life
 I would want to celebrate,
 even if again that life was snuffed out. forgive me

The enemies and their purgatory

 Satelites

My enemies came buying their identity

I have nothing for you here

Read into this- your disease will never be mine

You find yourself contagious but i'm not susceptible

These two men and their mothers

I am not responsible for their rotten baggage

I cannot haul it for either of you

Not even while you rest

So sit down chug your feed

Count your blessings
Scheme your schemes
be on your way

These lines of land are mine|

They go around and around

Between them you get caught up

Just training for purgatory
I haven't got the equipment
I cannot divide my time

So walk on into the horizon

i am not the light you seek

I do not desire a sophisticated betrayal

When i see what I have planted 
a centimeter higher than last year
Well I give my soul to God all over

and he gives me another year to look on

No solution for your mess

No opiate or weakness to exploit

So onward to limbo
I cannot validate your steps
Your tiny shifts toward evolution

Your awkward excuses

semblances of regret

I will not be your father

For you will not be guided by me

Round earth

You will be back here soon enough, you'll see

The cornwall rocks

 I lost my life not far from the sea oh so ghastly
Near estate pasture land, soul breath over the blades of grass
Following breeze as it combs through his essence lost within 
My killer was the housemaid from the mansion

She hovered over my body
Blade in hand head still nodding
Drops of blood off knife
Last seconds of life

She placed small volcanic rocks over my body
She danced over the boulders blood wanting
Midnight's tide churning somewhere nearby
Through crevices of the coast sighing

Cloud hides moon so there were no witnesses
she ran barefoot into the pasture brazenly
In that grass, which no animal ever grazed
Spirit trapped under rocks now emerging
Calling her lythe body to come to me
My message caught her like boomerang runes
Cloud moved away showing her to the moon

Illuminate her path back where my body rests
Sky became clearer exposing the midnightness
The sense of guilt in her steps to ground of murder
Witness to the ghost I am occuring now to her
Asking her back to embrace me once more
She looked at the bloody knife and listened
Still in her stained hands glistening

She rubbed it off on the grass and stopped dancing
Turned and attempted to run back toward the mansion
As her feet moved forward the land moved back
She remained in place near where my rock cracked
The whole field lit in pale hues by a midnight moon
She continued running but her position didn't move
The long pines laughed as the wind threw them around

whispering between owl hoot and crashing wave sounded
No shortcuts in life or death, no straights in a world so round...

Stubborn dignity

 She bounced down the road,
advancing up the far side.
Deliberately ignoring me,
Each cute stride up and down on her calves.

 Like the world existed only for her.
 Her long brown hair swung in unison
 with her jumpy strides,
 Her restless rhythm infects me,
 Her posture compound signaling stubborn dignity,

Shoulders back, chin just slightly raised.
Every movement was an elaborate snub,
Emphasis that I didn’t matter.
Her desire for adventure almost provokes curiosity,

like a duchess spilling her good self over the pavement

Confiscating the sun

 The rains are here again
Goddess doesn't play
The drops tell me 
in their slang and sway
To go back inside rethink
Forget about movement
have a warm drink

Sun has been confiscated
Goddess put it away
Dreary outside
Thick cloud harsh grey
Somewhere on her shelves
Behind her forbidden veil
Sits the sun, sassy Goddess and her day wall

As chuvas estão aqui de novo
A Deusa não brinca
As gotas me dizem
em sua gíria e balanço
Para voltar para dentro, repensar
Esquecer o movimento
Tomar uma bebida quente

O sol foi confiscado
A Deusa o guardou
Triste lá fora
Nuvem espessa, cinza dura
Em algum lugar em suas prateleiras
Atrás de seu véu proibido
Está o sol, a Deusa atrevida e sua parede de dias

The 3am animal

 The face looked at me in darkness

In it's mind it was deciding whether to bite me

Teeth were bared

eyes fierce

It came close to my face

Growling insanely in the blackness

It offered me dread

I couldn't feel it

It insisted

I couldn't feel the fear

I personally wanted to devour the animal

To tear it's throat

Ritually howl as it bled out on my bedroom floor

I would turn off my alarm heat the pan

skin the beast

early breakfast

The day rash

 Inhabits the skin
 It hurts and it bleeds
 It is open to infection

 It is marking me
 Blotchy, it slowly expands
 it itches and irritates

 It gets sticky
 In the morning
 Its moist in the evening

Bandages didn't work
It needs the open air
It needs to be seen

I see it scabs
hopeful dryness
Only for it to weep by dusk

Pain's meaning

Daily routines require many actions, some that you can feel unhappy about.
This unhappiness you silently equate with pain.
Your body requires consistant exercise, the less you do the more the body hurts and ailments spring up. When you exaggerate exercise, it's pain, or quite literally the pain of injury.

Your job is full of situations that create emotional pain and often severe bother. The kind of hurtfulness that if felt in a strong enough way will push you into acting in your interest. For example finding a new job, in the face of feeling completely outraged, then getting either a greater salary to compensate for the pain, or else more freedom.

Your interests. the things you have pledged yourself to study or spend time doing in your recreation time. These are usually an escape from your professional reality. Allowing yourself to turn off from the working hours.
Does everyone hate their job. Of course not. But a challenging career comes with pain, only an ignoramus believes otherwise. Job satisfaction usually comes when you have learned from your pain.


Home responsibility. Whatever role you play in a relationship, you will find pain within it. A strange denial might rise up within you, arguing that you feel no such pain. But pain is kind of like a garden, weeds can often be slight irritations you force yourself to ignore. But arguements that threaten your lifestyle can feel like established trees growing into your powerlines or breaking through a window during a storm. Forgive the romantic metaphors. If you ignore your pain, the consequence will be more pain!

Pain doesn't just have meaning, it is a great teacher. We grow wise from pain. Personal lessons affect us deeply in a world where people care little for the advice of others. Personal lessons, like those that sum up to "I'll read the fine print next time." or "I'll choose a more realistic investment." etc help us to grow in awareness. It is only when we ignore our pain that we inevitably repeat our mistakes.

Simple guide.

1. Pain can edit your life, being the reason you choose one action over another.
2. Pain teaches us where our limits are, this is information.
3. Pain forces awareness, comfort lulls people to sleep, pain awakens us.
4. Pain reminds us of other's suffering as well, when we don't know other's pain, we also cannot empathize with them. Being able to feel other's pain opens us up to their world. Beyond just information, you comprehend their visceral reality.
5. Pain becomes familiar and we can become more resilient in life, acquiring or achieving things through enduring those pains. Putting ourselves to the test.
6. Pain exposes false people or institutions, if you read the pain someone makes you feel with their dishonesty, you will discern it is not worth continuing with those people or places. pain comes before awareness.
7. Pain sharpens the intellect, it shows us how theory doesn't equal real life. When we try to apply things that don't work for us in real life, pain is the corrector, telling us that the theory isn't working. it has us examine what is not working.
8. Pain teaches us to be careful, whenever we are cooking or cleaning, the level of carefulness is often a result of small but succinct situations we hurt ourselves in, by accident. Our brain records and usually learns from these faux pas.
9. Pain creates the contrast for satisfaction, without the duality, there would be no meaning in the world. Simplicity of a painless world wouldn't make things more interesting, everything would become incredibly boring.
10. A valuable lesson in pain is when you reach the realization you cannot control everything inside your world. Things can hurt you and you cannot necessarily prevent them. However, you can gain a better feeling for the things you really control, and act on them. learning to accept those things that are completely out of your hands. 

In almost all of the examples pain is only the alarm. You must be aware to understand and learn from the implication of the pain. Those that believe life should be painless are feeling more pain than those who know the truth. Pain is meaning, pain is truth.

Sigils of 2026(definitions)

Manwa: Under the eye means the known, the possessed.

 Syg: Under the eye means the unknown, that which can be possessed.

BIP: Floating inevitability.(Floating not always in the right place at the right time, but can line up, can be reached.)

Mil-10: Progress of a dream(measured and structured)

Manwa is stability, sustainable growth. wholesomeness and logic.
Syg is the chaos of emotion and passion, feeding growth then starving it in absence.
Manwa is there to save us, when Syg has run out.
Your syg is an amalgamation of desires. Not only do the things you desire approach and distance themselves from you, your own intensity within each desire peaks and drops based on your mood and events that provoke your emotions in real life.
If you understand this entirely, you can also understand why most desires just stay desires.
Manwa is more sacred than Syg, but Syg distracts you and pulls you away from Manwa,

BIP and Mil-10 are like huge containers in your garage once full they get sent out like physical mail to declare certain things about your life. Status or figuritive champion podiums for the trophy giving ceremony. They are the long term goals that grow by your routines and systems.

Space and time

 All of your responsibilities
all of your desires
the wonderful life you build
See if we can build a place

A place for future meetings
A place for space and voice
in your haste and occupation
Recieve the great blessing

You steady man
People´s mistakes are not evil
There's a time for renewal
A great time in the future.

Bounce

 two feet leaving the mat of the trampoline
into the air feeling the body slow
then descend back to the mat
which streches downward under weight

Once again body bouncing upward
The motion amuses sensation

Experience apoetseye

 Juicey life licks the tongue
Heat finds a home in the spine

Wrinkled brow inhales the doubt
Calf veins push in rhythm of panic
Salt, metal, sweat, and air

Breathless eyes track oxygen's scent!
Desire curls herself into cozy marrow
The body learns pulse in violent sensuality
Aroma drags memory through nasal veins

Heart, lungs, nerves, gut gossip and plot
Skin tastes the room using sweat as wet sonar
We move before we name the flame we chase
Give the breathless eyes permission
To fill the lungs with fire

A vida suculenta lambe a língua
O calor encontra morada na espinha

A testa franzida inspira a dúvida
As veias da panturrilha pulsam no ritmo do pânico
Sal, metal, suor e ar

Olhos sem fôlego seguem o rastro do oxigênio!
O desejo se enrosca no aconchego da medula
O corpo aprende o pulso na sensualidade violenta
O aroma arrasta a memória pelas veias nasais

Coração, pulmões, nervos, vísceras cochicham e conspiram
A pele prova o ambiente usando o suor como sonar úmido
Movemo-nos antes de nomear a chama que perseguimos
Dê permissão aos olhos sem fôlego
Para encher os pulmões de fogo

Thompson is on the meds

 

Thompson swallows tablet down clean
Juice hits palate, obedient
He practiced the swallow
The tongue still resists

Stomach acid works at it
His faith in the potency
Thompson reads the dosage
Tolerance starts to hinder effect

Afternoon Thompson overdoes it again
The same pain springs up
over pressured, neglecting his state
poor timing

The ache returns quietly
Familiar enough wrinkled brow
Quasi-panic calf veins shove
breathless he gets up

Another tablet down the hatch
same color, same weight
Body refuses to let it take effect
As thompson repeats the loop

Cicatrize

 Scar still tingles
Figure it out
when it spilled
I tie needle

Stitch myself up
It's been a year
each lip firm shut
On the closed wound

The echo of pain
subtle mosquito nag
Hardened tissue purple
spelling out the past

Read it back to myself
accident in brail letters
Almost fully healed
story still legible

Something missing

 Shoes don't fit anymore I sigh
Have to get a new pair what a pest 
The weight I'm lifiting is so light
Doesn't this expose preference for easiness???

The Dog is far too small and doesn't listen
He is miniscule, am I feeding him enough?
The image in the television screen is so distant
Should I be sitting closer???

I don't have another pair
I'll have to walk to shop in these
I won't risk any injury
I'll simply lift in ease

My dog is as big or as small
or as stubborn as he needs to be
I gave him more than enough
What lenses of life are these???

When nature calls

 So I drove on the spine of my identity.
A desert road, barren topography, calamitous weather.
infertile soils and my bladder pushed my brake foot.
I stepped out onto the shoulder, cool and calm.

I pulled it out trusting the women would stay in the car.
I couldn't hold back as the urine came out of me in torrents.
The flow of it shuddered through my body.
Gushing out like floodwater.

I held myself up, dizzied by my own deluge.
How could I release this amount of water?
The knee high shrub before me soaked it up.
Potassium and calcium might boost it's growth.

The women exited the vehicle looking at me in shock.
Taken aback by my unabashed decision to pee -au grand air.
Then amazed by the baffling and nonsensical volume spilling out.
Their gasps mute and still, now statue-like in the soft breeze.

I looked down almost disappointed at the last drops.
The breeze caught them, arched their course to the dirt.
Maybe another few liters wouldn've been good.
Nature desires continuation not resolution.

The cooling system

 Scientists gathered around me.
  I repeated our list of timeline goals. Building a nuclear power plant in the valley. We had one big problem the river cooling condensor. The nuclear reactor's warmed water would raise the temperature of the river.
This would affect the whole river, boosting temperature and interrupting animals natural cycles. Our investors only want to know when it becomes a scandal. 
Like our own body temperature there must be something to regulate it.
The intake and outfall canals had several obstacles. Engineers wouldn't agree so the plan couldn't be formed.
The cooling solution was one of the last challenges on our list. Without a plan it would temperature change will affect the life of the fish and surrounding fauna and flora, even the wild bananas.

Divinity on Rachis

 Humid valley
my smile widens
in it's narrow gap
I trudge into the humidity

grass encloses around each ankle
I walk parallel to a river
Covered by bush and wild banana
The distant burble hardly discernible

I pass the ever reaching mango trees
Sparse fruit too high to reach
colored green blue and red
On the ground opened and orange

I witness a completely balanced banana palm
So symmetrical the leaves and the flowering downward stalk
One singular banana hangs from the long rachis
A Godlike fruit That I could claim now

The hospital doll at three

 Two fifty nine in the AM
The abandoned doll from the child's ward
hanging off the stretcher
One eye looking toward the corridor doors
The other eye aimed at the ceiling
The clock hand on the wall hits three
The doll's eye blinks

There's no air movement
the insistant glow of the overhead fixtures
The corridor is empty I hesitate to approach
I focus on it's eye looking at the door
The zipper the doll had for a mouth clicks
I take a step back but the zipper opens
I gasp as it emits a tiny sinister shriek 
 

Sleepless Super Eight

 By nightfall the neon gleams
Something otherworldy promises
But the edges of a trick come through
in the form a suble micro flicker

The carpark below it half full
by midnight it will be overloaded
two long boots exchange concrete
making their way toward the wooden steps
last nights rain well soaked into them
A hadn extends and caresses the railing
fresh nail paint reflecting in the orange lamp light

Tweekers jump down the same wooden stairs
galloping their needs in their knees
The woman barely notices them and vice versa
Both will have their ends met before twelve o One
The motel sits a delapidated turtle lazy satisfied
It's shell the enclosing roof covering thirty rooms
 hoarding the vibration of a million dirty deeds 

This place never sleeps
the ghosts that loom out were once humans
Their dishonest needs slowly throwing them out of reality
At some point they lost it, an O.D, an overzealous loanshark
A new click putting the smack down
A spiralling doom that forced the hand
To kill the body and extend his stay at super eight

Being replaced

 Legs were world wars
Moving the economy knees of japan and germany
The united rolls of flab below the ribs
Singapore a belly button

Hands were African
For fertile soil and abundant mines
Elegant fingers
musclebound palms

Arms were asian sweat shops
Building parts for the nonthinking masses
Models of neighbor envy fueled automobiles
Factories the size of cities


Lips were french
Tongues and tastebuds sensitive europeans
With all the coincidental priviledges
of sharing an active outspoken tongue

Britain contracted emphysema
Used two contradictory medicines
One antagonizes the other
When doctor visits Britain hides the one not prescribed

The united rolls of flab
Builds factories to mass produce hero figurines
That drool and catchphrase nostagic hyperboles
Every child will be forced to play

Russia erected a mirror big enough for moscow
and reflected it's deepest national fears inside
Then hypnotized itself assembling cheap bombs and drones

But there was no head
No brain to speak of
just a poor man

Hobbling between contintents
scrambling to maintain distribution

neurotic and vile

Slowly being replaced by a new beautiful millenium.

Absorbing the waffle

I deepen the knife into the batter
Witnessing it sink into it silently
I anticipate the next mouthful
I reach for the maple syrup
The very thought of it mouthwatering
Tiny breaks in the batter remind me
This spongy food will soak it up

As I pour it over, it will absorb
Like brain does information
Like rain fills wetland lakes
Saliva slowly pooling into the mouth
Readying tongue and teeth as lips open
As fork comes a small viscous square
 I activate tastebuds engaging the richness

Kettle boils the steam I Like

 The steam had a lunging smell
I felt the urge coming from my throat
to touch the hot humid breath
Yes there would be tea soon
Heated water would bath the little bag
I would wear a silly grin
Today it was tea for one

Tomorrow tea for two or even three
With the kind of steam I go giddy for
But today the steam is under control
The water is boiling and talking about itself
I listen I let it's voice announce the morning
Soon clarity of the day fill the kitchen
The kettle boils for just one person

Dandelion tight fit

 I observed the little fella as i passed
Long narrow lettucy leaves up up up
Proud yellow button emoji pretty
Centimeters from the boot of a bus patron
I watched it harvest it's microseconds of attention
Walkers avoiding flattening it 
I followed the crooked crack it grew out of

I couldn't see the taproot steadying it
I could just feel that tiny glow of pride
it's tiny attempt to bring the bee inward
The orgasm of pollination consumated
A sassy sorted and seasoned seed head
I put my finger up imagining the wind
taking those tiny parachutes

Demolition time

 Once again I have been called to demolish myself
Must I destroy myself for stability
So I take the axe to desires
I become the arsonist of a luxury apartment
One I built inside my heart

The burnt out area speaks through smoke and carbon
Rebuild me it shouts, rebuild me
Another fire lights up
Driving me into the future
Burning an unseen fuel

Hammers and mallets that shake my reality
Once again fallen walls and debris
I must do away with it all again
start all over from the fine strings
The ones holding my entity up all day

Summer growth

 Smell of reshly brewed beer
with hints of coffee and pungent odor
The stench of rotting fruit
You see the fruit itself ripe edible
The part that rots into the surface

You see things rise out of it
seedlings fungus, worms and insects
fertility in the blackness
feeding trees giving them denser greener foliage
The branches thicken

overground roots form runes and sigils
Criscrossing and forming their own alphabet
The chorus of the canopy descends to the ear
Begging for more rain even after the deluges
Each shower visits like cousins obsessed

Their baggage in floods and new lakes

A daydream addiction

I didn't clock the game
there's no missing piece of my life
I have no tangible information
There is nothing to invent

I am not a stalker
I am not just a lost spirit
People build alternate universe cosplay
I am not a medievil King presiding

What life is missing is
a big soap opera with just the dose of drama
replacing the grocery list with romantic emotional destiny
The brain building a whole new life around it

A multidimensional don juan
No a simple man with unrealistic fantasies
Not from another amazing life
Just from my imagination

Mentally ignoring my life
Replacing it with a warm unrealistic dream
Brain chemistry holding me in mental hostage
A fanfiction inside the lining of the brain  

Over a season

 Accept the dormance
Furnish patience
the length of a life
Of a century

a decade, a year, a season

chaos fuel
morality's order
Smooth tides in me
over the rippling beach

pour into the year

It's raining money
deep strength
hypervitality
I accept the activity

new soil requires compost

heating under layers
condensing back into mineral
That I must reuse to build
To grow and never die

To celebrate in breath
In food
In love
In movement