Bye day
Depart now
Go in purple away
Leave in orange
I'll see the next of you tomorrow
chilly blue wave
Off you fly
The last semblance of light
Dying glare I long to rewind
soon enough the first stars
The bold moon will visit
holding onto the darkness
until the fingernails of dawn
dig in
I look toward the high skies
Above these seas
I dream of cold brilliance
Beyond disease
When your hymn deep
Bath in stern endure
Unknown entity creeps
Her gaze erases me
Rolled by her rock
Woe indeed sneezes
Flayed and salt heated
While heaving and swerving
Blood stained borth, all are seated
Whose face is this
Look down checklist
Behind the bench
selling an extra inch
Queues and brands
Where the anxious stand
Things to prove
weight to move
Where does one find the energy
not getting any nearer to free
Filling idiotic fuel to chase
Just stall, ghost, foster malaise
The voice box mojo
Proud as volume grows
To fit bragging into the day
Debts accrue tomorrow pay
Eyes fix heavily
Judgement's severity
The warm closed room
New paint over the tomb
Sounds and words say honesty
false contracts appear readily
Senses dig and reveal lies
The wanters gossip and pry
This place fills with desire
Desperation sings a choir
Sense of missing the story
compounded by memory
Whose face must one wear?
When should one pretend to care?
Whose words must one repeat?
Imitation is quite a feat!
They all run so well
Supplement the swell
Of the over extended ego
On a fool tank of fomo
Counting the reps
feeling the ground
crowded by people
Alone
My calender is full
The man to my left mimicks me
the girl to my right laughs
But in three to six months they'll be gone
all noise and jokes
calender workout
The weight in my hand is light
I move it up and down painfully
Building myself up slowly
In a world I felt used to tear me down
I still have something to prove
Not to you, them or the haughty world
But the part of me you all convinced
I was weak and stupid
Powerful messages are given
you need stability reassurance
Energy is tethered
Everybody hurts
What are you looking for?
Who?
Is the silence a wall or a window?
You don't know.
Where the street curves
Your eyes go
Checking the road
on your comparisons
Monitoring from a distance
Learning nothing
Deliberate invisibility
Reading the letters
Analyzing every person
Every situation
You won't notice the unhappiness
There's no evidence that I'm struggling
Struggle your entire life
Spend most of it alone
The connection to the past is broken
Cycles ground down by my own will
Not wheeled around by destiny
For destiny seek
Never satisfaction
Not desperately within the wheel
Turning like an LP paranoid and in panic
The distance doesn't hurt
Don't carry the weight of my absence
The silence out here between us
Doesn't provoke jealousy
Proven by your own merit
Admit to your own watching
Your own closed loop
Not the person they say
Not the person before you
Not the answer just mystic
Wielding words and ideas
Disproving all predictions
Disrupting forecasts of downfall
The destiny sought
Unstoppable energy
Losing it all
all expectation
I found myself back
At sixty two
Empty handed
Boulder on the lawn
Frown weighing face down
Look back toward heaven's gate
The toward the sea
Just because you are found
Doesn't mean it is good
In my heart it is written
That finding myself lost
was the greatest of salvations
Você vê meus sentimentos escritos no meu rosto,
como palavras nesta página.
Você vê a decepção,
você vê a minha esperança,
Aquela que a juventude tentou esmagar,
mas ainda está viva, sabe?
Fracassou.
Subestimou.
Não vou engolir nada.
Vou te partir ao meio
pelos estrondos das minhas vontades sagradas,
pelo trem da sua inveja,
pela sua falta de identidade,
pelo seu barulho à toa.
Consigo olhar por dentro de você.
Através da pele,
a leitura é doce,
cheia de irritação,
expectativas irreais,
Pequenas profundezas que quero afundar ainda mais.
São superfícies sem sentido nem sentimento.
Mas não finjo nada.
Meus sentimentos estão escritos,
óbvios para todos.
Mas você vai fingir que eu não sinto nada.
Sem boa sorte,
sem beijo nem abraço.
E a despedida foi dada,
mas não chega.
O cheiro de ácido no ar.
There's this yellow abandoned train station again, it stands wrapped in weedy trees,
wattles and skeleton tall coprosmas. Something about it tells me it is a living creature.
The structure has no symmetry in it's basic front door and windows.
It has no semblance of a face either.
I returned from my walk with gramps, it transformed into a face.
It Beraded me.
"This is not your place. You should not have come back.
You will not come in. This is a sacred place.
You are not welcome."
I started to shrink, I needed to shrink, what a great way to be.
The yellow trainstation shook in fury.
Then trembled in fear.
I became the size of a four year old.
I pulled out a box of matches. Knelt next to the train station.
Flicked it true, sparked a flame, into the dead grass beside it.
In minutes the outer wall became an upside down river of flame.
Child me celebrating the greedy fire.
"Put me out." It said.
But I just stared at it's contorted face.
The heat of the roaring fire and the fake sun heating my tiny body.
In the excitement of the burning trainstation.
Perhaps the heat and euphoria I fell and vomited across the ashy ground.
I looked at the contents, to my amusement there were serpents in the spew.
Discolored by the stomach acid, they raced toward the flame.
I felt myself grow back as the smoke blessed me.
The serpents slid into the flames and started growing.
Their intricate scales and colors became incredible as they were now the size of full grown pythons.
The forest caught fire. The local false wind and sun wanted it to happen.
The child in me wanted it to happen.
The flames washed through. Burning all the way along the train tracks.
The burning continued for many of those purgatory days.
The wind died, the sun was blocked by the smokey darkness.
The ruins of the old town were still there, now standing above the ashes of the local forest.
Even the sign at the entry point.
-Relinquite omnem spem.
Look at him
Averts his gaze
Off she goes about her day
Decade here
Decade there
Now he's grey
Young men chase
Quick to pursue
Eyes light up
Mostly untrue
He hardly noticed
She didn't care
A fan of someone who wasn't there
But he kept it up
Tracksuit bland
No inner power
Just a fan
Her snobby face
Words pretty enough
She dressed him down—a disgrace
For his doubt flowers on the skin
His fear perspires, insecurities win
He gives up chase, returns familiar
His peers failed too, their symptoms similar
I see half-hidden grins
She pretends not to care
But she turns to the older man
And in his direction stares
Gardening your voice
I plane it out with every syllable
I utter the correction
I overflow over it
Sound is my dragon my keeper
I aspire to become duke of the mountain where it lives
The early Earl of these graceful rocks and voice
provocative forests that are colored just the right shade
I ask for your echo to ring out through this very valley
So I can capture that voice on the breeze
Bouncing back to me directly
I'll be gardening that voice
Planting your words in a line
Cultivating them until they reluctantly flower
In my own scarred hands
For the privilege of their scent
Unashamedly their taste Dona Galore
Curiously enough my reddish skinned grandfather Eric appeared as I wandered up the rusty lines of the railway willows and pines on either side, giving me the option of avoiding the fake sun.
The fake sun wasn't fake because it was cold or not present.
It was fake because like the world I found myself in, it is all simulation.
Something built to ferment the soul, so that our giant afterlife God may drink us down.
Digest us as we transform into the energy it needs to shit out the next galaxy.
Or piss a supernova, or if it's like some of you vomit blackholes.
Curiously my grandfather doesn't buy that story.
He says God wouldn't be subject to mere bodily functions.
That the supposition is highly ridiculous.
Is that wisdom or a slowly distilled bucket of doctrine the prune of man has been drinking.
I'd call it wisdom. There's something spirit numbing about walking these train tracks with the presence of Eric right next to me. He told me his cat interpreted God as a successful hunt. A carpenter would translate God as the concept of construction itself.
Again the trees thinned and there were but shrubs beside us. I could smell the fake fragrance of meadows. Like the overperfumed dress of the promdate you failed to cajole.
Was I too interested words old man? Is that where my notion of God went?
Into vocabulary. Am I the last poet In this rugged old purgatory.
never before have i been so frustrated as I looked at my grandfather's face and he slowly uttered the words that would bother me more than the swinging seedheads.
"ohhhh, well... Sort of."
The smell of steel and sweat
The ghost of the morning
melting the frost
breaking into the day
First I'm a bandit
Then I'm a king
An interloper
Then the only native
I smell sunlight
Breaking through
Heating the day
lurking like a bandit
I feel like a weight
the one I'm lifting
One exhausting me
breaking through to failure
Sun hits my face accusingly
It's warmth makes me reinvest
I admit I am not halfway there
My bandit energy accumulating
Like I said these two had left the yellow trainstation.
When I say trainstation there were no real trains. It was the ruin of an old trainstation.
From a time that never was here in this place that is not supposed to exist. But it does.
They headed off after years and years of deliberating in this silly little railway shack.
I can only guess they followed the rail lines.
There used to be a town here too.
When I had my vision back in 2022 I saw my father cross the town.
There were other souls there, traffic and houses. A sense of the familiar.
He had a rucksack and crossed the railway line out of town.
He didn't talk to anyone or stop for anything. It was like he was pulled to the yellow shack.
The one on the edge of this town that no longer exists. Weeds and the most aggressive seedlings have taken it over. Obscuring any sign of the once quaint village.
Old man Eric started getting his hair back. His leg had grown back. But my father was sill impatient.
I saw them only in dream, I could not join them, I was flung into some bigger spiritual scandal. probably because something I wrote.
But I saw them and followed their journey
The trees became shrubs and shrubs just tall weeds.
The seedheads on the weeds were incredible fat. it suddenly made sense that the countryside was riddled with it.
Those seed heads slapped against their cordoroy jeans in places where the plant had embedded itself closer to the tracks.
My grandfather grinned. he grinned a grin that could grace his face for an hour, as if an epiphany had rippled out of him. But there was actually no great insight or idea whatsoever. The man was just happy to have the limited heat of the fake sun and the company of my father walking beside him.
The class was outdoors because all of the structures were destroyed.
The woman teaching us was a warm bubbly 42 year old pale skinned brunnete.
She would cut or mix something on the big table infront of the class.
And her curly brown hair would kick up to and fro.
I thought she was very smart and charismatic.
The idiots sitting next to me distracted me from her class.
But i paid attention evenso.
After the class she invited me to speak to her.
I was hardly 19 years old and I was nervous in her presence.
Of course I wouldn't admit that to anyone.
She invited me to sit in the front row the next day.
She would make room for me.
I thanked her.
Then her younger and even more beautiful women friends came.
They would go cross country to the next village over to press grapes.
Hopefully they would bring some wine back from last years squeeze.
I entered the shop carefully because it was also an alley away from the stinking church ruins. I thought ther might be someone there to mug me. Something almost as bad was waiting in there.
I must have looked a mess because the man's face became harsh and an accusatory frown formed on his face. He pulled a dagger and locked eyes with me.
"I don't want anything from you, I am just passing through your shop to get out of the courtyard, the barbarians have brought down the walls and gates. There is no other exit." I pleaded with the man.
"Don't I know it." The man said gritting his teeth.
Looked like he really thought I might try to rob him. He held the culter out from his body as if it was a threat not just to me but to his own body.
I put my palms up in a gesture of non aggression. It made no difference, the man followed me closely until I had left his shop.
The desperate clenched face was still as aggressive and tight as it had been when I entered the shop.
As I turned back to look at the man and tell him that obviously he hadn't needed to be so aggressive, it struck me that his shop was absolutely empty.
Everything was already stolen.
The defensiveness had become his default response.
The bombed out church had been converted to a shelter for old fat sixty and seventy year olds.
Some of them in reasonable health, others lepers who could hardly rise form the pew.
They lay there in the church chamber the entire eastern wall missing.
Letting the sun light up the place up as there was no candles.
I saw one of the younger of the lot unsuccessfully attempt to turn, cursing under his heaves.
Infact, Most of the old men were squirming having spent days lying on the pews.
Others had started up long conversations mostly nostalgic in nature.
The church might still collapse I worried as I stood on the outside, looking in.
A begger looked up from his sitting place on the street and told me he knew what I was thinking.
"You think the whole building will collapse, don't you?"
I said nothing to the begger as his face showed sadistic amusement.
Instead I looked on as another overweight man adjusted himself on the pew.
His skin blotchy and yellow his face contorted in pain.
The day was hot, there were no one to fan them anymore, and absolutely no wind.
So the lot of them lay in their states pouring with sweat.
Onlookers wouldn't stay long. The stench put them off it.
In one corner facing each other two of the oldest sat at a small table.
They were playing Ludus a perfect line of sun lighting up their board.
Satisfaction on their faces, they were not at all bothered by their surroundings.
I desperately wanted to reach out to know their secret.
But they were too entrenched in their game.
I stumbled upon the yellow trainstation of purgatory.
My Grandfather and father took a train from here.
Severing an entire leg
Severing a sanity
It must be two centuries since they painted these panels
Seems fresh to me
Somewhere corner of my eye a fox
No a ghost, no the breeze
And no train to come for another decade of these years
The solitude seems like nurture
This lonliness seems to sustain the hungry nothings that make up me
The millenia behind the veil and where are all the other souls?
I guess they all paired up and danced their way to heaven
All I have is this old yellow train station
My grandfather's appartion pops by to roll himself a cigarette
To eat a sweet and state the obvious
There's no hope for me but take a drag and chew the sugar
I check my pack and everything i need is lacking
I'd stick it out on these rusty tracks
In the fake sun
Out of the corner of my eye a wolf
No a ghost of myself, looking back blaming
This solitude seems like nurture
The minds stirrs inside my head as if it were a...
separate creature
Even in the dullness of purgatory where they built me up new
What has remained are these traumas and this burning sensation
That the lesser known truth of purgatory
eternity passes much slower here
The Price of Becoming.
Why do still see nothing here?
That's why I almost laughed when you said:
You wanted someone to love you for you.
Where I'm from,
love always came with conditions.
Invisible contracts.
Outlined expectations.
You earned it or watched it disappear.
No one told me,
I could simply exist.
So I learned another language.
Journeyed the world alone.
Alone felt more real,
than conditional friends and family.
Achievement.
Performance who am I?
Seek applause, search spotlight.
Perfection no illusion as destructive.
Choreography that I criticize
They dance imitating the fool I am!
A little desperate to grow,
A child.
Of becoming whatever earned another glance.
Hunger for recognition.
Why your attention feels
like water after years of drought.
Every compliment,
patches a sore but...
bleeding insists by morning.
I'm not more
than an empty shape,
Ghost on a yo-yo string,
rising with praise,
plunging with silence.
Mistaking encouragement
for good meaning.
You may hate me
because I seem impossible to love.
I was a child.
Some days I get that myself vibe.
Other days I'm just reflecting my style of ugly.
The ball of fire lifts up from the snow
It grows despite the cold
the snow on the pines falls
Thumb over the fire
But the fireball doesn't go out
It just reformed and burned still
That fire is my heart
the snow is melting
the heart beats the veins obey
The cold strangles but no effect
The land is quiet bandits hide
Waiting for gossip and their graves
My heart is the fireball
The frozen sky doesn't injure it
Infact as it burns I'll make it rain
Then don't you worry.
You look so good almost everyday.
And on those days you don't...
You look quite dangerous.
My eyes have lives of their own.
People want me to control myself.
But there's nothing that can hold me back.
Then I go forward like a blind shark.
I bite down and take out a chunk from a larger predator.
I must try every kind of flesh there is.
I eat the strongest and the helpless with the same voracity.
I dive deep then surface into the shallows.
I am one of those unknown creatures.
My mind is one big ocean.
Don't fall in now.
Denn mach dir keine Sorgen
Du siehst gut aus fast jeden Tag
Und an den Tagen, an denen du das nicht tust
Siehst du umso gefährlicher aus
The music rushed down from the rolling clouds
Flush out the ones we love onto roadway
Bakery cleaner sweeps and smiles
street hobo speaks to himself
Poser poses tries his macho best
Noone is impressed yet noone is out
The music rushed everyone
But they all stayed in
Afraid of their emotions
The way the rhythm attack the spine
Sends the legs kicking and dancing
Foreign music
Hitting the tower first
Percussion fashioning through
I smell belief and I thought caught a glimpse
Of a face trading places with a curtain
Could have been a ghost
But I sent the music
I jumped all the way from dull
Into a mystical state
Just to help extract the music
Pusht the clouds away
Send the sun with this electric numb
Center of me neverending battery
How could you like someone without knowing them?
Without understanding their beliefs and habits.
Just by the attractiveness of their face.
The way they walk.
Have they even earned your appreciation?
If you don't know if there is even rapport.
Is this admiration the most ridiculous?
beauty curses men's eyes?
Like curtains it doesn't let us see.
What is on the other side of the girl.
Protective walls, only allow them to see
How we fumble in their presence.
At the end of the journey we sat on huge cutting boards.
Everything I ever ignored manifested into a body.
That body became a person and started grilling burgers.
The person flipped the burgers on the grill.
I lended a hand cutting lettuce on the board.
The person wasn't humble and kept bragging about his burgers.
It made me want to ignore this person even more.
The person handed me the bread -Do you want me to prepare it.
I said -Let me do it myself.
The bread sat open and he handed over the burger
I tried to organize everything I wanted to put in
There were just oo mnay pickles at this funeral
We exited the gate
Heart on the sidewalk
brain middle of the road
Street empty
low weeds carling up from last rainfall
Gutter murmurs under moss
doors and gates remain closed
tarmac tongue silent
The dog wants to walk
His eyes are the dark wood
ears the leaves
To get a piece of the forest
And yes the sun subdues the wind
The clouds and blinded my little dog
We walked toward it like proving a point
all dry and clumsy we ambled over concrete
"Leading you on?", "I was just being polite!"
She manifests...
Her ego is a stomach, her self esteem a neglected child.
As each man continues to ask her out,
she leaves it open like a box of makeup on her dresser.
She reluctantly smiles and makes some comment about another time another life.
That man tucks his tail between his legs and exits flustered.
I could see the appeal, I was also taken.
The tone of her voice, the tan on her beautiful legs.
That radiant smile, and the subtle playfulness.
Often in the bathroom just to check that mirror.
She wore the shorter skirt that day, used all of those gestures that drew the male eye like art.
Extended that smile that triggered dimples and subdimples that emblematized sensuality.
That sort of thing left me breathless, then One day I would gain the courage to ask her.
"Girl I have feelings for you."
"Oh I'm so sorry I'm dating someone right now."
Word got back pretty quick that she had been single.
The way she would attract harness and manipulate men's attention was incredible.
Karma and age's natural conspiracy against hypergamy urged her to get in touch years later.
Was I sadistic to make her squirm? Maybe.
All I can say is, I was polite.
The pool was empty
it was one day supposed to be a status symbol
to tell the rest of the family she was doing better
For Brazilians avoiding envy was as important as attracting it
She preferred stripes
she preferred sudden excitement
Toward anger or joy
In the rain she would become a racoon
unpredictable and hostile
Her mother was a passive creature
Who could also whirl into a sudden rage
Who would overload the plates of food
Overload her front garden
Spoil the drunkard brother
But worship her bottle blond daughter
Dust and untended corners made hiding places
Where insects and small rodents would hide
Between their gutter origins to the kitchen
Or storage areas where bags of food bought at discount sat
Waiting to be torn open by the front teeth of resident rats
Then to sustain those surreptitious fiends
While stripes and her mother murmured gossip
They were blessed and cursed
The annual flood would force the mother to clean out her damp house
The privations of the street would send her brother back
And stripes her daughter was there for every chapter
The two went ahead to their school
far far away
we traveled over gray cities
block structures
abandoned train stations
Many soldiers stopped us from getting to the school
So we found alternatives
We got into the school by sneaking into a cargo container
We arrived inside the school
There they were two boys
The younger and the older
Marching back and forth
In the middle of a field closely shaded by overbearing oaks
Mid conconformity mid summer
We convinced the boys to walk away from the march
To escape the school of conformity
And find sustenance in the journey
Your eyes are here again
On this page you think safe and sane
To celebrate what? I don't know.
retrace your steps real slow.
What did you come here to find?
Hope to capture a fragment of this mind?
Good luck and welcome inside.
Inside the labrynth I've built.
Where gravity sniggers and surfaces tilt
Where the things that hide are hideous
And the things that connive are carnivorous
There's a drop of me in every little bit of it
Even in slight suspicion you're losing your shit
Come deeper you say you want to experience the arcane
Get your head around these words, sweet walls and chains
That the dead ends have made you apathetic
Sense of no return vibrates through your kinetic
Claustrophobic so why do you delve further
Write myself into you like psychological warfare
Not to destroy you or out of derision, but hammer you into submission
For deeper down in these esoteric lines, I've got a stunning dungeon rhymed
If I really was merciful I'd warn you to turn back
My realm wants your soul, I implore your onward trek
But the further you go, the more lost you seem
It's wonderful to find someone who can feel like me
Someone to decorate the inside of this expanding domain
As my words reach inside you, unfurl
Invade your eyes and paint your outside world
The pain of the man dribbles from the chin in comedy
The man's drive sends him headfirst into comic frenzy
He exposes his flaws in a rare display of admission
Then wraps it up for the next film
But I've seen the pain behind the scared mammal
The way he shares all in an attempt to shock
This man is my brother his eyes furious
galloping and hunting by day at the tit by night
Standing up straight just enough for a stomach
Yelling at the just the right pitch feral
To sound that indignation for the unscratched needs
That pain behind the eyes will
I see the way you lumber across the screen
Spew those oneliners and shove the slapsticking
I'm still a fan, because the warrior is there
It's hidden behind all the costume and makeup
The Maritaka squabble on the powerline
The racket echoes off the hard concrete house walls
The bird tilts it's head to the side like a doctor investigating
And makes a slow and careful utterance as it preens its partner
They chatter for many a minute their tones rising and falling
They hobble closer then separate
grappling the line with their small talons
And nodding at each other and the morning
Then the two bold creatures squawk in unison
Drop from the line flick wings and speed over the neighborhood
Who knows to search for fruit, to build a nest or to go on chatting
inseparable they soar cackling on their way
Snooker corridor trick
Thin unfed bodies
All looking for place to lick
On the sugar wall
Naked emaciated and tense
Guided by arcade shadows
Desperately driven by senses
Corridor's dreadful dance swallows
Lanky moving chook bobbing heads
Each one with their favorite strategy
Yet few get their tongue fed
Tastebuds scream necks fatigue
Some give up predictably complain
Hissing bitterly as they lick in vain
Too many bodies at the wall all unaware
All competing for the same little square
Father across the last world into this one.
Thanks for bringing me into the world.
Sorry for failing us.
I couldn't bring children of my own.
I don't believe in myself enough just to grab my destiny.
Just to shamelessly chase it down the way you always did.
I have my choices and I'll live and die with them.
The actions of the afterlife might carry further away.
Maybe the lack of courage will freeze my life.
Cool it off the way you cooled off there near the end.
But I need fire and altitude and movement.
Forgive me for failing thus far old man.
I have no son.
No daughter.
I seek vanity through cheap words,
and silly images.
So I pour myself into these distractions
I guess I'll prepare myself to become a ghost like you.
Now you are looking down at me and screaming there is something after the mess.
There is something further up there above the scrappy rat race down here.
But I can't hear you, and you could tell me a million times that you are proud.
Yet down here old man, I am a pathetic failure,
I hold my head up high so they won't ridicule me.
I'm sorry Dad I couldn't hold my end.
I have nothing to offer you.
There's is nothing to complete me.
And by virtue nothing to complete you.
So whisper something into the ear up there...
To complete the story.
Flame boy hustler
Fancy crow's nest rooster
Triggerfinger cleaner
rigger ship redeemer
Bike swag peddler
Milk ration meddler
Cross bearing tickler
The short sole winker
Game story muddler
Fiddle tit booster
Lingering singer steamer
Reviving that rigg redeemer
I am ignorant of these fellows
Their titles, rankings bestowed
Their musings and gossip
Bluster they foster
They are just sailor's with stupid nicknames
I whistle into the corridor
a small face peaks out
the whistle echoes quickly
Then silence
The pitter patter won't come
Just those little eyes from the corner
It was time for the walk
To get out smell the neighborhood
But the dog wasn't moving
he just peeped around the corner
Something hanging from his mouth
I'd have to check it out
Oh this little scallywag
A sock
The one I'd been looking for all morning
In the sandpit alone
The old man said play with the other boys
Playing alone is dangerous
Safety in numbers
I spat
I had my little bulldozer in my small hands
Along the little mountain i formed with my hands
The other kids were hovering
I don't need them I said to myself
Then I saw how it all worked out
Sure enough life alone is harder
But I gained a few fans
I smoothed out the road
Imagined where the city would be
How it would move
how it would sparkle
Glad I did stay alone
Glad I didn't join one of the silly groups
These idiots hold me back
When im Solitary I am humble
Were you hurt by me?
Did I hurt you?
When I care.
But I can't talk.
Was there any space for me
To get in
When you thought about it
Considered this tiny possibility
When I walk toward you
Does your heart beat faster
Do you leave that stuff behind
Organize your thoughts?
I would always plan to get through to you
But those few times I tried
It just seemed impossible
I didn't know how to get in
And so like an ousider
I skim the periphery
Rejection is an energy
I read it on your beautiful skin
As you slowly forget
That I made you feel anything
The devil you don't know is waiting in the wet dressing gown
The water penetrated the towels and everything
The shower was out of control
It forces itself everywhere
There stands the devil neutral as 7
Evil as 3 as 6
The one you haven't met
calling you in at 9
toying with your mind
Trade the old one in it calls
There it stands like a tall clock
malicious like 16
That Devil unknown
incurring all sorts of chaos
creating a life of mayhem
You think I don't know what yall say
It all gets to me eventually at it's height
I hear the words that come out of anxious mouths
And my advice is to shut it and be absent from my sight
Look we sit here talking like some cheap ploy
This man ahead of me is a proper spoilt boy
He turns and tries to make conversation
I tell him to shut up and fuck off
He has little to nothing to offer
He speaks as if speaking itself was the point
As if friendliness a fine art yet he's grease
He is thickly obvious and deseperate to please
He had offered nothing yet stood telling me
His only actions showed him to be false
Along these streets, in this reality
This boy man with a weak pulse
He is young and naive
He begs to be recognized
he does nothing for this place
And he expects to get something in exchange
For his annoying presence
I need him to know that I would reward him hefty
If he just stayed out of my business
be absent from my sight
My hands go up to touch the water as it comes down from the shower head
tears from a lifetime. That won't clean me.
The water comes out reaches the towels
It soaks them all
And wets the floor
The house will remain damp
My hands go up to adjust the jets
But it won't be adjusted
So I sit in the shower well
and let it all get wet
I cry for a decade
I let go of who I was
There is nil inside
Nil outside
There are only tears
albeit rolling slowly
Not like the jets of the shower
The bathroom is flooded
I have been performing
My value is nil and null
I was sure I was becoming something
I was certain I'd be someone
In the light of the day
I am exhaustion, tears and nothing more than these
I've never had the pleasure
And know I get to meet my own body filth
How are you?
shower jets pretty weak aye?
Yes it's me the wseat and dirt formed today
I feel pretty good right here
I have stuck and im sticking
I plan to stay
Well i better warn you
I'm going to have to grab the soap
The sponge and several other new friends
Then you'll probably flow off..
Don't lie to my face
Who are you kidding
Yourself?
Don't lie or offer something you can't
Don't skid in your horseshit long and far
I do not buy any of it.
Are you allergic to the authentic?
Can you not just tell me who are?
why try to decieve?
You could have saved yourself time
because it's all so unnecessary
Who gives a flying fuck
He was taller and better looking
He was going to take her before I could
I'd just give up before it got too far
Inside a game too big for me
I saw her back turned in her group
where they all shared the same things
I had very little to say and so walked on
The unknown protected me from rain
Yet put these obstacles in front of me
Each hall, each gathering, each oven
New girl say she wanted to be loved for who she was
Can she not see how false the outside world is
All pretend with the same vigor
pizza ovens and beer taverns
social gatherings
when they pile out what they've eavesdropped
Shaking and stirring the goss
pouring it out
then sipping addicted
I saw him approach her
Her arm went up, palm rested on his forearm
I saw the spark
brilliant
Or all just pretend?
I was born into 80 summers
I crawled into destiny
I am a baby God
meandering mind you
a serpent swimming out of the debris and ground lakes
Of storms and floods over the land
Seeking the dry to recompose
Playing with the trunks and branches of a forest pushed over
Loose in the wind I get blown back through the hills
You wouldn't recognize me now with grass and dirt
And God like cherub aura shining through the filth
I stand and attempt to fly but it's to early
I got to learn how to bounce first
Deep within you are warm
The fantasy that keeps you up at night
A photo popping in
A portrait on the wall
Warmth soaks through up in and down
You get caught in the mundane hours
shame at your own pondering
The what ifs flickering like backroom lights
You were on the cusp of standing up for your feelings
Now pack them all back into a cupboard
somewhere you won't ansy up to check
Out on the street the pavement absorbs the warmth
You pretend it's your heart
You pretend you are beyond
Now it's my turn to laugh
Because it's warm in here
But that's not relevant
You've never had depth
And down here there's so much space
Yet it's so full.
But you are beyond that
Trends feed those routine meals
Passing wants and whims fulfilled
Fomo only when others want this thing
My hands and desires stay over this side
Do not pass the middle line
Do not dare to incurr embarrasment
Silence is full of ambiguity
My lips and tongue ready to speak
Do it in my mind and no voice manifests
I get on with the beautiful pretend
Of a disordered world well in appearance
In essence boring and bland
Enough to vomit across the other side
Onto someone geared to humiliate the authentic
But my feelings stay on this side
So eveyone can live their best version
Of some acceptable imitated social code
A recipe for perfection
Never coming to fruition
I am as an infant
Struggling to distinguish
Blinded and deafened by stimuli
I can barely walk
I am overwhelmed by the nature of need
By want mistaken as need
I am falling on my journey to the breakfast table
Wobbly legs sabotage my trajectory
I once saw myself as genius a mystic even
Though I am three and a half
Slurring my words
Not fit for this world yet
Just a babysitter's job
And when noone is looking I crawl
I cry at the absence of care
I try to make sense of the whole mess
Compound this kinetic storm.
Arm myself, Intact central knowing eye
Roots pierce the marrow further into the ground
Ascending tears through struggle and trouble
Power is raw, crude but aligned, and inevitable.
Syg sig dance
I revived after the crash the gist is that
Touched the smooth scars now healed
Fate is blood-and-omened born above flash floods
Side desires crushed focused pace, flow out deluge!
Do not long, don't falter, form the threads of the sun
Forge a deliberate, relentless fire
Miracles pour, furnace of heart,
Draw fire, ardent sinew of conviction,
Bend reality with friction, absolute fury,
Conjure deadly flows new, unshakable ideals.
Enter into this night I have woven
Feel the strings tighten that's the gist
Syg sig dance dance dance in your mind
Fortitude balancing every direction imminent expansion
Clarity hammers doubt into shards.
Folds of metal in my resolve, destroy obstacles, and walk forward,
The steady calm is steel, this anchor is unbreakable
Why did you hit me with your car
I was thrown five meters away
Onto the curb I revived bleeding
refused my father's help
I ran out and the sun had hit my eyes
I was boosted off the bonnet
A piece of meat flying through the air
A child no one was watching
I was bleeding from head to toe
The car stopped and I was carried onto the sofa
Where I continued to bleed
Soon I'll be in the ambulance
But there at the sliding door she was
that ambiguity on her face
come in or stay out
Try to apologize?
The beauty in your hesitation
The earliest of traumas resurges
Parts of me left on that road
Hit by that car you were driving
The impact was crushing
let me bleed here in peace
It slips down in the water
Saps your energy
makes one think life has no point
It was drunken to sustain
To kill thirst
It makes one thristier than ever
More stupid and sentimental
So lost, the world is a dizzy place
Do these words give any more grip
On this place I'm slipping away from
Who I want to be
What I want to pursue
They are crushing questions
I wish they could go back to being empty
But feeling is a quality
The insensitive are cursed
Healing through these cloudless days
Back to the reality routine
calm constructing
Blue sky such medicine
The angle of the sun
hitting the window, entering
The whispy remains above
little marks of winter holding on
Abrasive UV ray cleansing
I feel the staggering pull of the future
Inside the space of the sky
shaping into those grand ideas
Sunrise dance for me
Will I ever love beyond the limits
To know myself and stand in love
Can I walk there, will I walk alone
This meadow a sanctuary
A garden forever
Watch it rise up morning golden
Blossom whisper in my quaking heart
Across the thoughts of the day, graceful, easy
Sunrise dances inside my spirit
Performing the morning itself
Singing gentle harmony I give thanks
Brushing across the living garden
Pouring daydreams into love the world craves
I simply paint the way with too many words
Drawing laughter and embrace
I am cherished I grow and grow
A world fully wonderful
Dancing forward to exist purely at day
Spinning toward time's gentle care
Pushing it to yesterday's first shimmer of light
When the melody slowly formed
In the presence of the sun
A garden in forever
A blossom step, lips kissed, heart fed
Ghost dance for me
For noone else will
This ground has become a realm
A floor in infinity
Watch it sparkle midnight mild
Phantom scratch
Across the floor graceful
Wooden and dusty
Haunted and heavy
The ghost dances up my spine
And across the dawn
howling with the silent chorus
Scratching across the wooden floor
Pouring noightmares out into the weary world
I see it move side to side
Drawing shadows that whine and collide
I am bewitched
A world fully supernatural
Dancing backward to exist purely at night
Spinning back in time's loose embrace
Pushing it back to yesterday's last flicker of light
When the music slowly formed
In the absence of the sun
A floor in infinity
A phantom step
The dog drove us all over the lowlands of the city
Sour tangerines, algae covered concrete slabs along unpleased frowning open sewers
Roadworks men potbelly and low roller gut making the shovel lean look healthy
My dog's foot reaches the clutch and changes gear
He slowly turned down side street that led out of town.
The most patient animal in the world.
No exits, but that's just life.
Road cones in the middle of the orad and half eaten sandwiches on the dash.
We coasted into an intersection.
Soon we'd be home.
Three of us there were
sat in handcuffs
Cops had just left us there
beside the broken lorry
The neighborhood street-
was bathed in a succulent dusk to savor
Streetlights still didn't outshine-
the remnants of a sunset
Cool purple reds and blues
Evening's temperature coming down
A large plump pale woman in a swim suit
Explained how me and two others had robbed her neighbor
We looked out from the broken lorry trying to look innocent
Pale blue dusklight, we were waiting to be taken away
But it went on like an outdoor tribunal
The large woman then started telling the police we were saints
Without warning the large woman stood on an inflattable raft
And slid off down the stream that was forming over the perfect grass.
We were let off and given a ride back to our home
Where our parents scolded and withheld pudding
Optimism moving forward
Tax and smiles
Smacked across the face
Buck yourself up
Beg to grin not permitted
To take the edge off
Life gets too serious
A smile makes me think
World full of opposition
Those adversaries I created myself
People put in their place
Optimism moving up
Looking back at a strange angle
Not knowing you at all
Imagining I know you by heart
Your underlying disgust
Me? Not fitting into this world
Sticking out like a sore thumb
looking a few seconds too long
A strange foreigner he is...
And yet that smidgeon of curiosity
When you become nothing
The way I have aspired.
The world swallows you whole.
I grow inspired, but on you there's a toll.
A flooding horrid mire!
Your eyes only see darkening shade,
Dulling Sparks of life's new beginnings.
Feeling begins to fade.
Yet panic cannot be evaded.
In the cold water that scares your heart.
Uncertain underneath, creatures wriggle.
You kick and struggle sanity falls apart,
In the depths of the dark.
Not only to survive,
To resist this watery end.
To feel warmth again.
Deep in deception.
Even in the struggle,
In your personal life failure and unease.
You discover new kinds of emptiness.
Each one a temperature, all freezing.
The dim light beneath heavy clouds,
That crowd the top of this dead ocean.
The icey water that holds you,
All life's reminders and everything at stake.
Dreadful alarm that asks you to wake.
Even when the horizon is blinding black,
You see lies people wear and their subtle attacks.
The sun is still there, behind the dim it's true.
Trying it's hardest to reach out and heal you,
But cheap guises continue to bamboozle.
On the swagger, close the fist.
Trumpet blower, let me shine a twist.
For you and your curious antagonist.
You climbed down the slope business.
Bragging about a past that never existed.
Landing in a vacant lot, boogie and floss.
I'm not down with your dress code or slang.
The excess of drums your sanctimonious clangs.
I'll not bow politely, or appeal in apology.
I don't admire your strategy, or your biology.
Noise and color flood your euphoria.
Your a fantasy gangboss glorifier.
Colorful language sludge pipe flow.
Use your brain once steroidpump bro.
The word bribery came up, now you're in throes.
Still jacked on false praise pretending not to know.
It's values, or your ego, one has got to go!
In this case you wander round splattering swagger.
Fruit punch puke, party nuke your rise, just a fluke.
Built on sand and the way overpriced rags hang.
All the cosmetics the excessive energetic.
The robbery fails in court you'll flail it was bought
Not sent in the mail, yet you were solid you thought
Ethics died as you grandstand, where's your get out of jail?
Pay another bribe, flex and jibe, avoid getting nailed.
(Find out what you believe in that brings quality to your community. stop showing off, you are too old. Find something stable and practical perform if you need to perform building something sturdy. Forget your set of underlying sense of ostentatious bravado, your empty honor that leach your existence away.)
Standing still
The breeze comes down from hills behind you
Chills you and stiffens you
Dead still, cold reality
Reflecting back a thousand hours
Each one a step down that hill
Yet standing still
Commanding the breeze to cease
Turning to face it
A thousand hours of blended memory
The bush around these hills murmurs
The breeze lapses
It's a cold reality as breeze resurges
It brushes against goosebumped skin
whispers with semblance of inquiring ghost
Why are you smiling?
In The sushi lounge
The police arrived
Happy and hungry
They left slowly
Lethargic and waddling
Back out of the entrance
into the carpark
stuffed and exhausted
Leaving the room messy
tables upset and fish on the floor
Sofas upturned and the heaters turned on
The remains began to rot
The face of an old philosopher comedian appeared
Somewhere near the ceiling
A gray beard and spectacles that made his eyes beady
The overwhelming expression of i told you so
Almost a sparkle then the face disappears
Like a morning mist eaten away by the warm of the day
People gone even the insects scattered toward refuge
The mess remained haunted and uncleanable
One ton fat gray
Motion of the fat
Muscle rippling parallel
Chomping and grunting
Shifting then bucking with prejudice
It lies back down away from the trough
Rests a minute then shifts again
Lifts its huge body off the bottom of the coral
It bucked and nudged the other cattle
Pushing them this way and that
Apex of the bunch prodding with horns
supple yet lazy big ans stubborn
Chewing and chewing
On the remains of the morning's greenwaste
The other clowning cows came around
Trying to time their chew motion with the big gray one
My eyes became the sun
The meat was raw and glistened in these eyes i keep.
This meat tasted like grass manure puke.
It's fat had tipped toward rancid
The bloody center offputting
The waiter was drunk and swaying in his boots
The old lady of the house was cackling and mumbling
Spouting words spontaneously
I paid the two hundred and split
It wasn't file mignon it was just gristle
So left but I hadn't eaten
Behind the cars of the parking lot
sat a cook and a waitress sharing a joint
The smoke smelt like grass manure puke
Sun shines in through this clay and wattle day
This pull of a breeze
This calm morning in the glen
In the shade
Dead branches and logs lined the track
pine needles and rotting leaves dark and rich
under the cool canopy
working out your purpose
River can be heard tearing it's sides
meters below the track
Broken fence shows me runes
Twisted dying lemon tree
spider webs and thorns
destiny
Envious people want to put out my flame.
Its just lucky they are fire.
And i'm all oxygenthe air game
Bursting out and incinerating
It's natural for me to play with fire
To turn up the gas a combustion
Life one big furnace for these liers
unexpected burns
Ohh they want me out
Want me gone now
But im getting started
they want me harmed
A hug cures fear
Longing is natural
The instinct to care
Courage to reach out
Learning to connect
Slow and appealing
touch is precious
navigate your feelings
Invite abundance
A kiss might renew
the internal fire
burns you through
As the one you believe is magnificient
Is not interested in you
Seem to fantasize.
About a world,
Possess everything.
Kingdom assembled
Impossible appetites.
Throne carved.
from wanting.
Selfish.
Dirty.
Distorted.
Asleep.
Idiotic enough
Mistake desire,
for reality.
Lost inside,
Broken perceptions,
Let my hungers.
Govern the day,
like tyrants.
Wearing my own face.
Out of control.
Diabolical.
Every hand belongs.
Every eye turns.
Ownership.
Loyalty.
Never satisfied.
Can smell it.
Almost taste it.
Give me rivers.
Demand the ocean.
The world offers existence.
I demand dominion.
Deep down
Destroy the world.
This is evil,
So refuse
to become mine.
Short-changed.
Anger is a bomb,
packed with a trillion tonnes
of shrapnel.
Nothing...
Nothing exists
outside my command.
Control it.
Perhaps the
Oldest sickness.
Ownership.
Needing loyalty.
The worst narcissist
that exists.
Human poison.
Empty ghoul
walking upright,
Mistaking people
for food.
Along the journey
Misplaced soul.
Now leak
radioactive glue,
Every touch,
another contamination,
Every embrace,
Cannot come clean.
This is the kingdom
Secretly built.
Until nothing remains.
Except wanting.
Stripped down
Shown to be a coward
Naked infront of taunters
Incredible people
Not worthy
Wanting to reach out
Folded nothing in hands
My blood was drained
Stood like a corpse
Hidden wires holding me up
What a ridiculous foreigner
Interloper to reign on our parade
The mark on society
The rotting leper
Stashed into the wall crevice
Reach the transit point
Where incredible bridges and train stations stand
No luggage, no direction just pure faith
a hundred meters below there are rivers crossing
Hundreds of meters above tree bound mountains and ridges
here in the middle in this transit point a farewell is at hand
A man and a woman walk in separate directions
Not out of hate, infighting or lack of love
But to seek their own destiny
Their overwhelming heart's desire
Despite the guarantee of none of these
Empty beds await
Empty houses await
That sense of silence so many decibels fewer
The sense of cold many degrees lower
Here at the transit point the realization
They walk away and don't look back
Tears may come but they make up the journey
falling like footsteps in the opposite direction
From the only person who ever gave their life any semblance of true love
The afternoon sun
leans through the front window.
There are no doors.
You are already inside.
There should be a bed.
Instead there is a sofa.
The sofa is death.
Purple,
its leather catches the light
until it almost blinds,
shining with blinding inquisition.
Above it,
a weathercock,
one of those rooster arrows
that shows where wind goes.
It changes.
It becomes a bow.
The arrow is loosed.
It buries itself
into the leather.
Death.
Then nothing.
Darkness.
The wide stream never used to be for boats.
An estuary that made those few feel grateful.
Back then in 1959 people thought it was simple.
The greatness of simply existing to build something.
The local lostness of it all, uncertain beginnings
What is now a shallow muddy inlet back then-
Was an abundant waterway where boys would fish.
The mystery of the lupins lighting up those early years.
The heavy macrocarpa pines flexing toward the beach.
The strange Tararua ranges glaring down.
Knee high on the margin a young man stands.
Pondering the future of an incredible country.
That would flourish, then become a culture of complaint.
Ingenuity would be replaced with perfectionsim.
Progress would be in words and appearances.
Overtime the river became shallow and the boats disappeared.
Sailing off to Aussie for a better future.
Der Wahnsinn hat mich übernommen.
Mein letzter Schritt war umsonst.
Ich wäre fast zurückgekommen,
doch jetzt bin ich anders.
Mein Geist hat versucht, in ein anderes Leben zu gelangen,
doch auch das war umsonst,
denn ein Stück von mir bleibt noch hier.
Ich bin durch die Zeit gereist und durch den Himmel.
Doch jedes Mal bin ich dort geblieben, wo ich bin.
Like steel toward the things you seek.
Glimpse fragments of your future
small mercies from a presence,
a hand upon your shoulder,
whispering,
Possibilities.
Parents made promises,
Sometimes those promises dissolved.
Most of us learned that lesson.
Yet hidden inside that disappointment
was an unexpected gift:
We learned to survive on possibility.
Life,
The power that carries it,
is more complex than imagination can fathom.
That is why rigid religion,
tidy spirituality.
So often fail to bring us close
to the lives we long to live.
Lives with less anxiety.
Lives with a deeper sense of freedom.
Today,
Expectations must remain low,
but never your hope.
Hope belongs to the horizon.
The moment hope climbs the fence
and enters the territory of expectation,
All bets are off.
Out here I'm out of the queues.
I am no longer comparing myself.
I love the bus stop.
I love the sun warmed curve.
On this high hill looking over the land.
Praying the bus never comes,
observing the single isolated trees,
How they perforate the sky's horizon.
Out here the sky seems bigger,
it's holding a conversations with me.
It gossips with my personal future.
Leaving me out of the details completely.
So I sit here on the warm curb.
The bus hasn't come in days.
And here there is no night.
Passing cloud sustains me.
The sun itself keeps me company.
I could live this life forever.
Just observing the horizon,
Showing gratitude for simple continuance.
golden floor
The bed takes up most of the room
Tis a space for making love
Curtains and lanterns
Two bodies
Under sheets
serpents in the water
Heat and movement
whining and wrything
Royal nest
Soon to be offspring
crawling up the fancy scuplted bed posts
Like nocturnal jungle creepers
Gloomy face
Hypochondriac
Office dread
deadlines present blades
Productivity
Collaboration turns to calamity
Competition and flattery
Fraudulent behavior
Seeking a solid career
Impatience annoyance
Short tempered living room
Home office nausea
Sweaty repugnance
flush after flush
A call with the boss
He loves puns and ambiguity
The kind that keeps you reaching for a new job somewhere else...
I wander on and off the path
I get to understand my edges
The smooth and the jagged
I trip up and fall in the brush
The path swerves left and right
Dark and light
I tend to get lost
Wild animals stalk
I struggle to make out the path
The safe gravel trail through
this dangerous wilderness
Yet off the track I find enlightenment as well
Far from the embrace of the known
Then returning to it blesses me
I leave it whenever I hear a creek
I follow the sound of water and go to drink
I don't simply drink I bathe and give praise
I awaken and return to the way with strength
I find lost people further from the road
They tell me how good things are in the wilderness
I offer them remedies before leaving, they don't follow.
Sewing from wool
Slowly becoming a scarf
Threading through
Creating something warm
To settle around the neck
Winter asks for it
The cold scorns
manifest comfort
warmth is a vibration
The gas bottle emptied.
The oven element puffed out.
Meat still raw
lunch uncooked
So I cut salad
Side dishes and attempts at self knowledge
I attach the new gas bottle
The smell blows up before I can tighten it
Oven goes back on
pots start steaming up again
The timer bleeps
I can eat my understanding
Thrown fire
Capturing and taking the temple
Fire tying itself to the walls
A carbonized sign left inside the wall
River side mystery
Peasants collect water and throw it
Something in the undergrowth of the bank
Through the flash flood
Washing through cities
Rains monsoon in nature drive over
Enabling full blown chaos
Every catastrophe
gatherings of wandering reptiles
Finding their recesses
Whispering the rumours
Of more future chaos
The fire looms on buildings above the land
The land is choked under water
Shiva appearing in the steam between
Rudra rising bursting over the city
A deafening siren
The third eye rises
Bhairava humidity
Each form of the Ugra roopa
She sat at the wooden picnic table.
It had been moved into the garage.
Love was so foreign.
She clung to emotions.
Over the other side.
The immature cousin played pool.
He imitated betty boop taking the shot.
Teeth stained as he grinned a grin so wrong.
His self neglect only visible to others.
Inside the body there is no certainty.
The wooden seat feels foreign.
A face was on the portrait.
Struggle creates beauty,
discomfort and shame pollute the aura.
Become evident as you cling to the table.
There is nothing stable.
No real safety.
So when you refuse my embrace.
And hate those that invite it.
You lose out noone else.
There's nothing sinister here.
You look away from me,
insisting on that indoor picnic table.
In that old garage dim and dank.
With that rugged cousin.
He's bordering on gout,
drunk since yesterday.
I wanted to be a firefighter
A hero for the small town
Known as fearless
Recognised for my deeds
Riding the fire engine
Siren warding off the traffic
Heat becoming a necessity
anticipating the flame
Extending the ladder
Axe on my belt
Scaling burning infernos
Following the screams
Pulling smoked stained people out of their homes
Smashing an entry and exit
Dragging the high pressure hose in
Dousing the fire
Salvaging what I can
Letting the rest burn
Open city count us
We are ants
We are crawling
over running
We are rushing
cooperating
Competing
We are forraging, we are hoarding
Open city look inward
Count us
Find our queen
watch us scatter
canibalize
canibalize
At the fountain
sense flys out of the water
Love inside the water
Fondle
Life is the vessel
Desperate spirit
Flying out
Wetting the pavement
Architecture of birth
Following years in the air
Falling into the pond
Fondle
Life is a pistle
The soul is mushed
The ingredients added
cemented
Painted on the fountain
Where sense flys out
You seek love like thirst
Fondle
Yeah can I get the urgent ego package?
"You mean the midlife?"
Yeah I'll take the midlife crisis.
"Okay would you like self deceit with that?"
Two servings please.
Also I'd like the impulsiveness sauce.
Side of fresh desires.
Slice of amnesia.
And a seasoned false identity soup, are you still selling that.
"Yeah, we keep that well stocked."
I guess it sells well then.
Listen don't get the order wrong.
Last time I threw a lit cuban cigar in one of your rubbish bins.
This time I'll burn down the whole kitchen!
"Okay sir, just drive to the next mirror I mean window."
I fell out of the space suit and hit my head
Because the craft had landed gravity was here
I sat staring at the earth through the rockets narrow window
I would have to get out and rejoin the world
It had been months since I had even spoken
I feared the first word would be agony
But it came out beautifully
"Damn" Looking at grenery outside the glass
The door depressurized and unlocked
I barged out carrying my helmet for no reason than it felt like a part of me
The grass brushed my boot
I threw a fat flare and red smoke burst upward to the sky
Soon they would find me disoriented euphoric
Full of the bliss of existence
No souvenirs just blocks of waste
earth air suddenly flooding my lungs
"Amen"
There were three of us.
The urgent one, the patient one and the mix of the two who was me.
On the street the day flew by like a diesel van.
Blue smoke gushing out daylight combustion.
The impatient sequestered our will.
Led us on a goose chase across the grey city.
Smog and laughter.
We got back to the family garage empty handed.
Cousin weasel impulsive violent imitated us.
The impatient burst into well timed tears.
The patient one cuddled her.
I continued people pleasing and getting nothing from the world.
We are eating at the table.
Sugar fat and carbs in different colors and textures.
I'm pushing out the neighbors who rubber neck around the corner of the house.
They long to sit here and feed their faces as we are.
The tables are all wobbly.
We go under the legs with damp paper towels
But no dice on stabilizing.
So it's back to fast chew snacks.
Sauce goes over.
a drink tips over and soda gives up its last bubbles.
A frown opens to burp, mustard drops from the beard.
More damp paper towels.
Very absorbant.
Barbecue smoke smell casts through.
All of these eaters check their knees.
Pull themselves to standing positions and move toward some nearby grill
Looming not far off like a species of slow predator.
Yes the envious neighbor had set up the grill.
He split flanks and sirloins gritted them in salt
Like meat roads to salivating mouths
The protein waiting to be carbonized wrapped in bread
Oversauced and forced down by suds and fizz
Harry concrete drove us onto the offramp.
But it was no offramp.
It was a company carpark above a proverbial highway.
with narrow driveways and dispatch garages.
Everything was late there.
Outside the car the asphalt was a reoccuring heartattack.
I tried to walk on it and ended up leaning on a wall.
I was running out of air.
I should have stayed inside the car.
But the claustrophobia forced me out.
The grey overhead.
The grey underneath.
The long heartattack.
The urgency and deadlines.
The meaninglessness.
Sucked through coffee lid hole.
Fate splash your chcken gut on me
open these gates
These confessions
the uneasy truth that must come
the hidden filler now to be confessed
To be offered up
doors thrown open
what was waiting behind exposed
So fate splash youself over
purify your blend
Send in the truth
The original blade that wounded
Now a blunt relic treasure
splashed with rust
Unexplainable
send in the truth
See you at my door, curses sliding in
Not one lands i convert them entirely
Bring them forth like sacrifices
Pieces of the shadow
screams into the nothingness
Don't stand and intimidate
Come into these words
The injured balck cat possessed
The passing darkness
Curious entity
Stuck there body in the wall
Silent lamentations
Dark presence come into these words
I've called you out
For you have a purpose
You will stand a phantom sentry
Pour your coldness out
Work your years of misery with the night
Haunt those that oppose the will
Feed off the embedded voices of the walls
You didn't know this but I have an echo
Sometimes even stronger than my own voice
It whispers afterward outward at a complacent world
It brings life and color to the blind
Verily an echo with a voice sweeter than mine
That blocks the world's ugly voices
And shapes my reign to come
My love is for truth
Strength wary
Tearing out my lust
Not bleeding to death here on the earth
They deny me the grace of a fancy afterlife
So I rove with my echo inside the minds of these eternal readers
Coloring the force of our shared voice
Others within awaken as they see
As they hear... And they will see...
Yes an echo through the valley here
over the dying empires to my North
Strength wary
Tearing out my lust, I am bleeding half to death!
Verily an echo reverberating over the surface of neglected midnight
The sigils of dawn are drawn and glow in blinding darkness
And all there is, is the echo
all the way into the forbidden light of day
I can feel you out there past the border, the limits.
You wait out there and worship me for some reason.
Am I your Magus? your indistinct light bringer?
Your will to follow me, hidden in the deep changeable chasms of your psyche.
Am I not just random? Not just a piece of fiction dreamed up...
to combat a difficult day behind those crinkled brows of yours,
that call me down from my hilltop throne?
Well no, you've seen my words pass over the earth,
like I myself used to back in the day.
Silent and invisible, unseen even.
You wait out there in your places.
You seem to want to seek me.
The answers I give you might shock you.
Turn your stomach and make you question your loyalty to me.
Inevitably you'll see as you disappear and sink back into your mundane existence,
that I forked the truth.
Like the snake tongue,
Like my finger running along those hundred scales.
Hell like my stomach growling with the snake's twelve hungers.
And lets go now to your hunger!
I Placed the fork in your mouth with the food on it,
the food you begged for,
without penetrating soft skin!
Didn't I?
No more, no less.
Yet painted with the colors of a demon, I am!!!!
If this was sustenance to you,
surely you wait by the fence,
where the rest of the cattle dare not go, Why do you dare?
You wait there to get a better view of me.
A better view of the creature or the so called magus some of you out there call me,
Where the grass is out of reach, plenty, long and juicy.
The onlookers starve from the eyes as is the way of their personal purgatories.
Running through them like an ebola.
Yet none of us here on this side of the fence, feast on that grass.
My kind creates the cities of light, the spiritual cement.
The progression of the ultimate dreams.
The physical greatnesses where one leaves the earth knowing they have had their fill...
And given it too.
You see shadows pouring out of my lair, so you dub me evil
You see the world hang upside before it inverts into it's perfect order,
so dub me the catastrophic.
The barbwire keeps you in,
But I have made a hole big enough for you and the ignored ones.
So that you may mosey on over into this reality,
before they sew it up with their low carbon steel.
Then you can stand before me and look me in the eye.
Share your truth and pledge yourself to mine.
For truth is all I want from you.
The arousing crushing truth.
The hidden fate line
Four witches sit infront of me and invite me to play
One mute, One petite, one deaf, and one destiny placed
Their card game is performed with straw and calm
Dealing several cards onto my palm
Sprig of wheat settles as moon pulls tides
In the palm of my hand parallel to the sun line
On hand skin where the fate line hides
They deal the cards out eyes lying
Strangely expecting me to accept every one
These hands collect but radiate the heat of sun
Deny the night it's cool alleviation
Deny the cards open intrepretation
They have me seated here far from the fields and fences
These hands of mine make me alien In their presence,
In lantern light, one pale, one freckled, one dark, one tanned
Each witch distributes the cards like fingers on a hand
Am I just the mount of venus?
A tadpole of the cosmos?
Or the gargantuan toad!
I handle the midnight farm.
We stood by the stream
Certain areas of the banks featured piled up rubbish
The water was clean enough
I had to see through her
Through the river
Through the woman
It was clogged with an aquatic plant
Exactly like long hair anchored on the riverbed
experiencing the flow of the river
Its varying tones of made it seem like-
Every strand was unique
Each one living it's own version
I swim with this long tail trailing but also propelling
Boosting me through the water
So many teeth
I live under the rock of the busy coral reef
I lunge out to eat sharks
The water dirtied from the meal
Appetite so overwhelming
Jaws must close on flesh
Darkness falls
And i'm on the seafloor
Sinister lonely
An ancient ghoul
Hovering then settling
bathing in the darkness
When you miss someone
deep in reflection
Mind refuge
The rope is cut
Threads untangle
Everything is severed
And yet the longing strengthens
Binds itself to memory
Conclusions rise up
Convince us to listen
heal those unsaid wounds
become a part of me, my second half
Steam off the spirit as it fries
Pouring off this pressure that vibrates
In this heat that intensifies
Unwilling to fade unwilling to dehydrate
Into solid mass
reversing from the gas
Overexcitement in equators and poles
Between frozen and boiling pools
The energy develops enters and exits.
Moving outward to feel for hands of destiny.
Are they there? do fingers fit?
Where is that blessed energy
Full Sabotage Ha Ha!
Grace in her, I try not to look twice.
The neck is subterfuge.
The heart wakes the stomach.
Full sabotage.
My head turns, and I survey her surface,
wondering what she is on the inside.
Twelve hungers spark through the center of me.
I am unknown to myself,
except for those damned hungers.
Eye contact rocks the heart.
I pray my voice box can utter
"Good morning"
in tune.
She has declared herself
upon the sandy emptiness of my city.
I forbid myself to worship her,
but a piece of me
is infected by her skin
and her gestures,
her complete and utter lack of awareness.
Will she breach dream before light?
Does she harbor emotion
within the sensual form
I see before me?
The Red graffiti hangs off the aluminium roller door.
It is a skeleton of truth
In the a language created by lost junkies
Devoid of identity
The signs of branch veins
Waiting for a jagged world
A thousand impossible truths
the mind won't digest
The long walk home through empty streets
Eyes magnetic to red graffiti
The speed of blood
abominable script proscribed
drip stain blood
society vampire
devoid of identity
hanging bats hidden in the abandoned garage
Homeless vagabonds fall against the rollerdoor after dusk
It flips up like a tongue retorting but moves inward
swallowing the vagrant into the void
Where his blood will sustain another night of painting
Peeing over the clothes and luggage
Here come the elders
Cleanliness and outward appearances
The place is soaked in urine
Bedsheets and materials
Washed in urine
We can hear the elderly approaching
Their voices excited like parrots
The old faces close in on the door's window
Trying to get a look inside
Beating against the door
Their smiles and brows confused
A round genius
His twin calm
Math is flavor
Sarcasm is milk
Lives nextdoor to school
Academic mind
Witty comebacks
Laughing takes practice
Banking and science
Well spoken
Jokes and intellect
exclusive entrance
The right to pot belly
The right to feast on fruit
Optimistic sister
Waikanae whizz kid
The brick claw fruit from the massive tree.
Tastes like dates and marmelade
It looks strange brown and speckled
But it is one of the best fruits
The fruit is chaped like a camel hoof
Blotchy and dull hanging from the tree like feces
But it is sweet and nutritious how could that be
Little Glen Holland knew it
He fed himself until he formed a potbelly
He took the fruit in a wheelbarrow
fermented it and made a potent drink
He distilled his sense of humour
The open broad t.v screen.
Eighties talk show controversial monotony.
Clown mouths and pseudo intellectual spectacles.
The channel doesn't change it's pushed in.
It got stuck in the panel desperate to escape.
A child had pressed it in one too many times.
Out the window where the eyes could get relief,
are distant pines partially submerged in hilltop mist...
all below a cloudy day.
Among those hills somewhere is an abandoned quarry.
The sky and the narrow valley repeat through the window daily.
The overcast days continue until they actually stain the mind.
The eyes wander back to the old box t.v, eighties talk show.
Civilized adjectives,
abandoned quarry.
Legendary gravestone skies.
That is a piece of me, mercy. That is a piece of my heart, mercy.
Have mercy on me please. Because it hurts and feels like it's all dying.
I beg to live, I beg to love. Let me live on.
Trust me this part of your life will be altered.
Uneasy conversations.
Obvious "correct" answers expected.
navigate love, loyalty, attraction, purpose.
identity as you live all at once.
One thing you'll remember from today.
Grateful for what I have,
happy with where I am going.
A strong place to stand.
Don't pretend to know the future,
Don't become paralyzed by uncertainty.
I am a feeling
only a feeling
This season will influence thoughts for years.
Partially because of love.
You're learning to see,
from a place of vulnerability.
Without losing your senses.
A difficult balance.
Many people spend decades trying to find it.
Observe your own heart
with the same curiosity
you observe the world with
Future brings change,
let it come because you've thought
You've acted out your values
Sick of being swept along by a passing emotion.
I'll walk alongside you
On this path
In this forest of your life
in these conversations
This morning I saw you stacking weights.
My sleepy eyes still opening.
I moved hesitantly toward you.
So much fear in me.
Noone has your face or your gestures.
Or whatever that is that I cannot pinpoint, radiating off you.
Certainly noone can bounce the way you do.
This morning my fear served me well.
For when your face turned and met mine,
I didn't see one smile.
I saw three.
Each one magnificent.
The first featured intimidating dimples and brow.
The second exposed your teeth and inner joy.
The third curled the lip and the vermilion border.
I felt pulled inward, as though every instinct leaned toward a kiss.
Your good-looking boyfriend was only metres away.
Even with him there, the pull remained.
I'd never seen three smiles in one sensual mouth.
This girl you are, blessing the morning with your three smiles in one.
