Friday, December 24, 2010


All said and done
Pack your bags and
Go home

Sunday, December 12, 2010


cold reunion

dark saturday

wrod word

lucky some unlucky others

what could be worth saying worth writing worth reading

somthing important that could change ones view of things for the better
litterature vitamin a growth hormone on paper
speed run
ecstasy on paper

for a worthy few
or for the masses?

for a childs empty mind
a pure receptacle
or for the complex murky convolution of the manic desperado
the one whos very breath is under question
who's entire being is like one grand arm holding a bow. waiting to strike
or a spyglass maybe, investigating all things as they come. A vast question mark infusing all manner of thought speech and action
one who's life has become dull and unsuprising one who's wonder for the magic before him has all but disappeared
a poor sod
feels left behind feels cheated wronged
perhaps he has all things in life. all good comes to him naturally
but he is incapable of appreciating it
all seems dartk and forbidding

he has come to it the great mythical solution to all suffering
he has heard the cry of that strange one the buddha
he has read the caustic words of jed mckenna
he has cried hearing walt whitman
and many more
but he is not yet his own man
with thoughts all his own and actions fully his
he does not survey things from afar as he constantly wishes
he is not dead
he feel things endlessly repeat themselves
and he is afraid
but so numb he does not really feel afraid
he does not feel much at all in fact
what he does feel is mopstly unsatisfaction
he feel as a slave being dragged behind a carriage
who pulls this carriasge he may ask
or why are we moving?
but despite his inquiries nothing ever changes
he feels himself caught in an endless cycle
old old thoughts come and come again and again
and each time he is seduced
each time he cannot help but cry why why why

and he may come to a point where he feel to wary, to tired to even ask
his endless seeking has not born any fruit
the treasur he seeks has never come

does he even know what that treasure may be? what it might feel like to possess it?

he has heard speak of it in many different ways. he sees it every where, all things become meaningful
but still he has no grasp he feels it always eludes him. he does not understand the meaning.

so he slowly, slowly stops asking why
what answer could quench his thirst
he has heard enough answers and none have ever given him the ultimate respite

what is it then
was there ever anything else?
These things we call other, past, elsewhere.....
what are they really
where are they really
can they be anywhere at all

so he comes to the point were he simply does not care
complexity bores him
slowly slowly he returns to himself
nothing has gone and left him
what else is there than what there is
what strange mysteious trick I have played upon myself
to fool myself how cunning I have been

I am not so cunning
someone else must have been fooling me all along

there is no end
there is no begining

a fool's answer may satisfy you more than all the words of our tongue

oh i wish i could wonder and marvel at life. spring with joy and lightness at all the scenarios of this universe.

things pasts. moments eternal
these are not things we comprehend but things we suppose. call it intuition

are you missing anything?
is there a veil you have yet to uncover from before your eyes. that you vision may somehow be clearer? that you may know for yourself what all these men and women have been bearing witness of? God, light, eternity, the deathless soul, truth, love, happiness, consciousness, the mystery no longer mysterious. You hope to find this thing they call the self. Unity.
It is as it is

There is nothing to strive for and nothing to avoid
but strive and avoid
eat drink

can you but stop for one instant to live?

what is this mystery of mysteries you are so keen to solve?
have you words for it? is it a feeling deep in your gut?

who is there knocking at your door?
Could it be you are knocking at your own door? From within your own home?
Could it be you are alone.

There is. I am.

Light cast upon darkness
Glory and elation

Deep despair. Death

Kill! Steal! Lie!
Spit in someone's face

Sleep the sleep of one who has lost all hope of finding anything else
Or not.

What could be said
What is worth saying
Does it matter at all?

Are you


An error? Something unfair, bothersome?
Rebel! Scream at the gods and cry your shame under beating rain, that a thunderbolt may perhaps strike your soul and ignite the flame of a new breath! That all the stars and galaxies might rip and tear and melt into your heart.


Wednesday, September 22, 2010


All or nothing. That's how it works in here...

All is...

Nothing is...

Void statements.

"The supersystem spans the globe and fine glass tubes pierce the sky. This thing really does have nerves of steel. It is more than a machine, more than a man. Ten thousand eyes and all the beauty in the world.
Not one sound, not one glimmer."


Bold and brash.
A thrust of colour!

Drama queens unite!

Wednesday, September 15, 2010

Tenebris Lumis

It all seemed so clear. Now so obscure.
But how clear the obscurity!

Monday, September 13, 2010

Im Person

Slow and steady.... a cosmic "fuck it" may be coming.
This, not this. This? No not this.
Another another. Another forlorn lover.

Past the finish line. Big big winner. Still in the race, sorry SOB.
What of it? To me this, this, this........"Oh if all could be stamped plain...." Tis stamped so indeed.
Pain for me, effort and strife. No way out. No way in. Never moved an inch. Nothing to move.

A big prize or a lazy nap. Command and verb.... I distrust ye.

To tell the truth. Concerned with effect. That these pulses tell no tale but your own... Tis done. Opinion is truth.

I dare you to show me untruth.

A big bubblecake

What? Where? Why? How?
It is how it is. Another's eyes, a thought for me in a thought of theirs. Judge, worry, squwy squwaw. No matter. Pudding platter. Not here, not there.
Everywhere, nowhere... Give up. Left. Right. Curlycue.
Easy come easy go.
Half a jug. Image. Me so damn awful. Blooboo.
Nothing for me and some for you. You mercury dancing fantom. Ye old telegraph. Ye magic purple spear. One through the 'ead n' yer dead. Clic. This one, not that one. Here now.... Already a memory. Keep up with me.