Friday, September 28, 2012



Some people say life gets in the way. But upon receiving this information maybe someone would stop and wonder what would happen when the life that gets in the way, is yours.


Friday, February 17, 2012

Outside a box; Optimism

Outside a box; Optimism

New saying,

Sleep on—wasting

Tire tracks scoff

Break the code,

Identical with each day,

Vomit in the chills

Watching the hand

Explained a memory

Tampered now

For what sake

For bulbous fish

And wet greens,

And orange skies

Inverted lungs,

Mesh when needed.

That longing

Windmill approach


A cure

Lights on,

Coffee pot's full,

No sleep forever.


Thursday, December 15, 2011

Tuesday, October 11, 2011

There Exists All the Elements under the Water

There Exists All the Elements under the Water



It had been well received that this was my crossroads: open air met drenching wave. The salt and the brine were heavy, as were my thoughts as I approached the edge of the cliff overlooking the shore. The wind rippled, but never wrinkled, my cloak, snarling and whipping behind me: my bag followed suit, as did my hair. Closer to the coastline, far to my right, was a destroyed shack: eaten by the salt and waves. From the cliff, I towered over the sand and the dust.

    My eyes were lit by the sun, red, as I watched it slowly set. As I could no longer move further, I prepared myself for another time of darkness and sleep. Sitting on the edge, I let my legs dangle over the steep slope: shoving a hand in my bag to find a journal and nourishment. The water was smooth, and the winds were none. Everything was bathed in red, the sun slowly meeting the ocean with arms open.

    "At least today can have a different entry. I found the ocean, and it looks like glass!" I chuckled, and took a swig of the flask. As I went back however, something down below caught my eye that caused the liquid to fly from my mouth.

    "What the—!? Is that a person?"

I rose quickly, and placed my things safe in my bag. I jumped from my spot down the cliff, legs digging deeply into the sandy rock as I sped towards the calm water.

'Something is wrong. I saw someone, I am sure of it. I haven't seen a real one in years; so why here?'I thought.

Reaching the bottom in a cloud of dust, my bag caught up with me and slammed into my back, still hanging by its thread. My eyes narrowed, and legs unbent. My hand reached for the hidden hilt inside my cloak. Unsheathing, it gave a ring of brilliance: silver in the sunlight.

"Come face me cow—."I tried to step, but realized my boots were full. A defeated sigh escaped my lips, and a thought echoed in my mind: 'I hate sandy shoes.' I let my muscles relax, and I fell back in a heap, sword plunging into the shore. I tried ripping my boots off, but it proved harder that previous anticipated. Though finally I was able to pry both off and poured the dust out.

The sun was inches away from sleeping behind the water now, casting much everything in its final radiance.

'There you are,' I thought, as I saw the ghost person again. Without re-donning my boots, grabbed the hilt and made way to the silhouetted figure at the edge of the shoreline. My feet pounded, and etched deep prints in the sand: behind me, small dust explosions. Twenty-five meters away I had noticed several things about this new enemy of mine—naked and feminine. I stopped several meters away, drawn for battle, but now slacked with disappointment.

"Madam," my free hand shielding the eyes from light. "I implore you to seek shelter elsewhere. The ocean may be a calm song this evening but in a moments pass, become a tempest of utter destruction." I chuckled and added, "Or so I have been told."

She gave no acknowledgement of my speech. In response, I narrowed and squeezed my face.

"Madam, perhaps my cloak would warm you this airy night…?" My question trailed off, defeated.

Yet on this instance proved lucky as she turned her head slightly, blocking the suns might for just a second. This revealed her eye, but quickly she snapped back and fixated once more on the ocean. I swallowed, and was turned back at the beauty of such a face.

After several moments more of silence and confusion on my part, I noticed her leg move to step on the water. My eyes nearly burst, at this, jaw agape. She walked until she was equidistant from the shoreline, as me. What was once naked now was clothed in regal armor of splendor. I had seemed to forget the world and only focused on the siren before me. Unconsciously I sheathed my weapon, and started to move forward. Walking towards love, fight, or death, I knew not—but was blinded by a spell. My bare foot suddenly made contact with the water, rippling the silence of its calm. It is at this time, I blinked upon my accord. I watched the wrinkled waves travel farther than anticipated. When they had reached her, she abruptly plummeted to the deep: vanishing.

Impulsive, I threw out an arm and a hand. Thinking even quicker, I had decided to look under, armed now with the knowledge of her deadly trick. So I began to slosh and wade out to where she had fallen—to my surprise, this spot was only knee deep.

"I thought this is where she went under." I exclaimed, frustrated. "I am sure of it. There is just no way someone could have gone straight down here…" I remarked, defeated once more. "Perhaps there is a hole…" I murmured shortly after, kicking my feet, trying to understand the situation.

Irritated, I plunged my face, eyes open, under the water. My eyes had to adjust, and I was flabbergasted—causing me to topple over in the water, now sitting in the newly dark air.

"I can't believe this…where those…trees?"



    I found myself going under again. Beneath the liquid was daylight. The ground I had been standing on sloped downwards and I was face to face with the edge of a massive jungle.

    'I know my journey wouldn't be easy. Ending it is no objection.'

    I spied, through the thick, the siren-lady. I stood underneath the water, holding my breath. As I found out, descending slowly, there was no resistance, the way normal water would feel. With a look upwards, I could tell I had entered a new place. A new sky, my ceiling: a bright luminescent glass that stretched high, and far. With a sigh, my first breath, I clutched my weapon tight and was off towards the biggest lead I had so far.

    The jungle was a dense green fortress. Every tree and vine had been invaded by moss. Light held a strange permanence however. Even though the trees were high, everything was gently bathed. I had found an old path, rarely used. I was strangely aware of it all, and followed this feeling—I knew I would see this lady again. My clothes had been dried after transiting to this realm, were now drenched once more due to the atmosphere: I found myself constantly brushing my forehead with my free hand.

    "Where did she go? And what is this place. The books never said anything of this—I'm sure." Muttering thoughts and pushing back foliage. "It is my duty, to answer this strange call—no matter how terrible. Ah, what do we have here?" I exclaimed the latter loudly.

I came to a giant stone slab that teetered above me. It was attached to a more massive hill. Jutting out over me, the thing was held up by pillars: some of which had toppled over, taken to the moss and the mushrooms. I waved, eyes closed and teeth showing at the lady I had been stalking who was staring down at me from the stone piece. When I had looked back up, she was gone. Several obscenities escaped my mouth as I tried to climb the cliff to get on top as well.

"Where's the challenge in all this," I grumbled as I picked myself up onto the slab.

That's when I saw it.



The jungle ended with this giant piece of stone. Directly ahead however, a good distance away, a mountain living mostly in the sky, slumbers. Many other slabs could be seen, each possibly connected at one point. The lady lay in wait at the end of the piece I was on.

"Your answer you seek rests at the top. Scale her." Her voice was soothing, yet commanding. "If you can," she added with a smile. Her eyes familiar, and hair even more.

"Angel—." Before I could finish, the wind came and swept this guide away in a fury of ash.

Decimated, but not beaten, I had walked towards the edge, heeding her words as I went. Down below was certain death: a straight drop down to a new tree line. I looked towards the next stone piece, and the next one, and the one after, and after that. It looked as though it had been an ancient road, now destroyed in parts.

"What I seek in this place is there. And with time shrinking with every action—I must finish this time. For the divine."

With that I had ran towards the edge and jumped towards the next part. I landed the four meter gap perfectly. Towards the middle of these ancient structures, I found myself at a standstill. The jump this time was about ten meters in length and would be certain death. The piece I needed to be on was small, and closer to the one behind it, than the one I was on.

With a plan made, I unsheathed my sword once more.

"There is a use for you after all, old girl," I chuckled as I brought it up towards my center, eyes closed.

From the opposite end of the piece I was on, I started. A great calm came over my mind as my body felt peace. I started the sprint, sparking the blade into the tablet, etching a line as I went. When my foot found the edge I bounced away from it, leaping towards the next with my weapon held high. It found its home in the side of the stone as I came down, and I frantically squeeze my hands in grip of its handle.

'I made it,' breathing manically. 'I knew I wou—.'

The thought was short-lived and rather unfinished, as a crack resounded from beneath me. As the platform started to sway, I knew it was time to become serious: with a flip in the air, I pulled the steel out and landed on the sloping platform. As it toppled into the next one, I had already jumped towards it. I recovered quickly as a came down, feeling the now too familiar buckle, crack, and sway forward.

For the next six pieces this had happened: each buckling under the others. Finally it had stabilized, leaving the last two untouched. The mountain stood closer and its details came clearer: rough edges, cold slops, and a hidden peak to transcendence.

I found my way off the slabs with ease and readied myself to tackle the monster that now faced me.



"Almost there!" I yelled against the whipping winds, slamming my sword deep into the ice—it being the only way to brace, and pull myself up the fierce white rock.

Touching the clouds now, the journey to this point had not been easy. The ice was in thick display: not well for walking. Jagged rocks had cut my cloak, revealing skin to the freeze. However, adrenaline pumped with each step now. Its secretion held it all in sway: a dream-like sensation and I took everything in at once. Survival to the peak, where the answer I supposedly seek, is all I knew—everything else, foreign. Even the chill had not frozen my soul, set ablaze by this goal: driven mad by that angel. Yet, she was gone. Just myself and this beast, of which the sword wished to slay. With each step the wind howled worse, the mountains defeated scream.

Inside the clouds stood the storm of snow, circling and in engulfing most everything in a blinding white haze—its final weapon against me. The rock, somehow wet under my frozen touch, had me slipping, teetering, on edges unknown. Bracing with the sword, plunged deep in ice and rock, with my next step my hand pierced something warm and I quickly retreated it. I wondered for a moment on what it could have been. Seconds later, I was scrambling my whole body. Hands first to prop up, I had gotten my face beyond the point and couldn't understand. On top of the mountain underneath the vast ocean was an island, small: it was the top of the mount that pierced the ceiling. A cool jeweled moon sat on the sea now, greeting the ocean to night. On the island was several trees, and stone altar in the middle. I congratulated myself on a job well done as I looked directly above to the heavens—I would be able to find out now, I'm so close.

I sunk the weapon deep into the sand (my only possession now since my bag was lost to the mount) and ran towards the altar and jumped on. Immediately I felt a tremor in my body: a heaving and a sighing. I began to felt omnipotent as I touched the divine, slowly rising in the air. There was a pressure in my chest during the flight, yet I felt thin or stretched. Concentrating on not waking, I sank deeper in this meditation. Rising much faster now, I approached the stars. Soon, the outer limit came: I knew, for I had felt his presence.

"Bountiful, oh persistent divine, grant me, well received, an answer for the things that lay in question."




    I felt my soul sink back into its body: but not the one I left on the sandy island. I sat up in my computer chair, staring at the blank Word document, the line blinking, begging for words.

    "I was so close to answer this time." I said defeated. "At least my journey had not been in vain: I found something worth writing on."

    I did not sit troubled for long as my hands began to recall the journey to the sea, the walk through the tangle, and the braving of a mountain. It had been well received that this was my crossroads: open mind meets white pages.






Monday, September 26, 2011



Innate movement, Deal with the thought:

Master, Serving flesh things.

Impulse is right, recall the first—

The trees improved and sang.

Unlike a chain to bind, the Scent

Had me, lasting for years.

And undetected lay passion

For different Mirrors.

But Dormant behind Solemn eyes

Lives pain for two, at most.

Temptation leave me now, for I

Am slave of heart no more.

Went back and forth, having it all—

A Change upset the course:

Revelation, I wonder,

Each time was worse and Worse.


Tuesday, September 20, 2011

Ratio, Roil

Ratio, Roil


The ground was alive and breathing

In those days.

Only recently had the water appeared.

It was thought that the land would drink it in.


At the time, there had been bridges

Connecting these distant earths,

As they drifted apart.



I had braved this ocean for too long alone,

Until rest came in the form of a glossy beach.


The air was here different, thickly perfumed.

The sun also held strange permanence,

A noticeable and pleasant change.



I mustered strength,

And left this paradise to drift home.

Recently I had seen the connection from my land

To hers.


I visited often, learning much about the terrain.

Spying other structures, leading to new places.

Yet the water here was different,

Turning and black:

The first connection, mother.


I ran back fearful and young.

My vessel no longer needed,

Glided back across the hovering stone,

Over water so solemn.


A vow,

Never to return.

No more gold beaches,

At least this kind again.


Thoughts now turned to

The map I had been given so early.

I rode the waves again.

It was in reverence that this occurred:

Seeing the sister of earth, and her beaches.

To my horror, it had changed,



The bridge connecting I, to her, burned,

And the mother-land, had burst to the sea.


In veneration I had drifted,

Forgetting the map and its Ex.


Rowing away from the filth,

And with a glance back,

There was deaths hooded shadow.


(A pirate's life for me.)





Monday, September 12, 2011


"Oh abhorred creature! What magic binds you here? What loathsome desire tramples behind such blackness that could never be called eyes?"

In and out, making short breaths, I had accomplished naught but a murmur, a fraction of what could only be called my mental capacity. Tremors now stained my composure. Its evasive ability, matched only by its brother! Ready to pounce, and I, no artifact of which I could use as defense. I dare it not any closer, for in the ink, I still see its shine its destructive gleam, bouncing away from many legs and eyes. Yet behind mine, closed so tight, I see it: ready to maim and to glean.


My mind, now a diminishing and foolish foundation of rationality in this chilling situation, held a curio of which it is mine to represent where such a case had came from. It had been my business to be traveling at such an hour: moon high and I mad. The city swallowed me and I took a wrong turn, ending in an ally. I became distraught and sat for rest, that's when I heard a bang, and a yelp, and a whimper. It is now, at this time, that I have been rendered still, cannot speak, and my body forfeit. My body twitched uncontrollably, mindlessly, shivering due to the beast. At perils end, how did it come to this?


(Run away.)



Friday, September 2, 2011




I've become undermined by my own transgressions, now turned to a soulless flicker of imitation. Perhaps I could not become something out of myself, for I am always tied to one, at least. Eternally pre-disposed to a cognitive regression of that reflection in others, and the versa, I've ill-advised myself to become something unknown: the stride was too weak for the wave.

—Every song has an upbeat somewhere,

And if each piece is human, than we shall search.


(Even if I'm not there.)



Thursday, August 4, 2011

Luckily it was clear.

Luckily it was clear.

The mouth, a reservoir, rather, a cauldron, of deterred thoughts: foaming at the lips, drip the speech. This improvised retainer has labeled this as a new path. I have not followed suit; each step, an exaggerated shake of drowning. Eyes had entertained this, only to blink—And I, walked away. The format that followed, or instead, that was, had to be the abatement of prudence. Constantly, in fashion, I had coughed water, but I had offended many, and was sent away, consistently. I held a pursed maw for these days, spewing when I had to—the tumults had increased vivaciously. I fear that there will be a roil, rolling the waves at my feet. Full to burst, leaking out, an ocean down below. Disaster mimic nature, I withdrew from the brace. Abandoned, I felt the full weight of this curse. Company, no longer a constraint, held no regulations to the pour. I soon found my chest buried, and after a length, closer to the chin. I had peered outward for what I thought was the last time, when a glint, that I had not seen previous, had penetrated my wonder. I wished to see what it was, for if nothing, than no harm, but if it was death, than it should be I to initiate the meet. Upon my arrival, it was a gold top, laden with jewels and craft; a crown in the clearest sense. Water forced from my mouth, and it had a slime that sounded, 'I am no king,' so I set it down. But just then, a new thought, which made the cheeks expand—a pressure that should rip if I had let it. 'Identify the cause, puncture,' had spilled forth. High above the drink, I held the crest. Drove it home, spiking the skull with its opposite side.

There on, I reveled in my regality.


Tuesday, August 2, 2011

Retro Sight

Retro Sight

The day felt off, almost like staring far away off from your lover, or being enthralled with the dead. It began with a waterlogged mind that sloshed with each stepping thought.

"I'm aged," he said. "Is to live, luck?"

He had sipped on air countless times before. Worse, he kept the wind for himself, in great lengths. Dutifully, he weathered incursions from seeping cracks.

Had he patched the bottle better, perhaps each day would be different, greater.



Moving Fast

Moving Fast

I understood only with sarcasm: that distinguished temperance that divides all things, immaculate. Discerning centered probabilities by observing its mass has put this organic vehicle at a standstill.

"I have become ill-prey for those winged hardened-husks that float around me—plunging deep into my epidermal with their swords. I am then left idle enough to bear witness, resulting in my helplessness for at least a week at a time."

So you censor what gains I had accrued with this shroud and charade. But should you forget, look here: there are burdens that stick from me, like an oozing badge, incorporeal. I understood in only sarcasm (it was fleeting within the solemn woods). Remembrance echo's, and there, a sensation ripples through—I have done what I can no longer prove to do.

"Explain yourself sleep-taker."


Thursday, July 21, 2011

Pour water on the dance floor. Or, on the Things that Should carry me.

Pour water on the dance floor. Or, on the Things that Should carry me.

Tired is the thought that could contain such buoyancy in this shift. Weak are the days where provisions last. Center then on the notion, where strings eclipse the minute fibers inside: singular cell, or tentacle automaton. Upon each, time is carved. Singing, etched with serene scent, a capitalized sorcery: they all belong to us, a problem in possibility.

Combined testimony, placed behind the ears of each specimen. Tolerant to their beliefs, sniff in a carnal rage. Contract the whip, heave the swelling. Turn the torso, extinguish the head: leave me wondering if eyes can water when you're made of flame. Particle and plasma let us remain as we are. It goes like this, I cannot undo: Wave, what am I to say, when to this eve, I've been rendered speechless.


Wednesday, June 22, 2011

Allure, Wait.

Allure, Wait.

I had left the previous page untouched, as it could hold no more truth. It is as though I had sufficed at being the dreamer. Conclusion, met here, I had become another scarlet entity with muscle and meat, bred for the house and cuisines.

Had I longer to relish this, I would have done so. But being the caretaker of my own health, I could only turn away in folly and from there forth, to the right intentions.

Was it I, who misplaced reactions or servitude? Rather, I like to think I integrated all experience with rituals and rites, as only so many do. Us three became afraid of the mystery, quickly falling backwards to cunning.

A star fleets by, as this knot unravels.




So I caught that fire, and burned that string. Exponentially, it grew in health.

And upon the mantle, placed the orb. With no cage to catch, it would fall. A used star, never to spin, always to tumble.

I went to the search.

Yet a glass rock had pricked my finger during. I quickly retracted as I was only used to the burn. But I reached back, in the faint light of the falling sphere, I had found the shard once more. Jagged and stained, I held in wonder and placed it inside my pocket.

(Yet, with such ease to slash the flesh,

How quick to cut the seam?)


Saturday, May 21, 2011

Open your mouth, let’s compare.

Open your mouth, let's compare.


"May my scales tip in the chance that you may favor not,

These sticky, sick leaves again…

I implore lavishly, turn quickly aside to the front,


Fair it not, the back.

A decent forward, my good flesh;

To seek something within your vision limit.


But try as you may,

The swivel is not yours to command.

In shorter words, I shall be here,


And you at my disposal,

Forever looming.

A silly haunt.


So, I ask you,

What are you waiting for flesh?

Untie yourself."



Friday, May 20, 2011

It was gorgeous, but then I came to.

It was gorgeous, but then I came to.


I was made to be a point which would become a line that existed within a plane laying on another.

Solid, unmoving, through the dull light I could see the haunts.

Those tantalizing tribulations that had so clearly defined a purpose.

It came to pass that the robot rocks were implanted.

Tentacle grip posture, we're all starfish in this sea.

Sway with each wave, transverse each company, each flat surface;

Reach the end.

And then, when all things leave you,

Enjoy the bubbles,

The dissolve.


(Master of the domain.)



Friday, May 6, 2011

Cube Lands

And there it was once again,

A reminder before the storm—

Pivoting on the wrenching aspect inside.

How would anyone be able to overcome this weight?

She would argue what it’s like, but it’s perfect for her.

What a beast than, to go back and forth?

Solitude with familiarity—

Even the crescendo breaks

With the error seen.

Now with sutures on air bags,

We breathe, mating.

But it’s the rational that consumes.

It wants to ask,

“What was more?”

With every knit and knot,

Feverous thoughts come.

Rather it more than none,

Too much to drink,

A lot left over:

Every dragon was an egg.

Every king, a cub.

Every star, residual.

Oh! History!

What a fiend you are!

(A fiend, indeed.)


Wednesday, February 16, 2011

Where is my ability

Where is my ability

Every bird was there

Sinking, lowering the horizon.

A dark flock pulled me up to heights.

Twisting, a smoke,

But I heard the flutter,

But could not grasp

A singular winged fiend

On my descent.

Through the ground,

The impact was important.

For the yelp

Held all unsaid speech.

Racing downwards.

I heard the chirps,

And beating feathers.

(It is clear now, that I am one.)


Wednesday, January 26, 2011

Mental half: part two of five

They have died, growing stagnant, colder replaced what was. Loathing and fear fated, stricken at the sight of such physicals deemed worthy for the mental. Sinking, heavy and low, immediately sprung upon followers in lingering orbs and misshapen poetry, oh how star struck!

They mocked, almost by color alone. Tumors had secreted, filing a sharp thought with a deadly aroma. The glistening stopped in that airy moment. Too many fluids, rushing too fast.

A scream the size of needles came. The plane, the anger, and the light dissolved frantically in abstract arrays, setting forth new ice, a different frost.

Floating in the knowing, and the known. Where was the wrong in this thing? What ink sheet had the faces fallen? And most extraordinarily but menacingly important, could there be no justice for that thing you call pump?

Flutter on then passerby. Caught a glimpse once, but quickly drew a sigh. Now he, in the freeze, saw the life, before an eye. Each smaller reassured the next, that a greater one will form with time. But there, where body had no condition, no permanent nerve, the mind gave way, to issues that barely forsooth. Memories stared, and with particles, pointed, then picked at the bones.

“By this time,” crying out, “why is there an End?”

“Why must one die?”

(When will I wake?)

Original written: 10-12-10

Edit: 1-26-11

Sunday, January 23, 2011

Ice Tire

Ice Tire

Why do I continue to wake?

Dizzied infinity,

A cloudy disturb,

And they twitter

With a faint kiss.

It all floods,

Coming back and sticking.

No alarm like the light.

Not there this time.

Why do I continue?

Assaulted lapses

Products where there should be none

Armed dimensions

Catching onto the fame.

The streets curl

The body sways

Seismic disillusions

Grapple mind headwear

Furled infinite

Proclaimed finite

(If this granite clasp is in the norm,

How am I in the health?)


Monday, January 17, 2011

If this is all, isn’t there a difference

If this is all, isn't there a difference


Glass water, frozen

Even in the shine,

Reflection back,



Location method exact

Seeing the tools

That made the plan

Lungs, still intact.

Breathing, sighing,

Laid, back and forth.

Tunnel tube mindset

Door windings down

Cresting with no hinges

Only onsets and pieces.

Imbued, arose,

Still too far down

No switch.

No skewer.

No seven day creation.


Environs vibrating,


Out of turn,

Inward to look,

Outward to be.



Has an orbit,

And the lake stretches

In this plane.


Far too deep,

Tied tingly,

Acute sense

Mortality instills.


Beasts taunt,

Traffic of the breaks.


Vines twirling from such a freeze,

Plucked by its own petal

Hands returning,





Sunday, January 9, 2011

Attention: All Passengers.

Attention: All Passengers.

The end.

Is it coming, seeker?

It see's you're blowing up.


Possibly distasteful.


Proportions were given,

None sliced for the heaven.

No politician is this.

But we've recycled baptisms

For too long.

Its life had absorbed.

All the careening,

And the switching.

Give it something more,

Possibly it could make it out.


I say rage.

Trembling concentration.

Cold logic.

Not needed,

But still found,

Even if unfound.

No peace in this bait.

Life exists in transit.

It has become a ghost,

You've been staring through it.

Appreciate in a year?

Find it stained then,

Fell to the mold

Of unbecoming.


I finally found imperfection)


Tuesday, January 4, 2011



There was a joy in finding something. Yet to learn that it had been nothing, turned the idol to sorrow. A rock, rare and grained, is what strung me along, making such a falsity to follow, even in fantasy. I had lost my romantic: what was left to give? So then seclusion became the burden of the wasted, and in my crush down, in my call out, the response back was the sculpture. Unpolished and shifting at the cracks, I saw each laced with them, slowly giving in to the entropy of their environment. I believed in the statues, and the artists that made them. Remembering the dream-scene that was etched the same way, I had within my possession then, the rock. Rare and grained, weathered as well. It was left with a hole. Sensing what fortune the stone had, swapped with the other. It held it in its chest, braving the winds and the waters chill. Never minding its own stone, or the conditions it had to withstand with the other, there was a certain curiosity as to whether or not the stolen swapped would crumble to the sands. Or perhaps, hold the diamond, which was such sought after.

Sculptures of stone, long for their inner bedrock, to shine, polished to a gem.

(I need more heat.)


Friday, December 31, 2010

Untitled 3

Untitled 3


What possessed the yell? The crooked gut crunch, audible, yet shying with insignificance, through electronics, falling to deaf ears; I figured later, it was no sound at all. Looking at the time, there was a difference in the collision. "Why should I care?" So I went to sleep, as it was all relative, but an aspect that I employed was the chemicals found in smaller conditions to hasten the trip. Upon the timing, there was noise, which made them stir. Repulsive was the dream, but the latter explosions were even worse. Light was passing, and patience hung heavy like a cloud inside the room. Condensation had it dripping. The fumes were enough, stifling, and I needed to step out. A call was made, but the noise had me back away. And another, but this time opposite the source; what possessed the yell? It was a trivial matter of blame. The wronged party confronted the jackal and the beast snarled back as if offended; not knowing its mistake. The tree inside my body, burned from the ashes I induced, bloomed with a depression profound. I found myself watching, not allowing the thundering membrane to become elastic. There was no music, only obvious sound. Waves became my only motive of communication; for several hours more, I would slumber in the dread world. No inspiration. No words. All wrong. Undecided. Unmotivated. Broken to the brink. A low ember allowed the sound to come back, and I called out to it. It was different in some way. Almost as if it was dressed. I came slowly to a responsive state. Soon, thereafter, the year will end. As well as the repression the snow had covered. Winter had me slow, the beat null. Shaved, broken, scaled, a horizon. Understood what I was not, now to become. Accepting the known, I had the speech in fury. What animal was that? What cosmos did I break in the fight? "No matter what, know this…"

The arms had me in a convulsion. Springing out of the light, the glare was too much, and my thought held no bloom, but a burnt seed. The collection in store after the repeat was grand, so I planted them in my face. Skyline smiled, I'll wake early in the morning. Ready for sleep. Accepting the slumber.


Dormant to the meaning.


Hibernation collected what I did not find. But what I found there, the lonely, and I, in courage, boasted.


Had it not been for foolishness.

Had it not been for boyhood.


The death I found each day, demanding and observing, would have been listed under resolve.


Shorten the lifespan of the blossom already formed

Hope for the hot spring

To bubble down

Streaming the face


Watering the seeds.


And hope.


(They will take to the root.)



Thursday, December 30, 2010

Restoration inside the Fray Facade

Restoration inside the Fray Facade

(There is no guarantee to receive

But to give

Is always sealed)

Do you enjoy the water alter

Step in, kneel

Hands down to pray

What does it smell like?

What do you hear?

I do not understand

At all

Unlevel solar system

Unfamiliar ceiling

I do not understand

At all

Coinciding notion

Clashes with supernatural

Unearthing a machine


What is your signal?

What makes you move?"

What words I can't call

Made up by actions

Only dreamed

Worried justifications

Silence, an oath

I do not understand

At all

A flowered path reveals all, under trees that teeter, bent and blooming

Petals fall like rain, purple, cleansing.

I stood there naked, and spied the monster

Full of his heart

Should I mimic,

Or concentrate eternal?

I do not understand.

(At all)


Wednesday, December 29, 2010

The Fort of 40 Zombies

The Fort of 40 Zombies

Can this very emotion carry me through
My fort and my battleground
Damaged, but not yet destroyed
I turn to you
The mirror of my beauty, my creation
A zombie born with free-will
A slave to the monster
I will take this life
But not give it away
This plague is only physical
My mind not allowed for your darting, the prying
My works meant nothing now
You, the mirror
Your heart has been set in stone
Can we save it?
Or will we be dualities?
Till death do us part
My fort will not be opened
Until this plague is gone
And mortification is lifted


Monday, December 27, 2010

Hazy Sky Cover

Hazy Sky Cover

Taking off my eyes,

Only to see blue stares.

It's just not the right color…

But shared by my lover.


Wednesday, December 22, 2010

A Turnips Shadow Dance

A Turnips Shadow Dance

Divining rod, maker marked metal

Find us the day that is an illusion

Sweeping with a dead broom

A scent for the man

Cold linger fingers

A mirrored,

But exact exchange

And the things that stem


"Where has the heat gone?"

With shocked torment

A strike through the cords

Perfectly sitting inside

Analyzing the structure

That was so alike



Embalmed with an odor

That the nose must shake

Where to the next day?

With all these inconsistencies?

Hypocritical disillusionment

Illuminate the attaching

And with the frozen pumps,

Ice shade linger fingers and all,

Will pull back

Leaving the weak to fall

Snow etched frizzy arms

Each to pieces

Each to the ground

Dusty preserve

The one formed from the start

Golden, a rod.

Attached at the heart.

Heat escapes in steam

Vapor and all that fancy



Deicing by the touch

Last stem


Wound tight

It is attached

It is alive

There is music there

How will such a cord give way?

Strength has not come

What is it that you want with it,

This attachment?

And to give off a vibe

Then say hello,

Goodbye king.

Goodbye fool.





How much longer?

The heat is giving way.

Winters grip moves away from the palm

Little friction is lost to the fray

Hard as rock


Brittle as paper


Until then

Place the strings back

And I'll see you through the looking glass


Not phased

Absorbing the cool

Transferring slow.

(Until here it is

The quickness of heat

That our summer and spring

Could bring.)