Friday, February 24, 2006

JOURNAL: 022406 JUSTICE, ODYSSEUS, THE CYCLOPS: I AM NOBODY

In my deeply existential stage as a philosophy student I grew very comfortable with the idea that all speech was rhetoric and all knowledge was subjective. To some extent I still believe that we live in a universe that is meaningless.

My take is that the universe is chaos and has no meaning. But, I believe that there is a world outside of me and I believe that other identities exist in that world. As identities we have come together to form societies. As a race we have come together to agree that the universe has characteristics. In different languages we have agreed to call such characteristics light, dark, hot, cold, dry and wet and all of the usual "sensations" that we share.

However, I do not believe that those sensations are objective characteristics of the things we encounter. Instead, I think that the only reason we agree that some things are hot and some things are cold is because the biological tools we use to examine the world are biologically similar. The world we define is not an objective catalogue of the things in the world. The world we define is a catalogue of the common ways in which we perceive the things of the world. Objects are not hot or cold in a manner independent of our senses. Hot and cold is simply a subjective biological byproduct of what happens when we encounter externalities.

I acknowledge that this view does say something about the universe. Though the world of externals may not contain things which are hot and cold, the world of externals must have at least some common characteristics which cause us to perceive them in common ways. I do not know what fire is. From a biological standpoint I know what it feels like and what it does. As a creature with common biological tools you agree with me that fire burns. And this is true of everything that we put on fire. This does not mean that fire, as an external thing is actually hot, it simply means that the things which we all call fires have similar characteristics which we call hotness. However, the fact that we agree that biological affect of encountering fire is heat does not mean that the external things we call "fires" is in any way limited to qualities which we perceive. The external things we call fires could have an infinite spectrum of other characteristics which do not fall within the range of our biological ability to perceive. The same can be said of anything external to us which shares characteristics we sense in a biologically similar way.

Now step back from the world of external objects and consider the ephemeral world of concepts. Think of justice. Is there any logical or rational process that we can use to take the five blunt tools of sensation and extrapolate an objective definition of such an intricate concept?

For years I was convinced there was not. My study of existentialism, theologies and ideologies and the world of "ists and isms" left me so baffled that I abandoned the concept of justice to the subjective world of aesthetics. It was simply a term of art. However, I left the embryo of academia and entered the abortion clinic of the criminal justice system. Practical application changed everything.

To put it bluntly, criminal law is a compost pile. It is the leftovers of humanity after the corpse of mankind has been stripped clean in the slaughter house of reason. My belief in justice became my "pocket full of poesies" and protected me from the stench of social decay. It was one of many intoxicants I used to blunt my primary senses. Life was sharp and painful. It was like being hit by a tornado while working in a razor factory. Life needed to be dulled. I wrapped myself in a shroud of "justice" simply to protect myself from being skinned.

Now, far removed from the foxhole, I find myself again wondering if that word really meant anything beyond the confines of my mind. Today in class I asked about justice. All agreed with the principle that "all are innocent until proven guilty." Yet many felt that the state should be permitted to break the law in order to obtain that proof. They felt that if a confession was genuine and true, even if obtained by torture, that the evidence should be used and the criminal prosecuted. All agreed that the state agent should be prosecuted as well, but many could not get past the idea that "justice" required that the criminal be punished regardless of how the state obtained the evidence.

That was considered justice here. It would not be considered justice in many parts of the US. The "reality" of the crime was more important than the process of obtaining that reality. The ends justified the means so long as the individual police officer who used torture was punished as well. The most important thing was that both must pay for their crime.

Words do not do justice justice. I now find myself back in the realm of abandoning that word back into the world of aesthetics. I was outraged by the thought and then I was outraged at my outrage. How pious and arrogant. I disagree with them entirely, but not because I have an angle on some objective truth about the world. I go back to my original point and realize that I do not even believe that a fire is hot. How can I reasonably go from that position to the position that humans have an inalienable right to due process and inherent halo of innocence until there is a showing of guilt. It was painful to see that the shroud of faith and my need to dull the sharpness of certain realities had stunted my growth.

Words do not do justice justice. Now I must unlearn over a decade of tainted reasoning. I replaced God with logic and tied logic to experience. I forgot that experience was an anchorless ship adrift in the sea. I thought I had found an island wisdom and woke up to find that I was the Cyclops devouring Odysseus' crew. I have poked out my eye. I have taken leave of the island. If anybody asks what my name is, tell them I am "nobody."

Wednesday, February 22, 2006

KELLY WITH THE GOVERNOR OF SOUTH DAKOTA

KELLY WITH THE GOVERNOR OF SOUTH DAKOTA. THE LAST THING HE SAID TO ME IS "SORRY, I DIDN'T RECOGNIZE YOU WITH YOUR CLOTHES ON." THAT IS NOT A LIE

.

JOURNAL: 022206 LIFE IS LIKE EVERCLEAR AND A PURPLE TRUCK

The smoke clears and we find our hero sitting exactly where he was yesterday. Same Bat time; Same Bat channel. I am going to use today's entry to bind myself to a commitment. Words are like a ring. You can promise a woman you will marry her. When the ring hits the finger, winners walk and bullshit talks.

GOAL: Set a world record in learning a language. My Korean at this point is the following: Hello, thank you, goodbye, excuse me, & water. I work 7-10 & 7-10 (am/pm). That gives me afternoons free every day. I am making it a full time job and will jump into this project with the same moderation and balanced approach that I bring to every project in my life. I am going to put it in first gear and floor it.

When I was young I thought that drinking Everclear and driving around in the winter on ice and snow in a truck with no seat belts and no traction was cool. I got stuck in the mud & snow with Kearney in his purple piece of shit truck. It had no sand bags and rear wheel drive. We drank, pushed, drank and thought and drank and thought and drank and blacked out. We may have done some more pushing in there somewhere.

We both woke up the next morning at home wondering how we got out. My last memory was suggesting that we were probably screwed and should just chug the Everclear and see what happens. Matt pleaded no contest and so I won by a vote of 1 - no opposition.

My plan: put it in first, get blind drunk with ambition and wake up speaking Korean. I hope that the hangover is less intense.

It is in writing now. My ring is on the finger. Shit; now I gotta marry this damn thing.Well... anyong he kesayo! (that isn't really correct, but if you mumble people think you are saying goodbye). Common terms work like doing the Rosary. If you say it long enough you can eventually just mumble it and people mistake it for meaningful communication. Peace. KDF

Tuesday, February 21, 2006

JOURNAL: 022106 HERE'S A MOP. ENJOY THE VIRGINS.

The smoke clears and we find our hero nestled comfortably in front of a computer screen. There is a vulnerability that comes with this process that sticks to me like fly paper. Speaking is scribbling words on an Ethchasketch (c). You can always rely on the clumsiness of others when it comes to documenting your words. It is easy to talk you way out of a corner you talked your way into. It is harder to get out of the same corner if you used paint. The prose of a post is modern ink and it does not need a printing press to spread to distant villages. Words on a screen are a papertrail.

I'm not sure what I am going to put in this blog, but that fact taints my ability to be honest. I am considering writing a Boswellian memoir (he was some freaky guy who worshipped some fat drunk writer, I think his name was Samuel Johnson. This guy kept a diary of every nasty thing he ever did . Don't expect that here. This will be compromise of drives. I don't expect there to be much consistency from journal to journal, but I am hoping to find a pattern.

What do I have to report for today? To be honest, we just voted and we have decided that something happened today but it is too early to splat the gadfly on my first post.

7-10am work
10-11:30 home & nap
12 - I saw a Dr. who knows a lot about assholes
slept 2 hours
I felt my body was as tight as a pretzel and lifted weights. The relief was like a heavy sedative. I always feel that way after a yoga/lift. But something inside me always wants me to skip it. I feel totally lethargic without it, but it takes a tremendous effort of will to do it. I find that strange since every time I have found a pill or liquid that causes such an abrupt change in my mindset that I take it until it hurts. Yet the most genuine high I fight like a kid eating spinach.

Work: 7-10pm. Home. Finally got acoustic going through my Marshall with my Digitech. Dreams of doing a live set. Gee, that 20 year old fantasy still keeps me on the strings. I also want to write my legal books, take a Korean language course and get into a gym with a stairmaster.

Going to bed now. I hate going to bed because that is generally when I feel the best. Dark, alone, silent and ...Embryonic. I crave the perfect combination of adulation and isolation. I can't decide whether I should teach or start a religion. I am too old for rockstar. Rockstars get all the cool adulation, isolation and self absorbed martyrdom.

Well, suicide bombers get most of that and a bunch of virgins. But, if there is a God, I hope he has a sense of irony. The only virgins the suicide bombers should get are the ravaged and slaughtered corpses of the virgins they kill. If there a difference between bombing a chemical weapons plant and a marriage at a Radison in Syria, I think God would get a kick out of that. "Here's your virgin Abdul Fukababy. Her pussy is splattered on the side of the DJ booth and her tits are those two piles in the corner that look like ground beef. If you doubt she was a virgin, her hymen is that thing that looks like a jelly fish dripping off of the chandelier.

Here is a mop. Enjoy your virgins.

On that happy note - Peace out. KDF

Saturday, February 18, 2006

BLOG BOOK: MY BLOOK: FREE WILL REQUIRES FAITH

THIS IS VERY IMPORTANT. I MUST STATE THIS HONESTLY RIGHT NOW FOR ANYBODY TO UNDERSTAND WHAT I WRITE, PLAY, SAY, PAINT ...
WHAT I CREATE.
KELLY CREATES
THIS BLOG IS A ROUGH DRAFT OF MY AUTO-BIOGRAPHY OR BIOGRAPHY. WHAT IT IS A ROUGH DRAFT OF IS DEPENDING ON WHETHER I END UP SWIMMING OR "DEEP-ENDING."
I CALL THIS BLOG BOOK MY "BLOOK." I OFFICIALLY CLAIM OWNERSHIP OF THE WORD "BLOOK" IF SOMEONE HASN'T BEAT ME TO THAT WORD.
THE FOLLOWING ADMISSIONS ARE MY BELIEFS. BY REASON, I MUST BE BOUND BY REASON. CONSEQUENTLY, I MUST ADMIT THAT I BELIEVE IN FREE WILL. THAT SUCKS BECAUSE I AM AFRAID THAT THIS ADMISSION PUTS ME ON THE SAME SIDE OF THE RIVER AS PEOPLE I THINK ARE IDIOTS. I WILL DO MY BEST TO REASON MY WAY ACROSS THE RIVER TO THE OTHER SIDE. I MAY NOT GET THERE. I WILL WALLOW IN INSANITY, DROWN IN ARROGANCE, GET WASHED DOWN TO THE RIVER TO THE OCEAN WITH BUDDHA....OR FIND DRY LAND. A NEW WORLD. I PROMISE THAT IF I FIND IT I WON'T KILL THE NATIVES THIS TIME.
CHRIST TOLD JOHN TO TAKE HIM TO THE RIVER TO BE BAPTIZED. I COMMEND HIS EFFORT, HOWEVER, I CONSIDER THE FEAR OF ENTERING THE STREAM SOMEWHAT COWARDLY. I WILL NOT AVOID THE CURRENT. SWIMMING BRINGS STRENGTH. I MUST SWIM INTO THE WATER. CHRIST STARTED WITH BAPTISM. I STARTED WITH. EXISTENTIALISM. IT IS A HANDY START, BUT IT IS NOT A LIFE RAFT. IT HELPS YOU FLOAT WHEN YOUR FEET CAN TOUCH BOTTOM, BUT IT IS NOT BUOYANT ENOUGH FOR ME IN DEEP WATER. IT REQUIRES I CARRY THE ENTIRE WEIGHT OF EXISTENCE. A SPIRIT IN SEARCH OF THAT MEANING CAN NOT REASONABLY BE EXPECTED TO BEAR SUCH AN UNFORSEEN WEIGHT.
NIETZSCHE DID NOT FIND NIRVANA NOR DRY LAND. HE DIED WALLOWING IN THE WATERS OF SANITY...I MEAN INSANITY. WELL, HE DIED.
HIS LAST ACT WAS TO HUG AN ABUSED HORSE; A BEAST OF BURDEN PUNISHED WHILE DOING THE DIRTY WORK OF MAN. FOR ME, NIETZSCHE IS A HORSE. HIS BURDEN SADDENS ME. HIS SKELETON IS THE CORAL REEF THAT HAS BROKEN THE CURRENT FOR MANY WHO PRAISE AND DAMN HIM. IT IS FROM THIS VANTAGE POINT THAT MY SWIM TAKES SHELTER. THANKS FOR THE DOCK MAN. THANKS FOR TAKING THE ANCHOR OF GOOD AND EVIL WITH YOU TO YOUR DEPTHS. IS IT TRUE THAT BAD PUSSY IS WHAT DROVE YOU INSANE? IS IT IRONIC THAT A GUY WHO COULD KILL GOD WAS DRIVEN INSANE BY BAD PUSSY? I AM GLAD SIMONE BEAUVIOR WAS AN EXISTENTIALIST AND A FEMINIST; IF IT WEREN'T FOR HER THAT LAST COMMENT MIGHT BE SEEN AS RATHER EVIL.
ADMISSIONS:
I ADMIT I BELIEVE I LIVE IN A UNIVERSE WHERE I AM NOT THE ONLY THING. THIS MAY NOT SOUND LIKE MUCH OF AN ADMISSION, HOWEVER, IF YOU WANT TO TAKE ON THE CHALLENGE OF GIVING DESCARTES A SNUGGY, YOU BETTER START OUT BY ADMITTING THAT YOU ARE A MORAL AND SPIRITUAL ADOLESCENT. I DON'T KNOW WHAT THE STUFF OUTSIDE OF ME IS.
I BELIEVE I HAVE FIVE PRIMARY SENSES. I USE THESE BLUNT TOOLS TO PAINT MY VISION OF THE UNIVERSE ON THE CAVE WALL. HOWEVER, I BELIEVE THAT IN COMPARISON TO THE POTENTIAL OF THE UNIVERSE, MY ABILITY TO PERCEIVE THE WORLD IS MUCH MORE PRIMITIVE THAN A CAVE PAINTING.
I BELIEVE IN IDENTITY, OTHERNESS AND FREE WILL. THESE ARE THE THREE NAILS THAT STICK ME TO WHAT FOUCALT WOULD CALL THE "SPECTACLE" OF THE CRUCIFIX. I WOULD LIKE TO SHARE WHATEVER CREDIT I CAN FOR THIS SPECTACLE THAT CAME WITH MY CHRISTIAN UPBRINGING . BE IT NAIL, NICE OR NEUTRAL, IT IS PART OF THE HUNT THAT I PAINT ON THIS WALL.
I ADMIT THE FOLLOWING:

1) I believe that the best metaphor for describing my identity is to say that an odd number of drives (3 or more) control my voluntary behavior.

2) I believe that my reason operates as a democracy and that my voluntary behavior is the result of a majority vote my internal drives. I call this free will.

2) I believe that the best metaphor for describing my instinct is that I have a genetic predisposition that is possibly involuntary. I absolutely believe that what I define as instinct influences the drives which via for control of my behavior.

3) I believe my instinct has the ability to veto the majority vote of the drives. I believe that I am susceptible to involuntary behavior. I believe that this could happen under circumstances that would reasonably cause others to believe my behavior was voluntary.

Finally, I believe the same thing about you.
Peace. KDF

WORSE THAN MY BITE

WORSE THAN MY BITE
Feb 18, 2006

I've been a broken stone and a stone that broke
I've shattered glass when lips of love has spoke
This journey's taken me to a foreign land
Flew from my problems but my problems swam

And they found me

In the shadow of a Willow tree
I can feel leaves weeping over me
Under this tree my mind is dim, not dark
But my heart's covered in bark

Woke up in the Alegory Cave
Socratic methods that a heart can't save
This journey's taken me from cave to shade
Your God has sharpened me, my mind's a blade

And it cut me

In the shadow of a Willow tree
I can feel leaves bleeding over me
I now know the world is dim, not dark
But my heart's covered in bark

It's worse than my bite

Tuesday, February 14, 2006

RED INK (Feb1, 2006)

Kurt flew past Nirvana
You're a raindrop in a well
At the bottom it don't matter
Bottom can't tell pushed from fell

Teenage spirit tears aren't real
A dead hero will never heal

And when the body runs out of blood
The blood from you it steals
Dear heroes always steal

Many eyes have scanned the words
They wonder how they missed
The vibrant light of suicide
So clouded in the mist

Of acid and of needles
Money & record labels

Jimi, Jim & Janis
They are not simple fables
They are blood on record labels

So try and read the love you find
Quit staring at the graves
Pistols pointing in their mouths
Like pens upon a page

Heroes aren't dead rockstars
A hero is there in need

A shotgun at the page
A page that no one reads
Words are how a poet bleeds

Your hero Kurt laid many seeds
Kurt needed a hero that reads
Because a dead poet always bleeds

That's all teenage spirit needs
Bloody vinyl
The needle reads
"Welcome my son to the machine"
And how it feeds









REEDS IN POND by Kelly Frazier

OUTSIDE MY WINDOW ABSTRACT by Kelly Frazier

MOUNTAIN ON RIVER by Kelly Frazier

MOUNTAIN IN INK by Kelly Frazier

MEADOW POND by Kelly Frazier

HAZELDEN BOG by Kelly Frazier

PASTEL SUNSET by Kelly Frazier

DAY AT THE BEACH by Kelly Frazier

VODKA TEARS by Kelly Frazier

WEEPING WILLOW by Kelly Frazier

ELVIS TOTEM by Kelly Frazier

INTO MY MIND by Kelly Frazier

OUT OF MY MIND by Kelly Frazier

GRATEFUL DEAD ALBUM COVER

YES ALBUM COVER

STEVIE WONDER

JETHRO TULL: TOO OLD TO ROCK & ROLL, TOO YOUNG TO DIE

JIMI HENDRIX IN COLOR

NEIL YOUNG

BLUES FOR ALLAH

Bob Marley

Monday, February 13, 2006

FLUTE FLIRT: COPY

HENDRIX: ELECTRIC LADY LAND COPY

CORNERED PLANT: ORGINAL

ART: STORMWATCH - JETHRO TULL

Saturday, February 11, 2006

INTRO TO ALL FOLLOWING POEMS

Wear your face like suicide
Do you think that passion up and died?
Self indulge the bitter tasting
Appetite and time are wasting
Don’t let them say that your tongue lied

IF YOU FIND YOUR SUICIDE (1/95)

IF YOU FIND YOUR SUICIDE (1/95)

Midnight found the suicide painted on the wall
All the thoughts that once defined the person we recall
I guess it was an epidemic, just a black plague mind
Janitors and paramedics get all that’s left behind

Passion was his millionaire, coping was his broke
Midnight brings its silent stare and tries to pass the yoke
Bow your head in could have said, dance with retrospect
Pay that dime and you will find his body around your neck

And if you find your suicide, you’ll find nothing after all
And if you find your suicide, you’ll find the black behind the wall
If you find your suicide, epidemic scene
I’ll save the pennies for your eyes, but keep the quarantine

Midnight found the dancing dime in the beggar’s cup
Looking down was where he found the strength for looking up
A dime for your suicide, a penny for your thoughts
Until you get down off your cross
I’ll be with the soldiers throwing lots

REIGNING JUNK (10/5/95)

REIGNING JUNK (10/5/95)

Staring down the rain
Incessant as this feeling
I should be so gone now
Amnesty wasted on

Staring down the rain
Drenched inside this being
Not what I am doing, but who I am
Cause’ what I am doing is

Staring down the rain
My eyes closed all the time
Each word beads and drips from your lip
On this floodplain deep inside, I should be

Reigning down the stare
Of this subject junky rule
A coup d’etat with iron claw
Is that rain or Pavlov’s drool

Our eyes connect in a vicious circle
Ring of fire around my fist
I try to rise, my wings are shattered
As I smoke each rock I missed
Do you scour the land like vassals?
A fixture to the land
Evolutions devolution
This monkey used to stand
I had taken Gods to battle
I found a brief reprieve
A slave’s sword slit my vocal cord
And took me to my knees
With this padlock of fire
For keeping in the pain
My iron mask is billowed to a glow
My white-hot eyes stare through the holes, they are

Staring down the rain
I heard the core was cooling
3 miles, this heavy water
Drenched 9 years of schooling

Staring down the rain
I resent this cure
It hurts worse than addiction
And doesn’t seem as pure.

CLEANING PRODUCTS (11/10/95)

CLEANING PRODUCTS (11/10/95)

Is it just a twist of consequence?
A taming of my shrew?
It kneed my crotch that stomach punch thought
The cold of fear still new
As my gut swells up my throat
And froths my words to thick
Is it existential nausea?
Or just that knowledge makes you sick?
And all my plans were foiled
Oh, how it brightened up my day
Of all the cut that I have boiled
It seems that I’m the black I could not cook away
If fear is just paranoia
Then why the different names?
Which hunt is the witch-hunt?
Should I throw my books into the flames?
Cause’ it is all forbidden knowledge
And that is something that I know
Not heads or tails, good or evil, just high then fucking low
Just pleasant under glass
A peasant to that meal
As Karma ricochets past
It seems that time that I was wasting was the time I needed to heal.

DOSE (1993)

DOSE (1993)

And it’s just a dose of suicide to help break up the day
I can’t think of all the things I have tried to make it go away
And I want to scream so hard I cannot
And my mysteries are all tied in a knot
Praying is just begging and mercy is the loser’s game
The voices in my head have no fingers, so I let them use my name

Have you opened up to find or lose the nothingness to give?
Your mind laid out like landmines, the memories you live
And I want to run so fast I am frozen
And my screams are in my throat like poison
I want to cry so hard I cannot
There is a chill in my embrace
And the voices in my head have taken my name
So I just let them use my face.

FATE WASTE

FATE WASTE
(Early 1995)

And I met the flower that did not aspire
To be the bastion of the world’s fire
And when his hue split the sky with awe
The waste of fate was all they saw
Eyes caste on beauty and assign it curse
Which waste of fate repulses worse?

WILL THIS FUN EVER END?

WILL THIS FUN EVER END?
(3/95)

Will this fun ever end?
Will your patience ever mend?
The whole thing is just another hole
It is loneliness I miss
And time refuses to befriend
A handshake and we’re dragged from now to then

One more never equals one
When you are waiting for the fun
Picture frame the life that still
Just waiting for the bliss
Home is just one more night away
Though it came and went with dawn each day

Hate is the sleep that is in my eyes
Is it me that I despise?
Or is it my reflection in your eyes?
Loneliness will then befriend
That is, if this fun will ever end

LIFE

LIFE
1987?

Vipers shine like iodine
On scars reopened as time reminds
Gash
Lies

Lies devour a sickened mind
Slasher flaunts the streets of time
Mine
Ruler

Ruler suffocate yields his blade
Blanket smiles like tightened gags
Tunicate
Defend

Defend clenched as white knuckles grip
Handless laws tighten their grip
Senseless
Gauntlet

Gauntlet rises with each day
Collapses on the city at night
Life
Life

BEGIN AGAIN

BEGIN AGAIN
1991?

Begin again
Devour the sour mask of yesterday
Sorrow visions
Memories heaping
Songs sung by some ancient stranger
Old black man, tell me about your pain

Begin again
Intrepid youth fondling the soft
Child learning fire and finger
Baptism teaches first pain
Eden gone
As love

Begin
Again to rebuild façade
Call me island
Hold up temples
Yes, façade
As love

Again
Begin to pretend
New the mongrels of regret
Dead and buried
Nip at the heels
As love
Again
I begin

NOT MINE

NOT MINE
(1993)

Smiles dare the sunset
Jesus Christ they are not mine
Trials take the weary
The rest are consumed by time
Shadows fall from the structures
And kill a by-stander or two

TRINITY

TRINITY
1989?

Don’t you know?
You’re the sideshow
You’re the one who has never been home
Child I have sewn and yet never known

Don’t you see?
You’re infinity
Through your eyes forever will be
Life, death and you are pure trinity

And it is easy to play the fool
To talk of patience to those who die by the rule
Intoxication compels the flame
Consumed by the screen and a man with no name

Don’t you try?
Those days you die
Those holes in your eyes you cannot deny
Where you see what’s not there through the fears you disguise
Those god’s on a screen that a shattered world buys

THE FRUIT

THE FRUIT
10/29/95

All sides constructed collapse to collide and explode to reveal the fragile womb of our temple
For they are all sides
And they are all constructed
And the temple defends and threatens to publish our fears in the compost of shit
The assumed congregation
For they are all shit
And they all worship
And this is the city soon to be state
And this is the state that can not be forgotten
This is the fruit we have plucked from the tree
Come taste the worms
For the core has gone rotten

SYMPTOMS

SYMPTOMS
1992?

Outside, inside, draw the lines
Illusions that our hate defines
Commercials feed our TV minds
Symptoms of a sickened time

Us and them, we stand apart
Incantations, souls depart
They use evil like an art
Symptoms of a sickened heart

You and I, we pace the day
Upon machines and ebb decay
Screened ideals we portray
Symptoms of our mass dismay

Remedies to put your mind at ease
They find a cure, then invent the disease

Love and sex and jesters fools
Everybody stands as tools
The camera on the victim drools
I want the one who holds the jewels

White whale to have not and have
Don’t call me Ishmael, call me Ahab

LOST IN THE STARS

LOST IN THE STARS
1984?

I closed my eyes in some soft scene
And dreamed my world was so serene
And in the light of this great scene
I felt I could have faith in dreams
But things are not quite what they seem

I saw a lover in another glance
And held my soul up in daring chance
And shot a look, our eyes did not meet
Sometime love is so discreet
But things are not quite what they seem

And when the sun shot through the clouds
And shed some light upon the shroud
The peasants fell down on their knees
Awaiting answers to their pleas
But things are not quite what they seem

So I took flight to find the man
And the direction, or even plan
But got lost in the stars quaint distant heat
Sometimes stars are all you meet
But things are not quite what they seem
Sometimes all you do is dream
Sometimes create our own love
Or beg for answers from above
But on the quest to the great debate
We all get lost in the stars

DIEM CARPING

DIEM CARPING
9/29/95

It’s the reason that I know
It’s not the reason that I’m asking
As the amber’s dimming glows
It’s a symbiotic masking
As a fire in the night
That warms your face, your back still freezing
Fear don’t fuel my flight
It’s the days that I’m not seizing

And as you stand there bleeding – carpe diem
As you planned your needing - carpe diem
It stills my brain like a hurricane
My fires gain like falling rain
Or were those tears you cry?
Carpe diem
Goodbye

It’s the reason I can’t grow
Can’t till a concrete garden
Serving on life row
I am the killer you can’t pardon
Sharing past befores
Life is a discovery
But there is nothing left to store
If it’s all spent on recovery

And when you left, your face on fire - carpe diem
Your tears do not make me a liar - carpe diem
It cures my pride like suicide
It fills my soul like another hole
Or was that a stone?
Carpe diem
Alone

REFLECTIONS

REFLECTIONS
5/94

By the time I had awakened from the Promised Land
The words were fighting freedom from my hand
And my answer was lie beneath the see
And I was fighting to escape from me

As the shadows gathered to construct the night
The feather dropped, the day took flight
And the sun was swallowed by the cloak
I’m afraid my laugh was part of the joke

Each sunrise fell farther from grace
As I tried to match my pace
Then night concealed the pain
And it circled around again

As the ceremony started to sour
The hand on the clock devoured another hour
Meth was the answer, Eden’s core gone rotten
And knowledge once tasted could not be forgotten

I looked for a mirror and thought it was shattered
I danced on the glass, the song never mattered
The gashes on my soul had avoided detection
Because the mirror wasn’t broken, it was my reflection

FATES ALLOWED

FATES ALLOWED
10/91

There’s a dance that sits in silence
Brows lean across her face
And a look that does her violence
As she dreams a better place
A night surrounding shadows
A lawn that’s drenched in dew
As the pane that holds the window
So the pain that’s holding you

And do you take this too?

There’s a beer hall haze and tattered stool
Teetering in gin
He sits there glass reflecting
Slurs “fill it up again”
And it isn’t for the company
There is silence in a crowd
And it’s not a case of destiny
Just a fate that he allowed

And do you take this too?

MORNING

MORNING
?

My passions fade into the sky
Like the sunshine melts into the night
Stars may serve to penetrate
Fears the dark may generate
But everything casts shadows
My breath stands hollow
My word freeze and fall to earth
Your eyes
Your words follow me
They penetrate my sleep
I wish you would leave me
Or love me
Walls scream out silent in your silence
Vent my projections
Please tell me it was all a dream
Rub the sleep from my eyes
And wish me a brand new morning

RULES WITHOUT A FACE

RULES WITHOUT A FACE
5/94

I was waiting for the silence and the coming of the breeze
When a waiting world of violence came and took me to my knees
And it wasn’t for the dreaming, I have lost the point of view
But if it’s out there waiting, I hope it’s waiting for you too

You saw flowers in the clouds, but I saw only screams
It was doubt that made the bushes sway and whistled through the screens
As the sun burnt down like anger and cursed our mother’s face
Though I cannot see the tears she cries, I swear that I can taste

And I’ll be moving to the sun
Our shadows cast like sundials
Is time all that I’ve done?
I’ll be moving to the sun
Our soldiers fall like empty beers
Another liar won?

There were passions like a cascade and I could not dodge the rain
Foundations made of clay as we hit our knees again
When there are lines, you stand in order
You learn to take your place
Yes, you can always find the rules
But you can never find the face

CONFESSION

CONFESSION
5/94

When I found my fantasy was merely form
I tried to grab the corpse while it was warm
But the light of time betrayed the cradles joke
Faith is porn’s reality that makes you stroke
Is it lies or repeating what you’ve been told?
Faith replacing dreams, the discarded and the old
Each week reveals the victim who kneels behind the screen
Which side of confession strikes you more obscene?

FERTILE SOIL

FERTILE SOIL
6/16/94

Color me a dream fell through
The fall the only thing that’s true
Easy is not the power’s vein
As given is no counted gain
Tomorrow’s grave don’t stake a claim
If pain invested serves no aim
Unless the death sustains the birth
Sacrifice has no self worth

And in the end there are only bones, only worms, that is not the true consequence
If in the sun the flesh corrodes, slowly burns, the light of truth must reprehend

Label me for misery, because the apple is not my only fruit
Knowledge harbors ports that free, THAT garden is where bones may root
The tasted pain is power’s sweet, bones should not be wasted on the dirt
All one is part of dichotomy; all of pleasure is part of hurt

And if, in the end, there are but holes to fill, the garden has left an empty toil
And if there are no tears left to wet the till, it will harden instead of leaving fertile soil

AIR

AIR
1/12/94

Time is air in a tube
A fly in a jar
Aching lungs pull
They say “lie still”
Conserve your air
What is worse?
The finiteness of air
Or that we are to lie on our back;
Dormant in anticipation of finiteness?

RACE OF TIME

RACE OF TIME
1/94

If your shadows brutalize
And if the light reveals a lie
When your time begins to fly
How will you disguise your face?
How can we anchor our pace?

Time don’t pray for sympathy
Sure as hell don’t pray for me
I am just a God you see
I’m the one who defined sin
The bible I bury my nose in
Oh no, here we go again

Who will be blind and who will lead?
Who will come from virgin seed?
Would billions follow because I bleed?
Do you kneel because you must die?
Not every answer yields a why
But every question sure has a lie

1/24/94

1/24/94

If I had to borrow
Why would I buy loneliness?
Or save for tomorrow
Today’s last dying breath?
The point of contention
Is not in reality
It is in how you see
And if you say
That you see
The reality
That I see
Then I
Deny
Reality

WE

WE
1/94
I
Keep a shade over my eyes
Then my soul takes off and flies
Distance from a child’s cries
All the things that I despise

You
Use forget just like a lid
Keeping all your failures hid
Like a box of never did
But you cannot hide your kid

He
Takes a gun to clean the street
Where our failures always meet
Tears won’t change the bloody sheets
When your prayers cannot compete

11/94

11/94

My eyes are brighter
Your stare like warm holes for a vagabond
I’m a siren in the night
The taste of screaming fills my mouth
My tongue was wringing out a melody
Begging to take flight

WON’T SEE

WON’T SEE
11/10/94

Take a look behind my eyes and you’ll see, you’ll see what you want to see
But you won’t see me
All the weight that’s on my back ain’t sin, it’s the weight of could have been
It’s the weight of friends
The world behind my eyes ain’t soul, that world is a hole
The world behind your eyes is for you, you painter of the hue
Don’t imbue

I want to feel alone

I only wanted the time to waste, help undo the taste of yesterdays in haste
You looked and told me what was wrong, not what I have done, and I’ve done
My fingers never pointed at you, they only drew. You missed the clue.
Tomorrow we cannot deny
Don’t remember me and cry
Remember me and fly

I want to feel alone

BALANCE DEW

BALANCE DEW
4/2/95

Leaving, taste tears on your face
Are the sorrows cured and caused in balance?
Or is there a deficit of promises?

Cloudless, sun faded all the same
Colors gone except some expected dawn in favor
Is there merely tomorrow?

Better days and changing ways, the balance due
We spend tomorrows mortgaged long ago
Tearful whys and long good-byes – they challenge you
Are there patient skies to let this garden grow?

Sorrows fall like sheets of rain
Umbrella holes, you’re nursing dawn for drying
Just as the morning lawn glistens
Is it wet with your crying?
Or is it just balance dew?

CRUISE YOUR FIX

CRUISE YOUR FIX
9/19/95

Violent like my eyes inside
Poison pursed the masquerade, descended down like curtains
My eyes my own mascara made, black eye bruises that’s for certain
In this big tent life you carnival, the clowns wear all the crowns
And the tight rope round my neck went taut when the trap ease let me down
In the three ring taming lions, I forgot to bring my whip
The next thing I remember was the fangs between their lips
And everything I thought I knew became everything I nose
And the aroma, sweet, ripped through my veins when the thorns outgrew the rose
And it was violent like my eyes inside

My doubt become my promise, I convinced the crucifix
Needing help with the last spike, still shaking from the fix
My Tom, in doubt, ripped me inside out, my fist through my sides gaping
I realized this bleeding was my only hope for escaping
And it was violent
Like my eyes
Inside

BOY SCOUT FOR A DAY

BOY SCOUT FOR A DAY
12/23/95
ODE TO J.A.

And the flood subdues the consequence
The thunderclap like sour applause
Leaves me waiting
With no raindrop denied
No puddle missed my foot
Finds me wetter than the water
Colder than the weather
And I’ll afford dry rats their leave of my ship
Boy Scout fucks their sodomy
For all knowledge is the same
And forgetting doesn’t make you new
Nor laughter
And what you think makes you less a man
Makes you more a person

DICHOTOMY

DICHOTOMY
3/21/96

There is nobody to like
No frame to represent
Like some pack on my back museum
These seeds, like we can plant what we meant
Which cup from the dike waters how we see them?
The sting of dichotomy

And I’ll paint for the face that I see you
Not be you
Like no one I know
And I epic the pace that I show you
You know too
Your heart pumps the vein that I flow
No one remembers like I look
No place for you to stand
But our words share a valley to echo
Even if it’s TV food canned
The years regret took
Like rape afterglow
The sting of dichotomy?
The dichotomy of sting?
Knowledge is not a knowable thing

MEET NIRVANA

MEET NIRVANA
1/93?

Martyrs hang like suicide pioneers
Vested and bestowed decades of blind remorse
Friends, behind the blinds
Shut doors
I am afraid to answer the phone
Nobody “reads” pain anymore
Healing hands are in the pocket
I am waiting for that moment of silence
Though I could never be lonely
They are not my voices
My head
Yet they follow me like a tail

I feel like a drive through
The world is a mosquito
Call me vein
Call me vane
Are you full yet?

Did he answer the phone?
Did the voices leave a message?
I am behind the blind
The phone is ringing and I’m busy reading
My hands are tied
No silence
I could be lonely
If I could lose my head
Cut off my tail
Or answer the phone
Martyrs hang like suicide pioneers
Vested and bestowed decades of blind remorse

WAITING FOR THE SILENCE

WAITING FOR THE SILENCE
5/94

I was waiting for the silence and the coming of the breeze
When a waiting world of violence came and took me to my knees
And it isn’t for the dreaming, that is something I can’t do
But if it’s out there waiting, I hope it’s waiting there for you
There are flowers in the clouds you say
But I see only screams
and doubts that made the bushes sway and whistle through the screens
As the sun burnt down like anger
scorch our mother’s face
Though I cannot see the tears she cries
I swear that I can taste

FIRST NIRVANA

FIRST NIRVANA
6/25/94

Passions like a cascade of my memories
Flights and burrows resound within the mind
And memories so disjunctive and distorted
What are the casualties that bind?
Faces fade and touches trade for fantasies
Distances exponentially inflate
And find a friend, like rubies in a minefield
What are the fuels that help domesticate?

Silhouettes dissolve and stir the night
Shadows hang like suicide pioneers
Martyrs pile like token souvenirs
Paperweight that keeps the soul from flight
Feet bleed, yet no Mecca destination
The blisters, like our brethren, so sincere
Boils the blood or soothes their indignation
For the rest, bleeding becomes a career

Foul fly and wing above the shingles
Roofs confine an aviated soul
Destiny is not that the king singles out
Those who are the fire
And those who are the coal

NIHILIZED

NIHILIZED
2/96

To sanctify the mind’s addiction
To patronize the aching of my time
I Don’t believe in predetermination
But somehow this fate feels like mine
It’s an ending of my tongue
Just a clip the wings of young
Now you are one of us

Monkeys grip the camels back
And the final straw is cast
Nihilize all of us
And when you find the spine, dilute the strong
Just another casualty to drag, drag along
The guts hits grenade
Salute another hero made
One dies saving five
Who most deserves to be alive?

To dilute the cells distinction
As we question our extinction
Martyrs polished by a god
That always pushes law and order
and wants the land across the border
Their sons soon will fertilize the sod

To sanctify our kinds addiction
Is to sanctify the killing of our kind
One race? Why not one nation?
But somehow the remedy remains so sublime
Or is it a taking of the tongue
Clip the wings of young?

Now you are one of us.

NESTING

NESTING
6/5/99

And if my soul falls into disfashion
Well then I will wear it there
Because you will never find me naked
I find this dirt my only skin
And when I lose that garment
No flesh defends
And guts see the light of day
Like shoveled anthills
As workers scurry larvae
To some deep within the nest
That promises sugar and shield
And a queen to make it worth it
To die for
Like the moments I avoid
Handshakes emptied
Eye contact disconnected
As they all imply the sun
Magnifier on the anthill
You bring your light to see and burn me
And I won’t answer your call
I will carry eggs to darkness
To save my nest
From the light of day

POTENTIAL

POTENTIAL
3/3/98

What to want?
How to define?
Now I find I’m walking on that line
Questions haunt
They walk my mind
To seek the thing that is not yet defined
The sculptor does not chip without a vision
Yet I find I’m chipping at my time
I will not choose a form from television
The problem is I hate the one that’s mine

Not to seek?
Just change your eyes
Don’t believe a good consumer buys
Be what you speak
That is the prize
Every one who wants your dollar lies
It’s a choice that goes without debating
The only choice you need to make is you
There is no profit in all of this self hating
It wastes the value you have to make things new

Your potential, the only value due

WEATHER

WEATHER
11/4/98

And watch it come together
Like the what I used to have
And isn’t life like weather
And sometimes it is bad
The weather man’s prediction
Pretending prayers are like a map
There’s no one there for condemnation
When our picnic turns a crap

Don’t count on good weather
Don’t subtract the falling rain
Clouds protect you never
Unless the sunlight brings you pain

And watch the sun leather
That is when you take for granted
A friendship’s shelter from the weather
Endurance can not be planted
Innocence is not protection
When it keeps you from the real
To protect is not affection
If we become to weak to feel

Welcome in the falling rain
Pain makes you strong enough not to fear feeling again

BEER COMMERCIAL

BEER COMMERCIAL
4/19/01

She comes to my lips
Wet
Narcotic
Soft
And pours into me
And quenches
So cool
And I see her when I turn on my TV
How she calls me out
With images of beauty
Of things that I will never have
Yet she touches me
And makes that hurt less
She makes me want her in my home
My heart to pump her in my veins
After she comes to my lips
Wet
Narcotic
Soft
She has poured into me
And made me better
Just like she promised
Made me cool
I’m good enough to be on TV

POISON ARROW

POISON ARROW
5/1/99

I’m so tired of this poison on my arrow
And what I aim for
And all the game that is left behind
All the things I could have tried
To rescue
To bring these memories back to life
As casualties just lay there
Convulse in rancid recollection
And I feel afraid to change them
As they confirm my sacrifice
Confirm my aim
With poison arrows
As I give up the one in hand
For the two in the bush
My heart the only button pushed
Written off
As a non-profit organization
As a charity
And that charity
Sponsors my aim
And that is the poison
On my arrow

6/3/99

6/3/99

Dark sits comfort soft
So shadows what I’m hating
And it softens the lenses mirror
Smoothes the edges of debating
Making choices clear
By leaving just a spotlight
All else disappears
Regardless wrong or right
And this confusion comfort cradles
But it doesn’t cure a thing
Cause the morning shine of sunlight
Puts me back in the 3 ring

BUG TAKES A SHIT

BUG TAKES A SHIT
6/3/99

As I struggle in the water
Swirling blue tornado takes me down
Pulls me under
And it makes me wonder
Maybe I didn’t have a big enough ass to try to shit in this toilet

WIDOW

WIDOW
10/14/98

To make a widow of the day
I feel my colors fade
To be a figure in a crowd
You never wear anything loud
I feel my edges start to round
What was sharp ain’t so profound
To make a widow of the day
I can’t explain
I went away

I know to go from here
But here I stay

To make a martyr of your loss
So you accentuate the cost
To be a figure in the game
But only let them use your name
You know to bend and not to break
And flex to get the shit you take
To make a martyr of the loss
I can’t explain
I’m not the boss

I know to go from here
But here I stay

NAUSEA

NAUSEA
11/30/98

It’s clear, I have to put it in me
It’s clear I have to clear my mind
It’s clear my mind is getting empty
I fear these fact define my time

I want to walk away from the alter
I want to change the sacred need to be
I want to think it’s not my fault
I want to believe in me
Goddamn the nothingness that set me free

I drink, the banquet sits before me
I drink for the banquets left behind
I drink, my mind is getting empty
Swallow dreams you’ll never find

I want to talk my way out of empty
I have to redefine the need to be
I want my logic exempt
From having to prove what’s me
Nausea
The pain that sets you free

DIE ALONE

DIE ALONE
?

“Love” commutes the distance like a spiraling arcade
Eyes compete for vision once the fare is paid
And patrons toss theirs souls like pennies in a well
They confuse forever with a ride on the carrel

Lovers pawn their wares like a hooker on the beat
Try and fill a hole with a portioning of meat
Try to break the wall with a thrusting of a rod
Try and stay in line with quick howdy to God
And then he takes your life

Don’t confuse yourself with what you do to survive
Don’t define yourself through someone else’s eyes
Sunday comes, you end up on your knees
So six other days you can do what you please

Lovers hit the streets, they want their lover predefined
Pretend every penny is a dollar that they find
But they can’t afford a ticket together, so it seems
They part and then they’re on their own
Die alone

BELLS RING IN THE CHAPEL FOR 2000 YEARS

BELLS RING IN THE CHAPEL FOR 2000 YEARS
AND YET THE SAVIOR HAS NOT ARRIVED
THE CLERGY STILL STAND POISED ON THE EDGE OF NOTHINGNESS
WAITING FOR THE SKY TO FALL AND FILL THE ABYSS
AND DO YOU SPEND YOUR LIFE?

BLEEDING FOR THE MONKEY

BLEEDING FOR THE MONKEY
1/96

The crucifix may toss you for an anchor
You’ll bear the cross but can you bear the pain?
The mother tongue that lies will always cancer
But it sings so sweet when it hits the vein

Three ring all your fears for their amusement
You always thorn the crown that makes you king
What isn’t wrong when you abuse it?
Who hasn’t found a tit from which to cling?

That’s why I’m bleeding for the monkey that I made

Parasites will always try and drain you
I think there just might be another drop
Abusers always find a way to blame you
Humanity is just another crop

That’s why I’m bleeding for the monkey that I made

YOU DISSOLVE

YOU DISSOLVE
8/91

The hours sit upon my face
My nights are spent in dark disgrace
I wish my misery was laced
was laced
Someday it will be through

You always seem to want too much
And then you stay to far to touch
I keep this whiskey in my clutch
My clutch
My dying day is due

My eyes caress, but my hands they strike
My heart is closed now like a dike
My dreams dissolve into the night
The night
And it seems that so did you

FOODCHAIN

FOODCHAIN
7/91

Thrust my soul, how I’ve been trying
To spread my wings and get to flying
The peacock is brightly feather
My soul is hard and leathered
Is there anything left behind my eyes?

Trust my goal and fight it’s dying
Cover your wounds with iodine
Ain’t no need to hide their showing
It might accelerate their going
You aren’t immune, you can feel

Winners and losers
Cast their dice and change against the wall
Wishers and doers
Fight for meat and winner will take all
I won’t fall to my knees
Hungry is the way I want it
Die and the food chain agrees
Or live like a soldier undaunted

DUST

DUST
Mid 1990

A shining to the stranger
Look my way
Black eyes
Motion
The world set in motion
We stand fixated by the gnawing grasp of reason
I used to take the time for laughter
I used to laugh at time
Death haunts us
Inhale the veil of tears
The dust in our teeth
From which we came
To which we return

MONARCH

MONARCH
mid 1990

Life as art
At the helm of the eruption
The vast network of gridlock seizes and…
concrete

A vision flower dances with sunshine
Meadows wave in rolling panoramas
Even here the wire barbed hacks up the affirmation
Life for the sake of life?
Beauty is life by this very state
The aura about the meadow can only be mimicked
The eye can capture
Like a monarch in a bottle, our lives
Beauty is only reflected
Never lived?
To become the meadow or how you see the meadow?
The monarch in a bottle, our lives

To be for the sake of being
Against the razor of intent
Hack
Saw
Separate
Conquer

Not so
Free me not so

STAND

STAND
1989


Stand
Dissect with vision discreet, calm and cool
Vision beauty stands as faith
Does not stand as silhouette
It is definite
Shadows from a thousand judging eyes suggest my wonder
My gaping jaw
To embrace cold marble pillars?
Words as granite?
Chiseled in space and time?
Stand
The embrace of Odysseus
His elusive lover
My myth
Where I make my final stand

PAYTOLL PERIMETER

PAYTOLL PERIMETER
1989?

Sitting here at the bus stop deserted
Looking for the fare to no lonesome highway
What I wouldn’t give for no dreary destination
People waiting, wave, smiles, maybe a banner or two

Sitting here at the bus stop an island
Not a glance to the sharing waiters
Anytime I’d wait for some Mayflower take me away journey
Wind swelled sails, my coin is in hand

Sitting here at the bus stop waiting
Anything I would give for one free ride
Nothing is free anymore, not even freedom
Out here on the perimeters of pay toll

Sitting here at the bus stop thinking
I should really get myself a car
Some liberator mid 60’s model
With a smile at the steering wheel
A knowing wink from the headlight

Sitting here in the bus
Coin in the slot secured
Wishing I had grabbed a transfer
Wishing I was more than along for the ride

OUR MOTHER SCIENCE

OUR MOTHER SCIENCE
8/1989?

I want to shine my world divine
I want to walk the steps of time
I want to smile so all alone
Reflections of the truth I’ve known

I want to glimpse inside your shoes
See your beauty hues
And know your desert land
Caress your puzzles fair white hand

I want to know
I want to know

Glances touch while viewing different spheres
They glance until death
Then baptize with their tears
Incantations for better clues
To live the invocation of the muse

Soft white sand between our toes
Violent walls crash to the rhythm of the moon
Sharp red corals worn smooth by first spheres’ persistence

The first sphere, the moon, was once reflective of the uncertainty of our destinies. The ever changing twist of fate could not be grasped within the whims of her rotation. Yet her indelible rhythm moves the earth in her undercurrents. It wears thin the beaches that prevent Odysseus’ landing. Soft shores owe their serene to her fluctuant presence.

Now the beaches that once embraced our elder sailors boils our blood and makes werewolves out of us. We aim our sites on the outer spheres, dizzied by the spinning orb so close we cannot gain perspective. We swoon and fall by her sweet chorus. We seek escape from the uncertainty. Culture has become near sited. Our focus is on the cold distant Pluto. We look to the fixed stars. Our eyes cross when we look too closely at the rings on our fingers. We remember we have two eyes. The rings can only be viewed from a distance. When we look too closely our eyes double and we begin to see the world through two distinct visions. But we can only assimilate one. Thus we either pull our hands away to alleviate the dichotomy or merely poke out the eye that creates the affliction.

Now outside of this dizzying rotation we gain “perspective” on our destinies. To swear upon the moon is to swear upon the uncertainty of our future. Thus the betrayal of Criseyde. Now we demand the stance of the fixed stars. Cold distant suns demand our obedience. The distance allows our eyes to meet in the cold vacuum of space – beyond the grasp of Mars or even Venus. Even yet, though, as children we tend to cross our eyes. Our mother, the scientist, glances rather concernedly and says “don’t dare do that, your eyes will get stuck that way.” Lest we look silly, lest she be required to poke out our eye; Lest she lose her job.

EMBRACE

EMBRACE
10/89

Walk the street alone at night
It’s never been this dark before
The stars are shining over me
But I don’t know what for
Trees embrace the streetlight shine
Upon a concrete bed
My arms are left empty by my side
An aching in my head

On the street avenues meet
And make a brand new friend
On the horizon day meets night
Then day comes to an end
City meets the sinner
Gutters swallow rain
And I meet the darkness
As I walk the streets again

INSIDE

INSIDE
11/89

On the horizon
The sun takes a glance
To shine on the meadow
And make the dew dance
Vision horizons
Dance in my mind
Like the coming of morning
The passing of time

Outside the moonbeams
Erected as pillars
Stand as a phallus
Badge to the killers
Inside these four walls
Keep out the sky
Channel our visions
Lives to deny

Live again
Live again

EARTH

EARTH
12/89

Avenues
Departures
I have miles in my memory
Travels
Gray shades hang the distance
Hover over delicate mounds
Green earth
Black dirt

Flight
A coasting soars over
Eruptions
Slow boil
The horizon yawns
Yearns
To touch the sky

I am like the earth

THE M SHOP

THE M SHOP
12/5/89

The world pulls me away from myself. I look across an arching line of empty tables and stools. The dripping from the ceiling creates two separate reflective pools. They serve as mirrors. In my mind it creates the illusion that the tables are arched to the right and distorted. It matters but it doesn’t make a difference. How is this so?

I locate a third drip though the lighting doesn’t permit me to see the pool. Only a solitary blink of light as the drip passes through the air. I don’t know where it comes from and I don’t know where it is going. It matters but it doesn’t make a difference. I wonder why. I try not to look too close to find the endpoints of this seemingly divine drip. No beginning. No end. I don’t want my illusion of it shattered.

Something about all this makes me feel uprooted. I hear people talking and I am afraid it is directed at me. The music muffles the voices, which makes their intent seem all the more pointed. I feel as if anything could be everything yet I am pulled along by a series of anxieties and eruptions that feed my enthusiasm. Enthusiasm for what? I wish I were that drip. I could be.

I must leave myself occasionally and dabble with experience. When I return I find I’ve changed, but I was gone when the change occurred. Up the street from me a huge building was torn down. I was out of town. When I returned and turned the corner I could tell something had changed. Either I could see more or I could see less. I couldn’t tell at first. Then I noticed a large skeleton of what was once a foundation. It was large enough to be noticed, yet I cannot remember what was there; the way things used to be. I passed that intersection several times a day yet I cannot remember what was there. I have probably spent hours waiting at the light beside it and I still don’t know what was there. Something large. It matters, but it doesn’t make a difference.

This is how I feel when I return to myself. Something has changed in the landscape of my mind. The question is whether edifices are being constructed or demolished. I expect it is a little of both. The new materials come from my dabblings in experience. Where does the old material go?

ENTROPY: FIRST LAW OF THERMODYNAMICS

ENTROPY: FIRST LAW OF THERMODYNAMICS
1/90

Colors fade like aging skin. Intrepid Vikings plunder isolate villages as green invasions mask the decay disguised. I often wonder about the intrusions of progress and the slow flow of inevitability. The progress of nature is slandered as entropy, the thing which causes decline. We bastardize this perception of change. The corruption of order by “disorder”. Mothers shield there sons and daughters from the manifestations of these demons. You’re grounded.

We poison our lawns and shelter our shelter from the invasions of this disorder. Dark nights hide not only the myriad of worms that sustain us, but our true dependence on its inevitability. Such insights make me question the evaluations of so called “social evolution” as compared to the dreaded evolution that succumbing to this demonized aspect of nature. Is it not enticing to consider that we define the process of nature as disorder? Rape in the temple to anoint the self proclaimed demi-gods. Such contexts inevitably promote the alienation from our very nature, so hideously aborted, abandoned and necessary. Beauty beats at the door and beckons the newborn pharaoh to acknowledge her and embrace her rebirth. Such is the case with or without the electric sultans of our culture today. Such is the case with or without the flock of humanity fluttering about this new flame of progress. Such is the case because all nature is possessed by this demon entropy and her ugly children.

WOMAN DRINKING COFFEE

WOMAN DRINKING COFFEE
2/90

She twirls her coffee suspiciously
Smoke does aerobics over her head
A red lipstick mark smiles from the rim of her cup
It was if that cup stole that smile from her face
Her eyebrows collapse in a rigid gaze
She balances her skull lazily in the palm of her hand
The table swaggers lightly under her elbow
Could she get that smile back?
Maybe if she kissed that cup just right
Wrap her hands around its warm contour
Raise it deliberately to her mouth as the fluid pauses, dances on the rim
Enters her
Her cheeks tighten as she wisps away the shimmering steam
If she would just smile
Her eyebrows now hover, tentatively, teasingly, yet her face betrays no confidences
Maybe she is just thinking
Reminded of that forfeited smile
Left on the lip of some blues shop coffee mug
and washed down the drain in a swirl of warm, soapy water

FINGER FOOD

FINGER FOOD
2/90

King of all that I survey
There ain’t no recipe
This highway gives your eyes a glaze
There ain’t no guarantees
In the mall the soldiers dance
Children cry upon the laps
Beggars try and take a chance
To get their bread for free

Highways, bi-ways, heart implants
We cling delicately
To time we’re wed, there is no dead
Only a vacancy
In the schools the rules combine
The children learn to stand in line
Until you find that they were lying
Unless you never look to see

Lies in between the pews
Truth is out in the street
In the book they paw for truths
And live so incomplete
Children cry to get outside
Stand in line and open wide
“Body of some guy that died”
But what’s there to compete?

Is there nothing else to eat?

KELLY ON DECONSTRUCTION

KELLY ON DECONSTRUCTION
6/91

We speak and assume that there is an “otherness” in our utterances. I speak of a wall and somehow this word becomes a temple in which all that serves as “wall-ness” is entombed. What is the magical character of language such that it can ossify a concept and carry it in the bones of its frame? How far can we take this concept? Words are signs and that “otherness” is what is supposed to be signified by that sign. But what I understand as signified can only be expressed in a sign, a word. What we approach through language is an endless deferment of sign to signified, which must be express as a sign which is supposed to exist as a signified, ad infinitum. How do we “get to” what these words are supposed to be symbols of outside of this infinity of reiterations? Are words “of” other things or are they positioned in a system of signs and signifiers that create an air of “conceptual-ness”, which is dependent on our minds ability to juxtapose a series of signifiers to reflect “meaning”?

Language is to Eve as meaning is to Adam. Deconstruction is then the apple of my eye.

HALT

HALT
6/91

Fire on the distance
Drums begin to sound
Eloquent the essence
When all the wheels are ground
To a halt

Growing on the mountain
Vines begin to reach
Everything we’re wanting
When it all comes to a screeching
Halt

Chariots and Cadillacs
Wings or on our feet
Covered wagons, flying dragons
To save us from the streets
Pills roll down the avenue
To alleviate decay
Get a brand new pair of shoes
And look for babies in the hay

Taking to the highway
Hitchers bear their thumbs
I think that I’ll take my way
As all your progress comes
To a halt

THE SUN WILL RISE

THE SUN WILL RISE
MID 91

Laying at night with a weight on my mind and a darkness in my eye
I may never change my life but I will give it a damn good try
Lonely is lonely, there ain’t no balcony to lullaby my love
But songs so sweet and a wink of the eye isn’t what I’m thinking of

So let the clouds take away the stars
The night don’t get no darker
Another victim flat on the highway
Just another mile marker

Spend my time here on the line to occupy the day
Spend my time here just denying I’m a boneless soul filet
Viscous wishes, Damn ambitious, time dilutes the pain
Flowers die, but the sun will rise and light the sky again

IF THE PROMISE ISN’T KEPT?

IF THE PROMISE ISN’T KEPT?
Mid 91

The taste of invention, the spice of the mind
Wild invitation, the well spring of time
The fire of delusion, the grip of the sleuth
Take me to the pontiff in the prime of my youth

Loosen my vice, the grip of decay
Or torture my soul with a life to portray
Conquer my visions with lies to embrace
Take me to the river and baptize my face

Come on sweet sunshine
Come on sweet day
Venture a life to discover the way
I can promise you freedom
But you’re too dumb to listen
From your knees it’s hard to see the horizon you’re missing

To taste the invention, the love of our kind
Increase indignation to the hate we unwind
I can fly to my daydreams, cry at my loss
But I won’t trade my Sunday to buy back the cost

Time passes on, so your lies just delay
As you squander the fortune of birth on the way
What do you have with the time you have left?
What do you have if the promise isn’t kept?

IF YOU WERE MINE

IF YOU WERE MINE
mid 91

Shattered seconds on the wire
Baby we couldn’t get much higher
Sultry shapes in shadows low
There is something you don’t know

I am not the open book
Don’t have my life spilled on the floor
Don’t take the time to look
Cause you won’t want to see me anymore

Battered vagrants on my lawn
Waiting for some favored dawn
I don’t have two smiles to give
You don’t understand how I live

Flattered egos on parade
Victims of the mass charade
Paltry passions pass the time
This is what might have been
If you were mine

IN OUR TIME OF WANTING

IN OUR TIME OF WANTING
mid to late 91

What’s for certain?
Only endings. That is if you hold it dear
I don’t know
Where we’re going, or why the hell would I be here
I went walking
In my old eyes, the world was firm beneath my feet
Everyone is talking
Who is lying and who is lying real discreet?

Shadows rising
Feel them haunting. Hungry hands with no embrace
Who can give you
What you’re wanting? Is there such a time and place
Midnight’s coming
Ain’t no stalling. Can your eyes embrace the black?
In my night time
No one calling. And darkness just cannot hug back

In our time of wanting
Fading is the vague parade
Time cascades like rain undaunting
I sat there in the rain and stayed

Moments ending
Hear them dying? Tocks devour the lives of fools
No befriending
All the crying, the clock hand swirls ‘round like stools
Hands are moving
By the hours, shuffling through the book of sins
Prayers are hiding
Hidden powers, you should let them live again

In our time of wanting

SWALLOW

SWALLOW
1/88

To come to terms, that limelight sours
The lines confirm the pass of hours
The weeds that grow strangle the flowers
Evil eye with evil powers

Hey there strange, what was so friendly?
The time for change, the past so deadly
It’s time for what, and what may end me
In the box, a bouquet send me

And then that eye, omniscient viewing
That never die and never doing
I know what’s right but trouble’s brewing
Because of all the lies their spewing

To come to terms
To come to wallow
To come to pray
To fill the hollow
To come to beg
To come to follow
All the shit we’ve come to swallow

LOVE’S HUES

LOVE’S HUES
1/88

Hey you beauty sunset
You up there lovely
You up above me
You say “do you love me?”
How can I refuse?

May you catch the sunbeam
Like you caught my new dream
You stand there
You don’t know I care
But I have news

Your eyes just like a laser
You glisten like a razor
You cut right through
This me to you
There I stand, lighted fuse

That sweet reflection
Feels like infection
Why can I never touch you?
You’re not reaching too
You dissolve into loves hues

EPITHET

EPITHET
2/88

Stand here on some mountain
View beyond said stance
Dream of that youthful fountain
Back when we used to dance
And when we could be lovers
And when I could be loved
You used to hold my hand
But now my hand is gloved

Stand here on some molehill
And dream that I can dream
And see those clouds move so still
So slow they do not seem
And change deform winds blow my soul
So slow, but yet new features
We can’t go back, we just roll on
Into a thousand different creatures

Lie here on some gravestone
Imprinted “then ‘til now”
And how he was a brave soul
No promise disavowed
Who will lie to save me?
the scrutiny of a million unknown eyes
They took back what they gave me
When I discovered their lies

BEYOND THE ROAD WATER GLARE

BEYOND THE ROAD WATER GLARE
3/88

Hey there smile, it has been a long while
You stand there on the border just beyond reach
Until I can stand it no more then there you are
I must admit you have style

And I saw her there
Beyond the road water glare
She was waving; I thought she might give me a seat
But she was only fanning away the heat
In some glance our eyes met in infinity stare
She smiled my friend, she smiled

And my eyes watered
It must have been that desert sand in my eyes
Oh, what this desert has daughtered
Of all things, should love be a surprise?

Hey there smile, it’s been a long while
But you seem so sure, how can I doubt
That you can fix what this frowns about
Take my hand, let’s walk that mile

FINAL EXAM

FINAL EXAM
4/88

I can see it out there as the sun begins to set
That true blue you horizon, love scenes not written yet
And hey, there have been sundowns, that thundercloud in roll
But that don’t mean submission is the call that should be tolled
With random precision we wing out our terrors
We weed out the weaklings and weed out the errors

I can hear dreams on parade
Clowns out dancing in the street
I can hear the flash of the blade
Feel the warmth of blood on my feet
We will razor the next revolution
Realities shatter and fall
Until that one thought makes its collision
And my soul can be put back on call

We resemble our way to appearance
Facsimile right off the screen
While we handcuff ourselves to adherence
A scripted and vacated scene

We delusion ourselves to religion
What is right has consumed our rights
That wrong and that right are the vision
Of a child left scared in the night

I’ll dismantle my way to my structure
That way down, that just what I am
Life is the perfect instructor
And death is the final exam

RESURRECTION FROM NIGHT

RESURRECTION FROM NIGHT
Early 88

There you are quite out of sight
Out beyond my stretching reach
Are you where I’ll never touch you?
Will I just stand here short of speech?

Silhouette on the horizon
Shadows distant day by day
As the light dims on tomorrow
So the shadow grows on today

Piercing glimpse of some new dream
But it comes as no surprise
When the sun dies, there are moonbeams
But she won’t show me her eyes

And then again, and then just maybe
Hope isn’t chained to setting suns
Because when night dies, resurrection
And a new god has begun

CHANGE

CHANGE
Early 1988

Some dream just sit there
Sweet/sour smile
Calling my name
Who just sit there?
Begging for change
To open my eyes and challenge the race
But these dreams just sit there
Always like they are never the same
Always just like they’re playing a game
And always and always I hear my name
Out there
Out there
Change

ACT OF FAITH

ACT OF FAITH
8/17/97
Waiting on the difference
And how pleasure takes you there
Or pains
Is there really nothing?
Is nothing something that can be?
Or named?
As I am taken from one moment to another
It is different each time time takes me there
It seems that every change leaves something wanted or extra
So nothing is not something I can feel
But believe in

9/13/97

9/13/97

Today I cracked a smile
But I think that it cracked me instead
I’m afraid what I left behind
I thought was waiting up ahead
That sun that’s coming down
Is beating on some waiting skin
That is stretched across my hands
That are up picking up to start again

FROM ME TO YOU

FROM ME TO YOU
4/29/97

From death to seed
We feed our need by putting it in the dirt
That is a way to bury hurt

From now to then
What could have been we allocate to fate
And so it is not ourselves we hate

Impact is the thing that we avoid
Touch is not a thing that’s always good
Not all I feel is what I want employed
Not all I feel is something that I should

From me to you
The goals pursued are not the ones always named
That’s how we escape what is shamed

Truth ain’t the thing that always works
Reality sometimes requires a shield
That is where friendship has its perks
Because that is where what’s selfish has to yield

From you to me
What’s there to see is limited by what’s shown
What you may be I cannot own

WHAT HEALING FINDS

WHAT HEALING FINDS
6/3/96

My mind won’t budge
Like fallen anchors
Or running in wet sand
Chased inside a dream
And sleep just plays a slight of hand
Bad memories leak like Exxon tankers
Time’s mirror can hold a brutal grudge

That night will sheen
Even dark has reflections
Like a midnight vanity
My eyelids close like shitty blinds
And the moon won’t shine serenity

But scars are signs of cured infections
And scabs are always there in between
What healing finds

Early 1996

My ashes feather down in front of me
My eyes sweat
I don’t want to see
It lingers like a camera flash
Like looking at the sun
And I have

ALL FOR YOU

ALL FOR YOU
9/17/96

Who is that screaming in those eyes behind your eyes?
And in that silence that sits there louder
That look from a quiet begging cat
And what is that pride we get from feeding?
Or that wanting to be wanted
And it teeters so symbiotic
The need that needs the needing
It comes like Christ
Each savior carries answers
Every cancer needs a cure
From itself
For you
Yes, it is all for you

The origin of needing
We have been kicked out of the garden
We are given a path back home
From the landlord
Who evicted us
From the abuse who says it is all your fault that I hit you
Why must you be that way?
You must ask for forgiveness
Because I can’t forgive you without it
And your sin is the reason you are punished
Not my rules
Because they are for you
Yes, all for you

MOTIONLESS

MOTIONLESS
10/96

Anchors gather and drip from my brow
And fall to earth like seeding vines
That just holds you there
And deny destinies
Or admit they never were
That is when dreams gather dust
Motionless

And vacuums never power your sails
I am stuck with solar panels at midnight
I fell my feet are stumps
And I wish they were dandelion seeds
Sucking up the breeze
Instead of
Motionless

My hour glass is full of quicksand
And they tell you not to struggle
It’s a quicker sinking
So quit thinking
And admit destinies
Or admit they never were
Motionless

ANGEL

ANGEL
10/8/96

Let me take you to the inside
Let you rocket through my veins
And replace the pleasures denied
Sometimes I want to dance again
Cause I am waiting on an angel
Where the song never ends

Let me take you to the outside
To the where I want to be
Where my dreams and I collide
Where I’m anyone but me
Cause I’m waiting on the angel
Where the song never ends

All alone is the easiest
Because you’re always best
Alone, we are all and alone

As we straddle in the middle
And dream we can still play
With the fire and riddle
Of the better coming day
Cause I’m waiting on the angel
And the song’s already begun

LOVE IS NEVER DONE

LOVE IS NEVER DONE
11/14/96

I don’t want your past
Don’t waste the time to tell me
Though the future always comes last
The past will never quell me
Your worth is in your doing
Not what you have done
If love is in pursuing
Then what is there when it is won?
Love is never done

I don’t want your yesterday
God knows it’s always changing
What you do and what you say
Are the things that need arranging
My love is in my seeing
So how should I see you?
Love is in the being
Not done, but what you do
Love is never done

BLACK CANOPY

BLACK CANOPY
12/16/96

Walk across that line and tell me you’re the same
To answer is to deny, to question is a game
Still we got a name, that don’t mean that it is we
I know the same is what I’ll never be
And I call that black canopy

Eden ain’t your mind; it is what you’ll never know
Vines don’t reach the sun, don’t mean they shouldn’t grow
Waiting for the sun, next thing you know you’re burned
Shadows aren’t a waste, sometimes they are learned
And I call that black canopy

There is no Eden sun

MIRROR

MIRROR
12/30/96

Looking down on fading clouds
And all the images cast there by my eyes
The mind is the Picasso
And your eyes are only brushes
Your ears the quartet to accompany creation
The body a canvas of beautiful things

Kaleidoscope your life as your mind turns
Through these pieces of color around
And mirrors to make it look like more
You can turn until you like what you found
Life is not static
Why should being be?
Because if there is no beauty in anything you see
Question first your seeing
Cause when the world outside the window goes black
The window becomes a mirror

DON’T BLAME THE MONKEY

DON’T BLAME THE MONKEY
1996?

I think I should put something in my veins
Cause I am so tired of waiting
And silence is no high
And neither is goodbye
To all those…good times
When I had a hungry monkey
I don’t miss the barking
But I miss the pet
The something to feed
The reliability of hunger
That satiation of fed
That powder behind the lead
The monkey taste ain’t patience
I just want it here now like that
As need is always there
The monkey has that kind of honesty
Reliable need
But never enough
That ain’t its fault though
It's only a monkey

GUILT IS BUOYANT

GUILT IS BUOYANT

I soft the ache by drinking minutes
It is swallowed away like the time that is in it
But there is difference
Guilt is buoyant
It surfaces above the fluid
Time is dust
It dissolves

WORD CHARADES

WORD CHARADES
1996?

I was looking for that peace of mind
Like when you find what’s left behind
But what you want so soon becomes
The lost word that just tips your tongue
That is why having isn’t needing
That is why their names are not the same
Our needs are why what we have is what were flaunting
So others cannot give our needs a name
That’s the diversion with which we shape our fame

I was looking for the eyes that gathered
Instead of shattering what they find
But what you see so soon becomes
The lover that has slipped your mind
Remembering is not seeing
And what you say ain’t always what you do
Words are not what happened
They are used to make the past we want come true

Words and the charades that they pursue

THOUGHTS FROM A PLANE

THOUGHTS FROM A PLANE
7/30/97

Looking down to see the clouds
That keeps the sun from touching ground
I wish my mind could elevate
To do the same
To see the thing that has become
Between me and the waiting sun
Go over what is overcast
I would see my cloudy sky is just the past

MORNING JOURNEY

MORNING JOURNEY
3/11/97

Did you come and go that day?
Why did you just dissolve away?
Like toilet mints
You’re on my mind
But is it thought or you my memory finds
A whispered hint
A chance you find
All the “could have beens” left behind
Like yellow lights
I should have ran
Always finish journeys you began

Always keep life in your sites
Because every day is a gun

To touch your skin, like burning silk
A moment I beg time to milk
Like orgasm
And then it is gone
Investing that this night will bring a dawn
Fill this chasm
Cock morning's gun
Each moment is both ending and begun

Pull the trigger, bullets are the young
If you’ve nothing to say, why do you have a tongue?

ALCHEMY

ALCHEMY
96?

Change and time as alchemy
Chemistry to what’s inside my veins
Sometimes it is lead
A poison pulse through my heart
Pulls me down like a fish hook sinker
And I go under
Like my body in the ground

Time can make that gold
I feel like money in my purse
I scratch my brain like a lottery ticket
Each day rise like a blank check signed
And I go up
Like a feather on a hawk

Chemistry to what is in my vein
Alchemy is time and change

MY FICTION

MY FICTION
93?

Fictitious lovers
Run for cover
And try to find love in the guise of another
In the eyes of another
I’m hoping she’ll see something I can’t see
I tried to fall in love with you
But first I had to fall in love with me
And I guess it came as no surprise
A lover was something I just couldn’t be

Belated strangers
Hair through my fingers
Loved another once and the memory lingers
The dawn is upon her
But in my mind I always lose her face
They told me to move on and I just got caught up in the race
And I guess it came as no surprise
My heart and mind just couldn’t keep the pace

EXECUTION OF THE GODS

EXECUTION OF THE GODS
1987?

Feeling like a star on the break of morning
Fearing for my life though there’s no forewarning
Close my eyes, go away
Betray the break of day
No one hears what I say
If I am on my knees will I never never die?

Feeling like a cloud on a sunny Sunday
Felling like my head on a million Mondays
Will I break down and cry?
This feeling, buy why?
I can jump, can I fly?
If I am on my knees will I never never die?

Down, down
I’m on my knees now
I want the world
From you
I want the world
No
Standing on my own two feet
Take the word to the street
Grip the lightening rods
Execution of the gods

Feeling like a seed on a flash of sunshine
Such a frightful deed, it had to happen sometime
I want to free my soul
I want to back what they stole
Prisoners of the scroll
If you’re on your knees you will never never fly

I want the world with you

WITHHELD

WITHHELD
1985?

Intrepid one, oh mind in vane
What stability do you try to maintain?
What is the loss, what is the gain?
Is there a lost, is there a sane?
Do you care, really try to invest
In the business of this living contest?

Lost one, lost one, walking the streets
Reflected, painted and oh so discreet
Look in your eyes, see the regret
Of the one withheld, not lived as of yet

Uncover the soul you pretend is too weak
Let loose the hair of the frail, of the meek
Open your eyes to the wisdom constricted
Open the door to the soul you’ve evicted
The siphoning thought, the senses so numb
The connected mind on the universe’s thumb

Mirror your love, you see, you see
Reflect and intensify
Magnify
Signify
Be the metamorphosis butterfly

Fly to the sun on shattered wings
Live and allow what each moment brings
Love and grasp the moment at hand
Find the map and the abstract to this land
The map is the thought that transcend transportation
The door to the world’s total relation
The door to the world’s total relation
The door to the world’s total relation

NEUTRAL GROUND

NEUTRAL GROUND
1985?

Wither thy beauty, aged by time
Humble thy presence, my means so sublime
Hide from the heralds your song of rejoice
Scurry to nowhere, as if by choice

Huddle in corners, back to the wall
Looks superficial, body but a voice
Nobody wicked, ugly or strange
All remain equal, whether or not by choice

Eyes reflect beauty, magnify one’s own
The enlarger of visions in no hollow skull
To see just for seeing, senses disown
Never the same, never the dull

Eyes hinder vision as many have told
Eyes like a fever upon glancing of gold
Greed fogs the sight for the wishes of beauty
Eyes fog the path of our own secret duty

To the dark room, black room, neutral ground
For in the sullen blackness beauty is found
In the fog lie the softened visions
In this blackness lies our soul’s true precision

A TIME FOR FATE

A TIME FOR FATE
1985?

Sometimes fate won’t let me be
I act and respond and results don’t agree
Is it time’s motion or is it just me?
Is it an omen? I guess we’ll just see

Sometime fate just won’t turn about
Permanence shattered on the wing of a doubt
Is permanence as indelible as time?
The second is over, even before the chime

Oh time, time don’t makes its stay
Matrix and moment, confusing array
It bursts then it smolders and leaves no climax
Our jaws still wide open, senses not intact

The time for fate and the fate of time
The wrung of the ladder on which we climb
One high and dizzying with frightening degrees
One slow and natural and grays you with ease

The place where were going? Who were among?
Depends on how you view that wrung
Do you cradle the verse, or the song to be sung?

THE WORLDLY

THE WORLDLY
1985?

Disdained here we make our stand
To shed some light upon this gland
Where we know its pleasures are well at hand
Do you fancy yourself your own bright badge?

Useless here we make our tread
Wade in this ocean until we’re dead
And by this corpse the fish are fed
Is this wrinkled skin where this swim has lead?

Shapeless now again we change
Take your choice, but within this range
And borrow spines to fight the strange
And look for lies to rearrange

Godless now we paint our face
But who’s the runner now to set the pace?
Back off for fear of losing grace
Just water boys to the great race

Finally now we take death’s turn
Hoping that it will not burn
Forgetting the place that lie was learned
Has just been fed to the worms

Good things come to those who wait. A phrase generally employed by those who feel that waiting is a good thing.

I’ve come to wear sunglasses not so much because what I see is bright, I just wouldn’t want someone to step in one of these holes

Sometimes we shake hands with people, not out of friendship, but as an attempt to ensure they aren’t armed

The sun, like the eye of Ra, is the pure voyeur into personal darkness. Tell me, what hours does your happiness keep? Are there tan lines on your soul?

I fear my friends may distinguish between who I show and who I am. People exhaust me in my pursuit of this dichotomy. We all live most comfortably in the stained glass window that we’ve constructed to light our alter. Have you ever seen a tabernacle surrounded by plate glass?