Monster
The possessor possesses the fullness and the emptiness.
The sucking, slurping sounds of a black holes, consuming themselves.
They are still quite hungry.
Bloated bent bodies carving,
each new space
with each old breath.
Each shift of line or shift of time,
Waking,
at the same moment,
as it’s dying.
The possessor possesses the fullness and the emptiness.
The sucking, slurping sounds of a black holes, consuming themselves.
They are still quite hungry.
Bloated bent bodies carving,
each new space
with each old breath.
Each shift of line or shift of time,
Waking,
at the same moment,
as it’s dying.
Resist
I am not the wasted blood.
I will not be shed prematurely,
to be slept away by these
hours of darkness.
I will not be plucked,
like the fibrous flesh
of flowers whose eroded roots,
have betrayed them.
I can not hold deeply,
the secrets of blank paper pages,
when the same cycles of words,
go unwritten.
I am not the wasted blood.
I will not be shed prematurely,
to be slept away by these
hours of darkness.
I will not be plucked,
like the fibrous flesh
of flowers whose eroded roots,
have betrayed them.
I can not hold deeply,
the secrets of blank paper pages,
when the same cycles of words,
go unwritten.
Changing your Thinking
The bad habits of my brain;
the spiraling spaghetti it can not contain.
Connections move so fast,
it's a hard thing to change,
to limit the expanse of
my emotional range.
So, I start with each tendril
of the knotted, jumbled cord.
Like ball of holiday lights
and I don't mumble a word.
I turn inwards toward myself,
to the quiet inside,
as awareness unfolds,
and the chaos subsides.
The bad habits of my brain;
the spiraling spaghetti it can not contain.
Connections move so fast,
it's a hard thing to change,
to limit the expanse of
my emotional range.
So, I start with each tendril
of the knotted, jumbled cord.
Like ball of holiday lights
and I don't mumble a word.
I turn inwards toward myself,
to the quiet inside,
as awareness unfolds,
and the chaos subsides.
She Knows
I am no victim of experience!
she screamed,
as a wind
flew into her lungs and
gave her meaning sound....
She was the daughter of light,
born at an hour of darkness.
The capturing of the sun
by the moon,
had stolen the sight
of all of the creatures born,
but her eyes
held onto their vision.
I am no victim of experience!
she screamed,
as a wind
flew into her lungs and
gave her meaning sound....
She was the daughter of light,
born at an hour of darkness.
The capturing of the sun
by the moon,
had stolen the sight
of all of the creatures born,
but her eyes
held onto their vision.
Mom Trauma
Mom;
like an image from Giger,
the tubes exit and enter,
and enrobe your form.
We lost you,
before we lost you.
Sometimes,
I can't even remember.
Mom;
like an image from Giger,
the tubes exit and enter,
and enrobe your form.
We lost you,
before we lost you.
Sometimes,
I can't even remember.
Drunk Angel
drunk angel,
whisper through the void,
sing a delirious vision,
smooth and frantic,
like eternity.
drunk angel,
whisper through the void,
sing a delirious vision,
smooth and frantic,
like eternity.
Existence Haiku I
Sometimes what you see,
isn't always there,
you can trick yourself.
Sometimes what you see,
isn't always there,
you can trick yourself.
Lost Artist
Where is my lost artist?
Wandering and bleeding,
through internal landscapes,
crawling under cities,
without rest or friends,
diving into knowledge,
so pretentiously kept,
so pretentiously shared.
The momentum of flying, flung paint,
whose invisible symbols,
coat my lungs and my skin,
The looseness of my hand and hair,
free.
A dancing stained shirt.
Unconstrained concentration,
divining the sky,
into this room,
through this spirit.
Time,
unclenches its hand.
Where is my lost artist?
Wandering and bleeding,
through internal landscapes,
crawling under cities,
without rest or friends,
diving into knowledge,
so pretentiously kept,
so pretentiously shared.
The momentum of flying, flung paint,
whose invisible symbols,
coat my lungs and my skin,
The looseness of my hand and hair,
free.
A dancing stained shirt.
Unconstrained concentration,
divining the sky,
into this room,
through this spirit.
Time,
unclenches its hand.
Baby Girl
Why does she leave me alone?
again and again
and why does it cause me so much pain?
again and again
Why is my greatness not enough to earn her attention,
to fill this chasm,
from which my scream is sent forth?
Why does she leave me alone?
again and again
and why does it cause me so much pain?
again and again
Why is my greatness not enough to earn her attention,
to fill this chasm,
from which my scream is sent forth?
