Banana (poetry)

light as light as light as light as light as light
intoxicated and fall and live and fly and dream
can you hear me?
big again
let me ruffle my feathers and be big for a second
then deflate
inhale exhale inhale exhale inhale exhale
the words dry up dry up

cockroach on the table scurrying, scary, can’t kill it can’t kill it

how are we dreaming this day day
how are we seeing
all those things said
there is a such thing as a victory lap
but a failure lap seems a bit foolish
all those words to scream
and here I am
even unreadable to myself
Oh not so exhausted
Just so myself, that motherfucker
You know, the guys you love, but man,
why can’t he shut up and just just
I learned that yesterday when they built the pyramids they used weighted pulleys to make it easier to lift the great bricks, that’s clever
Sniffing the air and there is this rich air
And I get lost and flow and dance a bit
Even if I walk straight and don’t don’t smile
And I think of my run from Bosomin along the road with the wells where the air was so sweet it could choke and I’d shit on the side and feel wild and that tanker flipped but didn’t explode and the way I remember it is a memory so far so pure was it real those spiders in my room or the rain on my roof or Charles and Emmanuel playing in my room was it all real?
Inhale exhale
I am fatter than I was, but even then I was worried of being fat, yet here I am also giving less of a fuck than I used to, why was I so unhappy then
Exhale inhale
Easy tricks
Subtle repetition
The visualization of the attempt
East to deconstruct
Where is the art?
But doesn’t it feel honest?
And isn’t art about honesty?
But if I could rhyme I would
Just, a sense I’m missing
In my disappearing
Lost ways always
But hey, with my friends!
La la la la
Sigh glide
Prayer mutter
I was reading Herman Hesse quotes
What do I give?
Except an internal monologue
Over a glass of wine
Sign glide
Knuckles white white white white white white
All this potential energy
Just waiting for the the right hour
Could I supernova
Could I supernova
Energy neither created or destroyed
All this wasted time
Does it spoil
A banana on the shelf?
Can’t it go somewhere
Can’t it go somewhere

Bomb Sky (short story)

      A quick look to the clouds and a quiver and I carry on and in my head I am just with my head my head and I carry it. The horizon seems closer than some days, but it hasn’t rained. Everyone is following me, silently, strange to be a leader.
      In the room where we are keeping him he has bright eyes and seems like a fighter and probably has a mother and oh well, what can be done, here we are today, who knows the tectonics that brought us here, I have never understood fully what makes us us and them them but I know that fear is real and I want those I love to have less fear even if then I cause fear on the others, who knows if they are good, I am sure they have a good conversation to share, a joke to tell; exhaustion is so overwhelming, the followers follow me, I carry on.
      “Listen, obviously we’re here and you feel superior because you are more powerful as a whatever, civilization, but I would ask you to think that, I’d ask you to think of today, this moment. I’m not your enemy, I don’t think we’re at war, I fight, but because you guys keep trying to drop bombs, and I kill people that try to kill me. I’ll kill you, and in all seriousness, I probably will, but I don’t really want to, not in the least, you look like a nice guy, I like the light in your eyes. Fuck,”
      I look down, he’s gagged, he wants to scream, stab me, I’m his enemy, fuck me, how do these guys care so much? Can’t we just co-exist? I get low in his face and smell him for a second and I can smell his fear; fear doesn’t mean he’ll break, probably the opposite, he knows he’s afraid, it gives him a guide stone, just fight fear and he meets god or whatever, he gets his prize. I’m so tired, so tired, he’s just a kid, what’s he doing here anywhere, why isn’t he at a barbecue?
      What do I do? He probably knows nothing about anything. This isn’t fun. My guys look at me. They get their houses bombed, this is the closest they get to sleeping well, thinking about their dead kids, they want something, it won’t make them happy, but they need to go through it to know it, even if they hate it it’s a type of closure.
      I look at the sky, when does the bomb drop? Is it today or next week. I’m so tired.
    “Listen, listen listen listen listen” I whisper in his ear, next to him, hot, he can smell me, I smell him, it’s like we’re lovers, we could be lovers, I’m in complete control, I put my hand on his face for justĀ  a second, just a second, he knows my power, I take a step back, “listen listen listen listen, listen” and I shoot him in the side of the head, point blank, but at an angle, so the bullet goes into the sand and all the others behind me look with big eyes knowing that this is what they asked from me and I say in my head a sad prayer and hope his mother thinks that there is a heaven and I stand up and say let bury him with dignity and I stand up ready to carry on my war.


Horizon Plane (poetry)

And then ‘poof’ it is gone
as if as if
what is the proof of past light
would take faster than light
to know where it passed
optic nerves mean nothing
is the light to illuminate
or are we to watch
what is purpose
who said there is purpose
who said why why
it’s okay
let’s me smother you
don’t be sad
this living wasn’t why you were here
it was something smaller and larger
pray as the light slips
pray that the light watched
that all there is is the light
and all we were
was witness to light

aint be aint see
shout cry fuck it
we making mountains look like faces
why be that
why is it
we need to mark
it’s all temporal
a moment in a dimension we decay in
break through the wall
shake it
break it
as we decay in it
at the halflife
countin time
when does this heart stop
what were we killing time for anyway
want to fuck?
or at least watch a movie
raging as loud as a scream in a storm
don’t be infantile
change the frequency
humble the sublime
domesticate the heavens
there has to be a chance
that we are the apocalypse
if there is not a chance
that we are destroyers of the world
then what is the point of existance
to be complicit in the threads of time
wrapping us like a snake
milking out energy
as we become walking sarcophageses
I see your plans beezelbub
and your terror gives me no fear
and I know that
it is a purpose to befriend
the closest catacalysm

slithering and I see Eve
and stupid Adam
and beautiful nature
and my own reality
it was not to hurt you to eat the apple
was it not what you wanted
to awaken from heaven
how can you understand the journey
god said do not
you are his flock
a slave, no, to a perfection that was dictated
I just wanted you to feel something
i am sorry it was terror and loss
but now when you miss Eden
you know the pang of something real

gloaming on my my nature
fabricate the algorithim of a better me
more eye contact
less aloof
more open
less so so lost
more lost
less aloof
when I pray
do I think god hears?
would the answer be better one way
or the other
or without the question
walking with no fixed direction
take my apple away
this is not my nirvana
others would appreciate it more
let me start in hell
knowing my demons are recognized
climbing out of the pit
or falling into the abyss
a two dimensional solution
may I be lost in my mind
let me live forever
immortal in the moment
oh this is not life
nor death
nor purgatory
it is a dimension I don’t understand
where does a flame go
when it lights the air on fire

in the wicked way
in the lost way
sensitized to my deviance
those things that used to make me sleepless
now just the aether
the atmosphere for my lethargy
what rocket escapes me from this
do I want to escape
or is this my sanctuary
death’s linearness
leaving me lost in today’s infinites
I know not
I am not
I be not
Here I am

Past the horizon plane
Into the black hole
we find the reversal of time
the apple leaves your hand
you never hear my whispers
it goes back to the tree
and you go back to Eden
and perfection
an apple on your own limb
never knowing the pain of existence

at Meze Fresh (Poetry)

Old man in wintersong
Seasons past and remembered with sparkle
Memories of days before
Always younger,
The linear nature of time
The combustion that we took for granted
People who we hugged
That would disappear
As we took our own immortality
As a given
Time lost
Time squandered
Time loved
Moments past
Become grey
Becoming a piece of furniture
“Excuse me, I am still here”
Becoming defensive
In my day…
Is this not still my day?
Is there some glory
Was there a fight?
Light and wonder
Magic and delirium
But, in the past, the past, the past
Still lost
Still wandering
Still wondering
Still hoping
Still praying
But the prayer has lost hope
Lost the force of god
Routinized decay
For sure there ARE greater pastures
Can’t it be towards
Can’t it be towards
The ship has not just left
The cities are all the same
We were not sold a lemon,
Life can hold an infinite
But in a wrapped dimension
And all we see
Are these dark cracks
Whispers of history
Knowing somewhere deep
To fall through and shift form
Isn’t our fight
To stay on this side of the crack?

Thought there used to be bravery
A new form or art
No rhythym plot of purpose
Just words at their most loosely connected
As if, what it is to be in a mind
There is still a glimmer
I cannot renounce
But I can say
This is not a lifes work
There is not the glory of art here
Little lazy meanderings
A life lived as a spidersweb
With no commitment to a single point
There is no war here
Just a gentle meandering
A river without force
To carry it all the way to the sea
A dormant volcano
Deep in these roots
There is a burning burning
Yet the cap is so strong
Is it in a man to metamorph
Is it the purpose of man to burn
There is no heaven here
Our god was in the hope that a small ripple
Made without consciousness
May mean the whole
Had its purpose

Glass of white wine
Nicely chilled
Giving my brain a cacoon
Does it mean I cannot think any more?
Anymore anymore
These middle ways
These middle ways
Tummy bigger
Brain slower
A rattling jalopy on a runway
We say we did our best
But was this really our very best?
And as the runways end comes closer
And we confront that our wings don’t have lift
Do we decide to still try to fly
Or do we decide to drive off the runway
And see what the bush has in store

And then Archie said to Mr. Lodge
And Garion became Belgarion
And Rand in his darkest mind howled
Bran fell up into the tower

Step by step
Step by step
Don’t think this leads to hope
Just as I hope it does not seem hopeless
The path is not linear
And at the start of the day
As the sun peeks
We can imagine infinite
Today at twilight
There is now something tangible
The soil has been plowed
A life has been lived
Its purpose is not its purpose to understand
Whether something grows,
Is not its purpose
the seeds have been laid
The world is mysterious
With false idols
Let us carry on
A moment of bitterness
If only, if only, if only
Prayer in darkness
A door that may burst open
Fear in the day
Terror in the night
A life that is only, the only
A prayer lost into the wind
I greet you, my friend
And may we both whisper
As life howels around us
Amid each imperfect seed
We lay at our feet

effemural (poetry)

have I missed it have I missed it
where is my ephemeral madness
creeping in the back of my head
scream screech quiet peace
life uncomfortable
are these eyes dying
when does gravity stop
not scared
there wasis no purpose
isomptotes decay
thought the half life meant something
just a measure of time
in all her arbitrariness
sing song sang sing sung
peace is peaceis peace is
I am here here
But why

be an animal, YEAH
roar scream bite scratch YEAH
come on and let’s be alive YEAH
what has a generation lost in our mind?
we still be the hunter
I promise if I attack you
you will rip out my eyes
if given the chance
you’re an animal
you’re an animal

no linkage to the tone
except they are how they come from my finger
do you have a sense of purpose?
something that makes you wake up in the morning?
that would be nice nice
I feel somehow incomplete
little tell tale signs
people who find it hard to use a smart phone app
but can parallel park a car
people who notice smells I don’t
of course anyone with rhythym
and passion
and passion
and passion
those people who leap out of their chairs
because of a ball kicked on a field
those people who say I love you
I love you
I love you
and they mean it
my friends try to make me learn how to hug
I am learning
But I am not learning its purpose
I wonder the day
Where I suddenly lose my nerve
Fall under Gravity To The Floor
the floor floor through down
feel the heat cry sigh
I need to break down
but what if I don’t start up again
life as a linear journey
and the horizon plane
seems closer than it did

Self satisfied smug
Arrogant angry artificial
Stare at the mirror
And have your own face staring back at you
Is this who you are today
How was that boy
Love yourself
But remember
You by definition have lost yourself
Memories filed so deeply
Little triggers
Simcity 3000
The world having different borders
For all the terror they kept out
Safe and Safe and Safe
And shouldn’t everyone have a right to Safe
The world not at war
But still at war with the world
Not worried no more about disenchantment
Not worried about meaning / purpose
But still anxiety in my heart
Andxiety in my heart
Stare in the mirror
And see a mind at unpeace

this is where things are supposed to be brought together
a common thread shown to bring meaning out of the chaos
closure allowing us to move on
stutter brain
out of gear
into fear
seer beer leer Lear
I don’t pray for genius
But I do pray to produce good energy
I wish the best on your soul
And that even if the horizon plane is closer
You are wondrously in awe
Of being aware of seeing it

Fading (poetry)

Poetry as a form of rage
Poetry as a form of madness
My fingers in these keys
Thought I had forgotten
But what if this is what forgetting feels like
Empty mind
Wasted breaths
I used to have more fun being me
What is next
What is next
What is next
Types of fear
Types of madness
Don’t join my sadness
Why is there the need
Be yourself
It would be unfair
But it can be a north star
A way I can be safe too
Let me push you over the wall
The wall of my own ineptitude
The wall of my shortness
Push over
You find the sun
Find the sun
Find the sun
Haha, maybe I take a light touch of your bum
I do have to push you, you know?
But, I’m about to disappear
Screams of humanity
Walls crashing down
Fuck it all
And fuck me too, that’s fine
I knew forever I would disappear,
So, fade away
Dream away
Fuck the world away
I am looking forward to being a tree again
Or a molecule of gas in a vacuum
Float, drift away
The problem was that I hoped I would exist more than this
I had a strong assumption
That this would be the life where I matter
Prayer to you

Dream from last night (short story)

Everything is normal but guided
Feel like doing again again again
Try to break free a little
Everything resets
Guides along the way
They always win
Holding me back
Holding me
I run I run
It is like a movie set
The back is not as detailed as the front
“You are not ready for this”
Was that a beach
Am I going to die?
Then I come to the end
And it is a lush apartment
And there is a man at the end
Charming, with a square jaw
He looks like super man
The place is gorgeous but slightly ruffled
Is he always here
We chat and he is nice, open and inviting, if slightly boring
He said he didn’t know how this happened
But it was very similar to tarkovsky
What else did he say in my dream?
We then flash to a different scene
We shake hands and he tells me I don’t know how all of this happened
There is a chance this is not the same man as in the apartment. Similar,it may just be the Randerson Ridge light of childhood
He said he didn’t know how this happened
But it was very similar to tarkovskyl
Then after he leaves an airplane engine drops onto the ground and starts spinning
And a giant bus careens out of lll”lll nowhere and hits it
Lightly on fire
I can hear the bus breathing
It is moving flipping not natural
And I am running
Then I wake