- Collective Writing -

hi,

you were there but not there, 700 miles of static and disbelief, but your song came through so clear anyway. sometimes I wasn't really sure if it was meant for me, but I listened and learned and realized it couldn't have been sung any other way.

a strange, beautiful moment comes when all the jumbly paths of lives lived searching converge, puzzle pieces falling from the top of a mountain and landing all together to make this picture, and to this day I'm still not sure how to describe that. think love and direction and purpose and truth and clarity all mixed into one rhythm, one song, one dance, and that is the way we lived.

maybe it sounds silly but the word soulmate comes to mind.

so these days, it feels like a piece of me has gone someplace I can't follow. it is a feeling of the mainline tethering me to this life snapping, of a thousand plans and paths going from clarity to an overgrowth of the vines of apathy in an instant.

you are everything I could have asked for in a man, a friend, a lover. you walked this world carrying a piece of me I never knew I was missing until we came together. from glasses of milk with movies at night to shooting stars through the dashboard to white rabbits and just breathing together in bed, everything fit in ways I had no idea of, no concept of before.

maybe it sounds silly, but the word perfection comes to mind.

I am here but not here, and I have no idea how many miles of static and disbelief separate us this time, but your song is still coming through so clear. you are here, sending me shooting stars and tattoo removal ads and friendships and love. the world is so much uglier without you but I know you're doing your best to help me see the beautiful things even through this hazy lens of sadness.

someday a strange, beautiful moment will come when all the rest of the jumbly paths my life will take will end, when all the rest of the steel cords tethering me here will snap, when I will rise like a soap bubble with the place where your heart and mine meet again programmed into my soul's gpa as my only destination.

maybe it sounds silly, but the word forever comes to mind.

 

Deprivation all across the nation
brings anticipation of what was said just then
now is always and then is a constant friend
not one to hold dear and when gone brings one to tear
just to flog the fancy fine mustard onto the chin
bringing a grin to a face that looks like sin
you know no trouble is to begin
she knows and that is fasho
see it in the eye and lay in bed
breathing in and breathing out
do what you will with your lips and let the sounds drip drip
breath in and hear a sip sip
breath out purse lips and pout
without effort form an arch and let a deep purr out
up to the top steps
flaws are something you find with no progress
sheep ask not what they can do for their country
humans try hard to try and wonder why they die

 

naturally primal
primates
wander the land
on knuckles
in search of bananas
the original way
the natural way
forgetting all troubles
save survival and play
frolic in the tall grass
swing from the trees
unblocked sunsets
dashing honey bees
clamor in the forest
in tribes of two or three
passing friendly strangers
of our wooden city
such a simple delight
to be wild and free - oh
but what a pleasure
what a POWER it is
to reek
of the machine

 

i dig this.

 

and I say

thank ya thank ya

 

music is control
neon ants dance
the horizon of planet atom
bright iridescent stomping feet
all around planet atom

ZOOM

molecular activity release
song swells to it's temporal fade
and the grid holds them in place
dance dance dance dance dance
all night and day

warp space alpha
that's their name
locating these benevolent monsters
is child's play

ZOOM

reflective insect multi-lens
shows spark of monkey smarts
give me spark
to light the world

I create
and
I destroy​

 

Our fate is in the heart of a toy
We cling to the feeling of being a boy
as headstands and karate chops sharpen
senses tap toes of tipsy Lola
she reminds me of our mama
the way she would get drunk and come in with stomp stomp
throwing off gay sandals
smoking cigs and wearing the leather of uncle randle
throw a trophy at her head happy boy
its on the mantle
her anger and yours are like the same channel
crack your neck and breath in your soul
feel calm or else become a story untold
the cold burns me and I feel a scold
rewind the tape and watch from your own child's eyes

 

Everything is hazy. Roll down the windows. No, no! Don't roll down the windows.

Yo, play that song.

Man, I don't know what it's called. You know the song, the one about bitches n shit.

Shut the fuck up.

This shit's kicked.

 

I looked to the sky
and almost fell to the ground
staggering, stumbling
there was a hole there
I pointed and stared
felt your hand at the small of my back
and the whole universe breathing together
in, in, in, in

out.


it's not a loud feeling
at least not right away
rather,
it's sliding, churning
the feel of a well-oiled machine
setting things in motion
in, in, in, in

that's my world shifting, shifting
to here, now, forever
cast in your light

out.

 

Awesome

 

sometimes I am a tightrope walker
costume and paint
a thousand breathless eyes trained on my form

there is glitter and show
a fixed smile, touching everything
below the eyes

sometimes I wish I could fall
I wish I could shed my costume
shed my paint and still breathe

but when the line between life and performance
blurs, melts, reforms darker, hardened
there is noplace right for change

so it's another layer of paint
another sequined costume, another smile
and another night of pretending it doesn't scare me.

 

the cosmic dance
end of the end of the end never comes
bright lights, and nothing more
fall into nothingness
invigorate consciousness
go for a swim in loch ness
therein youll discover the crux of the heart of the matter

 

little gray wolf
from across the creek
under the treehouse
watching my bare feet
sharing his air
sending dreams and sight
when I put my shoes back on
and float home

 

there are times when the road is open
my tank is full
I want to feel the miles under my feet
rolling, rolling, rolling
until I'm someplace
anyplace

it's a sensation
a pull, reluctance
resistance
when the open road disappears
to my left
rolling back, back, back
where I started
stopping

anyway.

then I squeak up the stairs
and everything is quiet
void
every time I breathe is a question
every time I blink is a suggestion
maybe that will be it
for me

your picture is smiling
looking at the camera
smiling
like you know
my eye is behind that lens too
you know?

I take a multivitamin every day
but I don't usually remember my seatbelt.

and if it seems important enough
occasionally
I'll watch the world happening
around me.

I laugh at silly things
a note of hysteria just below the surface
if you were looking close
but it makes me wonder

who is breathing, blinking
putting his eye behind that lens
rolling, rolling, rolling
and looking close
or at least close enough to wonder
to wonder sometimes why it doesn't make any sense?

I don't know if it's right
wrong
real or not
but sometimes I wonder if anybody is awake.

hello?

---

I don't have any recollection of writing this. I kind of remember thinking some of it, and somehow it made its way onto my myspace blog the other night.

 

My work here is done. The children are playing; the dogs are barking; the whores are fucking. All is as it should be in Assfuck, Alabama. Don't ask about the name. Please, join me for a meal at the International House of Sodomy. HAHA! I mean pancakes. Sit down, we have a lot to talk about. There is no god. Energy can not be created or destroyed.


[I'm pretty sure I was well absorbed into Robert E Wilson's Illuminatus! Trilogy when I wrote that. I think it shows.]

 

Take into account
every time he makes you smile.

Count the kisses
that take your breath away.

When you hug him
do you ever want to let go?

How often
is he in your head?

Would he
sacrifice everything
to make you happy?


If the last thing
he wanted to do
before he died
was to hold you
one last time

Then, then you have love.

When smiles at you
when you walk down the hallway
it isn't because you look funny
It's because he loves you.

When he looks into your eyes
and all you can see
and all that exists
is the two of you,

then, then you have love.

And you should never, never let that go.
Ever.



love is not an emotion.

 

Humbled
Being humbled is a thing of beauty,
As beautiful as irony and it serves its duty,
Some of Life’s lessons can’t be taught you see,
A humbling can teach anyone fortunately,
Being taken down a peg can be taken negatively,
Look outside the box and all you’ll see is positivity,
Just imagine the opportunity to see what was previously unknown,
To peak into the Johari Window and see what is shown,
Realizations we are one and there is no you or I,
No we and they our world is a country underneath one sky,
If everyone was humbled and saw only with their third eye,
They’d see everything is everything and its ok to swallow pride
Live to love and love to live as much as possible while still alive,
Learn from Life’s lessons do what you must to modestly survive. ​

 

My memory of the cavern is lost somewhere in the caverns of my memory. Those ghastly shapes, unnatural shadows, macrocosmic terror surrounding me and yet, the utter ecstasy of my own insignificance was more than I could handle. The very thought of my own death was enough to sober the most giddy of Bishop's. Finally, there is a fox hole in this atheist.

 

tomorrow

you will have been gone for a month.

I'll have a month's worth of nights of sleep without hearing you say you love me first. a month's worth of days we don't get to tell each other about. a month.

I miss you so much. lately it feels like there is nothing tying me anywhere anymore. and in most ways, I guess there isn't. I could spend the rest of my life driving from town to town, staying until I had the money for another tank of gas, refusing to plant roots anywhere else because it just feels like I don't have any room in me to do that anymore.

I'm 18 years old. you'll never get to know me when I'm 19, but that will happen next month.

so what kind of fucking sense does it make for you to be gone? why the fuck does that have to be?

I don't know. there are things that I do, and I have fun, I can smile some days. and I can make shit happen. I can always be heading someplace, I can always be looking west and upward, because direction is what makes us human.

but you aren't here, so none of it feels too right for very long at all.

tomorrow it will have been a month. a whole month of days you didn't wake up, of breaths you didn't take.

so these days my life is about doing anything I can feel, anything that I can feel at all. because that's the only way it seems like I'm really alive.

I miss you so much. I feel like I'm just floating around, waiting for whatever those last steel strings are to snap, and then I get to float back to you, like magnets or something.

we'll be thunderstorms. you can be the lightning, and I'll be the thunder, never rumbling too far behind. we'll be two trees that grow together in the middle, and we'll be the fire and smoke that come someday to make things rebuild. we'll be shooting stars together, reflecting in some other eyes filled with love, watching somebody else pointing at us before their sight is filled up with each other.

you went too soon, and those new things don't seem to be coming soon enough.
this gap seems infinite but I guess I know it really isn't.

I want to learn all the things and see all the things and do all the things we meant to do, and maybe it'll make that gap seem a little less infinite.

but I wish you were here. I wish that more than anything.

you are my heart, my soul, every song I sing. you are every word that falls out of me, every tear, every laugh. you are every dream I have, every chance I take. you're right there, every mile I drive or run or ride. you're every shooting star that lights up my vision. you're everything bright and beautiful, everything I want to find and hold onto. I'm carrying your spirit with me everywhere, because sometimes it seems so messed up that there are so many people that will never get to meet you now, so I'm letting them meet you this way.

I love you so much. forever and ever.

 

You've come to this place not of your own accord but to satisfy...who? You've come to this place of your own accord. You've known emptiness, and you seek to rid yourself of it. They've never known emptiness, but they want you to be like them so you can be empty but blissfully ignorant too. Sun light leaks through the crimson curtains, bathing the arid carpet in shining colors. It is a beautiful site; a visual symphony with no composer. It is left unnoticed, because attention is too precious.

They ignore the wonder and turn toward the mundane. The saddest part is they think they're doing the opposite. But you don't think about that. The music surrounding you is lifeless, but not dead. Synthetic transcendence is being sold here, but you don't pay with money. Instead, you pay with the vibrance your eyes had fifteen years ago. You pay with the sincerity behind the smile. You exchange hope and possibility for a false sense of security.
And now we look up. We look for something greater than ourselves, and find salvation in the limp figure on the stick. What is it about this man that inspires us? The wood is cold. “Let us proclaim the mystery of faith.” It is almost time. Yes yes, peace be with you too.

You rise and prepare for the rite. Your mouth is open, and your tongue is met with a familiar texture. Your mouth closes and there is a new texture, accompanied by a yell. The congregation panics. The wafer is getting soggy. Wipe the red from your lips and savor the sensation. Vitality mingled with nausea. Spit the crimson wafer out, and leave the man kneeling.

For the kingdom, the power, and the glory are yours, now and forever.