Tuesday, November 30, 2010

Ego Choke

To each one
plays a different tune
it's all music.

The point
the yin and yang of things.


Choose the lead.
Let the rest rest
all may be but tools.

The Window of Clarity
doesn't rest
you rest.

Wednesday, November 24, 2010

A Breath of Genius

"Life is infinitely stranger than anything which the mind of man could invent. We would not dare to conceive the things which are really merely commonplaces of existence. If we could fly out of that window hand in hand, hover over this great city, gently remove the roofs and peep in at the queer things which are going on, the strange coincidences, the planning, the cross-purposes, the wonderful chain of events, working through generations and leading to the most outer results, it would make all fiction with its conventionalities and foreseen conclusions most stale and unprofitable."

-Sir Arthur Conan Doyle

Thursday, November 18, 2010

Grey Flight

More than twice
I contemplated deep and wide
in the pool of the greatest swirls
about just takin' the greyest dove out for a ride.

You know,
I like to know
that you know.
It will never but always be in the now.

The power of now
riding way deep in the backseat
of that fine classic cherry bomb
flippin' pancakes and makin' bacons hiss with a fine sizzle.

It's just that cafe in that time.
Sky-peering window up high,
linoleum down low,
cutup counter just right.

The greyest dove descends on my shoulder,
says it could be just about time.
Never that shade of grey would depart as a choice,
just as grey as I could choose.

Now the cafe shrinks in my rearview mirror,
it doesn't really matter what I drive.
It's the shade of grey I ride.
Did you not know, grey is the new white.

Sunday, November 14, 2010

The Taste of Punk and Keds

Oh, Americana,
What a dream!
No better place to beam
about than the skating realm.
It's just the glide's gleam.

Like cream
in a cup of coffee,
there is no turning back
to black.
Rollerskating's got its own mack.

It's just a dream.
Oh, Americana!

Tuesday, November 9, 2010

Document-Worthy (Old) Rant

You are indeed food to my soul
never any more fruit I have ever seen in my bowl.
It's like you feed me life,
Its important that you know
you make me feel vibrant now
And that life really resounds of goodness and amazing magic.

I feel like screaming
Hasn't anyone got a clue?
Earth is screaming
As this piece of truth is way overdue
What are we gonna keep on with?

Spilling tar over our eyes,
Tripping over our egos,
Distracting ourselves with figments of cowshit.
I'm sick and tired of it.
Just like a plain wave of nausea,
Sure, something like claustra.
There's no clarity.

Don't you see it?
The frantic birds overhead,
fluctuating temperatures in the weather,
little children coughing
because their bodies cannot decide.
Elderlies in winter coats on warm days
in wise preparation for the next onset (wave) of cold.
Do you fucking see it
like I do?
Do I just scatter my thoughts badly,
Am I not clear?

Tell me, I haven't got a clue.
We r all supposed to be a team.
How come do I feel like saying every cuss word I know?
But with a hint of floating revelation,
I experience a breeze of satisfaction.
Satisfaction never stays.
Like the breeze,
It travels through you.

"One day,... I'm going to walk through THIS wall."
A woman once said with utter determination.
A benz lover dismissed the determination
And thought of it as a form of dementation.
They think benzs are the safest vehicles around.
All I'm askin' is what do we really know.

What expires quicker than a dead fish left outside.
Thoughts expire so fast.
They electrify and then diminish almost in unison.
So, we gotta act fast.

Thursday, November 4, 2010

Of Brumal Beauty

Go ahead.

Unlatch your mind.
Can you hear it begging you?
After all, being born is quite a startling surprise.

The true mind lies before our present minds.
The true mind tells us where to look and go.

Our present minds shuffle and shift between thoughts.
Shuffle, turn, tumble, tip-toe.
If anything, it's like a wedge.

Now soak down in your heart.
Let silence be its dialect.

There your true mind will begin to form.
I repeat, begin to form.
A seed does not provide fruit.

Like a vast farmland with a gate at the front,
you are miles from the gate.

Still, you see the gate.
Be gravitated.
Mind not the speed.

As long as the heart sings only silence,
you are well on your way.

You must wonder.
How is silence a pathway?

Silence, I will say,
as opposed to various brews of emotions.

We are before our thoughts and emotions.
We form our thoughts and emotions.
See the connection?

We form them.
We are not given them.

See the farmland now?
I bet it is closer.
Travel well.