new fucking life.

real fucking world.

PSEUDO
PSEUDO

I know you

devised a plan in nature
devised a plan
devised a plan to seek out
your revenge

you thought you'd put me
in the corner
you thought you'd put
a massacre frame around my
energy desperately always
coming out

you thought you'd put me
back into place. you thought you'd see
me tremble like in your fantasies.
you just wanted
your fantasy
to be real.

you thought you'd stick me,
sort to speak,
but my good attitude about it
drew you back out.

my good attitude about knowing my death
was okay with me.

i was going to meet you.

you thought you'd put me in the corner.

you thought you had done so,
already. you saw your lover
next to you in bed.

alright. do you fucking
understand?

i knew you
devised a plan in apology unreal
apology to get me in that corner

i knew you
from the first fucking second
you opened your round face
observing delicately
i had the same.

fuck you. i knew it.

i had only kindness for you.
i only still have kindness for you yet
your lover won't think of you in kindness for seconds still
for seconds blue for seconds
at a fucking drag.

your lover will have to return.
your lover will have to beg.
your lover will have to know
he's a piece of shit.


i don't care if you die together.
i don't care if you die together.

listen,

i don't care if you die together.

your lover sticks you
to stick himself.

fuck you.

you've met to make best friends you are 

yet to meet best friends.

Obviously,

I'm wild about every idea ideal living

and hidden prophet

every forfeit every whack of honor 

every clown hung on the sky

every joker phanting fucker

every Woman.

/apparently/  it's a big deal.

I'll skip ion in the swim

satisfying micro-sorry

socialbilly and tolerant of your 

governmental highs, of your pocket

swelling

in the macrogripe of everywhere

purgatory and pregnant

of the trousers 

covering your hole

tolerant of the fucking crazies

the glitter horrors the 

real stories the

outstanding quantic

fingerslip

and your island obsessions and 

the cause of individuality 

just to get sex.

fuck it.

A prayer is a world

there are only some things that exist in 

the world

so be it.

My blood is the colour of Earth

I love what I do not know.

I love what I cannot be told; the Universe 

keeps her every secret.

I am not blown over I am not
dead I am slowly dying and content.
I am not without cause for concern I am not
carefree. I care for so many things.

when my skin crawls volcanic ash under foot

i lift my arms begging gravity to reverse

i lift my arms swimming UP

but it's only cloud, 

it's not dense enough for me.

and my skin erupting, what from its depths 

surfacing using gravity to my jealousy.

Catch the wave, THEN THIS BALL OF FIRE.

They could be brave, those others, they could be

but they could be useless. 

They could be useless until we meet in the eye.

TO BE FOOLISH: TO HAVE FAITH.

YOU MUST USE THE TOXIC GIFT AS PLEASURE

EVERYTIME 

YOU LIGHT A FIRE IT WILL BE COUNTED.

STILL PREOCCUPIED WITH MIND. YOU AND ALL

LIKE YOU. 

I KNOW

I KNOW IT'S HARD TO LET GO. 

These seasonal disputes. This is
my fucked intention. 

I hope it's genuine, but I ask. 

This is my homage to the unliving, the broke, the
getting stoned, the spending youth, 
the kill at the drinkside table--

I've seen you vomit. I've seen your math. 

I've seen your face brilliant
in the image of light and influence euphoric 
Having cum and now tossing in the clouds of RADIOACTIVITY

This is my EGO purifying in flame; I have
taken the skeleton-of-fire
and stepped into it.



 This is the hermit.

Brief note on the third dimentia

We live in the third, play in the second, and have no idea (as in many, with no collapse) on how the fourth influences us.

Zero's and one's are our upward causation to our digital uber-reality. We program it. We understand it; it's simple.

Observe the details (that is, what 2 is capable of). 

Reading through my notes going through the basic notions... DNA built from Nucleotides with Nitrogen bases, T/A/C/G... Thymine and Adenine are always paired, Cytosine and Guanine are always paired...

But the way these pairs match together create the millions upon billions of somatic functions, genetic codes, and innate instinct to reproduce... okay, practically common knowledge.

It just strikes me that there are 4. 

We use 2.

We're made of 4.

We are 3.

I want to play.

How to stay healthy but intoxicated

for the essence of the world

to birth.

I want both worlds I want to shine

in my dark space I want my intentions 

gone wild. 

I have called out

I have cried out

I have gotten nothing

except what I've needed

The world is a perfect mother.

There are still moments of Manifesto!

epiphanies

epiphany

here in Sprectra

there is Evolv

there is a place

there are still moments of manifesto

yours truly,

blunt blit

Looking back at earth turning to Sulfur

I leap too sharply

I cut myself out

but never off

and I'm sweltering

and my feet are getting chalky 

and my skin is sprouting bark

and sap drips patiently from my ears-

golden and full

and I'm heavy...

but I'm heavy always.

And I still CRY OUT

though only among the constellations

And I still remember

And seedlings of pregnant dust 

rain heavily 

and suddenly intoxication

detoxifies my soul

as soon my crown Realizes

it feels All

so it takes in the dirt.

I pull on my cigarette and I take in the dirt

And I feel calcium repelling

its whole structure 

and I collapse 

and my hair stands up feathering

in the wave

and I 

focus with indigo

and realign. 

. . .

Indigo is easy: elsewhere, 

there is still the snake.

Restless.

Burning. 

Deep within its nested knot

lying midway 

through the spine.

With a memory of the prenatal darkness

I remember the passage of the snake.

I was foolish.

I leap sharply 

I haven't learned

I was foolish

I was drop dead foolish.

and on this topic of skin
I forfeit.

I forfeit always.

Take your flesh and rest it on top mine
I will not have the will to succumb 
gracefully myself.

Gravitating, yes.

To the Hermit card stalking my season
An anchor to my torrent
a hop spell
leaping 
with no pull outbound.

I am a womanly black hole. 

 

I had left: I remembered cigarettes, I forgot my keys.

there's life on my corner there's
life in my head.

the story crunches--I do,
I do still consider masses of energy.

I do still crave rattling--
a good,
promising one.

I'm leaning.

it's where I stand--at the ledge,
leaning slightly.

(try to balance when it rains)

All these people...

it seems like they are, strangely.

I do perceive them.

I do look like them.

I do inherently perceive something.

No one notices me up
up here.

revised.

What my roomate called: Pure Pisces

i read aloud Recovered Poem: 

----------------------------------------------------(the archives are under investigation) -----------------------------------------------------

Sunday, November 11, 2007.

i know 

what i want

it's exactly what

i'm running from

exactly what

i have to orbit

to repair

why am i playing chase

with the goddamned Golden Age

why am I

Shitkicking myself

around

MOTHER PLANET EARTH

at this velocity

Why am I a victim of rent

of minimum wage

and of godless mother fuckers

Because I am a Scientist with my Emotions.

-

Observation and Laboratory

i think of all the ways i fucked up and i

feel lead in my body

and i consider Mercury and magnesium

and feel at home in this

alien place

(my body).

i fool myself.

i do, I make a fool of myself. Constantly &

especially these days.

I am a lonely optimist.

Dualism over a smoke

Happiness.

I have lived at my most prophetic

alone and self abusing

I've been in abundance at this

second hour of day

in some vague cinematic ideal

with only the page to see.

getting home in the

middle of the night

headthings in and

feeling gutted and

torn_____remember

falling for the city?

remember getting home?

today when today

comes before

yesterday

i remember

the things I

haven't done yet

i remember them

vividly.

Attrition

getting transfixed
in my origin
in my workload of Soul
in this
most meaningful
human hole
I put myself in for Creation.

quntm: lrg't quantity in/ physics, smll't

http://jpg.netcakes./frackcoils/.S.T.

post post post

All my lonlies and all my Creatives,

follow soot.

Restart my mind.

Thinking of the path winds the path.

Chasing the feeling provokes it removed.

It is windy.

Restart my mind.

Meet me in blank confidence.

Blatant be the way from there.

But,
how?

Let me brew in the truth of Next.

As if light comes from the opposite side of shadow, I don't
believe it.

Darkness doesn't penetrate.

It lingers as if cold.

Except that it's never cold.

Fickle quantum is between all matter, and that's
being kind.

Reaction is everywhere. 

Where did this soot come from?

 

Scenior (inner battle)

Light evades light
had whatever night
forgot you desperate
forgot you desolate, even
forgot you on the impulse of your honesty.

It may be your turn for darkness
have you now perspired
have you now infatuated
on some unruly bend of skin.

It may be your turn for darkness
shine ceasing shine.

For what momentary memory
shall I complement yours?

Theory

I may never know lust
I may never know what
my first love was like
at naked intimacy, 
though I think of it still.

I may never blush
I may die alone or next to a lover

I may have looked
into the eyes of love
but looked away forgetful.


I may have spent mornings alone
enjoying the silence
I may have waited for more time
I may have once found myself
in contemplation
returning to the breathless normal
upon discovery.

I may have desired all in
this spirited Universe.

Why should now be any different?

If truth was by nature, flexible.

seeing myths in the sky

black drops
of energy falling from
the ceiling
at a curve.

shocks of light
reflected off glass
and shaking

going forth and return

colour mixed and
colour unsettled.

the ethereal blood stream
tiny particles streaming by
golden through; silver glistening.

black drops of energy
falling still

snipt from longer journal piece

...hanging calculated
that my mind and its bone
drop below surface
consumed only completely
by water.

(when I get poetic I understand
the buddha. it's really just the fault
of words--but,
who knows what those people are like,
smoking cigarettes as if they were
the rest of us)

funny note from '10

I'm not sure, 2 am? I've been
up since dawn and I've art fagged,
drug dealt, and drunk.

I came home locked outta my own bedroom
my roommate fucking some
junk
and I left in hyper-irritantism:

This is the Quest.

thoughts from different pages

There are two everywhere on earth
because we separate from ourselves
to be born here.

And when this earth was a rock
of chilling lead and magma
it worshiped god better
then we do now.

There is never only one
dynamic beginning.

of

between our thoughts there is what?
there is no body at our lay
and I wonder
how much more
or less I'd have of you
had I been
on your flesh
instead of
in your thoughts-

A pause

If I could have one temprement
which would it be?

The sea.

In calling light
what tone should I keep?

Clear.

What's between a thought
and the tongue?

I ask,

when you come to my bed
unlearn all
you know of sleep and sex.

I do not want the body adapted
to the pillows of your past.

A barren you.

In my calculated prudence
I'll meet you in electric desolation.

comedown slow, easy

i ask her seriously: life is good,

right?

that we can only tolerate love poetry

when we're in love.

delightenment

in the dark world

people are equal.

under light there is

a mountain to climb.

Images from the city & the mind when the body is in the city

I've fallen so many times
so many ideas
have been worth mental masturbation.


I remember the days
I could ejaculate all over
EVERY PAGE
and put the paper aside
because I was better in tune
with the one going down.

It's been years since I've slept
between the sheets
of paper.

badadadadadum

A cigarette
looking out the window
to the snow-topped roves: these are the mountains
of this city.

And it's OK.

Here I search for the likeness
of people.

Here there can be every happiness
except that
of being close to the sea.

The best thing Salvador Dali ever did was write a poem about Picasso.

"the biological
and dynastic phenomenon
which constitutes the cubism
of
Picasso
has been
the first great imaginative cannibalism
surpassing the experimental ambitions
of modern mathematical
physics."