The stream (all workshops)
That is the way of the past,
Like the pebble that falls
To the bottom of the well.
Swallowed up in the dark
Chasm of Time's gullet;
In the silent drifting
Into the unknown,
And then abruptly ending
With a satisfied splash.
The day is gone,
The clock has ticked away.
The moon has yawn'd.
The night has tured to day.
my anthropologist friend
from the Big Apple writes:
"Demonstration of the surpassing of human limitations
is a matter of fact. It is not a matter of debate."
"I don't know Thai
and you don't know me."
I write back;
there is no window through these
perceptions that manifests the intelligence
of a universe
Fucked over from the start
brutally narcissistic, cruel
you went for the jugular
Knew where to cause the most pain
gasping, clawing
fighting breath
Inserted the blade
sliced and made the incision
penetrated the muscle
Probed and examined
dissected and bisected,
each part.
You thrust and skewered
wrenched me open
to examine.
Crooked little scar
jagged and worn,
ripped beneath my heart
Brutally mellifluous words
barged inward.
Pulsating eruptions
terrorized my last standing wall
which i allowed to deteriorate.
A cavity was created,
littered with debris.
I did not stand a chance
against the euphonious tune.
That charming voice
became just an echo
between my ears.
The amorous flutters
becoming nothing more
than nagging birds in my stomach
Singing songs
up through my throat
of what could have been.
...
The citys like an urban jungle
Contraditions of life in every bubble
Too much hype over constant struggle
Like learning to ride a bike to a rabid dog with no muzzle
We gotta huddle
Come together to fuck trouble
Escape it's shitty weather like the shuttle endeavour finding space rubble
What?
That was muddled
Still it's enough
Oh so subtle
But it's a must we settle like the old west
A conquest for a medal
A detest like Hansel to Grettle
Use metal for a Buddha chest not battle
I'm just listening
The composition of beaded notes
dive at an angle aimed at my calves
Clear projectiles implode on my skin
slinking down toward my ankles
The rhythm is constant
Solid patterns
drumming
playing
trickling
A humming opus composed by the grey
leaving translucent tones around my feet
I could listen forever
The drenching sound
makes me
forget
arousal this heat
sensous swirling
while the crows speak
sonnets and the ciccada
hums disguised against
the trunks in shade
wind in the high tension
wires moaning
this glaze of cloud like
dinner plate porcelain
a page of dreams
evoked by the mischeif
of chimes in empty backyards
thoughts wandered to you
across the spendid waters
in the curve of sleep
supine and peaceful
When one lie leads to another
Becoming an intractable disease
Like a car without brakes
You don’t know how to stop
Mendaciousness increases
Mobile phones boost the rate
And provide a cheap way out
Trust lost because of cheap gains
They don’t know where to stop
Hearts sealed against conscience
Stealing and prostitution follow
This may lead to murder, because
They don’t know when to stop
TRANSITIONS
I am in a state of transition
And a coming subtraction is about to happen
When my two becomes a one.
My soul hides in fear of its immortality
My body feels the pain that dying brings,
And mind and spirit no longer sing in harmony
Not pleasant to see
Less pleasant to do
Terrifying when suddenly
It is happening to you
I am the perfection of imperfection
A giant to an amoeba
An invisible speck of dust to the universe
I‘m everything and nothing
But at least I’m something
Outlived
I sat by an angel with her feet trapped in
ice looking into my eyes she asked what
was my vice I gave here an answer
that in part was the truth
I love to write stories and poems
May I read what you’ve written she
says as the ice starts to melt in my
utter confusion I said what I felt
the bubble it got burst champagne then
spilled on to my paper as the
truth was distilled
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