21. Writing

Its like I see you driving
Down pulling mainer
Red snow mobile jacket collered clean
Nesetled in amonst the backdrop
The irrdencent sky filled with marbles
You park and smile gleaming out the truck
A friendly embrace or
Later maybe at party at your house
Maybe down by the beach
Either way the communication is through friends through friends
No texts no cell
Just paradise a canoe beachfire and long summers night
A streak of ingenuitity amongst the rigid cedar and hemlock
Shared classes and sun burns brightest after the equionox

20. Rebecca Verse 3

I see the ocean with you The sweat of the pine trees
stings  with crystalline saltwater and The Wind
so strong closer to the edge more salt to curl your hair
sometimes feelings seldom differ Flowers try to grow
Try to bloom on my right The fog decieves the forsaken
In Peace I Lust

19. Writing

a cat watched the moon
visiral swirls playing with the curls
of his tail
a question was asked
the moment regressed
and they moved across the sky flying towards
some circus in the stars

18. Rebecca Verse 1

I draw my smoke evenly standing on the edge of obsidian night
Lay witness cruel games of devils and angels
they lay in waste and blueprint tomorrow
Broadband colors push through chakras
complexion dry weary flushed face red blood circulating
its around 6:30 I draw my smoke evenly
seems I've waiting here for ages
finally there is an arrival

Scene Change

End of Act 1

silence ensues.

17. Lament Verse V Exerpt

I’ll write music with my pen as long as those silent grey features still remain suspended in space with glory hidden to even the most vigilant. It’s unexplainable. This kills me like how I once bled my teenage angst then donned a patchwork robe of denim and cordoroy experiences that stitch my love hurt breathing dying thinking that no one showed me the fine print or clause at the end of the contract when I signed on for this life. Now I know no one needed to. This life is beautiful.  Its filled with furry cats sun unknown stoops trees and window sills that borders family and caring. It is also filled with three headed beasts pain humility gutters and darkness. Now I see, or I see for now. What I see for now is clearer than prior. This is our only shot for this time. It doesn’t matter how you live as much as why you live. Once you really live you never die. You can cheat death as ends are beginnings. I tip my hat in deep regard of friendship beyond therapy. I stare at the sun with burnt eyes feel the lament and ritual of being.

16. Lament Verse IV Exerpt

When something ends it means that something once began. My beginnings are loose threads of colored twine waiting for the telephone operator connection. Stuck in the waiting room with two doors

Interlude

By now it had only been a few blocks.

15. Writing

I find us following similar steps.

paths progressions of our pioneers

focusing on familiar simian standby mechanisms

blankly staring from a circle of wagons

frankly swearing my oath of aleigance

wondering where all the voices of the west went

14. Writing

the fires burning.

The fuels been left too close

I am haunted by by ghosts of past conviction

13. Writing

it is the institution of booty shake

the politicians of dance

strut

under new lights neon

drinks over priced like gasoline

pills the cheap way to go all night

rise sun rise we’ll block you with blinds

huddled around a table

generals meet every Friday or Saturday

sometimes both

close to each other

fantasies and flailers spill across the floor

macabre of candy

basslines of benevolence

broken over beats

Interlude

Patiently they stood by the door and listened.

12. Writing

Pilgrims push forward

Move stones

Unlock mountain secrets

In prayer and faith we have and hold in the

Family and friends stretched

Across never ending plains of splintered auburn clouds.

11. Writing

Solemn hands of time cradles us

Opens love

And love

Is atoms in atoms

We are atoms in atoms

Hands forever hold lock together as one

Atom

In atoms

10. Writing

this began shepards cry to the heaven’s stars shed

tears and came into the hands of one whom jovial by nature

talked with cats as familars

kindred empathy some have

it is in that which is the fabric

that eventually brings us back together into one as one

9. Writing

tall oak divides street columns and people fall into place

like tetris pieces

crows on the stoop

we sit and listen to the rain archers

pelt the roof all night

Interlude

It grows dark as we leave the ocean

7. Writing

Upon the awakening

Many watched

From wonder

The air was crisp

A golem rose

Machine of magic

Who would stand after waking for centuries

Undisturbed

Rustic clockwork

While the roses and ivy

Twist and twirl

Like a whirlpool clasping

The animate's inanimate leg

6. Writing

There are hummingbirds so large in my dreams  if one had a saddle and a spirit pure untainted as to not leave the bird whom cries thunder

Storm of deities

Unexplained deities of mammal gods

Whos wings thunderclap

Pulses of vibrations

Not to leave the bird succeptabble to curses

Or other unholy calculations

For this shall triumph

Ignite the wicker

So there is light all night

5. Writing

Many moons pass and fall under amber light

The room grows cold

Hints of winter permeate

I look for ghosts that aren’t there

4. Writing

Inside

One of the folding venesian blinds are drawn

Blessed sin is it to fall between the cracks between the folds of whats happening

Within the cracks and folds of our earth I rest in ferns but few are here

Are the trees compared to the iron and concrete

Still I am drawn to it with a burning heat

Amber sunset rips long slices through the blinds

Reflecting rainbows from the atoms of my mixed cocktail

My mind still becomes locked

Surrendered so much to my suffering

3. Writing

There is a box. Brown box. I keep this box under my bed. It is home to my pictures. It is home to my past,present, and future. It strores my zoo of animals and mythical heroes. Both living and dead gods are stored there. There are even pieces of the broken. I hope they don’t miss what ive taken. This is all in my box. All underneath my bed tucked safely in the corner.  I’ve kept shades of light dull and prismatic in my box, but they escaped, which is fair for my box only holds so much. There are heartbroken hawks and falcons in my box. There are demons fighting black-hearted angels every waking moment in my box. There are fallen stars on dark barkdrops. Glasses of water half-full are in my box. There are canoes, highways, and ethnic cornerstones in my box. Dirt from under my nails from past lives is in my box. All in my box.  All tucked safely away under my worn bed.  The bed where I’ve bled and fed.  Between these four walls that want to talk but cannont because they are blind and have no mouths.  Misused, unlike my box. My box with little feather hinges. The box that is made with pieces of me and a key lost inside.

- in homage love and respect to allen ginsberg

2. Writing

They fished a thousand days in that frigid sea

Searched for the instruments of posiden

Using a compass cast in bronze

Krakens brushed against the belly of the boat

‘I miss me wife’ a sailor chirped

the captain was mad

their luck was forgotton

this story was lost

as they sun to the bottom.

1. Picture

Signed in the snow with my heart