break-in

and there's hair on the floor, and floor

on my feet

and there's a carpet somewhere,

where the places all meet

and there're chairs on the rug

cause it's there and they're near

and they talk in such words

in such ways you can't hear

and the doors all are open,

some broken right in

and the night men and ninjas

and dogs all come in

and they see the rug there,

with it's scrapes and it's lines

and they see all the chairs

their words soft, and combined

and they all change all their names

for the sake of the public

and they know not.to.be. noticed

IN the chairs or among them

so they paste back the doors,

and they quietly leave,

and the winter winds shift,

and the trees lose their leaves

gone the doors to the words of the tables and chairs

and the floors mumble too

under illusion, stares

and they way is then masked, and

it's clouded, with musk

as the leaves, and the sun,

dripping under with dusk

break- up

my head is pounding

in the middle of every song-

in the move of every pawn

i see your face...

i put your wrong

inside it's place...

its fucking over

and we both know it-

you dont show it,

you dont show the carefull

equality

of the earth

and the sky

and the wind

and the ground

and the music

inside your soul-

easily spent,

halftime's approaching,

your sun is encroaching,

it's surrounding us now,

the dark side of the universe is unveiled...

reading onto different letters,

mysteries of long hours

and cut hair

and bent suspicions

of people you will never meet again....

it's quickly over,

so quickly grown over,

i'm so over this

and nobody really gives a damn, anymore...

so bottle it up,

commercialize,

sell it to the masses

and market it as a

false advertisement,

and salt the winds

with every stone you throw....

water underneath the moon

moves itself towards equality,

towards adultery,

shut your mouth

and arrest him

for slander!!

for arson!

for blasphemy!

for going against the grain!

for commiting public intoxication!!

for buying plants!!

for growing gardens!!

for changing social standards!

for enticing the general publics attention!!

arrest him!

... When the moon is full,

everything is enlightened.

everything is brightened.

everything is changed....

and nothing will ever be the same.

every letter is pressed,

every soldier is kissed,

how many lives are lost

before we see the end? before we start again?

.... another lost line,

another open heart,

another heritage of inequity..

another night of howling,

jostling memories forever

back and forth,

a small line of essence

locked and lost forever

into the sequence of

time and space.

And who am I?!

and who are you?!

and why are we so different?

and how are we the same?

do we not all play this game?

this blank absence from one

thing to the next,

the next big test,

the next big thing around the bend?

is the grass always greener?

or do we just imagine what

could always be better?

maybe its the optimist in me,

maybe it's the freedom,

maybe it's the free

who are enslaved,

by their own negligence

of the imperfections

of the world;

maybe they're afraid to make it better,

girlfriend,

boyfriend,

letting you know this time it must be real...

so involved with ourselves,

not involved enough with each other...

try and succeed,

and in recent years

you'll find

an undermind

of unacknowledged

ideas

dripping away,

past and present,

future and

orgins,

sort it out...

and build your forts,

of leaves,

and sticks....

(and clay, and bricks,

and stones, and tricks...

and spells,

and slumped spines

stacked uselessly,

one upon the other,

in gypsy heaps

of heads and

lipsticks...)

(who are you looking for?

and have you found her?

and have you found your stars

inside someone else's eyes?

and have you had time,

to look for a ride?

because everyone is lost,

and we're all looking for a way home,

so throw your loans

away and

start looking

for the

truth.)

for whatever reason..

do

whatever

the

fuck

you

want.

a letter to my pen-pal!

so every blind is a world,

every world is a sea,

every screw is a nail,

every bird is a bee...

every letter is written,

every number escapes,

every wood is a toothpick,

every spot is a place....

every color is blue,

every day is a night,

every weapon is warm,

every muscle is tight...

every feeling is dead,

all the dead are alive,

and temptations are solid

when the shadows can drive...

and the earth is held up

by two axis of eyes

and it bleeds from our noses

and turns, as we try

and our songs and our rules

and our judgements and tastes-

welll the truth is the light, but the saying's a waste-

it all moves,

the sun flame

lights on life as ironic,

and the world as a game

encouragement for the bold at heart

nothing can forsake the

irresistible stream of time..

the blinds are open now for quiet mornings,

morning glories,

silent streams and beams of borings,

things and quarries,

carving out the caves,

getting trapped in your own mind...

and when you find yourself,

feeling what you've felt,

then take your folded fiber, quiet soft survivors,

and cut them out with spiders,

sharpened tools will do the trick...

feeling sore and feeling sick...

they walk out slowly, ghosts and liars, moisture driers,

feeling for the fallen past..

futures formed, the futures last,

they've fallen down, and fallen blind,

are lost and far behind....

so put it simply, said so limply,

soap and swallows swell the psalms;

so save some time, corrupt your prime,

and pollen all you palms;

for when the dusk has settled yet,

and knowing's all you know,

then when you go, and if you grow,

you'll loose and leave your binds.

...

.

!

disasociation

empty cities, useless words,

built up in ethers, sensless voids;

heart-felt sorrows, blistered sadness,

scarred and swallowed, well-thought madness...

after cloudless, bending rights

a flame-less fire, and starless nights,

well read, well spoken, straight edged and poised,

ignore the sounds, ignore the noise...

converse to motions,

patterns, potions,

pour it out into the ocean,

dogs and cats,

return their souls..

"we will save you!" screams the 'witness'

skin-thick bones, are wet with fitness,

running, waiting, for their graves,

a solemn tale, an even trade...

A solid pile of sweet crescendos,

a slightly pungent innuendo,

a hint, a wink, a well placed nudge,

a naughty smile, a saint is judged.

New moon, new ways, and everything seems to be falling in place...

the books were written backwards,

upside down in cursive letters,

words and pages

woven softly into songs.

I promise to never let you go,

weathering my soul,

and I'll line the windowsills

every morning with glass bottles...

even though with

every night

they grow dusty, burnt and old...

our fathers were washed with our mothers,

uncles, daughters, sisters, brothers,

and every time they smiled and waved,

we cut the ties,

to put them in their place.

But what do I know?

I am young and untouched

and i'm slowly learning backwards,

reading books

and songs

to send me on my way.

getting lost in my own mind

you smile, and i shudder
slowly melting away with every breath...
with every breath i take
i breathe you in,
your sin,
your scent, your touch,
your skin
which i might take, to borrow, or not
and i'm really not sure,
what i gave i forgot
and my heart is in knots
cause i know that i'll leave you
and my heart will be sore
cause i know i can't see you
and as much as i want you
to slip in my skin,
i know that i can't ever listen again,
and i know i'm much older, and colder, and sore
and heartbroken and boring and lively and more
than you ever will know
though it does go to show
we all will grow up, we all will grow old...
and we all must each go on our own separate ways
though i wish we could laugh, and i wish we could stay
not this same way forever,
but for longer each day
and it's crazy, you change me,
in every new way
but i'm heartbroken
on silence
that never was spoken
and on making decisions
that were usually broken
and i put much more soul
and heart into this
and all that you did
was give me a kiss
on the cheek, just last week,
we were happier then
and happiness measures the love that comes in
and love comes in stages,
salutes, stairs and hair pins
and i just hope that someday,
i can see you again.

slipping between ethers

can anybody hear this?

words whispered, slipped out

and strangled, kicked out and mangled,

forgotten, tangled

in with all the rest

and all the best of propositions,

missed positions,

soldered knots and

whiskered kittens,

rising bread and

setting suns...

can anybody listen now,

to worlds unspoken?

silence, broken?

a drop, a pearl,

and ashes, smoking?

speak with your hands?

speak unto lands?

share thoughts and songs

and smiles, and pants?

I guess it's hard

to sit together,

when every cloud is

dangerous weather,

when every man

stares at your back,

and every one

might just attack

and sear your gold

and steal your time

where words

and worlds

are sewn with pride

fire in my eyes

bling bibble dlee blubbers,

i mumble and stutter, too shy to tell the truth

it's roots grip me,

strangle my senses,

i'm in over my head...

i think about you on purpose,

sometimes just for a smile,

sometimes it makes me uneasy,

usually I have no idea.

Usually my legs shudder,

learning how to speak,

how to learn.

blank canvass

and my mind is as blank

as it is alone in a room

blinking, dancing,

moaning...

groaning, waking up inside myself

and finding here there is no time

to disperse upon my wealth,

different spaces, distant faces,

spicy bracelets, peas and toes

I wonder when this all will end,

i ask, but no-one knows.

Shudders & eyebrows line the walls,

thinned thick with firey glares,

and masked and tired there stood the bells,

dripping slowly sticky silverwares...

Get out! get down, get out of town,

what comes will go around,

and pounds of sound will fill the ground,

but only frowns are felt, or found

senses bent, we came and went,

and slowly streaked your soul;

the time has past, this mark will last

vestiges were our goal.

we built it up

to burn it down

bring terrors, to our foes

oh, men of great!!! redemption, hate,

still keeps us on our toes

and yet there's hope!

as time does float

regardless of our pains,

compassion fills our skins again,

a cleansing truth after the rain.

_____________________

attempting to take my mind off of...

Save your lines for silver spaces,

rings and things, familiar faces,

racing backwards, back to home........

we're leaving now,

the birds and nests

take what you can,

but leave the rest

for winds & worms & white-washed breasts.

You've really got me!!

scream the voices,

bells and hell's rest on your choices,

piercing blisters, tossed and hoisted,

pulling upstairs,

to the pillowed floors.

...

...

..

.

....

you plague my thoughts, my dreams, my foe

i tried!!

ACROSS THE DOORSTEPS

soaked with red light

A Princess,

a child,

Sees a crying willow tree

DRIPPING CANDY

And Sweet Memories,

aclosetouch

A PAINTED FACE

a thick religion

P E N C I L E D O U T L I N E S

a delicate kiss;

goodbye,

travelers

upon the blistered rocks, we sit

perfected by the sun...

our souls and songs, portrayed, or lost

all silently, was sung...

First-hand, the man,

here traveled, whenced we met;

tips on his toes, sang songs of woes,

of picked-pricked tunes, and droves

the soft sun sets,

as does the toll,

of wandered

man and mind,

now place your hands, and count your glands...

which way to fly, or find?

rediculousness

DONT THROW STONES AT GLASS BOATS!!!

setting sails, winter coats

sewn up streams and recycled green beans!!

SEND YOUR SOUL THROUGH THE POST!!!

seamstresses hems the sewn hallways,

(painted red with distractions)

as she floats, and regrettably boasts....

While the toast and the roast,

skipping stones down steep throats,

stir, perpetually stung by string cheese...

and the pies and the goats,

sailing shy of the coast,

all strapped on dark pants, and they hobbled a dance,

and they all singled out the green bean.

slinky

"My eyes are muddied with ink!!"

sink the cherub, croak the whiskeys,

send the message down the sink!

"Your bones, they stink!!"

repeats the mink, while giving smiles & slinging winks,

and with his eyes, in rough disguise,

he sits there, and he blinks.

He rides the seas, with birds and bees,

and bellows, till he's pink;

he sails the skies, all dressed in ties,

and pours another drink.

He searches, all his life in vain

to find the missing link...

never knowing,

always going,

that charming mr. mink.

(ALTERNATE ENDING)

Alas, one day, he ran away,

and caused one great big stink,

he took our hay, and took our bay,

that stealthy mr. mink.

earthlings

how thin is our lifeline,

pressed between the sea and sky,

and the ground which we tread on,

where we walk and where we lie

and where we try to rectify

our repercussions; to put it simply,

oil is slick

and black

and sticky

and mines dig deep, this might get tricky

playa awarenesss

I can feel it;

the possibility,

screaming through the dust...

crying out, yelling for someone to be alive;

a small wonder,

the music sings and allows us to transcend

all witnesses of sorrow

to overcome the fear, the judgements.

the pen.

the paper.

the pure love of sound

like paper puppets, strings and fools

or smoky webs, in puddled pools

amasked, is lifes spark and creation.

Disguised as gypsy penny bracelets,

knee-high socks and morbid statements,

wrapped up tight, bold and complacent,

there sits the pitted irony.

our thoughts weebie, (we be?)

so iridescent,

knitted stiff with luminescence

see-through rocks & pre-pubescence,

lingers soft with harmony.

sloss meat

It's a roughly strewn world,

full of pinpricks and sinners,

and doggies and dreamspots and sunday night dinners

and we eat all the food

that we don't grow ourselves

and its full of bullshit

made to sit on some shelves

But we feast, never knowing

what they put in our food

and we swallow the guilt

like it's home-made beef stew

and we chew on our problems

thinking they'll go away

but they end up just growing what with every new day

get a raise, so they say,

it will make your life better,

get away, barely paid,

go before the wets wetter

cause if your stuck in the system

and don know where to go,

the LAST thing that you do

is pack up and go home.

for carrie!!!

"Gobble Gobble!" says the miner, something's not right; brighter liners

line the walls of JERACO.

These walls can talk! The'll tell you stories, boring songs and tales of glories,

that they hadn't WON BEFORE.

"I'm much too young!!" They'll tell you shyly, dry your eyes and sniff you kindly,

They'll find a faint & shocking smell, of SHAVED ICE CREAM and PAINTED LEGS

"I broke the windows!" yelled the man, with bright red lips & shining hands,

I LOOKED to SEE and FOUND that THEY were TIN.

Of course the storie's false you know, the miner stared, his eyes aglow, and,

by himself,

sat TALKING to a WALL.

silent daisies

Today I was standing by the river

throwing daisies down, into the water;

watching their petals grasp the wind

and dance, and swirl

until they landed with a ripple.

You came over as they floated away,

with questioning eyebrows.

I tried to explain, and you picked me another daisy.

"It's okay." I said.

For some reason, I wanted to keep the daisies

to myself;

there was something about being the only witness

to that moment of beauty

that seemed so enticing.

A perfect secret, between myself

and the world

a new day, a new way

i think in thoughts,

bare with me;

not the top of charts, top spots

can take from you what is not yours.

The chores we do,

this course, we're forced

bring forth your youth and shed and sort

your mind, your matter, it's alright now

to say and speak

your own accord.

we fly, we board

the trains to nowhere,

show there is some hope, so go there;

where is my luck? where is your cup

it's over-flowing, your head is showing

your eyes are bigger than half your worth

your nails are bubbling, are spilling forth

with lessons learned,

you covet urns and yearn for something

bigger; something better,

something brighter than hers ('s that yours?)

well now it's mine,

i gave you this you can't define

my eyes are mine

they see through lies,

through all your spies,

through all your skies,

all your clouds and rain and oceans

I dare to look deeper

and deeper into the water

until there's no more water left

blah blah bloging my thoughts since i've quit facebok cold turkey

You know what? our age is strange.

Here is Erykah Badu's latest music video: (art)

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=9hVp47f5YZg

And here is Lady Gaga and Beyonce's new video: (art)

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=GQ95z6ywcBY

I realize these videos are on the opposite side of the musical spectrum, but when i was told to watch both of them, i couldn't help but notice the similarities.

I mean other than the fact that both of them have to do with (basically) getting or being naked,

I think these videos are showing something that is emerging in our current culture.

In Erykahs video, it seems to me that she is pointing out what we (as americans) have become, especially at the end when she speaks;

"they are quick to assassinate what they to not understand, they move in packs, ingesting more and more fear with every act of hate on one another. They feel most comfortable in groups; less guilt to swallow. THEY are US. THIS is what we have become. Afraid to respect the individual. A single person within a circumstance can move one to change. To love herself; to evolve."

It seems to me that by stripping down completely naked she forces the people around her to see the rawness of the human body; of the pure individual. She talks about respecting the self, about loving, evolving. I'd like to mention, by the way, that this song is from the New Amerykah Part Two album. ... Anyway. What she is pointing out is our FEAR of what isn't in "the norm."

She does it in such a powerful way too, to force the viewer to follow her and watch as her story unfolds; as she undresses in the streets and gets shot.

Gaga's videos, i must admit, are something else. She directs them herself, too. And the weird parallels between the videos move me to ask questions about our culture. Gaga's reputation is strange; what with the hermaphrodite rumors, outlandish costumes, and "i don't give a fuck about what you think" attitude.

I just feel like these two videos touch so much on the same subjects, and the backgrounds of both the artists contribute highly to the messages that they deliver. They are both emphasizing the importance of the SELF. of BEING yourself. Not following the crowds, not doing what other people do, but following your heart and your soul and letting things take their course by making your decisions. Gaga's reputation and video shows that. Badu literally just tells us.

They touch on LOVE; love is love, gay or straight, black or white. (which, i find hilarious in the end of Gaga's video that Beyonce is dressed in black and Gaga in white.) Erykah shows love by contrasting it with hate and fear. She was killed because she was trying to express herself.

i would also like to add, as a last note, why i think these videos reflect our culture. It comes from the title of Badu's album, New Amerykah part two, and the part of Gaga's video when there is a huge group of people dancing in sparkly america costumes. There you have it. plus it is contemporary art. I shouldn't even be arguing this, it is so obvious.

SO, if anything, the message i get from these videos is to express yourself. Be COMFORTABLE with yourself; move yourself to break your boundaries, to grow, to EVOLVE, to show whoever what you are, what you can be, what you COULD be, how to change.

It showed me that america can be pretty cool;

we've got a lot of great people, a lot of great ARTISTS, living in our country.

i just wish that everybody had the same mindset.

WE ARE US. come on now.

get naked and dance!

show me the ropes

"one of the most extraordinary consequences of human consciousness is the ability it gives us to imagine things that are physically impossible. By this device we can explore reality in a unique way. placing it in a context defined by impossible events. In this way we are able to create resonances of meaning and juxtapositions of ideas which are mind-stretching and stimulating."

-John D. Barrow-

one thing i learned today is that when the student is ready, the master will appear.

i read that in a book.

so lets resume, and consume, all the fumes in this room-

made of ruins, i assume, and crews that smell of perfume

this person will probably never read this.

but thank you anyway.

i'm glad we met,

you had such an influence on me.

you didn't TELL me to change;

merely showed me,

and let me find my own way.

you gave me purpose to achieve more;

to aspire to be everything i could be.

i drew energy from you;

returned it;

and it was always given back.

you were my source, my light,

my inspiration.

inexhaustible, i learned from you

to give EVERYTHING.

all at once.

WITHOUT HOLDING BACK.

to tell the truth;

to be honest, real.

(which we all should be anyway.)

i let go of my self,

yet learned to be entirely myself.

strange how paradoxical the truth can be.

and now, i just have to live it. every second.

and remind myself;

NOTHING is permanent.

this will all pass, with or without consent.

so SAY WHAT YOU FEEL

all the time. let people know.

you can always tell when you meet someone

who changes you for the better.

you can always tell what effect they have.

It's like, if you meet someone better than you,

then you should raise your thoughts to their level;

if you meet someone lesser than you,

you should look inside

and examine yourself.

that sort of thing.

anyway.

who do you think you are.

what a beautiful night.

It's nights like these

that make me want to cry harder;

to enfold myself in the conceptions,

in the abstractions,

in the extensions and the contractions,

i cry out my stars,

but it looks as if i'll just be

breaking my own heart tonight.

It's nights like these

that make me want to dream farther,

feel my visions

like i feel dropping coins

seeping through my skin,

lacing my veins with their metallic chaos,

day and night and day again.

It's nights like these

that I notice the moon, spinning

needles in haystacks

and prickling thorns

on roses that i

only just painted red.

(slightly red)

It's nights like these when I feel every step.

Before I take every breath

out of every last one of you

i owe it to show you two

sides of each story

lines and pictures

and sounds

of waves all around

us now

i wish you would just

be REAL with me, how

can i get to the place

that i showed myself

so not long ago?

-----

om mani padme hum;

the jewel in the heart of the lotus.

the love in the heart.

not the outer appearance,

not what it SEEMS to be,

look past what is pretty

or witty

or shitty

and see what REALLY matters

mad hatters seem mad

but they're really quite brilliant.

create. love what you create.

make what you make of it

send it on it's way

BRING ON THE NEXT ONE

just remember,

december is

not the last month

it's only the beginning of another circle,

a full cycle,

and the gold and the money doesn't matter

what matters is that your HAPPY.

purple makes me happy,

i try to live my life within the purple

sometimes i stray of course

and sometimes I go on forever,

forget where i'm heading,

and write a new story.

we all sing our songs

you can still sing along

even if you can't sing

you CAN

we all have a

voice to

be

heard.

DO YOU HEAR ME?

what a beautiful day!

it's days like today that
inspire me to walk farther
to breathe deeper
to scream louder
to spin faster
to fall harder
to smile wider

to play more
to laugh louder
to walk barefoot,
to get my hands a little dirty.
and not care a cent.

sprigs of roman wisdom.. and quotable quotes.

"What a small portion of infinite and immeasurable time is allotted to each of us. It is so quickly swallowed up by eternity. How small is the clod of earth on which you crawl about. Remember all these things and consider this: do what natue bids you, and suffer what Life brings."

- Marcus Aurelius-

"...there are multiple truths attatched to every image (of art), depending on the creators intention, the viewer, and the context in which it's presented..."

-Taryn Simon-

"for I found myself embarrased with so many doubts and errors that it seemed to me that the effort to instruct myself had no effect other than the increasing discovery of my own ignorance."

-Gavin Daigle-

"SURREALISM: you have two giraffes. the government requires you to take harmonica lessons."

-not sure-

"Imagination is more important than knowledge. For while knowledge defines all we currently know and understand, imagination points us to all we might yet discover and create"

-Albert Einstein

"We are only healthy to the extent that our ideas are humane"

-Kurt Vonnegut-

long warns.

I sat down with my anger

and folded a paper bird that

tightens and contracts,

folding into itself,

as it shrinks and becomes a

dense compacted ball

it turns WHITE

white as light

as the

white

in

the

eyes

of a

black

s

p

a

c

e

s i tt i ng,

waiting,

in a huge, cavernous room

with no light.

except the white

eyes

as white

as the

white

in the

eyes

of a

white

eye

in space

oh WAIT

those are stars

on your scars,

that stretch in every direction

as far

as those white

eyes

percieve.

are you being? or have you been,

sitting, waiting,

MY eyes are open, comepletely unaware of my surroundings.

have you found me?

Suddenly a bolt sears the skyline

it's my line

my white stars

shining eyes

searing scars across

s p a c e

here's the place!

you shouted pointing in each direction

there's nothing but

light on the horizon

the sun

and the moon

are

harmonies, out of tune

coming soon!

i shout back but my words only crack on the surface

of

mirrored reflections

perceptions

just another horizon

of stars

bright blinding stars

bleeding their light

on your faces

as traces of

the dust thats in s p a c e s

of floorboards

floating orb

wards in

floor

boards

what you find

life or lime

in the morgue mores

more's more

and there's

more

where you left it it's

right there on the floor

in the dust

makes up

space - es,

and stars,

make up face- es.

spaces?

april showers bring may flowers

with lips made of copper

and hips slick with sneers,

i slide over to stop her

and to sharpen her ears;

"watch the wire,"

I tell her, with

contempt in my throat-

"hell desires,"

I tell her,

as I put on my coat.

Shining pewter

just rusted

just...almost adjusted

adjacent lines of tin windchimes,

and of nickels once trusted

sat rotting, us watching,

as she she picked up her old metals

and, licking her lips,

picked them off just like petals,

for each one she plucked, and each one she plundered

you could hear it rain down,

roar and rattle and thunder,

and that's why do this day,

when it rains silver grey

you can hear her her old swallows,

you can watch her mouth say

pittle pattle, young girl,

pittle pattle, tin tin-

smell the moist, metal air,

feel the rain on your skin.

truth is good, and good is truth.

1) I give up. I GIVE UP. I give up trying to be something I’m not, something I don’t want to be, I give up trying to change something that is not up to me to change. I give up being empty, being void of emotions, of not looking people in the eyes, of not living in every moment. I give up lies. I give up cover-ups. I give up uncomfortable moments. I give up not being myself. If I want to be quiet, I want to be quiet. If I want to tell the truth, I want to tell the truth. If I don’t have anything to say, I give up not saying anything.

I give up GIVING UP. I give up not noticing the small things; I give up being ignorant. I give up my weaknesses and my insecurities and my negative thoughts and my judgments.

I WILL NOT, however, give up loving. Everything. Everyone. I will not give up my hope: my faith, my ambition. I will not give up my smiles, my seconds to past, my future to chance. I do not give up friendships. I do not give up on others. I will not give up what I am, who I am, or what I believe in. I will give you my artwork. I will also give you presents. I won’t give up giving. I won’t give up living. I will never ever not in a million years give up what you think I am about to give up. Because whatever you give up has to eventually come back down. So, in conclusion, I am.

2) .... ... there are two different types of people in this world. (but not only two)

people who do what they are SUPPOSED TO, and people who do what they WANT.

What's the difference, you ask? the people that do what they want end up being happy. The people who do what they are supposed to might have more money, might be more successful, hell, might even have direction and principles and ethics and schedules and parties and morals

but the people who do what they WANT know themselves. find their purpose. give what they can to the world- and hope it's enough. they listen to their soul, and do what they're passionate about.

Being yourself is different from being an 'individual'. You don't have to try to be unique if you know who you are. It comes naturally if you just listen to yourself.

most of the time, intuition is a lot more prolific and fulfilling than logic.

and if your neither of these people, and your not anything else either, and you're lost, a good place to start is to find those things that make you smile. Not on the outside, but on the inside. And do that. For the rest of your life. because you are the maker of your life, of the way you live. so why not be happy, if it's all up to you anyway?

that is all.

nothing here but shadows

the time is gone, is woven

into fabric, laced

into faces

that smile upon the glistening reflections

of shadows, rolling along, along,

to other places;

are our lives important?

are we, too, among the living dead?

or are we merely traces

of lasts night's dream,

of tomorrow and tomorrow's midnight bed

the tears we shed,

elixers, too, of skies smeared, blackened

with those glassy reflections,

obsidian, cracked, and shattered and

strewn

onto our perceptions,

we call it night;

they call it day.

"hooray, hooray!" celebrate while you're young

run around; innocence weaves silken string we've all strung

about our necks into patterns, into notes that we've sung

to ourselves and to others,

to all those that would listen

i thank you, sincerely,

and hope that you're quite smitten.

FUCK

all of this business is stressin me out. please disregard everything i have ever said.

You know, i should probably be doing something else.

come on skinny

jeans, beans, and crepuscular schemes,

let me back in to where i was

before, I got kicked out, no,

shoved out the door...

I fight and fight and fight with you,

red numbers and letters

and silent "fuck you's"

well, hey, who knew,

who could possibly tell me

that you were a fool.

all this time that i spent,

building houses of nothings,

well i guess it makes sense

that we went without trusting

each other, ourselves,

and my small, skinny dreams,

made of silvery shadows and once-purple moon beams

but thats gone, actually, it was never there to begin

and of course i'm upset, made a fool yet again

by my own thoughts, my own deeds,

guess i betrayed myself;

i thought it would fix things, i thought it might help

but now i'm stuck writing songs about two fools

on some shelf -

ish

shell fish

sell this, you piece of shit

no i'm kidding, no i'm not,

i don't mean what i say,

because if i say one thing at once

it'll change the next day

so here, here it is, for your eyes

almond eyes (if you see this at all)

i love you you fool, and i did all along;

there i said it, again, maybe this time

it'll sink

into your stomach, let it churn,

make you think

if it doesn't, thats fine, its not like this is news

i'll move on, give it time, and i might forget you

but for now, just consider, what i've laid on the table,

get up off your ass, kiss me back if you're able,

just because you've got balls doesn't mean that you're braver

than me, than he, than she, than that tree,

now i just talking nonsense

not writing poetry

so i'm gone, yeah i'm done, this has gone on too long,

these two stupid fools,

and this long, made up song.

secondhand heartbreak

i look into my reflection,

staring back through shiny leaks,

where bleak, inked lines reflect my outward stature's deep

nature of my inner eyes,

the lowest lows, the highest highs,

the kites we flew, were in disguise,

and patterned from our hearts demise,

what i could say i cannot make,

because you've taken what's at stake,

but what it is, i can not show,

i did not set it out to blow

away, like trash, upon the ground,

a picture-pocket, which no one found...

"then what's the point?" i ask myself-

if you were here, upon my shelf,

to give me words which held, and felt,

my meanings to which i've sought help,

then maybe this would turn around,

this lonely crowd, and smiling frown,

but my intentions, muddied brown,

somehow brought my hopes to ground;

you cut the ropes, they sunk like ships,

lost, hanging from the gypsies' hips...

shaken through, from head to toe,

i turn to you, my perfect foe,

and ask you, do you feel the same?

or do you, too, play life's last stroke, those lover games?

These Are Stressful Times.

what the hell

is stopping us from

lighting the iron bowl, tipping

the burning cuts of guts of

musts

of musty drug cuts

down my waist, down my thighs

i try to lie, but I can't

hold it in.

Which band, which hand,

the oldness of the countless denials,

of each other and of

COUNTRY MUSIC,

the putrid stench of each other

and our violence and

hatred and judgeMENTS

well I say we let all the judged be

judged, and the wretched BE SAVED

and everything thinks this is so great

but it's NOT.

I'm not great, I wish i WAS great

or a genius or something

my crazy traits only bleed every so-often

Amis my imbred outlet mall,

falls in a world where no one

buys ANYTHING and

i'm just glad I have some way of escaping this

madness,

this blabber,

this stupid sonnet and

this really big duck.

one thing at a time.

impersonal chance immerses realities

like a prayer, whispered, across the still lakes

and useless computers commend our amenities,

machines decide our dislikes, appetites, and our tastes

and ourselves, we abide-

where common ground can be found,

but our minds, where we hide,

tasteless thoughts giving ground

to insane, inhumane, acts unseen and profane,

lonely statues of thought causing strain on our veins

all these pain prickling senses

are like fences,

preventing entrance,

bound and bottled and listless,

only knowledge prevents this,

hear the waves, of your sound,

all around, it surrounds,

all the walls you put up only you can knock down

and the hate you create dissipates

into fate and we think that we act

when we can only relate.