The luxury is in the little things, little reliefs from the survival instinct.
From the cooked up problems that need solving 24/7, and then some.
Looking more and more like there is no heaven on earth,
no peace and good will,
no faith hope or charity;
or only just enough to keep things afloat.
Its a spooky atmosphere
wandering looking for the sweetness
behind the gothic exterior.
Counting time that's left to live.
Not really counting, more like giving yourself permission for immersion in the odd miracle that may emerge.
Sunday, December 30, 2007
Friday, December 28, 2007
god bless america
The story of the arrogant land markers in the land that became America
from the Arctic to Antarctica.
Actually an old story from Ye Old Countries.
The parking meter mentality,
making mendacity pay from way before Henry Ford.
Tolls and taxes enacted by those that got the backup
and get a say on how the system is analyzed and delivered to the little people without leverage.
Gunpowder believers who learned to demonize them that got something they want to have and smart enough to put the ideal situation into laws by paying the specialists with Machiavellian gifts.
There's always a little give in the system that makes for some drama that excites headline writers.
Jazzes things up for all involved.
So there was a man from over the ocean,
Whom some said was an alien.
But raised in love, when he pulled into their harbour, they opened up their welcoming mat;
didn't see coming towards their heads, the baseball bat.
The ones who eventually became conscious got an earful of the singing of
god bless america.
from the Arctic to Antarctica.
Actually an old story from Ye Old Countries.
The parking meter mentality,
making mendacity pay from way before Henry Ford.
Tolls and taxes enacted by those that got the backup
and get a say on how the system is analyzed and delivered to the little people without leverage.
Gunpowder believers who learned to demonize them that got something they want to have and smart enough to put the ideal situation into laws by paying the specialists with Machiavellian gifts.
There's always a little give in the system that makes for some drama that excites headline writers.
Jazzes things up for all involved.
So there was a man from over the ocean,
Whom some said was an alien.
But raised in love, when he pulled into their harbour, they opened up their welcoming mat;
didn't see coming towards their heads, the baseball bat.
The ones who eventually became conscious got an earful of the singing of
god bless america.
Thursday, December 27, 2007
Love, Essentially
Everybody's got their Sodom and Gomorrah
Even the up righteous without a nightlife, and as boring as a defence secretary like Robert MacNamara
Who might go look but stand well back from the sprays of Vietnam and Niagara
Only difference between this that and the other is the printing on the ticket.
The economies making sounds that will shake you.
The sun feels closer, all the better to bake you.
Now you can feel empathy for them who were out of the blue slew
for no apparent reason other than hatred.
But the clever are carrying what looks like cleavers.
They have no training but they have the aptitude.
Needless to say they're eager
to apply their education and platitudes.
The benefits, they believe, are not meager,
when compared to those who have to work for a living and where there's no perks included.
Suicide bombings take minds that have had their share of stompings.
After years of grinding and hearing the greedy chompings.
After so many moons and so many swampings.
You'd think we'd catch on and not buy it.
Switch scenes move hips
To where they may let fly the chips
Get it while it's crisp
Just be careful if you try to deny it.
But the clowns are as busy as beavers
Amusing those who get their kicks acting rude
Amusing those with the starved for attention fever
And the permanently damaged amplitude
Better than those near professional grievers
Snacking on salted gratitude.
Get your hands on a compass or GPS
If you can read it and don't have to guess
exactly where it is that you have to commit most of your of transgresses.
But for peace of mind best to keep it a secret or have some philosophy prof reinterpret it.
Penal colonies alongside condominium complexes.
Its hard tell the differences
or calculate the distances.
Meanwhile the guys with the biggest axes are talking about the assets and telling how to split it.
The world has never been the same since they incorporated the cheaters.
Legal layers with selected litmus tests.
You can't detect the chill of their presence because they've turned up the heaters.
Raising the gates of reasons as they listen to the appeals and bequests.
But every innuendo in their education is an indication of their condemning them that chose not to lay down and purr.
And there's three other directions to turn to after you've gone west.
Hearing the drumming out in the sun.
Walking aware of the not too far away armed camps, reading the sonnets of John Donne.
Hoping not having to meet someone you have to shun.
On the other hand so what if you don't got the guts.
What won't wash no longer a hindrance
When you have friends in high places and the only rule, once a month with the wolves, participate in the full-moon dances,
Eyes full of romances.
It's one way to get out of a rut.
Down at the corner is where the action is.
Everybody looks lost but there's no lack of enthusiasm
For something that won't end up a big fizz.
And all your friends breaking out in spasms.
The fear taking effect, scratching your head like you're taking a quiz.
But be prepared to duck, here comes another low flying iconoclasm.
The scandals have hot handles
After you drop them you'll be going around in circles
Reacting to the bursting of bubbles.
Gonna take a lot of straight whiskey slugs
To numb the sticking out like a sore thumb nuance.
Gonna take a lot of hugs
And some knowledge of high finance.
The ships sail into the bay
Carrying every kind of cargo.
Let your imagination take sway,
See how far your fantasies can go.
Time to separate the blue from the gray
Time to turn pro
The dealer's flipping cards.
Watching closely are the guards.
From Broadway they send their regards.
Best place bets that won't leave you naked.
Don't ask questions that have an automatic chorus,
Gonna take a rough trade thesaurus,
Try and find a quote from Horace
That won't leave your tongue tied and your fingers forked.
Whatever it is that's happening
Can be figured to some satisfaction eventually.
It's the evolution of the geeks seeking to escape messy mishapenings.
Working on it exponentially,
Knowing it will all come to nothing,
What happens when you're buried in love , essentially.
Even the up righteous without a nightlife, and as boring as a defence secretary like Robert MacNamara
Who might go look but stand well back from the sprays of Vietnam and Niagara
Only difference between this that and the other is the printing on the ticket.
The economies making sounds that will shake you.
The sun feels closer, all the better to bake you.
Now you can feel empathy for them who were out of the blue slew
for no apparent reason other than hatred.
But the clever are carrying what looks like cleavers.
They have no training but they have the aptitude.
Needless to say they're eager
to apply their education and platitudes.
The benefits, they believe, are not meager,
when compared to those who have to work for a living and where there's no perks included.
Suicide bombings take minds that have had their share of stompings.
After years of grinding and hearing the greedy chompings.
After so many moons and so many swampings.
You'd think we'd catch on and not buy it.
Switch scenes move hips
To where they may let fly the chips
Get it while it's crisp
Just be careful if you try to deny it.
But the clowns are as busy as beavers
Amusing those who get their kicks acting rude
Amusing those with the starved for attention fever
And the permanently damaged amplitude
Better than those near professional grievers
Snacking on salted gratitude.
Get your hands on a compass or GPS
If you can read it and don't have to guess
exactly where it is that you have to commit most of your of transgresses.
But for peace of mind best to keep it a secret or have some philosophy prof reinterpret it.
Penal colonies alongside condominium complexes.
Its hard tell the differences
or calculate the distances.
Meanwhile the guys with the biggest axes are talking about the assets and telling how to split it.
The world has never been the same since they incorporated the cheaters.
Legal layers with selected litmus tests.
You can't detect the chill of their presence because they've turned up the heaters.
Raising the gates of reasons as they listen to the appeals and bequests.
But every innuendo in their education is an indication of their condemning them that chose not to lay down and purr.
And there's three other directions to turn to after you've gone west.
Hearing the drumming out in the sun.
Walking aware of the not too far away armed camps, reading the sonnets of John Donne.
Hoping not having to meet someone you have to shun.
On the other hand so what if you don't got the guts.
What won't wash no longer a hindrance
When you have friends in high places and the only rule, once a month with the wolves, participate in the full-moon dances,
Eyes full of romances.
It's one way to get out of a rut.
Down at the corner is where the action is.
Everybody looks lost but there's no lack of enthusiasm
For something that won't end up a big fizz.
And all your friends breaking out in spasms.
The fear taking effect, scratching your head like you're taking a quiz.
But be prepared to duck, here comes another low flying iconoclasm.
The scandals have hot handles
After you drop them you'll be going around in circles
Reacting to the bursting of bubbles.
Gonna take a lot of straight whiskey slugs
To numb the sticking out like a sore thumb nuance.
Gonna take a lot of hugs
And some knowledge of high finance.
The ships sail into the bay
Carrying every kind of cargo.
Let your imagination take sway,
See how far your fantasies can go.
Time to separate the blue from the gray
Time to turn pro
The dealer's flipping cards.
Watching closely are the guards.
From Broadway they send their regards.
Best place bets that won't leave you naked.
Don't ask questions that have an automatic chorus,
Gonna take a rough trade thesaurus,
Try and find a quote from Horace
That won't leave your tongue tied and your fingers forked.
Whatever it is that's happening
Can be figured to some satisfaction eventually.
It's the evolution of the geeks seeking to escape messy mishapenings.
Working on it exponentially,
Knowing it will all come to nothing,
What happens when you're buried in love , essentially.
bring in the oxygen
Hate and fear alternating in eyes as the most predominant emotion,
fear of losing what control they have .
People who have accepted long corridor walks with heads down as a prerequisite for getting ahead,
for getting the opportunity to jump for bites of the low hanging fruit on the local lottery tree.
Reflecting on where it has got them , using logic plugged into emotional outlets previously used by alchemists who equated god with gold.
Gonna take a lot of lip service to the doctrine to get the lifestyle that they show on TV ads for investment consulting, pharmaceuticals , cars and fast food outlets.
Etcetera.
Trying to model the actors who have studied how to be happy when the set is ready.
Focused on the script transported to their head.
Feel that smothering feeling , hear humility knocking
Someone bring in the oxygen.
fear of losing what control they have .
People who have accepted long corridor walks with heads down as a prerequisite for getting ahead,
for getting the opportunity to jump for bites of the low hanging fruit on the local lottery tree.
Reflecting on where it has got them , using logic plugged into emotional outlets previously used by alchemists who equated god with gold.
Gonna take a lot of lip service to the doctrine to get the lifestyle that they show on TV ads for investment consulting, pharmaceuticals , cars and fast food outlets.
Etcetera.
Trying to model the actors who have studied how to be happy when the set is ready.
Focused on the script transported to their head.
Feel that smothering feeling , hear humility knocking
Someone bring in the oxygen.
Tuesday, December 25, 2007
Ode to a Bluejay Blues
Got the blue blue christmasy feeling.
My inner Elvis picking and choosing.
My senses half out in the heavens,
other half wondering when its going to each its ceiling,
and what's the origin of the sinking of my lucky number seven.
There's a blue jay in the snow playing in its infrastructure,
one of creation's advertisements.
Its moments like electricity turned on in its spinal column.
Biochemists and zoologists too far from the action to configure.
too tied down with detail to see the about-to-happen accident,
getting sloppy and solemn.
Cups of coffee giving diminishing hit potential.
Thinking about Buddy Holly's line about love is not-fade-away,
love is not just tangential,
and you could probably find a hint of truth in it if you conducted a survey.
You can take a plane and go soak up the sun at a resort.
Warming, for a while
pleasant memories in the making.
Praying they'll only slowly come undone, trying to forget about the final report.
hoping you guessed right about the guile
hoping you can depend on the braking.
The blue jay unaware of the guesswork that goes into being human.
The groans of my species just common characteristics you'd find in any decent field identification book worth being written.
The anxiety, the lust, the plans.
People walking like they're braced for being bitten.
Anguish hanging around like a hangover.
The dead preserved in cinematic celluloid and the even vaguer material between the ears.
If the anticipation doesn't get you the body blows will.
All that will be lingering is the refrains of forgotten loves and lovers.
And the mixing of the music with tears
til all you feel is a chill.
Somewhere in the future.
For now give me a moment in the snow with the mind of the blue jay flying low under the rainbow,
With my mind suspended from the the allure of the celestial architecture:
Raptured by the night
diffused by the day
Some unseen theorem giving it all motion,
clusters of stars thick with the light
of all the universe in play,
Mine and the bluejay's dna digging in, everybody doing the quantum locomotion.
Incense without smoke
fire without flames
high as an oak
that's been let alone to grow untame.
Outside trees and snow and sky.
A wild tang to taste.
Vacating the wastelands via the visceral.
A mild May moment for the brain to supply.
A moment you can trace
back to the first taste at an unidentified oracle.
On the edge between life and time
riding a raw nerve
blinded by the sublime
missing a curve.
At midnight, a turning point,
as the earth spins and the constellations drink me.
Like an emotion with the pull of electro-magnetism
until the wild mint
in the morning when the jays can be seen
flying thru the filters of absolutism.
Absolute life and absolute death unfettered,
feeding in fields without theories or graffiti,
with and without the will to be bewildered
and ready finally to give peace a treaty.
States of being or mind or maybe just flashes from a panoptic lookoff.
Right and wrong in the bones,
Waving to you.
Focusing on what part of the over load you've got to doff.
In with the authentic , out with the clones.
Blue jays just don't do well in a zoo.
Melancholy in the belly,
going down deep into mental death
bending apocalyptically,
half remembering toasts and oaths.
The screen lined with Ends
Both the possible and the improbable.
Knee deep in nitty gritty elements that feed the organic.
Wait 15 minutes to see what transcends
To see what's climbable
To see what's just another to-do tick off and what's titanic.
My inner Elvis picking and choosing.
My senses half out in the heavens,
other half wondering when its going to each its ceiling,
and what's the origin of the sinking of my lucky number seven.
There's a blue jay in the snow playing in its infrastructure,
one of creation's advertisements.
Its moments like electricity turned on in its spinal column.
Biochemists and zoologists too far from the action to configure.
too tied down with detail to see the about-to-happen accident,
getting sloppy and solemn.
Cups of coffee giving diminishing hit potential.
Thinking about Buddy Holly's line about love is not-fade-away,
love is not just tangential,
and you could probably find a hint of truth in it if you conducted a survey.
You can take a plane and go soak up the sun at a resort.
Warming, for a while
pleasant memories in the making.
Praying they'll only slowly come undone, trying to forget about the final report.
hoping you guessed right about the guile
hoping you can depend on the braking.
The blue jay unaware of the guesswork that goes into being human.
The groans of my species just common characteristics you'd find in any decent field identification book worth being written.
The anxiety, the lust, the plans.
People walking like they're braced for being bitten.
Anguish hanging around like a hangover.
The dead preserved in cinematic celluloid and the even vaguer material between the ears.
If the anticipation doesn't get you the body blows will.
All that will be lingering is the refrains of forgotten loves and lovers.
And the mixing of the music with tears
til all you feel is a chill.
Somewhere in the future.
For now give me a moment in the snow with the mind of the blue jay flying low under the rainbow,
With my mind suspended from the the allure of the celestial architecture:
Raptured by the night
diffused by the day
Some unseen theorem giving it all motion,
clusters of stars thick with the light
of all the universe in play,
Mine and the bluejay's dna digging in, everybody doing the quantum locomotion.
Incense without smoke
fire without flames
high as an oak
that's been let alone to grow untame.
Outside trees and snow and sky.
A wild tang to taste.
Vacating the wastelands via the visceral.
A mild May moment for the brain to supply.
A moment you can trace
back to the first taste at an unidentified oracle.
On the edge between life and time
riding a raw nerve
blinded by the sublime
missing a curve.
At midnight, a turning point,
as the earth spins and the constellations drink me.
Like an emotion with the pull of electro-magnetism
until the wild mint
in the morning when the jays can be seen
flying thru the filters of absolutism.
Absolute life and absolute death unfettered,
feeding in fields without theories or graffiti,
with and without the will to be bewildered
and ready finally to give peace a treaty.
States of being or mind or maybe just flashes from a panoptic lookoff.
Right and wrong in the bones,
Waving to you.
Focusing on what part of the over load you've got to doff.
In with the authentic , out with the clones.
Blue jays just don't do well in a zoo.
Melancholy in the belly,
going down deep into mental death
bending apocalyptically,
half remembering toasts and oaths.
The screen lined with Ends
Both the possible and the improbable.
Knee deep in nitty gritty elements that feed the organic.
Wait 15 minutes to see what transcends
To see what's climbable
To see what's just another to-do tick off and what's titanic.
Friday, December 21, 2007
three hundred and sixty degrees
Ever since the the reincarnation up in the mountains the fear's been diluted
Maybe it wasn't a reincarnation, maybe negativity just had enough for one night
Maybe the mountains just moved geologically the way mountains do when you woo them with whatever it is that opens your eyes in the morning.
Whatever lets you calm down an infant giving a vision of stillness with sounds similar to the universe idling.
Ever since the experience of touch , never wanting to let it go, monitoring for more of the same, not stopping.
Maybe it was just some sleepy cells without an encoded address ,
being bitten by something pure for a split second.
Without peace there is war , conflicts of sickos with agendas blowing smoke to try and make the
meat grinder on the ground look sexy and serendipitous .
Proof of unruly gods and the barbarian way.
Without love
the markets would lose their motivation and down anti-pychotics and other chemicals that make it easy to learn to love the weapons
being passed from head to hands.
Existence kept together with an elastic band.
A story without a state is a story that has escaped,
flipping the eyes around three hundred and sixty degrees.
Maybe it wasn't a reincarnation, maybe negativity just had enough for one night
Maybe the mountains just moved geologically the way mountains do when you woo them with whatever it is that opens your eyes in the morning.
Whatever lets you calm down an infant giving a vision of stillness with sounds similar to the universe idling.
Ever since the experience of touch , never wanting to let it go, monitoring for more of the same, not stopping.
Maybe it was just some sleepy cells without an encoded address ,
being bitten by something pure for a split second.
Without peace there is war , conflicts of sickos with agendas blowing smoke to try and make the
meat grinder on the ground look sexy and serendipitous .
Proof of unruly gods and the barbarian way.
Without love
the markets would lose their motivation and down anti-pychotics and other chemicals that make it easy to learn to love the weapons
being passed from head to hands.
Existence kept together with an elastic band.
A story without a state is a story that has escaped,
flipping the eyes around three hundred and sixty degrees.
Friday, December 14, 2007
Silent Rose
Silent Rose
She's in a bubble she wants to break out of.
Intuitively she knows it's inevitable.
Out into the wild fragrances that get wilder the longer she waits.
Where her eyes are no longer expectant,
as they appear to be almost every minute of every day.
She's waiting for a signal , a communication like smoke signals but without the smoke.
It comes in a text message and she's bewildered for a moment because it's in English,
a language she was warned to stay away from unless she was willing to divide and conquer on a continuing basis.
She has a realization that she's a wild rose inside a raindrop,
falling through the atmosphere into wild rose country, passes through the clouds,
breathing in fragrances of things that live and are enabled to love.
A bit stage struck but she's prepared for the rapture that has been predicted
by the cognizance she could feel from before she could crawl,
predicted by the arrangement of the colors whenever she would awaken from dreams that are never forgotten.
She's in a bubble she wants to break out of.
Intuitively she knows it's inevitable.
Out into the wild fragrances that get wilder the longer she waits.
Where her eyes are no longer expectant,
as they appear to be almost every minute of every day.
She's waiting for a signal , a communication like smoke signals but without the smoke.
It comes in a text message and she's bewildered for a moment because it's in English,
a language she was warned to stay away from unless she was willing to divide and conquer on a continuing basis.
She has a realization that she's a wild rose inside a raindrop,
falling through the atmosphere into wild rose country, passes through the clouds,
breathing in fragrances of things that live and are enabled to love.
A bit stage struck but she's prepared for the rapture that has been predicted
by the cognizance she could feel from before she could crawl,
predicted by the arrangement of the colors whenever she would awaken from dreams that are never forgotten.
Thursday, December 13, 2007
The Getting Cozy Desire
Winter is here.
The air gives a hit , a bite like a lover who makes no prejudement and is fudge for a few moments.
And gives all there is to give, going crazy for love,
a dangerous move, so requiring caution.
Cold and tasty like an ice cream that can give you brain freeze.
Quieter than the summer that can smother you.
The winter with the bite of a snake penetrates the memory gnome backed up in the brain.
The accumulated communications of past possibilities that have bubbled up and then iced up
so you can see like a kind of captured crystal while walking across a frozen lake, hearing it cracking.
No stillness like it except the stillness of death.
And the winter's always got a wind coming up, and spring underneath it.
Winter is the season of love just like all the others .
The getting cozy desire got a hold on you.
The air gives a hit , a bite like a lover who makes no prejudement and is fudge for a few moments.
And gives all there is to give, going crazy for love,
a dangerous move, so requiring caution.
Cold and tasty like an ice cream that can give you brain freeze.
Quieter than the summer that can smother you.
The winter with the bite of a snake penetrates the memory gnome backed up in the brain.
The accumulated communications of past possibilities that have bubbled up and then iced up
so you can see like a kind of captured crystal while walking across a frozen lake, hearing it cracking.
No stillness like it except the stillness of death.
And the winter's always got a wind coming up, and spring underneath it.
Winter is the season of love just like all the others .
The getting cozy desire got a hold on you.
Monday, December 10, 2007
Getting a Little Rash
Pathological ideologues coming over the hinterlands,
A glint in their eye and a hold-up in their hand.
What's in their heads is as clear as when aliens land
Coming pumped to get plump without a plan.
The specifics don't really matter til the cameras come
And the editors pick and paste what gets mumbled and what stays mum.
Creating a perfect picture for patsies who only hear the drums.
Getting them self-fomenting with mind chewing gum.
Instincts on hold.
Minds enslaved , consciousness cajoled.
For many, only a whisper, and then fingers feeling the fool's gold.
A realization you've been sold.
A realization its not cool to cruise and crash
Sometimes the game calls for getting a little rash.
A glint in their eye and a hold-up in their hand.
What's in their heads is as clear as when aliens land
Coming pumped to get plump without a plan.
The specifics don't really matter til the cameras come
And the editors pick and paste what gets mumbled and what stays mum.
Creating a perfect picture for patsies who only hear the drums.
Getting them self-fomenting with mind chewing gum.
Instincts on hold.
Minds enslaved , consciousness cajoled.
For many, only a whisper, and then fingers feeling the fool's gold.
A realization you've been sold.
A realization its not cool to cruise and crash
Sometimes the game calls for getting a little rash.
Sunday, December 9, 2007
No Sense Yelling at the Television
The Peace Summit will come when the stars skip a twinkle in your eye,
when there's an inkling that we're sinking never to be unsunk or seen again.
All on something.
The high that comes with a little patch of power on the political farm.
See the media treat it seriously as a sincere effort to sooth the barbarity of the unwashed hung out to dry semi-civilized by those who have accumulated the most trivia at the finest universities.
Sincere effort accentuated.
See them conveniently forgetting history.
See and hear the smear jobs of professional hazers with access to editing suites.
They started out interpreting the adult rules for the other kids, and now with a highly developed sense of censorship, they get to be part of the team following leaders who pick who loses.
Using the most creative brainstormers, terrifying populations to shape up and expect anytime now the dawning of violence.
It's Condoleezza's party , she'll get creepy if she wants to.
Still trying to learn the party trick that'll pass snuff and bestow her legacy with awe that will up the ante of her speaking engagements.
Like Henry the K.
Now there's a brain we oughta freeze and bring out when Nostradamus says the Aliens will attack.
The media dumber than a pet rock but essential for the process of the brain wash.
Forget about trying to connect the dots.
And since it doesn't have the kind of circuitry that's capable of listening,
there's no sense yelling at the television.
when there's an inkling that we're sinking never to be unsunk or seen again.
All on something.
The high that comes with a little patch of power on the political farm.
See the media treat it seriously as a sincere effort to sooth the barbarity of the unwashed hung out to dry semi-civilized by those who have accumulated the most trivia at the finest universities.
Sincere effort accentuated.
See them conveniently forgetting history.
See and hear the smear jobs of professional hazers with access to editing suites.
They started out interpreting the adult rules for the other kids, and now with a highly developed sense of censorship, they get to be part of the team following leaders who pick who loses.
Using the most creative brainstormers, terrifying populations to shape up and expect anytime now the dawning of violence.
It's Condoleezza's party , she'll get creepy if she wants to.
Still trying to learn the party trick that'll pass snuff and bestow her legacy with awe that will up the ante of her speaking engagements.
Like Henry the K.
Now there's a brain we oughta freeze and bring out when Nostradamus says the Aliens will attack.
The media dumber than a pet rock but essential for the process of the brain wash.
Forget about trying to connect the dots.
And since it doesn't have the kind of circuitry that's capable of listening,
there's no sense yelling at the television.
Wednesday, December 5, 2007
Upshot
Each gunpowder upgrade demonstrating a new frame of civilization to a new generation trying to rub the weary eyes of what lays before them.
Out on the streets and in enclosures with a lot of gadgets to distract them.
Discarding the posture of sheep and frightening those who've got something that requires a lot of insurance coverage and could lose if they snooze or get soft and hesitate in sending out the goons who just follow their herd mentality with the soundtrack of their teen years hits in their heads.
The imaginations of policy holders conjuring up more madness than all the Marxist-Leninists and Maoists on a mean Monday morning just before the big meeting with the my way or we'll hang you out to dry way.
All the characteristics that can be picked up on animal documentaries you'll see it in their eyes,
but having thumbs do a lot more damage than the beasts that never learned to build intercontinental ballistic missiles and meditate on the morning of designated destruction and then sit down in front of a monitor and calculate the profits and losses in the rows and columns of planned desolation,
calculating in the luxury of hegemony.
Their hearts holding the human hope of getting the two thumbs up from gods with name tags they've managed to print off and get the velcro on,
to get rid of that lonely feeling that simultaneously evolves------ it's even money on whether a mental evolution will solve all the stuff that's so gruesome and getting gruesomer.
Speculating on a vision of people sitting around the fire telling tales of a petered out apocalypse in post paradise with a chicken in every pot.
That's the upshot.
Out on the streets and in enclosures with a lot of gadgets to distract them.
Discarding the posture of sheep and frightening those who've got something that requires a lot of insurance coverage and could lose if they snooze or get soft and hesitate in sending out the goons who just follow their herd mentality with the soundtrack of their teen years hits in their heads.
The imaginations of policy holders conjuring up more madness than all the Marxist-Leninists and Maoists on a mean Monday morning just before the big meeting with the my way or we'll hang you out to dry way.
All the characteristics that can be picked up on animal documentaries you'll see it in their eyes,
but having thumbs do a lot more damage than the beasts that never learned to build intercontinental ballistic missiles and meditate on the morning of designated destruction and then sit down in front of a monitor and calculate the profits and losses in the rows and columns of planned desolation,
calculating in the luxury of hegemony.
Their hearts holding the human hope of getting the two thumbs up from gods with name tags they've managed to print off and get the velcro on,
to get rid of that lonely feeling that simultaneously evolves------ it's even money on whether a mental evolution will solve all the stuff that's so gruesome and getting gruesomer.
Speculating on a vision of people sitting around the fire telling tales of a petered out apocalypse in post paradise with a chicken in every pot.
That's the upshot.
Tuesday, December 4, 2007
Phoenix Queen
The phoenix queen needs a a massage and a heart- to-heart,
otherwise she's all ready for revolution.
On her terms .
In her garden there's a swinging gate.
Going through it is the best part of her day.
Into where the imagination is loose and fancy is for free.
The wonderland girl grown up.
She has all the light she needs , now she's into how to make it stay, making it into a fixture for when her eyes can't see.
A joke will evoke the lover in her, jokes of the brave.
The head gear accentuates her brain.
She has some alien tendencies and characteristics that may be a little weird but otherwise wonderful and all human.
Of course she may be picked up by national security scurrilous types
and taken away to a dungeon but her bonnet stays on her head even when all she can see is ashes and functionaries poking at the shadows in the adjoining alley ways.
otherwise she's all ready for revolution.
On her terms .
In her garden there's a swinging gate.
Going through it is the best part of her day.
Into where the imagination is loose and fancy is for free.
The wonderland girl grown up.
She has all the light she needs , now she's into how to make it stay, making it into a fixture for when her eyes can't see.
A joke will evoke the lover in her, jokes of the brave.
The head gear accentuates her brain.
She has some alien tendencies and characteristics that may be a little weird but otherwise wonderful and all human.
Of course she may be picked up by national security scurrilous types
and taken away to a dungeon but her bonnet stays on her head even when all she can see is ashes and functionaries poking at the shadows in the adjoining alley ways.
Saturday, December 1, 2007
Healing
Let the healing begin
Let the harmony find a setting that leaves no separation between the auxiliary people and the regulators of the axis upon which we spin and have come to depend.
Let childhood be discoveries deeper into the light after you pass the litmus test at the end of the tunnel,
rolling with the resonance through the rapids down Ogre's canyon.
Patterns on the wall , patterns in the seasons.
Childhood desire filled with peppermint breaths and time spent finding someone to tickle feet and fancy.
Can't hold back these feeling, can't mentalize it or isolate it to an island where the highway is jammed with everyone trying to catch the last ferry to the mainland.
Skin needs closeness to give it some integration with the echo in the head.
Needs to brush up against promises being processed through the invisible but tactile prism of love in a promised land ---where premises have not yet been presented and feelings are jetted to the surface and go through a transformation and amendments begin healing the aches sealed in grains of personal histories.
Let the harmony find a setting that leaves no separation between the auxiliary people and the regulators of the axis upon which we spin and have come to depend.
Let childhood be discoveries deeper into the light after you pass the litmus test at the end of the tunnel,
rolling with the resonance through the rapids down Ogre's canyon.
Patterns on the wall , patterns in the seasons.
Childhood desire filled with peppermint breaths and time spent finding someone to tickle feet and fancy.
Can't hold back these feeling, can't mentalize it or isolate it to an island where the highway is jammed with everyone trying to catch the last ferry to the mainland.
Skin needs closeness to give it some integration with the echo in the head.
Needs to brush up against promises being processed through the invisible but tactile prism of love in a promised land ---where premises have not yet been presented and feelings are jetted to the surface and go through a transformation and amendments begin healing the aches sealed in grains of personal histories.
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