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Friday, June 24, 2011


Outside my window
Where the flowers meet the glass
A tiny bird lives out its life
Oblivious to the farce


( fully discipline your mind and body or shut the hell up) and let your words be your actions.


Desolate heritage
They are trying to steal my light
And I let them too easily
What is grace if you cannot share it
My despair is gone after a worthy howl
Ran into a brother to camp upon a desolate heritage
Foraging for a spiritual discipline
Stompin down those walls of iniquity
Evil is forcing me to be righteous

I’ve been livin life searchin for a break from reality but I’ve found one
Specially wit dis ego personal consciousness the only thing close is a stupid distraction
Even my song is a subconscious outlet of the mania everyone seems to be a victim to
The appearance of composure but raging on the inside
To be empty for a while makes the next wave of fullness exceedingly great
But things syncopate my lord and we are all phony’s
If I call you out I must call myself out at the same time
A curse of a materialistic independence in the land of the spoiled spiteful belittleful majority
Prisoners to a science man made
Jesus descended first before he rose and someone stole his robe walked around preaching a false doctrine
I want to leave anger behind but I can’t cause I am a human besides I am on my second death which makes me pace and experience all I can in this lifespan
You’ll miss me
I am bombarded with a situation no one can do shit about
I have gaps of a break from reality the ignorant have became wise in that case
How can anyone face a reality that leads to…
The world is broken but I cannot blame it for breaking me
I know nothing but it and cannot even flee it in a space shuttle let alone dream
If I was never taught language would I still have this consciousness that thought is disturbing
Cause I had no choice and if I had one I could’ve avoided…
Even when I act not to care it is false and my plea is out of a low ranking suffering/desperation
I have seen the lowest of the low and the highest heights and neither are full or lacking I guess all are deserving according to some scale that everything at some point when it all resets gets be god
First and last no longer applies
I know its nobodies fault but mines
But I easily forget that some have conquered themselves but died alone failing to…
Even christs miracles couldn’t
I will call you out till you strike me down less we be the offspring of a fallen angel and pretend to be of god
Cause even the devout cast out sell out
When did your cloud stop hovering over us
But yesterday a brother reminded me how you pop in
Which is good cause at first you paid too much attention and they either depended on you or mocked you I forgot patience in perseverance
Maybe my longing is older than I know
It always makes sense but during the lesson you slowly recognized that you first started out saying this is impossible until you start crafting
And time I thought it existed until I ignored it
How can you not want us to be a part of the world of flesh you created!
All we are left to believe in something happening that has never happened
Do away with
Do away with
Do away with
Did you the creation of this and us leave us or became
I know you will answer me with an action rather than a word maybe a dream or an acquaintance
Some of their eyes take a hold of me and I think god has took over them to talk to me
Or bob said I am not ready for purification
I stopped praying and only give thanks
We have been in a drought of actual signs
Marveled by devils dressed in light
We would follow a torch into a trap cause you have cut us off and the last covenant was of a love I cannot find
Am I your host or do I just have an imagination
Become straightforward with us or you will lose us
You listened to moses to spare a few
Or does the brew I drink matter
Is this christs new creation/consciousness or a diversion of the devil
If we started out on a journey and did not know what was before us not knowing where we are walking to and all over clues are foreign and perfectly contradictory and even the tour guide goes off path
So who are we following
So I decided to stand still and wait for death or a spirit that knows the way in a tongue of not of man or of fallen angel
I can already predict/visualize the stupid shit I’ll go through already
So why would i live through it well it is better than inexistence
When was the last time you manifested a creation other than a writing or a song dissipated by interpretation
Have you had a union/understanding that lasts always
I seek perfection and I hate it at the same time
In that way in any body can be god cause you never have to say the truth
You want me to play a song I know not yet of it would be premature
It would not fully convert their breed
You hold off your wrath cuz you obtain so much mercy
Us liars always give ourselves away
But I am here to admit the disappointment in this self that is selfish unless I have enough evil in my pocket to waste they take me into their place in my diluted grace and i have become their disease so I can see better
I think the letter I should be abolished from society and also the alpha-bet
Their god is their own belly and their brains are someone elses
If everybody could be the way they want to be they would but can’t
Who can take their scriptures literal in this modern mad world
I did not view my own birth so how can I believe
I was not their for year one a.d nor b.c so how can I believe its 2011
I’ve been lied to my whole life so…
I believe there is a reason and a sinner can be a vessel for anothers righteous works
So I give thanks for this stressful knowledge
If man created this archetype
I know the creator is the author of a greater surprise
The living have never been dead and jesus could be fertilizer for a
A harvest that will come from enough blood
How can reproductions be original and not produce something that is not already prophesied
Strike me strike me or let me listen to people who are phony liars my whole life
Is that your method of increasing belief….
You gone reap just what you sow
Do you know we have moved 60 degrees since you’ve left



Extraction from the sun by a flower
It would take four awakenings
I like my horses riding backwards while still projectiling
A dead beaver washed ashore from where I play my horn and the vultures swoon it was too true a rhyme to be contrived
A syndrome undeveloped a source for a medium we obtain knowledge and information for that purpose and others pollen others damming what do we actually give to the planet of the unknown creator of that which is of a cause of time before but then I dissect the word be fore fore be but I’ll go forward I’ll grow and stick to a covenant of my own written on my heart be.stow stow away this is the last call of summer true in the fall and winter my song will match that season I love the possibility of a new earth where people put aside their ego’s for a greater good but I mourn while I am here and any reason for prayer is soft under the illusion of seperation a denial of a holy proposal I want to be connected/corrected yet have the ability to eventually manifest something pure out of myself these choices I have made describe how one prescribes yet does not take their own advice off the wine everything could be untrue and nonsense hah yeah right they notice the pulse and gravitate towards foregoing language through a means straight to the sense/scene/shade if it be’s that kind of day where the constellations planned a random ventriloquist festival some leave and go on back to that captive mask/math but some carry it on till the whole has their water down to enough rations to say we’re all fucked from here on out might as well… maybe I spend so much conscious time in the, of the, on the illusion that even my dreams are full of their type of realities that distraction that inability to be a unconscious bird with a new song every day eating insects four days a week
What was gave to me
Ended up taking a lot out of me
In a good way

Empty yourself out and make way for the next tide
Arriving at any time



So we arrive to the four galore like one more than three but the next key forming to hit the highest or croak trying come let us tell of our cloaks and make an oath to be a silent movement the light which whence they do not know where… comes from this is not a time to lose yourself awake stay awake as…the…re-turns reverse rotation come to my… hands. V. .w memories wiped clean right after the… experience



You can tell the sun it’s a sun
And that I know of larger
Far far away where I’m coming from


Every planet eventually drifts into the sun
Whatever a sun is
All we can do is believe in something we’ve never seen
But belief is strong
Life becomes exterminated briefly in a long dream
The memory of your life-body moves on
Hopefully to a better dream transition

How big was the raindrop
When it first began dropping

The starting point of the note is ineffable
It almost comes out of silent vibration

I am awaiting an invisible stranger to become visible
Could be a materialized projection; maybe my life is
A pre-recorded series of events and gravity stops
Me during those moments of déjà vu

Who and what and where and whom will be there
When I wake up to the dream being over
Whatever that is
I believe in efficient creation.



Grassroots needs to be monopolized
All for the common universal issue
No longer exchanging in…

Sunday, June 19, 2011


I read the news today
Oh! Boy

About a man who set his
Dog on Fire


I want to dance alone in my room
Adorned in my swan costume

I'll have to follow footprints on the ground
A sort of merriment by diagram

I want to dance for hours and hours

It's too late for fruit
Too soon for flowers


I'm into Nirvana
While my fathful companion
My house geranium
Sitting quietly
Breathing in and out
Prefers Sinatra
Other than this
It's domestic bliss

Wednesday, June 15, 2011

Mowing Window

In between the rains today,
I had to mow the meadow moist
and choked the blades some fourteen times
with grass and clover as thick as cheese.
And when I clawed the terminating turf
free of the discharge port
and carried the double handful,
steaming to the mulch pile,
the juices ran between my fingers
like hot, green wine.
And now my soggy knees, my curses
and my misery are all beside the point;
that nothing in my universe smells
anywhere as good
as moist, mown meadow.

San Juan Poets Anthology on Its Way to Becoming

We are currently putting together an anthology of poetry from the blog, which will be published as a (hard copy) book. We will be gathering the poems this week, so if you have any new work you would like to be included, get it out there this week!

Thanks to everyone who has participated over the years! It should be fun seeing it all together in a chap book!

Saturday, June 4, 2011

#2212    20110602

    emotional impression
An inverse of the trails
    left by a flashlight
    in the night
Fill out the story.
A songs' bass line.
    that this is
    always there but
    not always fully
    aware of it;