Friday, January 8, 2010

Some old stuff

I was looking through some of my old writing. This is one thing I found, which got my heart going. It is always nice to find little treats you wrote for yourself, that you had forgotten. It is like somone else wrote it. Forgive the Amateur.

"A Rant On the Verge of Breathing"

When I do a push up do I push myself up,
or the world down?
Is there a snowflake with the face a of a leprechaun,
or a rain drop in the shape of a fetus?
Image worlds within kernels
Fractal pattern mastery
I thought you said this conversation was over.
Are these words fragments or vibrations?
Words don’t matter
Syntax doesn’t pattern
be blinded
Word picture.

How can you say that you know
When you still think in three dimensions
There is an infinite regress
And your vomit wouldn’t matter
Transformed into a bouquet
Of white roses
I wonder where the red went
Master meandering to reaches
Onward necessarily
Stealing the substance of pixilation
Mutt seeing black and white
An owl sees in Technicolor
A Blind man sees through his nose
A deaf man through the pores
How does a dead man sense?
Sensing absolutely
Existing in a continuum
Creatio ex nil
-2 times -2
Equals an opportunity.

I stand on a plane
Of rippling green grass
Surrounded by the tenebris
In principium Deus Creavit

I stand on the wave of the firmament
Dog with his head out the window
Tongue massaging the air
Dad said Dog
Should get off the Fucking
Master’s lap.
I found worlds
Within this embrace
That darkness in my eyes
Never seemed so light
My arms never held so tight
With less might
I pull away as does the tear
From the gap of fears
I wonder why I came to this place
Realizing that it is my own face
Which provides the container for this path
Which was, what walked
by more feet than mine
Littered with the debris of journey
Half hearted
And misguided attempts
On the celestial high-way
I remain seated
While this thing fucking moves

The grooves of near-by asteroids
Creating new hair styles
And soothing vibrations
Which titillate my biggest organ
Find the end to this maze
Of finger tips
Have to find the start of the pattern

A child wakes up
Remnants of dream consciousness
What is your expectation
Dining car of the caboose
Scrap from a U.N. envoy
I can’t tell my Pepsi from my Piss
Pepsid, Lucem, Bilal
Cursed by draught
And no one’s rain dancing
I saw the trees dance
The sway and embraced
Playing Petrachan love games
I laughed
While you masturbated
With images glorified in your Pineal gland
Like your liver
And your snot
Does your soul need a tissue?
Your hair grows faster when you’re thinking
A dead person’s hair grows slowly
Judgement day
Would there be lines
get boring
And where would the lawyers be
Would the public defenders be any good?
I was held down by Demons and raped
I know Satan’s real
I was anointed
Meam lingaum audere audet.


  1. You fascinate me! LOL wow...beautiful worded. "Are these words fragments or just vibrations". You said a mouthful there. This was a great read :)

  2. Very kind of you...imagine trying to shut it off to go to bed! lol