Interested?

interest in perception
matter and means of
attaining all we believe to
know of reality

what is perceived on a
day to day basis the routine
of familiar sights, sounds, movements
and reaction to such stimuli

outside our given realm
of what is believed
is a sent of what lay

beyond simple furnishings

of known certainties there is a
border to what is alien to
understanding as we have
come to know understanding

our world is made of elements
mundane and alive
the simple difference of life
and not living

become increasingly simple

and experience fills the senses

as all points of life are interconnected

within this unique gift of being

goodness

a poem 

is never 

good

goodness

comes

edit Oedipus

when

take

whats 

got

change

ur

frign

word

ha!

black octopus

who am

i

writing

to

i

can't

recall

remember

yesterday

the edge

of

the world

everyones

word

mingled

memory

for a

moment

the rest

of us

remembered

the rest

of it

who

cares

about millennia

decades

here now

frozen

forever

golden

frozen

golden

forever

Abandon all Stations

Stumbling
Over Dissidence
It ends

Right Here and Now

Credit economy
Crumbling
Chemical Red tides

Surging LSD
in Water Supplies

Decaying

soft tissue

Bones & Teeth

Necromantic
forces
Indiscriminately

Extract - Utilize - Discard

Behind Each
Random Awareness
We Write

In Large,
Bold
Capital Letters

FUCK YOU!!

Through Continual
Introspection
And

Subversion
Dismantle
And

Reconnect
All Subtext

Open All
Possibilit(y)ies

The Shit
Is lit

notes of a junkie

How fortunate this addiction.
I rarely write of it.
I'm always reminded of it.
There's always a place for it.
Addiction is a word we
hardly understand.
There are more words for it in
other languages
I am told. It's odd.
I've never admired it in other
ways or in other people.
Its not something
I fully understand
and even in speaking of it,
I still only allude to it.
It's not glorification, or denial.
It's only a problem if I allow
it to be. It's like a drug but not grown,
synthesized
or processed. It is created,
listened to, painted,

photographed,
contemplated, and enjoyed.
It is newly discovered;
it's an old welcomed friend.
It's something of my own,
but much greater.
It is an honor to know, I know.

i wake-up

its today

TIMEPLACE

everything there

is not

forever

i wander 

to 

another place

man races 

with 

himself

i wonder 

why 

you won't 

speak 

i've always

known

you 

never 

the same

i 

not 

so different

together

we 

are wheat

in

a field

winds whisper 

sadness

on a couch

we're

watching television

and today

still 

we

see the sun

fools grey

The man in grey says he is now afraid 

to speak and mislead me.  He says 

he hears me when I tell him to stay away 

but his eyes belie his beak.  

He is not use to being flushed 

out of his money tree.  

I am lowly to think of a man 

who professes to have seen 

my intelligence, revealing 

that he thinks all men are stupid 

until HE sees the spark.  

It is not hard to see this fools perspective 

as he breaks the cardinal rule:  

Never assume a person is stupid 

until you have supporting evidence.  

The grey man is only unsure of his own stupidity, 

which I support in a neighborly way.  

I hope tomorrow he comes back; my lack 

of reservation is down right refreshing. 

incompleted (a few observations along the footpath walking home)

watch how

below water wound

forever

turmoil chaos

from above window

watching

Lost it

nonbecoming

matterless

never changing

unbeginning

temporal thing

solar festival

Today has
Left
It’s indelible

Mark upon
The
World I

Listen closely
Words
And rhythms

Of it
All