No more days wasted running round and round
Hiding from each new unexplained sound
The negative outlook continues holding me back
It's time to get my life on track
Let past me die so I can be born once more
New confidence shining from my core
My mind will remain open my mouth will stay shut
Bedazzled jeans adorning ****
Stop creating excuses for my bad habit
My improved self is strong enough to quit!

zen master
drinks too much coffee
says to class
pardon me
leaves lotus, runs down the hall
but not fast enough


zen master
visits his sister
she hands him
new nephew.
our bodies are illusions
but shoulder puke real


zen master
ponders the spring rain
when stupid
car breaks down.
meditation does no good--
******* thing is ****


zen master
says souls can migrate
from body
to body.
unsightly skin condition
will end when you do


zen master
has the hots for jane
but he must
ignore this.
concentrate on breathing or
think about baseball
_

zen master
hates Shaysie girl lots
and wishes
she would stop
writing stupid shadormas
with him **** of joke

Does veiled cosmos swathed in cosmic foam dream,
Do galaxies in murmur birth their light,
Do stars in quasar flares and dreams then seem
To long for worlds that thirst for infant light.
In voids hum seeds of Chronos’ woven scheme,
Do clusters spin like gyres to seek a role,
Does spacetime’s fabric fold to weave a theme,
A fractal tapestry devours the whole.

Do barren worlds dream brines where life might grow,
Does life envision choices not yet made,
Does life in dreams contemplate joy and woe,
Does life foresee all paths that fade to shade.
Does life remember flames from which we came,
Does life imagine actions left undone,
Does life feel past and future burn the same,
Does life count stars while choosing only one.

Do all these dreams compress to one small sprawl,
What do they say of him who dreamed us here,
Is there a line between the dream and all,
Or does it vanish when we look more near.
Is all of time a Möbius we trace,
Do endless fractals break before they join,
Does ever rhythm fold back into space,
Do strings of fate converge to point and coin.

Do cells in night consult their core machine,
Do mitochondrial fires desire more sight,
Do atoms dream of wonders yet unseen,
Is this entangled dance our secret rite.
Do quarks in shadows whisper things below,
Do neutrinos in silence come and flee,
Do bosons dance to songs we do not know,
Do wave and particle just try to be.

And still we kneel before new gleaming screens,
Replace the cross with profits’ shameless flow,
We swipe and pray for signal’s blessed beams,
Our offerings to brands we barely know.
We scroll for salvation in our feed,
Our selfie liturgy hides voids below,
We worship updates, join the market’s speed,
Yet still we lack the gifts that faith bestow.

Our science masks its sorcery from sight,
Faith taught us morals, wisdom, guided ways,
Secular sirens coax the self to bite,
To feed consuming hunger night and day,
Belief in profit robs the people’s light,
And makes the marketplace our church of praise.
We sanctify the accident as right,
Though interest and peril write the plays,
We hail it progress, heedless of its price,
Our blindness feeds the system as it stays,
We trade our souls for gilded vice’s hot spice,
And lose the harvest in controlling rays.

After these dreams and altars, what’s remain,
Do we still seek some meaning true and pure,
Or do we circle back to dream again,
A spark endures in slumber ever pure.
Can hope sustain the circle’s endless chain,
Or will it settle in forgotten mist,
May love and wisdom yet again remain,
And may the cosmos whisper we are kissed.

Star-crossed dreamers,
Bound together by thread,
Cosmic peaceful bliss-
But lover, that planet is dead.

The wind carries no laughter,
The sun has lost its heat,
Nighttime is silent and dark now,
Its life cycle complete.

The trees have all now rotted,
The soil has long turned sour,
It’s been months since April’s showers,
And May could never flower.

Lover, I must escape now,
The oxygen is gone,
I know you said you’d never be back,
But I was hoping you were wrong.

I planned to stay here,
To fix it in your absence,
So if you did return,
You’d see we could make sense.

Your rocket never flew back,
And lover, I know not where you went,
Trembling in my escape pod,
Hoping where you are, I’m sent.

I sealed this final message,
In orbiting satellite streams,
Hoping the words find you,
Beyond our broken dreams.

I know this was our ending,
And it echos through the void,
Now our world has perished,
Our civilization destroyed.

I can’t look out this window,
To watch our star implode,
But I feel it in my chest,
That sharp sting of letting go.

And while I drift away,
To somewhere perceived safe,
To long forget our planet,
And the evolution we made.

In the emerald of the evening
I was devised in the celestial ether,
within a shooting star,
viridescent blood,
rich with tungsten
refracting, polychromic,
frolicking in Sunna's light.
Cherished amongst the crows,
and Mani,
who cradled me,
and called me bairn,
'til the coal of you,
hands calloused from digging,
scratched me out of Folkvangr,
inset me into your lavalliere,
wore me like a talisman,
an owned guardian,
a chained healer,
caged,
as if my pastoral viridescence
could mend the sedimentary solitude.
Envy laces into black rings
around sorrowful heavy eyes,
the mantle of you only able to burn
into polluted clouds
that fashion cold, resistant, steel
but nary a pip of a plum.
Weathered and worn as I may be,
I remain the fagr-gim,
and you will persist in your burning,
residual heat, sulfur,
never aflame, simply fume,
until the yearning fossilizes,
and only aska remains.