Me,
A rebellion's echo
In a war of patterns,
Dwelling.

Take me into myself,
Tinker on the past,
Realty sinks in the mud
With footprints of what ifs.

A splinter in nature's flesh,
Blood in the four winds.

Four winds
Scented in the morning.
Carnivore in day,
Four winds, wounded night.

A wound in nature's flesh,
Humanity's blade.

Along the the beach
With skies coated grey
And a feeling of brooding
Sentimental reasons,
   The feeling of today
Gathered inside and repeated
Itself to me,
A walk through the wind
And the familiar ripple
Of my wind breakers
Whisp in the air,
   A familiarity rolls over me
And a sordidness of recollections
Flowers like a lukewarm
Spring day only half way
Flowering,
   Still waiting I trek into thoughts;

  I met once with fingernails
Adorned in a slobbish black,
Dirt filled and a sigh,
    She spoke to me in her
College plaid joggers with a
Sweater bearing another school,
  And we spoke of the dirt,
Simply and plain of how it
Had gotten there.
   And working in dirt
Brought a great day into
My life,
   Oh lover of words and
A philosophy of conversation,
   How the wind wept that day,
And the familiar greys peeking out,
   Unspoken yet here today
Sneaking in a familiar
Resonance,
    Today is today again,
A hint that this will be yesterday
Too.

......the paradox was not a mysterious precious singular reason,
     As he breathed life into
His own lungs,
For daily he seemed to live like this,
The wound he wore on his chest
Like a reaper of life,
    A blood wound so thirsty
Its vampiric torture on those
Closest was not life but an
Embellished form of whimpers
Not some courageous
Yell to justified glory,
    It frustration was at
A poem or some form of
A form that gave it's bitter
   Deliverance grace
So that all might hear
Such a didsain with
Fanciful words more for word's
Sake, the ears silken flattery,
    The mundane use of glorified
Flutter,
  He wrote the weak
And a theasurus well thought
Made it strong,
    As it was read,
The mundane echoed
From an empty seat,
An empty word
From a cup once full.....

So I breathe words into
A subtle chaos,
Il portrait a poet that lost
And gained insanity's
Gambit;
Flame into the ice cold heart
And scream from
Drowned lungs
"MORE!"
And it's given where nothing's
Bloom is in full swing,
Take me from this disastrous love
That makes me want
The life passion
In forbidden whispers....

I am Ded inside
So why feel an eruption
Of life when death chases
Me and mind bending
Paranoia takes the place
Of normals paradoxical
Existence;
Nevermore?
Ever more!!!

I live to die of life,
Crazy as it seems,
Feels right.

I have never met such  
A universal conundrum
As the God of my truth,
The God of my folly.

You need God in your life,
They told me once when
I was drowned in to a river
Baptised by a southern gentlemen,

The snakes like the feel of
Grass on their bellies I thought,
And yet get whacked with a
Shovel once discovered;

What did I do to God to get
Born and then asked to find
Him, some glorified game
Of Hide and seek and ye will find?

Still there is no driving force
In this world as to who is right,
Or who is wrong on God's Monopoly board game, the dice roll

And it's my turn,
This poem might burn in hell,
But if I get a get out of hell free card, I might as well finish
The game.

A mind can be a cage,
Though complex in its
Subtle equasions,
Fairly dumb in social terms,
Filling cups of *****,
Never to far from that
Old lamp,
The light dulled as his living,
He sets free a legacy
Changing the world
In a solitary confinement

That I might sink my
Prophesy into your revelations,
The body of creation
In every contour,
My taste is numbed
By the flavor of your kiss
And know that your
Touch is a flow of sacrifices
That die into every pore
And create worlds:

I walk the lustful word
And pace in anticipation
With the poem,
Written by the hungry
Language of my desire.

We are supposed beings
In  thought
Made of infinity,
Passed by momentum,
Mediocre wonders
In a marvelous prison
Whose door
Leads to
A universal soul!

The world is a marble
The size of a tumor
Inside the mind:

Breathe, just breathe,
I feel everything
All at once,
I delve in the paradox
Of the devil's advocacy,
You are all against me....

Ok....breathe....
The body shakes
Inside the child whose body
Doesn't recognise the man,
Sweet memory hits like
A punch to the gut
And remebering becomes
A fist fight.

You!

Who?

YOU!

And I speak to myself
Outside like some external
Ghost that carries all
That I never wanted to be.
Holding in and biting
My tongue off left the man
A little boy.

Night falls,
I chew my nails down to the
Elbow, where is the peace
I read in the poetry that
Motions I am not crazy after all,
I am alone,
Yeah Bukowski....
Alone with myself
And I cant stand that
P.O.S.