The stairs still splinter out dry laughter, muffled in the gloaming plaster
Hall -
Spackle-rough to the cracked fingers running along those century old idiosyncrasies
I, belly-hurt to the passage and the passing of it
All.
I return there from excessively average physical distance _yet from many dynastic   Wheelings of
Contemplative
Removal.

A broken thing
And
I, the faithless
Steward -
Throneless
Amidst haunted
Kingdoms of a dismembered corpse-god
And other short
Stories


With threadbare
Memory of
Patterned bedsheets crumpled in perfect modelposed gesture of blissful entropy, the
Nearby school stadium spotlights still send tower beacons into the mist of the night
The cars still slur by in the wet black
Crackle and
Hiss
Destroying the fidelity of other songs in
Perfect, humming

Obfuscation .




Void-fellow, home
.

On the cusp of infinite knowledge
The human race
Shadow dances at the cleft
Face
Of the mountain

Daring the pits below
To invite it into belonging
There

Yet still reaching outwards
Embracing me one last time before
Flying.


Inviting me to hope and love
Again
After such fimbulwintr years as it has
Been

Now comes the third spring
And the dawn of
Soft eyes fluttering
Open


We shall
See.

Or

We shall see…

Than a
Perfectly
Machined
Enigma .

As the gun
Rolls of the countertop
In the
Cyber cafe

Blue
Sky dome
We
Roam
With entangled
Groans

And the saxophone
And the saxophone

Fill your spaceship
With things you will want and need

Me and my space dog
Shoot on and
On.

Kindness
Tolerates pain

Animal skull mouth
Bride to loneliness
Upon cliff top watch
I return to you

From the sea
From the sea

From me, I see
I see.

If you brew the perfect cup of tea each time
By taking the exact temperature of the water,
And measuring out the powder,
It ceases to be perfect.
It ceases to be anything at all.

She shook like a leaf
And she rolled and she slid.

Now we woke up to the sound of that
Now we cool to go around like that.

Now we laying down peace bricks one-by-one,
Red
Clay of the earth
Well-nourished .

Boils over
As god’s soggy **** reeks out from
The unbuckled Bible Belt of
America.

Take lashes to your
Crooked
Spine, for
Our thoughts and prayers
Go out, this night,
To the unburdened
Minds

Adorned
In crimson. (Read : red baseball hats)
Crowned
In thorns.

As each day passes,
It churns.

Weep for your daughters
Bow for your sons


////

And now we find that
Spoiled milk drips
From
Plastic ****.

//

A dying exhalation spooks out from the cracked and bloodied lips of the
Earth .
And      the

Saints
***
Marching in-

Devouring each other,
With gleeful religiosity in the dim light of our final
Awakening ,
While the very concept of humanity itself
Is being torn apart and
Reborn


Our final prayer :
May g0d’s children
Be
Hit by an f-350 full of unsecured
Kitchen knives.

A human’s religion
Is its most beautiful
Story

Itself,
The author.


It tells of
Us.

What
We are.



A
Seeker of
Truth .

Fooler of
All.



What are we doing?

said Odysseus, “i was meant to be a
sailor.”

The secret is
Active rest

Just as water seeks its level,
So too, do the oceans
Churn.

A humble god
Would chose to be powerless
Seeking only to observe and learn.
A god which is not humble, is not god,
For selfishness and self service is a folly belonging only to that of the living.
It is the natural byproduct of the need to provide to one’s self in order to sustain and survive.
It is the folly shared by all living things:

I must take
Such that I may live.

To remove mortality
Is to remove any native proclivity for self service,

Therefore, a consciousness which needs not,
Asks not, and takes not

Does not seek to introduce, nor extend, the influences of its own
Will
Externally.

A humble god
Simply
Observes it’s own
Breath

As it decays
Into

Nothing .

Rolling downward ,
With the simple
Ease
Of
Gravity.

I let a few drops drip into my tea as i peel the fruit,
Separating each segment as an individual piece.
The fisherman painted on the inside of my cup looks out ahead
My green ripple, matching exactly to the location of his water’s edge.

The world around you is not everything all at one moment and in the same place.

It is separated out into compartmentalized steps :

Understand what step you are on
Chose you next one you will take,

Look up at where you are going -
But don’t forget to watch your feet at each
next
     Step.

The things that are here, are here now
And you are here now

All the thing that have been, or may come to pass,

They cast shadows from themselves that we can watch dancing at the back of the cave.

But we are Now.
And Now needs to be dealt with now.

I have ancestors that I don’t know if I can even believe in

And I am told everyday that I don’t deserve to have a voice anymore because of the sins of my father
(How long must I reject myself?)

We are all, each one of us, directly from everything that has ever happened

We are all human family :

So why to we still punish through the generations.

Why do we not share our stories, in earnest.

Why can we not finally
Heal?

I will be ready to fight to protect American democracy (for real)
And the secular ideas of the Enlightenment that this nation was actually founded upon .

Drop the ******* *******.
Wake up from this hibernation and fear.

Stand against the deranged lunacy of the American conservative doomsday cult.

Those ******* took the snake flag :
“Don’t tread on me!”, they shout from their filthy, ****-stained lips.

That flag does not belong to them. Pry it from them.

That flag stands for Reason and Secularism .  That flag changed the course of history and Modern thought forever.

They do not seek revolution -
They seek the erasure of all
Human
Kindness.

———-


Celebrate the Human Condition.
Seek joy, but not at the expense of others.

Learn and grow.

Learn and grow, you ******* stunted cogs in someone else’s war machine!

Learn and grow!

I will protect your rights to do so,

While you seek to diminish all others

I am not a patriotic person, but what these zealots are doing makes be beyond sick.

If you have the slightest inclination about what has ever been, or will ever be, good about America
You will not watch at they tear it apart.


The forces which created us were once
Science, Art, and the Human Condition.

In Boston, we have done it before. It can be done again, if needed.
I do not seek to need to,
But I ask your courage, should the time come.

Do not let them set hundreds of years of progress back to appease their wallets and their hateful notions of god.



One, if by land.
Two, if by sea.

In a world of immense hurdles, you provide an actually good example of a strong roll-model.

You are strong minded, but not afraid to cry (it’s a joke by now, yes - but also, very much NOT!

You are brave.
And you care.

That’s all it takes to be a hero.
And we are in a world that desperately needs real, honest to goodness forces for good.
No *******.

I just turned 30.
But when I think of my life, and if I ever leave anything which might be called a “legacy”.

I can only hope it is a portion of what you already leave both behind an ahead of you.

You are a good person.
And you should be proud of yourself, always, for that.

Do you consider us family?
We are together, as humans.

We carry immense burden and responsibility.

Do you respect living things?
Have you ever looked at the Earth and seen it?

In the game of life and death, which side are you really on?



Think hard before you answer
                                                       .

It is not unfathomable to hope
That whatever cruelest hell that you are capable of conjuring in your soft mind,
Finds you swiftly ,
And stays with you long .

But gods have not dealt with Justice in thousands of years…

You must know the discomfort inside and out.

You must be a self-smith ,
And harness the immense power of knowing yourself in a mostly honest way.

Do you feel like there is so much which is obvious,

That no one bothers to see right in front of them?

And everyone is playing the stupidest game of make-believe ever invented?

You play along when you care to, you know the rules by now-

You’re good. You can be anything.



But you’ve never bought-in.

Tumbles dry leaves around the train station

Tracy Chapman comes on,
And real life is real again.


Second-guess nothing,
And speak with Honesty.

Is to look inside one’s self
And contemplate our honest desires that we dare not say aloud.

And even if there is no god listening,

It is still beautiful look upon one’s own
Mind,
In quiet admiration and
Respect .




Like brushing your teeth.

What arrogant beast in the history of all living evolution gestured the first false witness ?

The truth.
Fight injustice.

Stand up for what you truly believe in - no matter how big, or how small

Let’s try it again, but mean it this time.




                  don’t let the bad guys win…

Scale leaf daughter of deep grandmothers

I see your pride and honor

Do you not see the Earth?

That that they may become intelligent

Of passing down the most important things you need to stay alive

It is the easy communication of cultural knowledge

It prepares us to live in that world.
Our world, the one around US!

It is folklore and fable
It is all the moral lessons
The anecdotes, the advise and stories of failure
It is core and integral to the dna of humans

It is knowledge transfer down
Through generations

Telling our tale
Our histories- even when they are interrupted.

Music is the human tapestry itself
It is the first form of writing, the first language.
The reason for language

Each thread is woven of all our families together

Always mixing lineage forward
Always remembering its past

Welcome.learn. Speak back to me
Speak back to me.
Speak back to me
Speak back to Speak back to me
Speak back Speak back to me
Speak back to me

Speak back to me
Speak to me

Speak
To

Me  .


Call and response.




The snow will be here soon.

It trickles down to me like dry rain.
I beat out on the earth to measure my time

The soil looks at me, as if I were strange.

He
Humbled me

She
Humbled me


The river running, humbled me away.

In summer, the young tree bore many fruit.
Not large, nor well formed- as the tree was yet young and only in the second year of fruiting.

Yet the number of apples was many.
And this tree grew honestly.
It was not grafted, but planted, and came to maturity in the natural way - with years of patience.

Some time ago, before the new families moved in, someone had planted this tree, hoping it would grow, not knowing if they would be around to witness its fruiting.

And they were not.

Whomever the planter has been, their part had been played and none more is known.

Yet the tree grew.
And it began to learn it’s trade.


But the apples were of poor quality, the tree being new to the task. And, as is to be expected, more time must come to pass before the fruit may become beautiful.

These early-borne fruit fell often, never reaching full size. And they littered the dry lawn in multitudes.

The small apples would rot, and became gnawed and ****** upon by all matter of things. Birds, bugs, beasts - started to devour the littered horde, but never fully.

So half-carved fruit carcasses lay around the base of the tree and reached out past the extent of its shadow.







Take me at face value

Yet, I ever wander hillsides
Making my way, often, upwards

Light footed across your thin carpet of storm clouds
Each toe-touch flashing lighting across the world-dark sky

In embers, you fall to me
Your hands, like watermelon seeds
caught in my throat

Your eyes, gloaming in that fractured world- without me.

We are walled-in peoples
We are isolated from each other’s history

We are lost to the timeliness of actions against our well-being
Now,
At the uneventful death of all human love

A man in a mad world who refuses to go insane with rage
Does so unjustly,

As he sits on his hands
and waits to die.

I have been that man , seeking only sedation.

I come to find that I must face myself
And the injustices of the world

Was what this nation is told to have been founded upon

The Secular pursuit of reason, self determination,
And the triumph of the human mind
Over dogma and the disparities of false witness

Your god died long ago
You seek only to resurrect
Suffering  

Don’t misdirect my words
Just because to lie to yourself, unable to see yourself as you are-

You are blind to the obvious consequences of your actions

And for that you have my pity and hate.

Yet, the pity grows ever weaker

But I
Return to
My growing

The world serpent shall awaken
After all this
Hibernation and hate

And shall find that
Slumbering serpents awaken

Strong.

————-

You steal my symbols,
Rally falsely to my image.

In time, you shall rally no more

I hope your blood vessels strangle you all at once from the inside, slowly crumpling you to the nothingness you are -

A biological trash compactor of cold, sweaty immolation.

As
All the lies you tell yourself are laid barefooted across the burning ashes of your self-ruined world.
As
Everything that you are disintegrates into the vile sludge of your failed human existence.

As
The violence of Man’s hatred turns on itself, for once.

I hope your god obliterates you -
Or someone else’s god -
Or I’d even settle for a Big Mac truck,
Or
A chicken bone in your

     Meatless
          throat

Is to be life

To hold fire
Is to be human

First
Keeper

Of the flame : first human

Ancestor of all devils

Have long since grown

And their powerful roots
Tear my foundation to a rubble of
my towered look out

Speak truth
Seek knowledge and use it justly

Where are our heroes?
There haven’t been any real heroes for hundreds of years,

Follow the truth. Seek justice.fight
For   good .

We teach this.
But who will follow?

Who will follow when we are being crushed under the weight of their fake god?


You ******* deranged lunatics.

That’s all it is.
The most fundamental form of communication
Boils down to dichotomy :
This or That

It’s the only Real language .


Yes and no ,

Drum and silence.


Beat
     patterns into the veil of the night
The
     Moon. Is.
  Watching      .






                        .







       ­                 .

Every bathroom sink
Is an alter


To more ancient forms.

Inverted hermit

Hole in time, like a well
Clay
Bricks swollen with memory
Diving deep into long churning oceans of night ink

And speak your peace
By standing softly
And letting time swill together in collected tidal pools - in the recessing draw of the ever-black


Bourne a-mast to the windly observance there

A day In the cave without echoes

A truce with time and decay

Open weeping
In front of Her audience

To have lots of wants
But have your needs met

If ignorance is bliss,
Then omnipotence must be agony.

But the more I know about you,
The less, I can breathe .


I yet breathe