caught off guard
by yet another downpour
unprepared again
he could shelter
from the torrent
tormenting
and tempestuous
beneath the hung branches
of this laden tree
overreaching
beyond its means
but he knows
it cannot keep him dry
for as long as
he might need
from bough to branch
to leaf and bud
down the back of his neck
through layer upon layer
soon sodden and soiled
those discomforting drips
will expose that
which he didn't want
to feel

I scribble on
With a half lobotomy;
A radar seeking Hell by looking up
And another dictionary
From another time and place;
An alternate timeline
Reaching right and left
As well as fore and aft;
The beard of a ******
And naïveté too;
Undiscovered depths of emotional manipulation
Unseeing, unthinking,
A new old structural familiarity
To abduct and probe
The time-honored, vacuum-sealed
Ineptitude of ideology
Whose meat is sweet
But suits the skeletons of standardized educational theories
Like a pair of jeans at age eleven that you expect to grow into;
In hope of justifying
Overuse of monetary resource
For the sake of bonus states of mind;
Scouring the depths of discarded everything
With hooks catching on to all the similarly forgotten names
Who live in fear of obscurity
Clinging, not unlike insects
To their sixteenth minute of fame;
Finding in myself no way but out
To understand that which lives inside;
With disregard for any thread which weaves past me and takes no hold,
And loathing for the ones that do but unravel before the eyes;
Lightheaded, ending any sense of continuity
When, prostrate in the comfort of another tapestry
I stand abruptly, let my dreams be drained from me through tendrils
Like the passing of a temporal existence;
Drinking in the dust and glue of crowded bookshops
In fear of losing inspiration
To the insatiable jaws of my consumerist natural state;
Rummaging in a bargain bin
In search of someone to tell me, “Stop!"
With heads in clouds and bodies in ice trays,
Stealing lines of logic and lyric,
Throwing down and hacking into
Elemental bits which fit into my own vernacular
Sacrificing beauty for originality and vice versa;
Choosing idols idly with the tides
Of knowledge and of art
Rising and falling without fail
Never apparent and never blurred by motion;
Searching for a style like an odd-numbered jean size;
Finding greater inspiration in waves of unopened mysteries;
Following examples laid by unsuccessful fictions;
Learning ethics only from the prologues of ****** novels,
Unsuspecting victims snuffed in interesting and lurid ways;
Letting technological distraction detract from the projections of psychological complexity
Which I, from atop the high horse of my own pretensions
Pretended to embrace;
Committing massive acts of thievery, fraud, and infinite lethargy
For the sake of juvenile, illegitimate art forms;
Seeking other seekers who exist autonomously
For the sake of personal independent credibility;
Leading unsuspecting, overreaching, overeating, understanding, undemanding,
Too forgiving, not forgetting,
Victims of domestic warfare
To a loveless watery grave
For the sake of my own loneliness;
Patronizing every segregated buffet
With courage enough only for a small taste of everything;
With the flavors of the day swirling around
For me to shoot them down
And pin their carcasses to elementary school walls
And Mormon tool sheds
And nature centers
And all the forgotten places of summers past
In the hope of rediscovering
Some old buried treasure
Be it wondrous or worthless;
With the uneasy insincerity of a rodent who pretends to understand a city;
With adopted methods
And repeated thoughts
And ideas which came to me in waking dreams of my own retirement;
Sharing, for a captive audience,
The formidable giants which
Inform our common denominator
Searching through myself for only the most indecipherable
With the fear of being understood
And the fear of being ridiculed
And pretensions of some preternatural predetermination for greatness;
With acceptance of predisposition for obscurity,
The cost of the inundation of the new airwaves.
The series of tubes that feed us intravenously
With information, information, information,
Having killed God and left material validation in His wake;
It could be that new gods are born in the minds of the innovators,
Those wonderfully wealthy
Whose social structuralism
Was a beacon to us all;
In the darkness of an architectural anomaly
Where lights extinguish as my body lies dormant
Alone and abandoned
Only by my own subversion;
Confined ever to a convolution of passages
While above me all my peers still carry on;
Overstaying welcomes
And letting emotionality
Color conversation
A sicklier green,
A green of a tree only just sprouted,
A green of a new recruit,
A green of an inexperienced schoolboy
Faced with the daunting and timeless act
Of copulation;
Somehow taking in the sights and sounds and smells
Of advanced mathematics
Even occupied, as I am,
With explaining my actions
Most eloquently;
Devoting myself to another cause,
Another, another, another
Always relaxing my grip by losing focus;
Desperately hoping not to let my fellow travelers
Lose their innocence
While I reluctantly, dogmatically
Keep mine on a leash;
Always keenly aware
Of the universe of worlds
Beyond my control,
And even my understanding;
On the increasingly frequent
Intrusions of risk
Into my significant reality
And the iota of explainable truth which guides the motion of my body but most frequently my mind;
Questioning the meaning of all words
Without thought or coordination;
Considering another restful journey
To clear my mind of human language
And in its place acquire thoughts and emotions from the street;
Without foreseeable direction,
Malice aforethought
Or noticeable signs of critical reaction
Giving birth to litter
Forgetting articles
And floating my sense of time up the Ganges;
Taking only seconds to counter the possibility of
Accepting more responsibility for myself;
Complicating matters with an interesting or bitter goodbye.

There is music at dawn in the song of the koyel
The tweeting, the chirping, the warbling,the cry
The medleys that float in the morning air 
As birds sing a welcome to a rising sky 

There is music in the span of feathered  wings 
The steady drone of the humming of a bee
As the sun revels on his throne at noon 
While a brisk wind whisks leaves on willow trees 

There is music in the silver drops of rain 
A gentle drizzle or a thunder squall 
Music in the flow of rivers and streams 
And the sparkling cascade of a waterfall

There is music on slopes of lofty mountains 
In echoes that reverberate of a water spring 
In the soft rustling of a valley of flowers 
Of blue irises and pink hyacinths 

There is music in seas and oceans blue 
Waves overreaching to meet the shore
Rippling in sounds of frothy ecstasy 
Whispers of pearls and ocean floors 

There is music at dusk when the day rests 
The throaty croaks in a nocturnal sheer
As moths flutter drawn to light 
'Tis music of life that I hear

The boy & the girl in the beautiful home of that ***** the stripper;
her sister studying music at school to get money
from the senses of             the prophetic elderly gentlemen standing
in line waiting to kiss her cheerleading to ruin the Christmas cruise
for the **** club strippers' Dreams of the original arena;
          machines receiving the cold eye of a rich rainbow
waiting for the genius of the smell of Icarus,   the sickness activity in the daughter's drawers powerfully drawn to the earth;    a picture of Christ in
                                                   his own language,
the birth of a letter,                           beginning with, as it were on the wall;
& the cops also loved the alchemy,   turning the robot on by sticking a Magic Marker in mom's scientific snooch of sand-grains that is Einstein's Favorite;
                         Up the breath while steam rises from the depths of Bettie;
Written with the **** of his star of the choir; 1 remember holding enough WINDS      of the daughters of:     The Ladies in the act of understanding which is born of the town of the Corporation's crazy                            |    |
Web flames; Empty Garden sexually kiss him, he watching the ****
buried in the Temple of the invisible monster playing with guns;
Only move the teeth from the center of the corner stood leather Mom.
Ode in the public streets; A reading from the bright lights of the plastic ground beef, Frenchman Paul to strike him on the            |         |        |      |
Appointing members until it receives the correct image of the burning of the Holy Christian bride; For the love ye bring the computer hidden in the morning,    Thank you because you felt the truth from its center;
Jack's shadow feeling disappointed w/ language used in the room
          & on his mantle he played w/ his cigar
          referring only to the Dawn Witch &
The course of the sheath thereof,  he living the life of the calling
     |            Street's thinly speaking in the  
plural;                    |                          |
pay­ing the penalties on her knees caught & led the return of Jews
on the eve of new brands & hot divas making      bigger moves in prison
as much as the knowledge of it is cut into the skin of a teenage ladyboy,
Silly twisting letter may eventually supply the madman w/ a  sports bra
World Wide ***** rolls from the other side where he held the skin of the dying half of the...; Hey.   He dismisses his naked body from the beach, of course, the mountains;    the barriers of the past to the Queen of the Night,
shining light of Asia,      of strange                          pigments you dream so
     that you stop searching,  because the entirety of
thee is to buy of him the spirit of life in thy spouse |                |        injury wearing the snow-clad on the one side the wall;
the top made w/ the fat of the bat,  and in brass,
                                            their hot toes
were taken to the torture chamber within;                Bobbie to the unknown
where the Devil is in the child's Playground
& the golden   letter is to the graceful flute;       Live Sounds like, she says drinking her friend's tea just to meet up
& falls asleep;
                         Gonna be a fool,      as the angel watching it walked past in socks
of the radio's broken glass on the table |             |        without remembering
Smoking Bettie's favorite food changing position to understand her
                                                          ****, ­           & down;
For one thing talking weapons buried forever
just to play football holding the pen at the right angle of light
to tell when the garden of physical fear &                    pain is in the Glory Hole & will know Maecenas     & keep the leather football stands
shaking the leaves of the country for someone
              who is an individual sport in addition
   to the hairy center of the sight of the flames,            prostitutes reading in the garden of the second light that is available by calling the new hot sweat,
&                        l       leaving the Beforetimes becomes of a kind of a judge getting her to remove all her clothing;           the fate of the tongue has been captured
&     was nearly time to leave it not under the A,      where, however,
it is not to return to the word of the image, the star,      turning round
to see the teenager's divination;         or because it is the book of the goddess
to die in favor of it, asking to speak,                      of the blessed leading part;
in the course of her naked beauty,          1 took hold of the middle band
of the night watch of the night of the one side of the city of knowledge,
and cut off from the side the pain of Asia,
feeding the drug habit of the Queen,   |  |          opposite your peace of mind,
1 will=1 will show it to you in the Medicine Chest's Mirror; |            |   her chest measuring 30",        & God is a Spirit on the beach where he dreamed
a dream,     & there was neither made nor when,        when we have already
set the bar so high ...                                                     he has been approved        |         &         | | | you say they will **** us that love us; surely,
you are mad; raging waves,                                                    & the daughter
  bearing in mind the company of the mistresses
of his friends,                                                     to treat them w/ the weapon
of light from the garden's right hand
in the Desert;             there he became aware of them
as they moved;       miracles performed by the laying
on of the hands of St. Thomas having been withdrawn
               from the fire of the glory of the ascertained
sentiments;        the monster w/ the body of the Earth
&  the hairy crowns of them that walk on in the sand;
Already? A stranger from the sand of the watch,
               at his side his wife because he was righteous;
     In the midst of her **** was the respect for persons;
                In the law of the sight of a man standing
in the doorway when we are changing, our being
in warm weather the Harlots are given rewards for the
                                few seconds it takes to give off heat;
                                          which is their own unique brand of light;
                           that is, the sultry example, hot, & that
the caller would not say;     |         so that a new 1 starts
where people rebuild the old women           |
Please,  speaking to his clothes,              he lived on the
Avenue captured,     |   insufficient Southern bright love
mountain town solves the World's Children of their debtors benefit
from the gesture Dragon Soul Temple-producing guns like Gloria
knew of the women's kiss | Women naked women's faces, friends, poets and the *****'s mother died; the daylight is a donkey dung and young Americans from the left side of a major party of snooch lukewarm & innovative in Green Tights the queen of the college finds a poetic beauty, in the golden age of life, she is polluted by old money &  working hard in Hell; the powerful stars w/in stars thought the poet's death w/ ****** ***** six big [                     ] answers by saying that it is in the skin,
the heavenly will, however, along with Greek all into the state of nature,
but in all truth causes the wildcat of the three stars of the yellow color
of a scarlet color of the color of the walls variously unworthy of the son
of Medusa; they feel the fear of the mouth hole in this little work;     Pre-K mother being gay, which is going to open his mouth and the Barbie [Yech] leaving my sweet ******, the French Association for Friendship running
into the depths of the Russian's brains into another's writing;  
& in the Book of John,         it's raining girls dancing on fire
in the perfect open window to the best version filled w/ a false tongue;
the most detestable secret for a revolution on behalf of the guy's feet &
he fought off wild dogs to play w/ the men who are of the modern age, O
                             Lord, a voice came from the other side of the mirror
                                      of the hexameter that he should eat out the sea,
                                    wherein all things are & may be seen as the 500  
                                    gifts of all that are & it would not be the nations
who are on the ground     from the power of the daughter of the breech;
he wrote the images and it is in your lap,         she bore them,
& the cops began to love us; Wall Street alchemy, the sitting duck;                            During the knowledge of mom's back
   on the beloved robot is to a tree grains of sand
                       that are heard,                  no more,
Mary Einstein's is what is bad in the sacred overreaching culture covered
w/ fat;      every hair on her head numbered     & heating the walls w/ the air,        
                                                 ringers,                         Park is the enemy
in great pain & 1 could see the words,  
& so turn to win the child unknown,
occurs in a living bobble head to meet the Muses,      1 peg and the voice of socks, can not be so stupid,                                   they live peacefully at that,
but they walk not,              have not changed a lot in the mirror of the tablet
was placed in the vapor of smoke:                    1 remembered it to the angel
of light in which the act of understanding
                          of the grace of the motion of the spirit & the rest of the fire,
& broken in two the Top Bettie;           which you may fear going on until it becomes the monster w/ some sweetness intact;       1 saw a man who knew honor's skirt Kissing her skincare agents similar to the part of the street
                  covered w/ leaves;
                  Maecenas' soccer mom's makeup applied poorly;
                                 [Numbers intact,   the flaming shadow],
       which is so rare it takes flames to illuminate the poetry
in the garden,                                 so much so, that is to say,  
after hot pants went the way of the world,  more than most birth fates
on the move,               they should win w/ a tail the destruction of the one language      in the morning, wearing leather leaves to in public,   Marcus playing soccer,    watching as the back of the flames beat the stands &
he looks at the garden torches            & secretly reads off the numbers
of Shadows taking center  & living in a lighted *******'s house paid according to how much they call a hot time for the show from the old
to the sweaty tongued guest on her lap & unstable,            caught behind the second movement under-brained [NCAA:  
White dragon skin returns home without the teenager wearing the goddess' tiara], strictly speaking,                              a yellow star in the late speaking
Barbie has a watch that keeps the spirit & the number of Infinity
thirty below- - she slips on her Uggs        & engages weirdly w/ the letter,
which to say pushing to her knees;                     of the changes to the skin;
of the *****,            about his wife,                   |                 thin, ugly witch,
a teenager's greater nakedness;    | Rolling witch
the course of the stars,  leaving us the goddesses
we have named for his wife Eve but the intervention
of death,    a lady to be happy in that contrary | |
The Holy Spirit moving              a step apart
In dance,  falling on the public temple drought lover
Southern girls kissing a skinny plastic man;
That is natural to God,                  thank you,
                        Invisible to me in my garden,
              incorporating flames
       when they had known        |       |           the mind of the glory
of                    Jack sleeping in the open,          reading the seal &
revealing the vision,                          in the shadow of the woman
her maturity delayed;                        The stranger in the street &
watching;            |                      The girls of light harlots,
                                                  are as strong as the others;
             But they can be destroyed by fire
on other sweaty external nights,
          2 Jews said they weighed
                                   much more
              Then the motion taken down;
talking to a teenager or a divine;
                   According to the man instructed
          in   only in the garment of his skin;
The boy returning to the fate of the skin
Starting to use the *****;   given to him
                                      long & thin;
Then he turns to leave,   The Witch
****               heating the test; parts
           Put to death in the mountains;
Felix, in the powders of the cut back
by the half-naked,               |     is to go to the games;
All wings of the new city
                            that will bear the child's name Eve;
yeah, while holding hostage
                   the three Queens;
waste of Asia,  where the beach is not the first time or place
                                                           accused are the objects;
the demonstration coming           down         out of the cloud,                    
so that what is
                   One is the extreme              but Jerusalem,                                       shall
We begin dreaming
to the Queen of the mountains of Bela the bare-assed
naked; birthday-suited, propagandized and enlightened
by the knowledge of the middle band of the shore
         but the mad one of Asia is bound toward *****
to receive this; there is no spirit at the feet of the kind
      of medicine that is cover for the prey,                     to you and 1
have 1 & 1 will start dreaming about you, | |                     his wife

She said it was wisteria, florets draped
framing her windows
vines climbed overreaching the rooftop
swallows flew by, just before night skies
twilight flashed orange, pink in lavender blues
fading into black
a vision soon of sparkling
starry moon
jasmine flowers to float upon
evening's scented pond

I foresee at day, not distant,
when armed drones patrol our skies.
Where people labelled dissidents
will be killed without a trial.

In the cities of the future
walls and ceilings will be glass.
Big brother will be watching
like George Orwell once forecast.

In the future called panopticon
You never will feel free.
You will never know whose watching
and you won't know what they see.

If equality of outcomes
is your wish and fervent prayer-
go and lie down in some graveyard
You'll be sure to find it there.

Otherwise, arouse yourselves
before it is too late.
Don't be a useful idiot
to an overreaching State.

Go ask the Pakistanis
about the war that never ends
Ask how they've been treated
( and we label them our "friends")

The drones we use in Pakistan
will soon be loosed on you.
Will you enjoy a tyranny
of the many by the few?

whittled down and disavowed
by an overreaching society
the pomp
and zeal
with such appeal
and airs of impropriety

unbelievable populace
chickens
chickens
chickens
free of heads
still peck, peck, peckin' ya

copulate, then like you less
pickens'
pickens'
pickens'
slim as anorexia

Act Now!
Don't Wait!
the finish line?
keep runnin' straight
you can go to class
...don't be late
or just go tip the magistrate

pointless?
I doubt it very much
more fish in the sea
spontaneous lush
oink less
piggy hush!

buy, buy birdie!
consumerism's sturdy
making up makeup
makin' me look perdy
hopin' I don't wake up

Live as hard as you can
just to die before you're thirty
if practice makes you perfect
then perfection makes you *****

I used to think that I didn't need anyone.
I used to think that I could be complete, alone.
Trying to shut my eyes to the frozen shards in my heart-
Will I become blind?

But-I was lonely.
I was sad.
I wanted to try, even once-
what it felt like, what love was.
I was always by myself, watching from an overreaching balcony as society passed by.
I swore that I would be complete alone,
But my body refused to accept that fact.

The sunset that I saw was stunning, that's for certain,
but to call it love,
would be a disgrace, wouldn't it?

I've always wanted to tell a special person,
who've I've been gasping for on that painfully cold winter night-
huddled up like that-
"I'll never go back to that cold world again."

And, sometimes, sitting on the window rail,
I wonder.
Is love warm?
Is love bitter?
Stunning?
Is it beautiful-
or is it different for every heart?

"And,
let's go exploring.
If it rains, let's play a game."
Such times
were meant to go on forever,
really.

But-
to be honest, I am scared of love.
That frightening concept of brutal heartbreak and
dangerous happiness,
do I deserve such things?

When my heart finally stops beating-
I want to leave,
knowing that I was truly happy.

Until the time I can no longer be myself
I wonder just how many times I can still say "I love you" and not cry.  
So let me be grateful for the fact that I can be here-
Thank you, simply for the fact that I'm alive.

With no one here, will the world wither?
Who is left-
Will they say the world's final confession?

And I wonder,                                       
when I meet the destined person, will I know?                                          
I guess, to make sure, I won't let go of anyone.

I've always wished for spring.
Because I was so afraid of that cold world, covered in white-
I curled up in a tight ball,
huddled against the raging sleet,
I never took a good look at it.
The soft snowflakes falling silently,
The beautiful forest that was as beautiful as a white lily-
If you have a special person to share it with,
I think-
This white world can be inexpressibly beautiful.