Eternity is closed !
- come back another day with
flower smears for eyes and sincere
passion on your
palms          (weathered)

I need another Russian Doll -
Princess to frequent curtains
fashioned from fire & lead
equaling out to crimson folds
which mysteriously call to
the mystical hierarchies of
imagination

Silent requirements signal beneath the steps
which welcome
one (a stranger/
an Ibis-Beak cane & dark coat
stamped with August rain)

They arrive unexpectedly, as if to play the game
of cliches, they carry promises fashioned in foreign ports
tapping my knee
instead of my shoulder
having only known or recognized
entombment
                               (there is no hyperbole which lacks within
                                Nature's haunted heavens)

My strange visitor leaves / glass umbrella
in hand / to privacy / our brief interaction begins & ends with simple eager undertakings implemented
in the afterword  

What is in another's contemplation of me?
whiling in manifest Theosophy -

- Thought form -
Primal child-rage / whisp of violet smoke &
inksplotches abolished, mutually panting.
Our decorated
four-legged hunter
has arisen and impatiently
craves for the Earth to partner at last with
the Sun

..The Sun a blazing dime
I can smell crispness
in the air

Does every moment of pleasure,
Have to be reduced an equal amount of pain?
One can be lulled into this false notion
If they choose

Nature dictates no!
Pleasure exists as a reward
While pain signifies damage

I prefer
Seeking the elusive happy medium
A true balance

An unquantifiable flux,
Never equaling the same value
From one moment in time
To the next

Inner peace
Like a circle
It never ends

season's come and go
my yin yang remains constant
through rain and sun
through death and life
the compass remains fixed
frozen in place
searching for a horizon whose existence is uncertain
my famine and abundance
once leveled the scale
now my famine is overwhelming
like drowning but not able to die
but forced to relive the process of death repeatedly
plagued by the natural need for love
it cannot be removed, destroyed, ignored or exchanged
left unattended it grows desperate equaling to enslavement
still sea worthy i follow my compass
hoping for the storm to end and the shore to appear
i no longer wish for the treasure just the glow of land

a dream
a wish
a star that dies in the black sky
unknown, lost among the billions and billions
never to be remembered

Conscious how below self awareness motives can be.
Subconscious no matter the state.

The density remains linear; all drawn in pen
to attend to these feuding desciples
of being “super” and the instinctive relliance on idioms,
of actions portrayed further than words,
finding balance on this epicenter
of egocentric dreams coined all along the same metaphor.

Sides- to what ever shape of form of the matter ,
linear at point we all eventually
dive/urge finding another
point above or below
convergence in light
to change focus in volume/mass
equaling (1)ndividuality / decreasing the density of situations

Mine is a generation of taboo.
We are tribal tattoos and cheap motel room honeymoons.
We are slander,
and slang,
and brittle teeth.
We are born-agains and suicides.
We are podium preachers and cracked-pavement prayers.
We are melted plastic and oxidized metal-
sometimes we gleam with the Liberty Green of corroded copper,
sometimes we crumble with rust and stain calloused hands.
We are the last stand of Art.
We are the manifestations of forbidden bloodlines
and insanity.
We are just as much our mothers
as we are our fathers,
and we are everything that they are not.

We are stigmata.
We are red paint on white canvas.
We are fast food coffee.

We were born to the sweet smell of formaldehyde
in rooms dressed in florescent white
that share plumbing with the morgues
beneath the linoleum floors.
We are the mix of ***** and innocence that lingers
in the kiss of a dimly lit basement.
We show and we tell but always only for the right price,
the wrong reasons,
or the promise of an exchange equaling to the feeling that
this is a mistake.
We are rosary beads counted between gnarled knuckles
and dragged across smooth palms that long
to sweep tear salt from flushed cheeks.

We are Heaven's lonely singles.

We are skin stretched out too thin over skeletons.
We are the complexities that machines can't calculate
much less imitate.
We are the futile cries that once tried to keep towers from falling
when the sky came crashing down.
We are the pardoned and the withered.
We are the hardened faces of those that have
worked too long
and been loved too little.
We have been told that the safest place for your soul
is in the hole of your chest,
but only if it's reinforced by
four inches of concrete and steel,
and strapped tight with a Kevlar vest,
because they said people,
at best,
are manslaughter.

But we have never been great listeners either;
when we were growing up
we pressed our hands to hot stoves
even though our mothers said not to,
because we couldn't just be told what it was to burn
we had to feel it for ourselves.
So every now and then we will crack open
our rib cages in the hopes that someone will come,
light a fire,
and decide to stay.

We hopelessly spray paint things like wings
On deserted brick buildings
So that, at the very lest, we can feed the
Hollow-eyed passerby the belief
That these streets still have guardians,
Even when we, ourselves,
Abandoned such ideologies in
backroad dumpsters
along with our deities’ infidelities.
  
We are the period at the end of the sentence.
(Or maybe we are the ellipses...)
We have redefined the American family
and proven that even Christianity knows how to hate.
We were raised by sixty-percent divorce rates,
yet we still believe that we are soul mates.
We are the jokers of the deck:
either smiling fools or wild cards.
We are cocked heads with smoke billowing from throats
coated with blisters and cough syrup.
We are back alley scavengers crawling on all fours.
We are the era of the Auto-Tuned voice,
proof that with a pretty enough face anyone can sing.
We are foggy mirrors with smiles drawn on them
by print-less fingertips.
We slip up the thighs of our lovers
and swirl down the drains of sinks with chipped paint.

We are the hearts in your hands-
Crush us into powder and brush us across your face like Indian war paint,
Give us up to the sky so that we can be revived by lightning,
Dance to the rhythm that we beat,
Squeeze us and watch as we seep through the cracks of your fist,
Conceal us in your pocket and only ever speak to us in a whisper,
Or,
with all your natural voice,
sing to us
songs about thunderstorms
to wet the dusty desert dirt around our rooted toes
in the hopes that we will blossom in the most vivid colors.

Just do something with us.

Don't sacrifice us to the tops of lost bookshelves
to collect dust
or rust in the rain with everything you once loved
but grew too old for.

he sat bedside with his great grandmother
stroking a hand laced with what he saw as
tiny blue rivers, flowing from a thin wrist
dammed by ancient knuckles

boulders chiseled by eighty-four years

he read from his book while Mommy
dozed in the chair, and nurses squeaked
in and out, all with half smiles he could
not decipher, for Grammy was sick

and when his mother was awake, she cried

he hadn't seen her tears before;
he tried not to look, preferring his book
with its pictures of the sun, orbiting
planets and mazy moons

and spaces in between where heaven might hide

he understood most of its words,
and none were of heavens--unless noxious gasses
and swirling clouds of dust were the winds which
whipped through the pearly gates

but his seven wise years knew that was not so

when he turned to the page of the
penultimate planet from the sun,YOU-ruh-nuss
he discovered it took four score and four years
to orbit our star once

math's mystery may have eluded him

though coincidence was not yet
in his lexicon, and now he knew Grammy
had her times around the sun, her eighty four
equaling one for the great tilting Uranus

if only i could assign
numbers and equations
to the feelings in my head;
a universal value system
even you could comprehend.

Because then I could understand
that when I think of you
my heart swells like
one thousand helium balloons
and my feelings for you
are approximately
one million, seven thousand and two.

i’d know that how I feel
when you offer her words
divided by the times
you’ve made me smile
equals the lightness in your eyes
when I catch them on mine.

I’d tell the doctors that today,
my sadness is about ninety-four;
equaling my disdain for the mirror
multiplied by the pit in my chest.
and he’d tell me to laugh
until I felt like a trillion.

Maybe it would make sense
when people ask,
“how do you feel?”
and I simply reply,
“zero.”

Pencils
  And papers
    And fancy erasers

Rubberbands
  And soda cans
    And ratty old pairs of Vans

This and that
  Or 'maybe' something
    Equaling all sorts of nothing

And then I met Winona Ryder...

The average person sleeps 1/3 of their life!!! So by the time you hit the age of 30 you would have already been asleep for a DECADE! That would make a 30 year old only 20 years young in awake years! Haven’t you realized , as we get older that the time starts flying more and more?!! Here is a list of averages that shows where the majority of people spend their time .

1. Eating--- 32,098 hours translates to 3.5 years of our lives spent going “yummy yummy yummy”
2. Driving---The average person spends 37,935 hours behind the wheel. That’s 4 years! Depending on the commute and of course city driving good luck.
3. TV---The average American watches 2.8 hours (quite conservative I’d say) of Television each day equaling over 85,000 hours which equals 9 years of a person’s life!! ( not to mention video games)
4. Working---from age 20-65 a person with 2 weeks vacation per year will average 90,360 hours----10years of the 9-5!
5. The internet----28,300 hours surfing the net (that number will rise)----equaling 3.2 years of life! That’s a lot of Facebook updating and youtube videos!
6. On average a women takes 40 minutes to get ready to go to work/going out---30,000 hours adds to 3 years of life. LOL get in the car already!

Did you know it has been widely studied that it takes approximately 10,000 hours to be an expert in something? Imagine if we didn’t have to sleep 1/3 of our lives. Over the course of a 75 year life we would have roughly 219,000 extra hours at our disposal! Enough to be an expert in 22 different fields!! Well not sleeping is obviously ridiculous because we know everyone needs his or her beauty rest and eating of course is a must. But what about the rest of our time? TV is cool don’t get me wrong but to give a decade of my life to watching “CSI and dancing with the stars!” I mean I’m already giving up 1/3 of my life to sleep. How about work? Do you love your job? Does it just pay the bills or maintain your level of luxury? Do you really want to spend another 10 years just paying bills or acquiring materials in between sleep? How much time do we spend angry, jealous, getting drunk, or gossiping? Really here is the big question, how much time do we spend caring about what others think of us? Women I hate that our culture makes you feel that you have to look like a god. You are beautiful just how God made you and your heart is what a man should spend time on. Life is short. What are your dreams and gifts? How can you use them to bless the world? Where do you spend your time and how can you spend it wiser? All glory an honor to my Lord and Savior Jesus Christ. He died for you to give you time to know Him for an eternity. Jesus teach me to spend my life and time wisely so I may Love as You have Loved me.

Once upon a time,
There was a beautiful maiden.
Without a doubt,
She glowed with magnificent power.
Power equaling beauty, that is.

This maiden, however,
Had a flaw.
She knew she was lovely.
She needn't be told so.
Yet, as much as her power radiated,
her flaw beamed brighter.

She was an  envious soul.
Jealousy  ruined her.
If she was the most beautiful in the land, why must she be vengeful?
She felt insecure compared to all of the other lovely maidens,
even though it was written in stone that her looks out shone theirs.

But it didn't matter,
All that mattered was that she was beautiful....and no one was to ever know about her little 'Beast'...barely being contained in the maiden's tiny body...ready at anytime to be released, and wreck havoc...

A map to treasure
An "X" perched sullen and unreachable,
Unchangeable
Immutable
Inedible
Intangible
In caves, dark
Scrawling crawling up my sclera
To blind
To bind
With direction more lethal
With words less lustrous:
Like diamonds
equaling crushed ice.
All this, a trick in the eye.

dear god
i was thinking about it the other day
the dying the sickness the hunger
the one person getting hurt equaling a million prayers
yet the boys and girls being thrown in the basement bruised and battered get nothing

i've been praying for sixteen going on seventeen years
and what do i get
little
but the years before fourteen meant little
every year after meant a lot
my heart and soul went into hoping war would end and children would thrive
and she would fight for me

but alas
none of this came true

children starve and are beaten
women are *****
men are murdered
unthinkable acts of violence must go unseen because we worry about the small things

so verily verily i give unto you, this time, my final prayer
an echo a dream of space and the universe
of peace and love of literature and poetry
of songs sung loudly proof proof i need proof
i want her to love me
not anyone else because that will not be true
and even though i say this over and over again
that all i want is some peace of mind and some attraction to last throughout eternity
i figure, knowing you (for the most part)
nothing will come through and I'll be left here to fight in the Nothing

keep a man with two billion dollars safe and sound, though
you're good at that

Her favorite color was blue
Fluorescent
Transparent
I saw right through
Her favorite color was blue
And she was patient
As the moon
Awaiting the sun
For its rein to be done
Stars were her eyes
They would shine
Light up my lies
I couldn't hide
Her favorite color was blue
Though she wore the colors of pride
Neon like the signs
She drew attention
She took my mind
Held conversation
Touched hearts
Never was complacent
Her favorite color was blue
A color of the nation
Red were her lips
Full of excitement
Plush
Anticipating more than lust
White bright stars
Looking straight at me
Searching for secrets
I had no place to keep
And so we loved
And so we loved
And so we loved
Transparent
We loved right through
Skin to skin
Bone to bone
Just wouldn't do
She caressed the spirit
Her favorite color was blue
Like the veins
She kissed my wrist
Told me we were the same
An equation
That leaves two equaling one
Her favorite color was blue
Never thought I'd be saddend by you
Lying cold frigid
Her favorite color was blue
As her lips
Weightless fingertips
Dimmed eyes
They use to shine
Neon like the signs
She gave me her heart
Took mines
And so we loved
Transparent
We loved until
She was through
Into the blue

Which is worse:
The beast of Jealousy,
Or the beast of Regret?
Both equate a torture so painful it carves scars into your bones.
Guilt, eats you up with an acid so sharp, you're diminishing to nothing.
Envy, cuts you down with a fury equaling your own.

I hold love and yet
I repel love
I hold pain and yet
I am numb to pain
I can stand time
And yet...
I cannot seem to stand
Time...
Time is but a commodity
And yet I still feel at loss
Pushing forward against the axis of time
Pain equaling the progression of time
So that my pain never decreases and suffers
At a gradient of forced positivity
Or is it really forced?
To live in a state of both pain and positivity?
Is it really forced?
To fear death and yet also infinity
Is it really forced?
When you can see all that which surrounds you
As if blessings hide and yet are plain to sight

But to live through that all brings about confusion
You continue to move forward without falter and yet
You find yourself in seclusion
Not wanting to be found and yet
Seeking warmth til delusion
Finding comfort in the painful cold
And yet begging for the warmth of a human.

Time is but a commodity,
And yet man cannot compare,
They fall weak to its clutches,
And lose to despair.
Take a hint and do not try to live in seclusion
Because one can only take so much pain.

I am a collector of hurt souls and sour people
Taking them through themselves
Answering confused looks
Nudging toward harsh truths
Laying out my ***** laundry

Everyone has something
Venerability equaling authenticity
In meeting people who are worth meeting
Showing yourself
hurt to heal,
a trade of sorts
Making deals
But you would not bargen
In the mist of all these people
I fell…
Fell
In
Love
In love with
Making others feel understood
Standing alone, I stood with everyone
They all felt they knew me
Truth is they don’t understand
But you do and we meet each other where I am
You walk me through myself and you through you
Not standing in a sea alone
But standing next to you

I used to long for
metal doors
that melted
forming
pool like portals
to other worlds.

Places where monsters
roamed distorted landscapes,
where skies rained
drops of purple
forming portal puddles
that would take me
to places even farther
from my messed up family.

I dreamed of
adventures tempered by pain
cause I felt there must be
a balance to pay in my fantasies.

Scars for freedom,
bruises equaling
the level of love I deserved,
the level that would earn my
warrior princess’s affection.

Through proof of
unfair punishment
while wielding healing hands
I would help
other victims like myself.
Earning a redemption
that was never necessary.

How strange that even in
my fairytale dreams
I treated myself as unfairly
as the daytime beast
that left red marks on me.

But now that I have found peace
I no longer dream of
a troubled love like that.
I no longer feel I need to earn back
that dignity and tranquility
that was so brutally
stolen from this mother’s son.

milo and quantum physics
but yet there is no equation
for your emotional unavailability
y equaling the x factor of vulnerability
i’ve always hated the duality of
math
all the silent rules to remember
i just want to be loved the way that
i love
without so many computations
how do i know if silence + comfort equals
pleasure or complacency?
a limit on the questions i can ask in a day
i just want to know everything
do you like the way i **** on your *******?
am i ever going to meet your family?
are you going to love me forever?
2 standard deviations of what you mean
when you say what you do
am i enough for you and i just don’t
know it yet?
basic math skills at a deficit
am i unable to put 2 and 2 together
are there limits to us
or do they not exist?