Poems

I think in words Therefore I create with words. A more direct redaction From the Ark of Id, But more processed from nature

So I begin

Is my mind a box of sand? Is my life divinely confined?

I watch the wall from atop a stone bench While sand floods the cerebral trench. I consciously accept my limits. Righteous talons tap and tap again.

Would rather frantically flounder Than crack the cult of a cryptic founder. I feel the pleasant sink of wet sand. I know the depth of fleeting sky.

My mouth nearly under as I obscure a beast. No no! freedom? this can’t be true That bear escaped in a plastic canoe. It was supposed to sink with me and you.

People are so irritating and there so so much to worry about You may have lost your juul And your children could die at school I’m going to help

Take something that worries you Put it in a rigid structure passive to light with a lid and a tail that enters the wall A blender yes put it in a blender and turn it on Suck oil from the earth and send the gas to its brain Watch your worry weather by the speed of sharp extraction

Now leave it on and walk into your living room Sit down on your nice new L shaped sofa because you deserve it. Now turn on the tv yes the tv agitate more oil from the earth and watch other apes make love with lenses on their asses. Now your phone is calling not your friends so pick it up anyway it’s that time in the program for insestuous greed to “borrow” your data Look at what the apes on tv ate yesterday

Look at their bodies fill every pixel of your 7 in screen Now quickly walk out the front door look at the horizon spin around jump up to sky sky then fall to the ground

Now run back inside Amazing technology that we now have compressed everything interesting into a 7 in screen You know what I mean Imagine if you actually have to go to Yosemite to experience its natural beauty Just look at Josh’s selfies from last week Oh and buy that swimsuit that your phone reminds you you spoke of that brand yesterday Your house will be beachfront in a few years so it’s an investment Can you still hear the blender? Go back into the kitchen and turn off the blender are you still worried now

Dry earth diffuses with sequenced contact Creeping through the sole of my shoe Embalming my foot in primordial soot

I came to this mountain for discharge Increasing my elevation for fun To release leaves into the sun

My tongue was formed by inappropriate science and words of forgotten meaning Deception completed my imago

Upon these tectonics Arrogance trips on the roots of mature trees Language disarmed by silence

Brains processing, bodies replicating, Time loading finitely within.

I will save a life, but we all must die. The most painful injection, freedom into mind.

Drenched in fear I must trust myself to live. My hand soaks in charcoal as I prepare.

The sun is a gun aimed at the human heart Who’s fertile warmth may blow us billions apart

I need not be long to witness the pattern of Earth, But to feel unique will require double birth.

I have not yet seen the world, All that I expand my life to. The hope for adventure Docked in my direction.

I do not listen to light Because I see. Is there a voice Like I want there to be.

Another dimension to crave. Another life to behave. What made me? I am the force of calm and craze.

Wet clay. We all are god. Everything is cheap. I have to leave fantasy needs me.

I need fantasy or my soul will die Before my body And I will suffer, Because reality can’t be seen.

A vacuum with no birth, no consumption Nothing at all, but nothing is so powerful a product must exist A balance to the fit

See nothing is everything Hear something that’s anything

Reading this was stupid, But you will be smart one day We were all a star, will all be a mountain, And a pile of clay.

Oh time what did you do with me You locked up my soul and threw the key Where I see a handleless door manifest Is only the beginning to this ancient quest

As my body grows the Earth should shrink But life is larger the more I think overgrown with delusion in my boiling fantasy Speaking to you holds a soldier’s stance my eyes twitch with egos occupancy My awareness changes with the phases of the moon

I want to know all, but should not care Because my life’s pleasure Waits in the darkness of conscious caverns Away from the depthless lights of my hearts taverns

The unknown man is waiting. Waiting for the other man known only by the unknown man. Unknown to me.

Waiting with his clear bags Full of material. Known to me. My discarded cans and my neighbors bottles.

Leaves crunching Metals rubbing.

Bags, bags, bags Nearly encroaching upon My entrance to the drug store. I make my purchase and walk out.

Catching my last glance Of man and machine Men and waste. Unknown to me.

They must desire my side of the aisle Not working for a machine To give me my piece. To buy my bottle of water and Walk in peace.

They are waiting to obey command Are they robots? Worse they are men of the machine

People are here don’t look Honesty lacks fear so keep your mouth shut

I’ve been told I need water to survive before I’d the chance to feel death’s design. Designed by whom nature or ape? It couldn’t be two, maybe not even one.

Apes are a filament of nature, thoughts and all. So why isn’t everything we say true? Well none of it is true because we could not even dream of Nature’s entirety. But we could dream of Nature, a concept of Nature itself. We will adopt the thought that things can be beyond our following eyes. So that Nature can rest independent of its filament pests.

While nature is all it could not be one because even falling snow requires thin air. Nature is zero, perfect unity in all its disaster. Perhaps if we listen, unity will enrich our minds with plentiful tales and mystical rhymes. All so that we can feel the slight shifts in Earth’s rotation and laugh another hour. Understanding life’s forever changing destination and unforgiving power.

If I, an ape of Earth, twenty-one Catholic years flawed and all, could define nature as a thing, a force, a energy, a truth, that truth is change.

A yellow leaf undulating in sticky still air. Inspired birds howling Ignorant birds singing

An ape aches cross legged on a bloody quarried stone. The leaf flies against all reason, flower to flower during a life giving season. Scanning for meaning while their attention succumbs to a lobotomizing engine hum. Purple evening clouds stop to weape at the great rape of golden wheat. A flower that once lured and thrived has long lost its wild from a deal with a devil that named itself wise.

Acquiescent enrollment to patterns and rings. Processed by the machine is the natural order of things. If hope is lost in repetition pull your gaze to the ground and get close to things. The machine disengages in abstract light. Don’t trust the energy of stars or patrolling of police.

Patterns are only a joke told by time. Chuckled at by apes who sold it for a dime. Close your eyes and look to disable your sight. Discover the universe in the flowing scars of your eyes sockets. Learn the peace of powerless judgement.