When I began what would become the opening of a thousand eyes I was already on the run. I was running from my parents mostly as they had seen fit to put me to the stone. I was running from my brothers in arms but they wanted me to be safe. Most of all I was running from the crazy danger disease I had contracted from the man in the moon. He would call out to me in a fury of controlled substances and mind bending animal dances. And yet I could say that as long as I can be sure of my memory all I wanted was the purity of chaos and numbed sleep. So why would I run from my demon that would seem to be my familiar? Well sometimes when you run from the sun you are falling right into a star. I fell into a pattern of running while under a red
dextromethorphan
hydro
bromide
planet
no, an orbit
pulled with
The Gravity is what Dr. Light would refer to it as. He would say we were all pulled by the great magnet into our little waltzes. So as I was crashing into my future not expecting to survive the fury I came upon Super D. It was he who came to me, to be more accurate, if one dares care for that sort of thing. My start can be traced farther back into infamy, but for the purpose of nothing I will start at the area of greatest possibility and most fantastic confusion. Super D showed up at my house without knowing full well who I was and how we had previously met. I had sold him LSD that he had said was the clowns make up even as I was flying my spaceship with this very fuel. In fact many had ridden that roller coaster but Super was always riding at least six to ten dragons so how he could tell there was no proof in the punch was beyond me. I will return to this later, as the most important, or should I say damning, thing to point out is that Super D came bearing gifts
of syrup and
chaser, you see the
tuss tastes like anger
and reason has a cost
you slam then you chase
with chocolate milk, and wait
hoping you avoid
the violent vomit, which
would often improve the overall experience of mental cliff diving. Super D said he had never seen anyone chug a whole 8 oz of max strength without stopping. I ended up with a nice pink stain on the collar of the tuxedo shirt I loved to wear minus the tux. It was just my style to be right out there in the open sun for observation. Would it be wrong to say I felt pride? I have often said that Super D was one of several fathers I have known. He was my addiction professor. So he stood in awe of my need for the adventure and chugged his disease just like his son. we had done this right in the kitchen of the home of my parents. In a ceremony of goodbye I knew time would have it's way with me, and I would lose more than hours and days. We thus began
our desert tusscapade
the city, no the mind is
filled with strange creatures
when you get crooked, the eyes
give you away, but not
as much as the slurred
pretentiousness dream
sequences, one would
foolishly believe
Bring one closer to the magnet. Super D offered me a place to not work and eat his food while he worked. This would never last more that 87 days. I had become a fly in everyone's ointment right around this clock. Mr S Bean was also living, well making a mess of things as it were anyway, in the same group of college party domes. Mr S Bean was providing many of the recreational journeys. He was a supply master who had been schooled by Super D, of course he would never concede that, but we all knew he was number two in the cut. Well I had been spending my hours skulking around his dungeon, but was fake home at the time, when Super D fathered me. He too had a father who was not
made for the game of emotion lending
you have got to be the best at
every thing or you will die
to me, words are bells ringing
in the rain. My skulking was becoming unwelcome. You see I had been banned from Turned Stone's house by his aging father master. I had been the source of Turned Stone's emanate downfall into corruption. Being outcast, exiled into the far away. Super D was always the man for sensing those cast aside like he. I was very near the the brink when he found me home alone. He ensured that I had found this cliff and set myself upon the wind. What I did not comprehend until now, is that I was ready for a fall
ready for my base
to be cut down, you
see it must wreck itself
to make it new
here in the quagmire
I found you, found
you singing, no, writing
painting too, and
as young as the milky
way, born of star dust
always turning
Back to the 8 oz victory. From then on, for an entire sun season we found out about time. It was not long until Super D came to resent me with my procrastinators creed. After I moved into his home with Evil J, I was meant to Cinderella it up, or so I claimed. Super D and Evil J would supply the living space, and I would supply the stolen Tuss and the absolute need for substance. They would work and wake me in the middle of darkness to find some kind of danger. They would teach and I would leech. I did do some of the most interesting brush strokes I will never again see. That is something. I even found a new kind of mind for writing. One time while deep within the fields of a maddening bender shift I found out that I was in love with a word. Could I just let my hand loose? I
began with random
reason building lead-
-ing to more than I
could have ever known
how deep this would bore
into my skin, my eyes, my all
encompassing rage, my sun, my
search found me forward along a path to now. There were those who came into Super D's room and they would ask. What is he doing? They would speak words at me, which are lost to one who rides the red sea snake anyway, but this time I was a sheet of paper. I swear to you I was a pen and a dagger. This was so different to me as I was so very involved with the Trifecta of collaboration in acrylic. But they knew then that I was not to be trusted, I was ready to slip. I passed out for several hours, or days. When I woke or was woken up there was such sadness and fear of the possibility that none of this happened. The pages were gone for nearly 5 years. You
stole more than my words you made me
your own you
for this I can only love
you as a son hates his father
Monday, December 10, 2012
Thursday, December 6, 2012
Descendant
Here
I come to sleep
This
stone, this elegy of the son
And
weeping, did sleep as the mountain
Can
a page have dreams?
This
stone of son and man, weary
Here
I came to sleep
Can
a word have a child?
The
discontent of winter nears
And
I weep and dream in the machine
I
see steel in your bones, your future
Your
hand becomes my alchemy
Here
you come to sleep
Carbon
will bear witness
Is
mankind worth the word of metal?
So
weeping, I sleep as the seed
A
man is born of a son
And
made stone in time
Here
we came and slept
And
wept in an endless sea
The Right Name for Confusion
a big aficionado
the blue
screen of possible
failure
is not
an
option
the screen door
no
the white screen
an endless body
no, isn’t that blue
aficionado
big
a
bigger name?
you
see, the she, the he
is
we
Monday, December 3, 2012
eight billion years v3
eight billion years is a difficult
measure of time to
wrap ones thoughts
around. it has
been pointed out in the science
and astronomy
community that this is how long
it will take for
the sun to burn itself out. In a grand
blaze of galactic
fury indescribable in intensity and
magnitude, all
that is our corner or infinity will be at
once dust which
will become other dust and other stars
will be born. in
the final hours this god of our past will
decimate all that
was once holy. growing to one hundred
times its original
size it will eat we who knew for certain
what time meant.
and yet will man be long since burned out?
will we beat the
sun to its final destruction?
will we beat the
sun with nuclear fury? the number of nu-
clear weapons on
the earth is immeasurable. there are enough
to explode any
earth in a cartoonish manner, several times
over. is this born
out of a sense of necessity that no matter
how much people
rebel against the onslaught, we can purge
them. we can
remove the need for life to exist in any manner in
many new and
interesting ways. this many times over. many times
over. should we
watch them all burn? these men who just simply
refuse to respect
how the rules go. is this the security tax that must
be paid with blood
and confusion? there is a purpose to the machine
we are told. the
complex is multifaceted and military in drive. we are
the economy that poisoned reason with a need to be normal and connected.
what is the nature of a god’s inner turmoil, is god still the sun?
what is the nature of god’s
need for placement in the light?
does god make us or did we make him? what is positive reinforce-
ment? we need to die in order for our real lives to start. we are
not whole until we meet what made us. if god made us
does he want us to die? are we our own best excuse to do wrong?
if to die is to be one with eternity then we kill to be in the light.
we are made by a being that wants us to die to be close to him.
does my god have a thousand
arms, a million I’s or the atom as heart?
cliché to even ask. the sun is very much still the god that we
worship. he will, in an impressive gesture bring us all within his
bossom
and birth new star stuff. in the heavenly flames of hellish fire new
life is
made of our emotions. our minerals reduced to a state of chaos by
the
sun god - gods son. eight billion years will suffice for at least
one
of the answers. in the final flash all thought will be made stone.
the equation is in the final flash, the stone, the elegy of
permanence.
we see the god filled with turmoil, the innermost nature of which
is
flame. stars, always the patient ones, will beat the sun to its
final gesture.
what is the nature of god’s need for placement in the light?
will we beat the sun with nuclear fury?
eight billion years is a difficult measure of time, the sun
growing to one hundred times its original size it will eat we who
knew for certain
what time meant. we can remove the need for life to exist in any
manner in
many new and
interesting ways. if to die is to be one with eternity then we kill to be in
the light. we are made by a being that wants us to die to be close to him.
what is the nature of a god’s inner turmoil, is god still the sun?
will we beat the sun to its final destruction?
eight billion
years will suffice for at least one
of the answers. in the final flash all thought will
be made stone.
eight billion years v2
eight billion years is a difficult
measure of time to
wrap ones thoughts
around. it has
been pointed out in the science
and astronomy
community that this is how long
it will take for
the sun to burn itself out. In a grand
blaze of galactic
fury indescribable in intensity and
magnitude, all
that is our corner or infinity will be at
once dust which
will become other dust and other stars
will be born. in
the final hours this god of our past will
decimate all that
was once holy. growing to one hundred
times its original
size it will eat we who knew for certain
what time meant.
and yet will man be long since burned out?
will we beat the
sun to its final destruction?
will we beat the
sun with nuclear fury? the number of nu-
clear weapons on
the earth is immeasurable. there are enough
to explode any
earth in a cartoonish manner, several times
over. is this born
out of a sense of necessity that no matter
how much people
rebel against the onslaught, we can purge
them. we can
remove the need for life to exist in any manner in
many new and
interesting ways. this many times over. many times
over. should we
watch them all burn? these men who just simply
refuse to respect
how the rules go. is this the security tax that must
be paid with blood
and confusion? there is a purpose to the machine
we are told. the
complex is multifaceted and military in drive. we are
the economy that poisoned reason with a need to be normal and connected.
what is the nature of a god’s inner turmoil, is god still the sun?
what is the nature of god’s
need for placement in the light?
does god make us or did we make him? what is positive reinforce-
ment? we need to die in order for our real lives to start. we are
not whole until we meet what made us. if god made us
does he want us to die? are we our own best excuse to do wrong?
if to die is to be one with eternity then we kill to be in the light.
we are made by a being that wants us to die to be close to him.
does my god have a thousand
arms, a million I’s or the atom as heart?
cliché to even ask. the sun is very much still the god that we
worship. he will, in an impressive gesture bring us all within his
bossom
and birth new star stuff. in the heavenly flames of hellish fire new
life is
made of our emotions. our minerals reduced to a state of chaos by
the
sun god - gods son. eight billion years will suffice for at least
one
of the answers. in the final flash all thought will be made stone.
the equation is in the final flash, the stone, the elegy of
permanence.
we see the god filled with turmoil, the innermost nature of which
is
flame. stars, always the patient ones, will beat the sun to its
final gesture.
what is the nature of god’s need for placement in the light?
will we beat the sun with nuclear fury?
eight billion years is difficult
eight billion years v1
eight billion years is a difficult
measure of time to wrap ones thoughts
around. it has been pointed out in the science
and astronomy community that this is how long
it will take for the sun to burn itself out. In a grand
blaze of galactic fury indescribable in intensity and
magnitude, all that is our corner or infinity will be at
once dust which will become other dust and other stars
will be born. in the final hours this god of our past will
decimate all that was once holy. growing to one hundred
times its original size it will eat we who knew for certain
what time meant. and yet will man be long since burned out?
will we beat the sun to its final destruction?
will we beat the sun with nuclear fury? the numbers of nu-
clear weapons on the earth is immeasurable. there are enough
to explode any earth in a cartoonish manner, several times
over. is this a born out of a sense of necessity that no matter
how much people rebel against the great people, we can nuke
them. we can remove the need for life to exist in any manner in
many new and interesting ways. this many times over. many times
over. should we watch them all burn? these men who just simply
refuse to respect how the rules go. is this the security tax that must
be paid with blood and confusion? there is a purpose to the machine
we are told. the complex is complex and military in drive.
measure of time to wrap ones thoughts
around. it has been pointed out in the science
and astronomy community that this is how long
it will take for the sun to burn itself out. In a grand
blaze of galactic fury indescribable in intensity and
magnitude, all that is our corner or infinity will be at
once dust which will become other dust and other stars
will be born. in the final hours this god of our past will
decimate all that was once holy. growing to one hundred
times its original size it will eat we who knew for certain
what time meant. and yet will man be long since burned out?
will we beat the sun to its final destruction?
will we beat the sun with nuclear fury? the numbers of nu-
clear weapons on the earth is immeasurable. there are enough
to explode any earth in a cartoonish manner, several times
over. is this a born out of a sense of necessity that no matter
how much people rebel against the great people, we can nuke
them. we can remove the need for life to exist in any manner in
many new and interesting ways. this many times over. many times
over. should we watch them all burn? these men who just simply
refuse to respect how the rules go. is this the security tax that must
be paid with blood and confusion? there is a purpose to the machine
we are told. the complex is complex and military in drive.
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