Your Skin

The thread is
Through me, through you
Weaving beauty with pain
My skin warm as a blanket
Sings your name, sewn into
My skin, your skin
Into and within

This house
Is so empty
Tonight

Star Mind

There is a very impossible reason I might have to move to the inner mind again. In the far, far past I had to fly a way to live within my certain mind, but now I have been left with only my impossible reason. Sleep.

Before all this came to shine I was a member of a reason impregnation. I had been second father to a star son. The joy I felt in knowing that I could be half beautiful was far more than I could cry for. It was a son who made me a father sublime.

How could I have known the thousand ways a bird flies? No one could eat such powerfull nonsense. Now it is important to make a distinction between no sense and nonsense. You see nonsense is the lack of a wound within the moment and no sense is the place where hope goes to die. Even though I was a victim of all the monsters of logic I never lived hopeless as a fish. But.
                                                           I can swim. I can drown. I can sleep the sea. I can the ocean be.

So to be begin again for in begininng one must die the day. It was, as I had mentioned, made to take the impossible journey into the within. My man soul giver had come to sing the words to me. Words were spoken with blurry false eyes about how the man soul did not know what I would do. I tried to tell him that the sun always has a face as long as you look for it, but he was so within his mind despair to hold onto even one second.

I told him he had made me stone and steel, and I could not do him less than honor. Many give up the demon and many live to become the dragon, but some they fall into the ego. The ego mirror is poison to the art of beauty. I know beauty hands. You burned the knowledge into me. I tried to sing these songs to my man soul giver but it was all waves on the ocean.

The link of sun life is always a dream. This is the king of truth when two such magnets come into each others force.

"Be free of my soul"
"I am free because of your soul" The words made a statue out of stone.

My star mind was glowing with savage purpose.

You are Made of The Universe

You are made of star stuff
are you stars
made of stuff
you are star made
of stuff
star stuff you
are made of
star made of you stuff
are you made stuff
of star

You

are experiencing
itself
the universe
experiencing itself
you are itself experiencing
the universe
you are experiencing
itself the universe
the itself universe
you are experiencing
are you the universe
experiencing itself
You are the universe experiencing itself

Remember to Remember

I am not sure if I remember how to remember.
I am so good at forgetting how things go and such
is the way of a man who chooses the blind eyes
as a way to remember that forgetting is the only way.

I am so good at forgetting how things go and change
the way you must look upon life. I burn the memory
as a way to remember that forgetting it the only way
to cut out the massive tumor, or should I ignore?

The best way to look upon life is to burn the memory
of your father who taught you how to yell and paint
but not to cut out the massive tumor that cannot be ignored
any longer. I remember when we went to the ocean.

You do know your father was a painter and he knew
about beauty. I remember how he used to laugh when
we went to the ocean. The memory is salty with forgetting
how to burn it all. In the mirror he smiles at me.

Beauty must live with regret, remember how I used to laugh?
Look at this foolish man who chooses the blind eyes.
In the mirror he smiles at me but it all burns away.
I am not sure if I remember how to remember.

shitty napkin poem

take a look
at this awful non-
sense here
I wrote a poem
a terrible poem
on a god
damn
napkin
I must think I
am some kind of poet to
do something so pre-
tentious
The words are convoluted
the rhyme = zero
no meter to speak of
just a fools excuse
for wasting 50 thousands dollars

"look a ship of wide
birth, moving among
an ocean of faces expres-
sions of confused awe, see
a great blustering wonder
harsh air constricted
moves on slowly
and with reason
as it is, knows you
move in fear"

HA!

Ice Night

The night finds you listening to awful music
Look at this mess of things, garbage
Every nook
A ghost at the wheel

So then

A fucking word of advice

Don't ride the pitch horse slick
Like a black hole
Of ice, and risk an evening dream

Slow, slow, slow
I can't see anything
But I am not in this moment

Fun to die
For reasons sake
A thought takes you

I am losing control

SLIDE

Where have I been?

Social Ruin

I found myself on the wrong side of fucked it up
my hand thought you wanted me to be slick
hindsight is such a cruel bitch queen

I remember when I fell into your naked arms
with too much to drink and the joy of mistakes
I found myself on the wrong side of fucked it up

There was the time I puked Robitussin alarm-
ing you with my use love of the hallucinogenic 
hindsight is such a cruel bitch queen

You can be sure I won't forget being the the joke
of the day, beaten to a pulp with boots and words
I found myself on the wrong side of fucked it up

It's not so much the shame and regret
as much as it is the absolute shame and regret
hindsight is such a cruel bitch queen

Every night a thousand events of social ruin come to play
what in the holy hell did I think I could or should do?
hindsight is such a cruel bitch queen
I found myself on the wrong side of fucked it up

Ancient Times

Beauty lives with death, but not

For life, she died today, again

Do not live inside your hate

Three days gone before I had known

How to deal a blow to the estranged

Beauty lives with death but not…

Like a summer sun tattooed upon your home

We tried to run with a jar of golden pennies

Do not live inside your hate

Two brothers lived through it alone

But now a door has been closed

Beauty lives with death but not…

In a way that must be known

You will have your hate to have it end

Do not live inside your hate

Can I lift this weight; this stone

Two fathers found purpose in sons, and now?

Beauty lives with death but not

For you to live inside your hate

I was a ROBOT

The arc of pure light is blinding

It was a message all in binary perfection

I didn’t know I was in the machine

Those files they die too, the hard-

drive can be erased by gears and suction

The arc of pure light is blinding

You were buried, fragmented inside

I hated the way you programmed your son

I didn’t know I was from the machine

Three days dead a father told one boy

Not the other good son, not the automaton

The beauty of pure light is blinding

My brother told me my hate had died

The text was so much; it burned my iron skin

I did not know I was a machine

Opened to the light, the memories dance

If she died must my hate die? Will I speak with him?

The arc of pure light is blinding

I am still, with curious hope, part machine

Ambivalent Regret

I

My grandmother died today or
should
I
say
She died three days before I
had known my
sister and brother knew before
and were sure I would not want
to know or would not care: I hated her

or

I thought I hated her

When we were so young the sky
was still magic, we survived a summer
within her angry house
my fathers angry
childhood home become mine
for a while, we
my brother and I, well
It is sort of a blur now, the son
blurs the events

II

I remember too many days of rain
I remember stealing a million pennies and cookies
I remember the morning dew soaking our feet
I remember Anthony crying and looking hard at his savior
I remember wanting to be able to save us
I remember how hard the cars shook our earth
I remember the dead wolf howling, warning us

I remember that no one knew we
were gone, they just knew we has stolen
the pennies, so they tore apart our space, and found
nothing, we tossed the pennies on the side of the road
to save our skin

III

If I told my father what would he say?
if I was speak to him again
after
years of estrangement, would he
listen?

what now then, what
now
then

If my hate for grandmother, has died
has a part of me died?

I think I
must speak with my father
I must speak with my father
Will I speak with my father?

Dogs of the Bone

When I was born a pup to a clan of family dogs
They loved with a harsh hand: True family dogs

My brothers were pit bulls, hating the cage
my sister: no queen, running with the family dogs

I lived everywhere, moving, always running
to a strange land, a land without family dogs

The city loves a stray, wait that is hate I think
so went the days of pretend, longing for family dogs

Drink from the illusion, smoke the good intentions
sleep in the alley, know freedom, forgotten family dogs

Every home needs a dog and every bone needs a friend
I want to go home; smell your hand, live as a family dog

As I ran to my false utopia, so I ran back home
vulgar,imperfect, always kind and fierce family dogs

I will build a castle to call my own, but not be a king
have my pups, settle my mind, live as a family dog