Avalanche

matter scatters
matter sca tter s
matt er scatt er s
mat ter sc at te rs
ma tter sc at ter s
mat ter s c at t ers
m a t t er scat te rs
m a t t e r s c a t t e r s
m  a  t  t  e  r  s  c  a  t  t  e  r  s
m   a   t   t   e   r   s   c   a   t   t   e   r   s
m   a   t   t   e   r   s   c   a   t   t   e   r   s

Ami or Dust

Every once
in a moment
inside a thousand
Matt ( an ally )
will link up, with text
and a subtle, "hey"
"You still breath yet"
"I do"
"I miss you buddy"
"Ya, times are full"
"Yes they are"

It feels years removed
and still near as the voice
in my head.

Is he the hand of war
made sun?
Is he the choice of years
over moments?
What is a an ally, a partner
in crime, a voice of
hope and nonsense?
What is a stone soul
hero?
Can a man know?
Can he be what
Is needed most?

I could call or should.

We have a madness
of technological wonders.
Yet we only speak
when I can hug him
and shake his hand.

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!