A moment

A Moment (Near The End)

Old pictures on older walls gather dust
in the houses of the dying.
Pots and pans of cherished existence
linger in cabinets with rusty finishes.

The darkness in wood’s grain that frames
our narrow doors of perception;
the stains of times ticking persistence
do not penetrate these glistening visages.

____ The green leaves hang so still there,
_____- my they have patience.

Watching the spinning blades
on life flight helicopters, past
spinning hour and minute hands
pacing between rhythms of an EKG.

Look up from the magazine and the scene
is so frightening

twisted hands in turning machines,
cradled in calm waves of electricity.

All of our ladders of insignificance
collapse underneath.

Masked in gauze under pale
halogen light, a figure of the future;
infantile and awry.

In worn skin yellow hues turn
to deeper purples and blues.
The blackness of deaths trail
flowers inside of bruises.

____They pass, they are passing, this is going to be me
____this is all this is us this is you this is me

Late calls and dim lit parking lots,
automatic doors and balloons,
magazines and candy,
____habitual subliminal urge:
____consume, consume, consume.

While...
Old objects in older spaces gather dust
in empty, unfamiliar, yet
well known places;
in waking dreams still,
dancing in fading eyes,
tracing loving faces.
Saying good by old friends
while shaking life's passing hands

_____maybe somehow, I will see you again
_____we will be created in this sweet earth again
____maybe this time I will listen
__to each note of a beautiful song that much longer
__I will be more alive, and in love, and even stronger

march of the bone

it hits me as I wash the chalk from my fingers,
as I scrub into the thumbnail crack.
Those who laugh last, still crash, in this
planned out phase of existence
and distance; will not increase resistance, in this
paradoxal plane of physics

Drown into yourself
on holidays ever after,
bygones be gone like yesterday's paper
I itch that scratch and burn in it later
upon inspection the best correction
seems to be...

I don't fucking know
we hardly ever do, us} { people} {
we drew out of the water with test~run lungs
? formed a thought and thought we had won
bows, trebuchet, and then made the gun
nuclear weapons, chemical testing,
Christ, we used to worship the sun
The madness of man it is a disease,
we walk a thin line between,
talking animal and moving machine
making everything so squeaky clean
hushing the silence,
serene.

doling incidents

desire and it's ritualistic ripples surge through with relentless incisions
cutting and pasting replications of their idea
dull, dry, and dolere
stomach pain
butterflies dying
over-saturated emotions
pulsing with a re-dubbed feel
old tensity returns and burns through fields
stuffy head and clouded mind
how did we ever get so behind

elice

oh you
you apparition
where do you come from?
from protein? from amino acid?
are you traces of carbon, iron, or
water?
are you awry electrical forces
forging yourself from the design?
from the code deep inside?
are you real?
existence may only be in the mind,
but the way your eyes blossom
you must be alive
I want you to be alive
not just fog and faux

reality vaporizes just a thought
shrewd faces and authoritative talk,
we are all carriers of a broken conscience
chasing fading dreams all for naught

but arms will be laced again
breathing through strands of hair
fed to sleep
preparing to disappear

live;
live long and love,
love and be loved.
carry a net
catch that apparition
change the lonesome tradition.
open eyes must see
more than visually
there is no perfection in destiny

engenesises

The trees started growing again after the fall of the moon. The darkness and its perils receded, and as they drew out of the caves in droves, they stood in amazement. The sprouts were coming up from the dust and rubble reaching for the glimmering hazy light. On scarred knees these ravenous people smelt the first blooms of already browning dandelion flowers.
Eyes became bleached in the pits, and words became everything. Generations had passed and withered in the dank of the underground. The sewage their forefathers had swam through to live had been washed away, yet the stench of death still remained. Air littered with spinning particles of blacks and grays tasted like purity in noses and lungs.
Gone were the days of creation.

take the pills
dissolving, stomach acid

brain sliding against skull
veins,arteries, and tubes
tucked between muscle

underneath close-woven cellular skin

lightheaded and losing sense
cement square after cement square

the life of the leaf
captured in a hardened snare

and your hands are clean
after stretching your life out,

on the tv screen
it's the moms and dads
and sons and daughters

all of the happy dreams
where floating air's like water

scrap

my frigid wrist
my howling spirit
my genuine thoughts and feelings
open your self

in a walk, in a spin
in an airtight ship
on wallowing knees
in sacred heart in solemn vision
of life ever art
gone bewilderedness
fading lights on
shapely dark heads
cool side show up
call me again
take what you want
from take me on home
the risen division of my decisions
falters not favors
and over again
your words, eyes, thoughts
trailing, finally
I
gone, through, out
making somethings about
woe, woe, woe, dear sight
fainters and painters delights
honest over ear over
hey whats that you hear
the mission of discipline
is to right an error
the reason for leavin'
is feeling young again
I wrote all my lovers
i left with empty hands
I bathed in realization
that this is only the only life
micro and macro
we wont happen again
I thank all your bellows to the core
on progress on insight on red shoes in a dark lit light
sync, cap, repeat
playback, scrap that