Forward

After millions upon countless millions of seconds wasted chasing ghosts, being crippled, constricted, the fog has finally settled for good. Intentions have gone through metamorphisis. I have burrowed through the dirt and resurfaced in solidarity. Its no longer voices in my head telling me what to do, and how to travel. It is now a meeting of the minds. I feel burdenless, and so terribly excited. Smiles never cease, and i never could curse her company. i ve packed my bags. Im ready. ready to move on to the world. with my knapsack behind my back, and my soul in the company of another

guiled laughter

misery only ever bears down on the prophet. Thus he becomes the pariah and cycle fufilled.

Why not does the harmony seek the destroyer?

I wish you were. I wish you were. This melencoly realism. this psuedo-simantic pathway to enlightment, constructed of a hollow empire. this in and out ritual overseen by unknown hipster vanity fiends. Skoffing at the wake of the down trotten materialists. Ambien to bed, redbull to rise. Makes a many able, stable and wise. the redolent fog of Smokachinos litter the lights over the air. Why does harmony not seek the destroyer? Is it incapable of counter balancing the life force, the ruined childhoods and teen angst. Slit wrists for image purposes, late night anorexia camp fire meetings. Ghost stories not told, only what wasnt eaten that day. "Oblivion!" they shout! "George Bush!" look at them, their so cool. we're not worthy, we re not worthy. shut up. prove to me that you mean anything to the world. that one day you ll get off your ass and stop wining about the world and what daddy didnt buy you, and finally do something about it. Spacial consumption pitties only the sage. And the corsette ties will only loosen if you allow them to.

A"wise" man once said "Love is all you need"

talk

about

a laugh.

Outwardly Pressent

i am the birds.
i am the ocean embodied.
i am glass, as i am fire.
I am wind swept villages in the mountain tops,
and i am the meek caterpillar.
I am the hen that wont lay eggs,
and the weasle that longs for said eggs.
I am the whimisical in my ways,
and mysterious in my approach.
I am the unavoidable,
and the inevetible bliss.
I am the emotion,
and the embrace.
I am the forest,
and i am the silent giant living within its cannopies.
I am the letters to distanced lovers,
and i am the stars at which they both gaze upon as the ships roll in.
I am the lover,
and i am the eternal.
I am the introduction to the travels,
however i am not the conclusion.
Is a conclusion necessary?
I am unaware,
but i am young.
and i am content.

If Youre Such a Poet, Loose Your Tongue and Show It

Days keep passing by. counting things. Im always counting things. Trouble seemed to follow mee. like a shadow. now i just lin.ger. with nothing to do but wait. I cant get out of here. fast enough. I dream of going to dine, and be as one. Traveling the city. the tantalizing lights. The taxxi cabs turning their lights off in the pinnacle of the night. pow wows on the ocean of green in the sea of concrete and lights. Masquarades and festivals. I want to live. I want to be living. I want to live for living. I want to live, for right now. I want to stay young. get by. get high. and get gone. I want to be infinite. No hesitations in the abyss. Am i losing my mind? or just elevating myself to a higher plane of reality? wont some one adventure with me?

Alonzi, mezami!

good things come to an end as they say. terrible things are said to drag on accompanied by only misery and consumption. However the owls do only see at night, while the crickets chime a lOUd in sweet symphony and the evening breeze sweeps over the barefoot adventuring feet of companions and lovers. The redolent musk of oak trees and grass tainted skies fills anew. The time grows near, as the children sit on their windowsills reading their books, writing their stories, and acceppting the unacceptable. Change is on the horizon, as it was carried in with the winds from the west, it will be carried out with the winds of the north. People come. People go. Memories are the ties that keep our minds adrift. The wooden people that we ve come to be these past four years are merely tremors in our lives as real people. It is my belief that surviving a hell such as this, filled with whispered words and trauma harpies, is enough preparation for any creature to survive out there. What is out there? Are we ever truly to know? Anything is worth exploring when you havea second soul to discover them with you.

nimbus: "Dear, do you remember me?"

New things are occuring every second. Rain drops. trickle...trickle....drop....trickle....drop....drop....trickle! you were paper planes that i threw out of my window with the summer breeze. The winds lifted you far far above the winter harsh. Ill be okay down here for now. Walking along the crack crack crack sideeeewahWlk. scaning the skies for youre sign. The leafblades that i laced together around my wrists turn a sturdy guard. I have only begun to adventure. Ill let the balloon go, and lift
up!
up
up
and converse with the baloo jays and pollen babies.
My shoes will lace them selves anew and migrate south while i wave them good bye byes.
It was you who told me the grand design was meant to be traveled barefoot anyway.
Curious jelly bean, always right. I clench my puzzle piece in my hand as i glide through the summer stars and see you caught in a cloud right in front of me.
HERE
let me u n t a n g l e you, ah! there we go! my cheeks were tearing from the winds blowing me about for so long in search of you my love! eureka, i ve found you. but i have no shoes with which to land? no cares, no problems. Lets remain lifted here above the world forever more. We ll have two lovely children and have them befriend the robin family from the next cloud over yonder. Lets float entangled with one another, my hands will never shake another second with you clenching them.

waiting

be calm little one, Wandering souls only leave their footprints where they dare tread, so dont fret. Go to the sea, and find me watching for you.

Absolution

The Catepillar used to lie. He used to lie supine along the leaves ribs. He watches the birds pack up their things and travel, just travel away. He conversed with the sky, and told the clouds stories of his larva hood growing up in the sunken log beneath the forest canopy. Of his first unconventional love to a bee larva, and a young spidery seductress. He watched his siblings by the hundreds, shun the world for weeks at a time, and then return with utter majesty and soar to the sun. The catepillar told the clouds all these stories, and tried oh so hard to never shed a tear. "The sun will always rise" he used to tell himself, and each day will begin anew. The catepillar was getting on in age, and thought to himself, that he couldn't bare to leave the leaves and flutter away, he had seen all he could ever want of the world from his canopy top temple. One rainy summer evening, he said his joys and made peace with his sorrows, and in a blissful nirvana, lept outward, catching a lone raindrop which he carried to the wonderous abyss. The catepillar is the sky.