Saturday, December 31, 2011

A Constant Apocalypse, A Constant Rebirth

Men have always prophesied the 
end of days. It has been no different 
in our time. Those men have always 
been right and they have always 
been wrong. The world ends with 
every death and is renewed with 
every birth. Our age is always 
ending, but we are constantly 
reborn.

A Hole In The Dam

How much must we endure
Before we decide that the 
Pattern cannot hold, that we
Must bring change, a new 
Order, to our lives, to this
World. This world is ours
To be changed.

Friday, December 30, 2011

Our Lives Are Increasingly Writ In Past Tense.

Thursday, December 29, 2011

All Light Casts A Reflection.
THE MADNESS OF MEN

Wednesday, December 28, 2011

The Cure to Our Ills

There is no triumph in numbers.
There is no salvation through words alone.
Have our senses dulled,
our hearts weakened
through constant glowing streams?
We gorge ourselves greedily
in a hunger that knows no
bottom to its trough.
Captive eyes are only as helpless
as the mind that sits behind them. 
Our great disease is
one of the mind,
one of the heart
grown cold and
confused.
We wield the instrument
to our cure but
are afraid of making
the cut, the sight
of our own blood.

5 Thoughts to Consider

This mask is only thing

keeping us apart.
______________

There is only isolation through our mechanized means
of communication.

______________

If there is discontent within
you must look for its root cause.

______________

I can't allow this.

______________

Change the scenery to change the experience.

______________

Tuesday, December 27, 2011

A Rhythm That We Found

Hours pass like minutes

as sounds fill the space

between us. Afternoon

becomes evening as we

depart the heart of the city.

Monday, December 26, 2011

V. Excerpts From A False Novel In Progress

I.
This land of false winters beams down sunny days
for us to admire.  No ice or snow can be found here,
only endless stretches of paved streets and palm
trees in an unnatural perversion of order.

II.
Our twin sons of Faith & Reason
are fraternal, not identical. This has always been a
problem with their Mother.


III.
This dreamworld is a sham.


IV.
The only thing we have to survive is ourselves.


V.
You were in my dream last night.
I was confused. I couldn't
understand what had happened,
why he left you. But he didn't,
did he? Just part of the dream,
the fiction the mind creates
in the absence of a heart to
call your own. What a strange
dream, what a strange dream.
Did we kiss? Did you tell me
you loved me? No one does
that. I can't laugh at it though.

Quote Me On This

Life Is A Permanent Apprenticeship. 
- ME

transition to another year

Hours and Days
spent uselessly.
The change of
dates & month,
the subtle
differences the
calender makes
in all our minds.
We move forward
with slightly more
reason than before.

Sunday, December 25, 2011

Pandemonium of the Sun

it's a mess,

thick cords of plot intertwine

allusions to past illusions

streaked glass

we've run out of means

to clean the mess

identity reclusivity

how to best disappear

easily, it would be

when no one knows you

are the streets

faces swallowed

lost in the crowd

the world outside

is never as beautiful

as the one within

only I know to go

to the only place I go.

Lacking

There is never enough time

There is never enough will power

There is never enough strength

There is always too little

It is always too late

And we are never enough.

The End of the Season

There is only this and nothing more.
She shut off the lights and lay quietly in the dark.
Outside a car killed its as two hands rubbed each other for warmth.
A few blocks away the bartender at the neighborhood bar
poured out shots of cheap whiskey for herself and the old man.
A policeman sat in his patrol car waiting for the next speeding
car or suspected drunk driver.
The neighbors next door were mourning their son who
was never going to come back from the war.
Across the street the godless couple sat comfortably
watching a movie together no worse for the wear of the season.
The neighborhood kids who lived in the apartments behind
the house were quiet for once.
The old grandmother a few doors down could only hear
the silence of memory, alone and encapsulating her
more wholly than death ever could.
The streets and freeways flowed smoothly
as bodies everywhere stayed at home with
friends, family and assorted loved ones.
The beaches had grown cold and dark,
the seagulls finally at rest.

Friday, December 23, 2011

Rush Hour Traffic on Christmas Eve Eve

It was rush hour traffic the day before Christmas Eve.
I could see a few patrol cars parked up ahead. They
had shut down the south bound lanes and were diverting
traffic to another street. I could see yellow police tape
cordoning off the intersection up. The policeman waved
us through. I turned my head and for a second glimpsed
the scene. It appears that a motorcycle and car had collided.
The bike was lying on its side, the car had a large dent on
the driver side door. I didn't see an ambulance at the scene,
perhaps it had already made its pick up. What a way to get
into the Christmas spirit.

Fear & Love

The first step 

in overcoming Fear

is embracing Love.

The World's Supply of Truth

Fragments of truth are all we have left.

The ideal has been shattered in the cave

of forms. The sharp angular edges can

easily cut skin and draw blood.
The older we become 

the more truthful our

a faces grow.

As She Wanders The Fields

She wanders the fields in a way that connotes
an otherness and a sense of familiarity.
The wind bends the grasses to its whims
as her hands brush them with her movement.
This distant cradle of reason and civilization
sits silent as its descendants struggle with
the weight of destiny, a fate ordained by the
long count of history.

Thursday, December 22, 2011

An Experiment

Is there immortal truth in our thoughts and actions?

Will the tides sweep us aside like those before us?

The challenge of humanity is to temper our natural
appetites and to conserve that which we have been
given.

You fell down so often and I was always there to
pick you up. Now, we hardly talk at all. This brings
a sense of sadness to me. It is a change, we are
becoming different people. I don't think I can keep
 pretending anymore.

What voice do you hear when you read this?

I've conceded, there is only conceit in this.

The body must rest when the mind can no longer
bear to be awake.

Can we construct a narrative from individual lines
and passages? Can we find meaning in disorder?

Is this what I'm talking about?

The Creation of Order

Our minds deem it necessary to establish order
over the constant stream of chaos we see in the
world. Without imposing some form of order
we would wander aimlessly, creatures helpless
at the mercy of shifting sands beneath our feet.

The Mathematics of Life

It is easy to see our lives as the aggregate result
of a game of numbers.


- How man days have passed since our birth?


- How many sunrises have we witnessed

  versus sunsets?


- The number of times we have been in love.


- The number of times we've had our hearts broken.


- The number of times when we have done the breaking.


- How many times have we lied to curry favor.


- How many hours have we spent alone in contemplation.


- How many days remain from the day of this writing.


- How much money we need to not have to struggle.


- How many miles have we driven in our cars.


- How many hours have we spent waiting. 


- How much debt we carry.


- The number of marriage ceremonies we have attended.


- How many friends have told us about their impending divorce.


- How many days were you truly happy?


What matters?
Only a few things.
When do we discover this knowledge?


What are you thinking of right now?

Flawed Heart Memory

Memory can lie to us

when the heart deems it

necessary to rewrite its past.

On Brevity

It is not important to draw thoughts out

any longer than they need to be.

Finding the right words in the

briefest order can be the simplest

and most complex of tasks.

Another Year Past

The distance of a year

is one all too brief

and much too long.

Constructing Narrative

Create your own narrative

or be subject to those

of others.

The Distance of Our Lives

The ties we share

are what hold us together

over the long run of years.

Ms. Cole

Did my face betray my joy at seeing you once more?

A happy reunion after distance and the passing

of our youth. Oh friend, how I've longed

to see you once more. Thank You

for the reminder of your kind

heart and beauty in all

it's facets.

Wednesday, December 21, 2011

Known History

For all the history

we remember,

think of all

we have forgot.

The Search For Truth

You asked me,

"Is there divine truth?"

I had to think about it for a moment.

"I'm not sure" I said.

You smiled at me and said

"That's the most honest answer I've heard."

There is so much we do not know,

cannot know. Someday,

someday we will.

Life's Lessons

Foolish joy

Gives way to

Hardened reality.



Hardened reality

Hands us the pill

Of experience.



What we do

With that pill



Is solely in

Our hands.

echo chamber

My voice echoes in an empty room.

I listen back to myself

and the silence that

follows.

Tuesday, December 20, 2011

start/end points

Wondering about these wanderings,

we always find ourselves in

the same spaces we've

known.

We change the time, we change

the places and find where

we've been going this

whole time.

Our Perception of History

We've wasted our kindness

on each other.

Memories or ill-thought

recollections, are

we becoming the

revisionists that

history fears?

Saturday, December 17, 2011

The Late Night Line

We watch each other

feed our diseases

one night

at a time.

Friday, December 16, 2011

The Operation of Memory

A deadly silence.

It breaches the surface.

Soft flesh, helpless to react.

No struggle.

Crimson colors the

foam of the tide.

Tuesday, December 13, 2011

Know Now

What Was

Then Before

The Present

Erases It.

Monday, December 12, 2011

abierto

Open the blinds and let the sun shine
in, lighting the particles of dust
floating in our.

Open the door and let the sounds
of the neighborhood stream
in the house.

When Lungs Breathe Deep

What borders are there within out thoughts?

What fears restrain us in our dreams?

When lungs breathe deep

it is a reminder of life

and the freedom

that is our

birthright.

Sunday, December 11, 2011

Fading Yellow

Light enters through the lens
and captures the image on
the film stock.

The form is captured in the
way it existed in that moment
and will not be so again.

That moment lives on in the
relic of memory, a fading
yellow picture in hand.

Saturday, December 10, 2011

All Good Junkies

She shoots up heroin at home.

I know because I saw the spoon

sitting on her coffee table

staring back at me like a

witness on trial in front

of a jury. The caked white

in her curve told me

all I needed to know.

We made chit chat

about this and that

and all the expected

small talk bullshit

we felt necessary

to defuse awkward

situations. I sat on

her couch as I

petted her pet pug

sitting in my lap.

The spoon kept staring

at me, telling me,

"You know. You know."

"But what can I do spoon?"

I thought to myself.

Nothing. Nothing.

I don't know her

well enough to say

anything to her, to

say anything to her

friends. It's her own

business if she wants

to find her bliss in a

needle. Her life is not

my responsibility.

Don't tell me I should

do something for

someone hellbent

on their own path.

Freewill, we claim it

so often, we might

as well let all good

junkies go to heaven.

Friday, December 9, 2011

Varying Degress of Proximity

Do we grow apart


as easily as we 


came together?

focused freewrite

Pick your face up off the ground before
someone takes it stop worrying so much
about punctuation is this a full stop or a
pause in the flow of thought youre smart
enough for me not to have to hold your
hand you can decipher this on your own
i know you can just do it just try it dont
be so fearful its only words only words
just try trust me you trust me dont you

A Voice Beyond Sound

I am not trying to be a hero.

I am not trying to be an imitation of my hero's.

I am searching for a voice that is beyond sound.

At times I feel closer to that aim.

At times I feel farther than before.

I am trying.

I am listening to those words

and what they wish to say.

Dear Heart,

Have you been waiting for me

this entire time?

I apologize for my neglect.

How I've missed you.

Oh,

How I've missed you.

Gamblers

My room is filled with music

of my choosing.

The only other sound

are those of my fingers moving across

keys at the same pace that these words appear.

Outside my window,

Outside my door,

there is a world that we share,

filled with every knowable and

unknowable pain and sorrow.

There are those who wish us harm

and there are those who wish us joy.

It's much easier to sit here and wonder

about it all.

But sooner or later

we all become gamblers.

Progress

We have stripped away

classical form.

We have stripped away

meter

and aesthetically pleasing

stanzas.

Instead,

we fill pages with

words that tumble out

like the ones from our tongue.

Is this progress?

Tell me,

can you understand

what I am saying to you?

Tenacity

It is impossible for any one person to save the world.

In some instances, it is impossible for one to even save themselves.

We still try,

Generation after Generation.

Perhaps we don't need saving.

Perhaps we will continue on

in much the same way

we always have.

Always & Never

Never look back.

Never give in to sentimental leanings.

Never believe the falsehood of rose colored lenses.


Always believe in now.

Always act with objective reason.

Always be true to your nature.

Heaven or Earth?

There are no

Holy

places or names,

There are only places filled

Wholly

by the aspirations of man.

Thursday, December 8, 2011

Unraveling Fate

our lives are mixtures

of destiny

that are shaped

wholly by

personal decisions.

Searching For Light

life is complicated,
 
there are never 
 
any easy answers.
 
sometimes, 
 
or rather, 
 
oftentimes, 
 
we languish in the dark.

The Woman I Am Looking For

Beauty is Fleeting,


The Soul, 


Eternal.

Reaching For The Bottom

Reach for the bottom,

stretch out your hand

and feel for the ground

before your realize

it's too late,

your head cracks

against the ground.

BE FREE

Destroy your idols 


and bury them


deep in the ground,


forget they


ever walked


the earth.


Only in this way


will you ever


be free.

A Continual Process

My lips feel the smoothness of the glass

as its liquid reward pours down my throat.

The nerves begin to loosen a little,

the fingers and the thoughts running

towards them, grow looser and faster,

as if they were sprinting towards an

unseen finish line. There is no prize

or ranking to be won at the end of

this particular race. The only thing

that remains is  knowledge learned

from a life lived as a new one readies

itself to be freed from the womb.

A Certain Sadness

There is a certain kind of sadness
when one has outgrown a friendship


or rather


it has run its course.

Wednesday, December 7, 2011

A Note on Love

Do we love each other?

Hold me

and tell me

what is real.

Two Different Types of Pain

I.
hide your eyes beneathe their lids
when memory rears its face again
and the burden of light is too much
bear. 

II.
there is nothing particularly 
wonderful about pain except
for its ability to remind us 
that we are in fact alive and
living.
The Forgotten Never Forget

Monday, December 5, 2011

Two Comments on Memory

I.

clouds gather quick

as particles move

charges build


II.
breath slowly / deliberately

close eyelids / open them / once more

the old film of memory plays back across the screen

the gradient is obvious

but the story is the same.

Sunday, December 4, 2011

The Ugly Face

$$$ is always in short supply.

It's the only thing you always hear people talking about.

They wonder how they're going to make their rent this month.

They wonder if they're going to make it to the end of the week.

They wonder if they have enough to buy groceries.

They wonder if there is enough to get gas to make it to work.

They wonder if they're going to have to borrow money.

They wonder if they'll get that raise at work.

They wonder if they'll find a better paying job.

They hope they don't get sick because they don't have insurance.

They wonder if they are going to work until the day they die.

They wonder if their children will have to struggle as well.

They wonder how they're going to make rent the next few months.

They wonder if the job that laid them off will call them back.

They wonder if they'll have to sell the house.

They wonder if they'll have to declare bankruptcy.

They wonder how much longer they can do this.

Hard Times

the embrace of modern concerns 

squeezes me tight. i let go of her

waist, she squeezes harder. I can

hear her breathing heavier, my 

back cracks as my ribs ready to

give way.

Saturday, December 3, 2011

the pieces of everything we've left behind.

Friday, December 2, 2011

For the Little Girls

All the little girls think they know me well.


All the little girls don't know me at all.

Thursday, December 1, 2011

Voice/Voice

The true voice of a musician 


is that of their instrument 


as it is being played.