we are animals/ the difference between reality and examples of reality

we are animals       at death    in the end we all lay with our own piss and shit

we are not angels         fallen dogmtic nomads 

   pumped at leisure          trembling before the unseen Fuhrer

          lacking in path or prevalence 

shooting believable fiction through vain and vaults

 
             thought to be ours alone

      and even the greeks had actual lightening to fear

we are animals. watch your own eyes
             as the cycle    doubles  spinning

  spinning minor octaves           doubling Orwell

             speaking in real time

             speaking of dirt devils like 

                         curved shovels mining miles of thought

on paper and between his fingernails

                         

                                  doubling our chances       so that We could
double our chances

we are animals           be prepared to stop

we are not angles             to be measured    in length and weight

           we stand in lines          

           we buy umbrellas on rainy days 

           we forget the reasons why it rains

and its varietals 

                

we are animals   animals that counter
      clockwise and the anti-clockwise

          some of us were told to fear

the difference between reality and examples of reality

or dyslexia isn't a bad thing

happy Xman:
   


or.

      what best to celebrate christmas but with a story

or

       jr.s berth then with a video.
one that is telling of Christmas miracles bleeding from
all the  bells   spreading the christmas cheer.

capable of bleeding

when i draw it comes out in lines and circles

dug in like sutra and smelling of zinc

   poses touching    too close for corners

making it hard to counter 

        i often wonder what messages rest on walls 

not seen                      since corks plugged everything

               and stones were thought to be alive

that is        capable of bleeding 

as he does

a time where myths were stories told by tellers of stories

                           

                                                                                         that had no other plans

you take it how you can    and seem to know the difference  

a time where sandbags of filth mags where burnet then read
 
     the time before pockets of madness
grew rockets
                      that blister                   fire paper at random
seeding further the pleasure of death

the bourbon rests in front of contacts    lying beneath the only things

i know                         bought online

the difference between sent and found 

channeled musing

''i want to electrocute myself on london boulevard and punish the rain
with reason  s

splattered across cross streets
affecting traffic''          she said       crushing bullets

and camels   like the end of the world was a decade ago
and chemical symphonies are in vogue

                   holding a few bullets of my own i thought i'd let it slide
like a public school swimming pool slides

affecting childhood                  
     
                                  into my mind  splashes and everything

her     speaking in Simples and wearing the bar like a good pair of jeans
              and to think, i was only speaking of the possibility of change

when confronted with          what seems to me as     channeled musing
only there are no captains and we run when we want to

i said, "you can electrocute yourself when ever you want     but the doctors don't recommend it,"
she turned,         in such a way the wind looked back, and said,

                      "ol boy, a doctor is not what i need."

sports and drinking

i drink because the turning signals used in navigation are dim
and ocracy isn't a word by itself

and this is america                      drink for yourself

sweat for yourself  and deny yourself                  the pleasure of today
for the promises coming                     tomorrow

       because this is america

And    if not tomorrow then     surly            the next day     or
the next day when     the next best thing came and went

    'and it came to pass'       it came to be consumed

because this is america

 where the next thing is alway the best thing
            because this is america

'thy will be done'     because this is america

your fickle features favored     in america
     pickled to perfection    and delivered safely as of yet

and history is clear     even the rocks are not infallible

i drink because         in my opinion
to pray in silence isn't praying at all  and even if it is

they are all kept underground under a cross-length fence
kept  behind an eye

behind an undergraduates degree
behind the sand lot   playing for snickers bars and the right to

wear a different colored jersey during the same race

everyone races

reading, now and the cellars of you

i always thought Life came in waves
ran on circuit circumferences        and sustained itself    in reading


    Its breathe in curlers

              capturing Keyman island time

winding down on believable wind  shielding  itself
feeding itself the same
     
    then       falling
                                onto itself

    would it mean anything to live without the concept of sainthood
ill-sainted

  life's heated liquidity  fed through chamber maids mindlessly repeating the mindless

like bread rising in moldy cellars were the spores can not breath

            and Life         by the time its read      has passed


And the vague assailments endured in this attempt to be conscious
        attaching in elevator music          seduction

both numbingly annoying and boastfully pleasant

And in seeing this the skin grows thicker
            like painted lines on the tan of Braves

tutored in the art of breathing        so that the curls become

      a  movement in endeavor

rendering its fatty belly           to the highest of calms
in order to create

And          what is Now for    but to make it so

the procession of the equinox

black list
               pump fist
                               memphis    bone kiss

tanqueray
               repent to stay
                                    the golden ticket is in a chocolate bar

or              what if lincoln said

              fuck it

and made his wife        make him a whip
                             maybe i'm just upset because my house doesn't have a garbage disposal
but a dream that was passed
to the first and the last
handcocked tallied contrast

                             the balls in their court

until we all stop playing with our own balls

courting partial

blaming your eyes         in rebel green
   for sites not yet seen

i think about a city that owned me

       we only thought  we drank the streets as well as the others
different scenes draw       different seams

        walking past       a past in conflict with sediment    
like a manic mason throwing dead stones at old thrones

to keep time    my armer is changing     yet so is the sky

and you        and me        quoting lines    just to recall

recalling fairy tails      breaking down

the reasons why we wear pants

you belittled   the ballet      broken        due to you

          not watching it  

the shallows are now deep and the way      unpronounced
as a stapler stamping

easy-does-its in protest          as a nights sky darkens
               because its supposed to           right

and what to do when the lights are gone

drinking machine envy     the senses     courting partial
and blaming everything on the future  

Lost amongst the purple

Your hand prints made stickers on my wall 

Blue bladed soliloquies     dancing among the cheapest tones on color

Evidence of a will temporarily satisfied

             

Whispering
Obligations of the In    speaking Serenity's secrets

Whispered to no one    not even me

Outside of the visual

Lost amongst the purple          and eyes closing

To the slightest gestures of release                    partially resolving

The northern lights crisis and
Attending to

   

   Whatever makes you tattoo yourself

It's stabbing

For justices sake

For all the breaths that have left you           taking more than their share

Left you     Still        inside your self

   Subsiding a madness

                       tearing you from you

You          forever needing more

From the cats who can speak English

But choose not to

And a little given it those who can not

Believe in the other thing

            Your first impressions are not
You first impressions

And            no one really cares  
That's somehow    a good start

smells like team spirit

kiss me

your song is on

                fill your need with filling substances

made with reel cheese

forget the now     forget the following

  forget to become forgotten

                                   
breed your miss-breedings beneath a millennia of light
            no longer scene in the night
due to traffic in the sky like
crossing whitecapped crosses

         or bled out rosaries           working overtime

like centurions flicking cigarette butts 

onto burning bridges                 wearing head dresses

smelling like team spirit

       i'll frame my epiphany between your epiphanies 

in order to breath a moments air 

              when cradled centricity is tax free

and need no longer chased by need

           

 needing influential 

                 centimetric calenders glued to vases

growing

as we Behave

losing

the need to kiss     again 

and

again      and again

a poem for those keeping us behind

i could draw a line facing eastward
pointing inward and moves as freely as

stray cat tails
declining

in dispassionate grander
 
       streetward
a line
serving a single breath

that resembles respired nomenclature
inspired and electric in love

and

as archaic as

                bleeding wrists

i could draw a sign blaming saline cloud
subdivisions for our lack of confusion

about confusion

a sign the could convey its meaning boldly
breaking bloodlines

                              and files down
lengths of chains

spanning farther than current lines can crawl
the good news is that we are forgetful

          and         will forget you
as soon as you are gone

i could write a poem for those keeping us behind
a poem

that tells of Nouns who were afraid of snakes
and so in sought

with on eye closed to
ruin the world for all of us

a poem that passively runs down the spine

                  like sanskrit in color

or cartographers sketching gold
yelling

                     drink and be merry 

surly enough

               surly enough

the reeds          will hide 

    

                      again

what has been hidden

what can be

hidden when the stories read          as planned

surly enough 

the diaphragms will hold 

messages      unsent      

obtaining justice in the halls of atoms splitting

before our very eyes

severing lights

dividing lies

breading beneath the stars

messages

     

               interpreted in leisure 

    

                      if   at all

surly enough

                    when enough has resigned

there will be room to live without you

                       the You

   is not understood

and

"who knows" has been said to many times

surly enough your cattle numbers will grow 

and grow

               and grow

                             and grow

          and grow 

 and grow           and   

                            grow

until there is nothing but   greed     the dwarfs      and cattle

dedicated to the greeks

your contraptions are
   
           my contraptions

and the labels peal
and peel

a blasphemed vagabond flacked
altruistic cheetos

in the mouth

and the eye on my elbow sees everything
your conceptions blind

and rob the blinded from all their sight
saying


                                        your worth it

or can we

           We
together
undecided and groping

me at great tits and you at the finest replicas of

something

images imagining     in real time        what it means to


hang a brown striped mexican blanket on the wall
covering an opened window

and used in the past to rest
hazel irises

            that prefer to be closed

watching ribbons of light through trees

in the park dedicated to The Greeks

.

Blow me with your vegan dimples

You will elaborate
Condescendent centipedes before tea
during

And afterwords exchange
                  mediocre vowels

And distance changes you
A fast forward in time when it has been right now

The whole time

to the seeker

to the seeker
salivating at the bit for right

                 (and right can mean truth with a word
                  and is not the same)

seeking condominium truth
blue prints drawn

        following

what has been written
saffron silk singularity

a past parcelic confirmation
well aquatinted in color and ruse

and the leaguer is free

if a pacifiers fancy lends them to
osculating condiments of

your are

                        you are not

no questions please

playing to the memory of
   
                                         Memory
               
                    (ill-remembered)

as Truth 

procrastinating a meaning

          alchemized

       Let me remember the wilderness when wilderness meant

a tree grows
indifferent and cooperative

or have you ever smelt the fields of cows................................................?

And we could find the meaning of Will in seeds birthing
natural light

awakened in the morning             and in the afternoon
eat the heat of the sun

because that is the way

seeds
that can believe in what they were given


the difference between ribs and dust
and the dust was added

by


to the seeker turned preacher who believes
and will tell of it

and you are so sure
                                 let Us speak of it

as well as this and that
so we both understand

because this is what the trees are doing
and maybe they know something we both do not.

what would monet paint, had he been a waiter?

what does it mean to be cleaver

at work

when work is a railroad tie

unbriefed

noted substantiality 

and driven

shallowly       into a ground ill-designed 

peanut shells on the flour

          

                           (you'll tip and forget what that means)

                   ties unknotted

          driven immigration

    emulating skateboard freedom in a basement

basing its meaning beside what can be honestly grown

in fields

laughing amnesic

depending on your reading level

bereavements considered 

depending on what tevo says

and why is that a thing

defining

             mine and yours

and

               it can not comprehend the spring

or a breeze in the face of an ill-tempered Sun

a sellers rhyme

i once was a seller, a hairy combed feller, who made batches of bisquets from rye. 

who grew tired of the spicket 
auburned pliers-let them stick-it 

to any Mad Willy who'd comply

I prefer boxes of matches to pixels and faxes
and lend a helping hand 

if there's cake.

but what i won't do 
is blame phill for the stew

that i traded for risotto and stake.

when was the last time you saved a ladybug?

could tomorrow be the day where the tiles tend to themselves?

leading one behind the other 

or America fuck yeah...

lending themselves

to what could only be described as an

orchestrated

and meaningful annulment of plight familiar

unburdened in thought and thistle

                                you feel your own pain

and

it's helped along in its passing by 

and defining meaning requires the simplest of guidelines

         i've always preferred green over red

even as a child

building traps with string to keep the fists from finding

an easily turned doorknob

made for adult hands

to turn. 

were we all raised

conservative?

and

We are the rules

                     can make them 

as the wind blows between beasts of buildings passing cloudy days

captivation 

or

i've stopped killing bugs

choosing instead to take them outdoors

bites be damned

the best words i've read recently

"My beast wears rings and he hides under the shadows of my silent hesitations. each image is so clear, yet I have no hands to adore the precision. the finest gestures of the air are traced on my eyelids. I see them and they see me, but there is never a reply. No hollow flash when the light withdraws, leaving with it a crevice where the angel signals, only to begin again."     from, "fear of dreaming," by Jim Carroll pg.117

shit! If only.

the bookcase

it is magic

casing perimeters    metaphoric symphonies

colliding quietly

like footprints in tarragon fields 

awaiting reduction

like

quadraphonic truths 

presenting themselves to be wyvern

because the devil is not what you think

and the tower of love pictured impartial 

when written willows vary 

and willed men seed

memorized verbs into microphone ears

ill educated and hungry

it is magic that will save you

because

in the beginning was a word

and there are plenty of words on the bookcase

one in the same

it is the easier       clench
holding onto the dotted line

fumbling checkeredly
                                   yet attainable

            towards

a mutual darkness

shared only by an unclenching
only

                    you                 are your own backbone

in the latter

and on it
leading towards what can only be

disconnections
tallied vases on the floor

dripping 'you could have beens'
tallying

further unclenching

to the tune of Miles    the second
tally

    And only one is marked

the extruded bones of
old quills

quailing exuberant lies
that taste like summer
    
        and blow like fall

beckoning us to

follow their given pathway until its belly
is cleaned

yellow droplets on the floor.

or let go let go let go

and follow no one
leading nowhere

making postcards in post script
you will see

it will be the same and it could be different

i prayed for wings as a child, then i learned that there's art in packing or do you remember tetris

let us wheel our take-homes home at our own speed   you've given it to us    you who have     worked    for it so hard     should we read the directions the whole time   blacked out like bundles of blind fellows in that allegory i read    that one time  or  who here has a file    if you work long enough at something you'll eventually see god   i actually heard he's playing at the 5 spot in june   if you'll allow me     i'll tell you in hand signals     what it is to be     its times like these i remember playing spades   the game won by avoiding tricks   and taking bags   what a concept

Don't ask me why we're here, you won't get very far

the sum of one and 20
is

fragility in the making

framed inflictions
in bit sized counterparts

plus-ing and misusing
severances

like a basketball dribbles baskets

            there is a void created

without blues
i'm talking            of course


about the music

because there is room you see
spaces

rivaling spaces
counts resembling

accounts of detail              contending
spastic consequences

between the basic
1......

    2..........
3.

1.........

(for the musically inclined)

it seems basic enough
but back to basics we must go in order to see the end

this is a story of progress however

                                       lets not get lazy

like looking in the rearview mirror while driving
only we're not driving

                   (but we should be)

      the difference between taking out the trash
and

let us not forget our heros

and it is difficult to say
                                                   but someone has to

and the lines are blurred
you see

but not because they have to be

the clocks are melting
                                        but have not melted

the goepoliticus egg hatched

                 but not      as of yet            winged


like a cafeteria line waning
and your still reading the subject line

till the sinners took the stage

we lived on the earth
till the sinners took the stage

we worked by the sun
then the sinners took the stage

they fooled everyone
when the sinners took the stage

the trees, they are done
now, the sinners took the stage

held in contempt of rouse

Held in contempt of rouse

the tower will always burn
and billow
and boast

in measurement.
a movement in treason

delivered

condescending valor
when valor means prowess.

a moment passing before it can begin
life is really
                                 a game of cards

and pedaling can't get you to the corner
were blood stained shivery

stands a chance.
the level playing field is next

but not yet. the spread is vast
spanning the length of seas cresting excused
and no one is responsible.

the Be Attitudes are like old growth forests
no one goes there

except to clear what can be
                                        
                                   (willing or not)

cleared
            to make room for the progress

cutting the lid off of an already opened container
spilling in the Gulf
 
                             feeding shrimp buffalo bills expiration

But it feels ok
as long as something is going on...

brita filters and The Beatles

we haven't been the boundary for awhile
you and i both know this

what has transpired...
(accumulated, if need be)

it can mean to collect
because it takes such things to live.

collecting hours of light given for free
yet taken

and kept with vigor
valued at minimum wage

And a wages meaning stolen from a Hindu word
still believing in ownership
waging bereaved residues

kept anesthetic
kept because the shoe is tied so easily

the beatles said, "Come together,"
awhile ago.

then came something that ended a child
that was going places

and, we all think we are grown
can grow...

so i just bought a brita filter.

tell me what you really hear

this is the difference      between woes
its soft core porn on cable

where soft core and porn
have nothing to do with it.

and

it is the rewind button on a remote
removed due to a constant thumbing

and we all beg to relive what we all deem relievable

sometimes i imagine a life with tree branches stemming
adumbrate silhouettes

except all they can see is the shadow
or the idea of a shadow

after hearing a joke for the first time

and you keep walking with the image of the shadow
but with the feeling of the joke.

what i mean to say is what if

everyone who can
gives all of their unwanted-fast-forward-ed-moments-


to-heavy-to-live-themselves to a life divided

between eyes that can see and the shit it has been given

accumulated button depressions
imagining

estrangement                              perceived regular

estranged to all that have given
yet

         to
                   one
                    
                                       LIFE

the many into one

the One stands as many and unto them-self
a single life.

This is the difference         between woes