December 5, 2012

  • Let's Go

    i feel the spine with tingling fingers

    arms as long as they could ever be wide

    putting tongue out to taste the universe

    the physical laws fell into the chorus

    the verses are all melodies

    i once thought were true

    but as now benign trite wastes of time

    everything i thought i knew then

    was a compete and utter fallacy

    what is left at the core of me

    and i am as sad as these crocodile tears 

    they will testify to my own internal fears

    that fragment my conscious mind

    at any day now

    i resemble a cat startled by a burglar

    of  the inner greatness

    the darkness hand in hand with spiritual

    displays of gorgeous contempt for ugliness

    will my passions be the death of me

    willl the death of me light a fire around me

    will they be there to hear my final sounds

    or will i sit alone

    in the end and see it all, know nothing at all,

    and then drift away into the gases, the atoms

    bumping into one another

    will the chimes be infinite to speak to the future tomorrow

    will the future tomorrow speak of the possibilities that follow

    from it, replace it, deface it

    keep the pen hand strong

    be mindful to let it all go and encompass

    the pompous platypus ridiculousness of the pious pentagon

    crashed and then gone

    plane explodes and disappears

    now there's a conspiracy growing there in the front lawns

    of the frontal lobe, occipital lobe torn swing sway spinning globes

    of other Earth-like worlds

    capable of housing life

    but can they house life in their hearts

    or are they disfigured and torn apart

    from the finish to the start

    the egg before the chicken

    the thumbing the nose

    before the picketing

    i'm sticking by the unions

    no longer allowed to be on strike

    you're an American worker

    and its the Corporations who own the rights

    to the fight and struggle for profit margins

    to barge right in

    and enlighten

    the families of those at the top

    without a black hole opening up below them

    will the consumption machine ever stop?

    i can't find another good word to write here

    i'm being sincere

    in my mind i keep skipping

    its a burst of confetti

    never stoping like

    the skipping misting

    of my intellectual stones

    configured bones in patterns

    of some rural graveyard

    knowns leading problem solvers

    on wild goose chases for the all encompassing

    forgone conclusion

    without conclusions,

    do the introductions matter at all?

    am i another blank stare at some boring Hollywood party

    looking out at the hills of dreamy imagination?

    will this even start for me before i'm finished

    with my initiation

    i have been pacing the same cell for days

    i know not any direction

    my toes and soles have become 

    bloody

    disfigured

    vivisection

    let me reconfigure this conversation

    i digress without any superstitions

    we are all alone with bloody toes

    painting the floors of our universal connections

    what sort of other hell

    could we imagine

    besides the deification of our fast food processed

    defecation

    and the primal nature of man 

    on full display, go ahead and process

    this inmate for insurrection

    from any single location

    beyond all galaxies

    corresponding to any number of universes

    where all my physical laws

    are all i need to become that much more

    but altered

    i sleep standing on my head

    my dreams of the unfortunately dead

    i row boats down the street

    hovering over grasses as liquid as the ocean once was

    as my devotion once was

    as this commotion standing up

    of how a mind can spiral every which way

    and never get up

    till you can't conclude one idea 

    and the vision is now corrupt

    when the  simple microcosm of decision

    soon splits up into dichotomous derision

    and then i consider this possibility

    i could be

    in all honesty

    a plastic man being stretched 

    by indecision

    veins and arteries poking out 

    while the Earth is burning

    in its ignorance 

    or the Sun is simply

    exploding millions of light years

    from here

    from now

    away from this console

    my skeleton

    is 

    covered with a gown

    of 

    inspiring

    ash