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  • It's Truly

    are we all fabrics lining a universal tree

    in particle sunrises of electricity

    i see tomorrow

    and i want it to be

    in the storm 

    breathin out 

    this poetry

     

    it's truly

    a dream of mine

    it's truly

    a dream of mind

    it's truly

    the crowd who will

    it's truly 

    a dream of

    will

    i venture past the future of philosophy?

    move on past our eons defined by universal greed

    i know the "now" is

    i see the means

    close my eyes,

    hold my breath,

    but can i believe

     

    it's truly

    a dream of mine

    it's truly

    a dream of mind

    it's truly

    the crowd who will

    it's truly 

    a dream of 

    will 

    you 

    spin the record one more time

    or launch the missels one more time?

    use our love,

    use our trust,

    tune out mother hum

     

    and will you dance until the end of light?

    hold each other, feel the night

    the time is now

    peace over profits, 

    a higher ground

     

    it's truly

    a dream of mine

    it's truly

    a dream of mind

    it's truly

    the crowd who will

    it's truly 

    a dream of

    will

    you
    be 

     

  • Little Amelia

    In the span of three months in the last 9 of an eternity

    the sky has become a richer blue even if you were an idea

    a stream of my consciousness, a catch phrase

    even under the foggy grey

    i see you rolling over the Marin headlands

    covered by the misty fingers

    lathering wet hair

    with a constant smacking rain

    out the window i can feel the haze

    of a mother culture 

    humming from the riches to the slums

    the plum trees in my backyard

    harvest no more radiated fruits

    of no labor, we sitting on the capitalist caper

    to no heaven

    no number 

    nine nein nine

    coming on the shores

    out my periphery the sea lions

    nosing the tiny vessels

    willing their passengers into 

    icy waters

    and i can only open my eyes

    the neon lights around

    spiritual Darwinistic realities

  • Dope-Free and Loving it.

    i am free of dope

    and have been fucking everything that moves

    for the last 2 weeks

    i cannot remember a better time of day

    or time well spent beyond my years

    it seems to seer the limelight

    as the street lights

    are gazing down at my lost self

    in debauchery 

    my pulse is heightened

    my heart is about to explode

    i have been snorting lines

    off the asses of the complete unknown

    and i have nothing to show for it

    except that my cock is ripped and burning

    from the selfish disease

    i can feel my way through the beds

    i am lost in the creases

    pleasure is all that pleases

    pain and sorrow is all that freezes

    the window pains

    dry needles and blood stains

    the rush of the IV push

    has nothing on my incinerating crush 

    as i stare down the bartenders sloping

    hour glass female figure

    i have done all only to forever figure 

    into this ornate work of fiction

    some semblance of a human being

    who once existed

    and now has missed out on all there is

    as we all know 

    these are the decisions

    we make

    these are burdens we take

    off the siding from the house

    and burn its interior
    pull out every flower

    destroy every mirror 

    stand in the middle of the doorway

    with the middle finger

    the only language of sign

    left to figure out

    how to get my mind out 

    of senseless self destruction

    and back into

    regardless self construction

    as this is only a waking dream

    and exercise of my own desire

    to have countless lives

    and revisit the past

    as i lay down on the bed

    alone

    petting my two cats

    eyes open

    stare lost

    maybe this is how i feel inside

    maybe i am still lost.

     

  • Haunting in Inner Space

    My self is a splintered spectrum of past forgiveness and elation

    I have uploaded my spirit into the international space station

    As a ghost I have the important position for recon & soul creation

     

    I howl into the pink moon

    the birth canal metaphysical bliss is opening

    My eyes are yellow

    My liver is flailing

    the hiss of a weightless black cat is revolving

    their faces are scratch posts for a future phantom breathing

    & haunting cosmonauts with victims of the Great Terror

    hundreds of thousands of soul-less entities shrieking

    a trail of tears for all astronauts

    revenge in the plains, dead buffalo claiming their reign

    they are scalped and bathed in blood

    they sleep walk into their space walk

    they explode inside their suits

     

    seemingly certain sounds are screams stripped of all frequency

    we want all but gain nothing from their intimacy

    for all infinity i sleep amongst them in their tightly wound reunions

    world wide opinion political eccentric institutions

    cannot fathom

    cannot objectively certify my being

     

    i am the galactic son of the father 

    third eye dreaming

     

    i am the gigantic confidant & lover

    abstract meanings

     

    and the world yearns

    and i am the one who does its turning

    and i am the one responsible for its burning

    carbon footprints across yonder face

    no home on earth

    travelling into wormholes

    i now know my proper place

     

     

     

  • Human Flesh or Drugs?

    Fuck Human Flesh, Just Give Me Drugs (repeat)

    Do a little more till the nose is eaten,

    I can't help it,

    I keep feeding

     

    Whoa she's feeding,

    Oh no, she's eaten

    Whoa she's feeding,

    I'm binging

  • EMail Songs of Thamaus & Eros

    hey yall check out the new EP from geppettoGESTAPO:

     

    Songs of Thaumus & Eros

     

    this EP is a collection of songs based on life changes, winds blowing . . .

     

    worlds turning,

    fog mist drifting

    like billions of god-like creatures mixing

    in multidimensional spaces

    glowing neon ankle-bracelets 

    John Hughes movies on repeat in the basement

    here's the key, take a look,

    he's locked inside

    watching us, watching him

    the professors have all died

     

    and we cannot face this snarling decline

    into the gypsy's lingering eye

    a deck of Tarot

    an ancient marrow

    it's all stored in Aztecan mines

    defines the peace lost in her solid gold tooth

    each card, more the proof

    lost to the suits burning in significance of actual truth

    actions are nothing, words are the muse

    their use?

     

    to induce fundamental alterations of the mental state

    as to what was once wonder becomes innocent love 

     

    designates

    takes them apart, opens their hearts

    fakes them out of their paranormal prison

    see the prism light fracture apart

    and many more more to start

    circling into some perplexing state

    of coding grace, it

    opens the Gates,

    the stars dim,

    see the owl spin his head

    becomes

    metaphysical &

    greater than fate

    make it resound

    we are doin it for the sake of

     

    these are the sounds of an underground

     

    the songs of Thamus & Eros 

    about to unravel your brows . . .

     

     

    1. 80's Nite

    2. Thaumus & Eros

    3. The Real You

    4. Red Matters Most

    5. Gates Open, Stars Dim

    -extra content available with download-
    6. 80's Nite (After Hours remix)
    7. 80's Nite (Living Magik remix) 

     

  • Burt Dawneget

    Burt Dawneget

     

    the dawn was

    yet again

    a shiny sunset rose

    these spongy brains

    recycling the same

    intrusion

    of infusion by

    hydromorphone

    a monstrosity calibrated

    by fracturing atoms

    and the taste of perspiring flesh

    how such

    little thoughts

    woo the most nightmarish dreams

    as the eye movement

    quickens

    pink xylem

    flows the phloem

    in purple trees

    ghostly elephants 

    stampede

    into the retinas

    a dry hacking cough

    seizure then seize

    the mouth

    to foam

     

    hell hath no fury

    like a man who can't be on his own

     

     

  • The Unlucky Shutterbug, the Trainspotter

    the train is passing by

    he, tied to a post

    they seem so close but far away

    trying to pray for a God

    but with insomnia hanging

    like the fruit bats

    he cannot seem to close

    them, they will not slap shut

    the clappity clap of the train

    must 

    continue on and on

    hidden hobo's in lost cities and mines

    infused with the scent of

    lingering pines

    his watering eyes

    blurred by showering sweat

    as he hears the New Agers cry

    for mysticism and metaphysical truths

    gazers and complicated diseases that go "poof"

    but not the scattered trash

    and solied under garments

    semen stained from motel room apartments

    from storage compartments 

    to make shift homes

    forgotten dreams

    post-it notes

    the pole to him like

    parasite to host

    the drain blood vampyre sin

    Transylvania Bela Lugosi

    needles

    rusty pins

    given the current circumstances

    no chance

    no reason to grin 

    no desire to dine

    on the rats and moldy grime, only

    wine open, old, and sludgy 

    the rattle of the cars 

    like marbles in a bottle

    like an old grandpa grumbling

    the brittle fetus in the tummy

    tumbling to get on with life

    he, stuck in eternal night

    till the glow

    like the shuttered lights

    rowing over his face

    staring straight into life

    with no ability to fight it all away

    to move on to a newer, better day

    only the monotony of the same

    a game with no end

    a funeral walk 

    a migraine dream

    it all seemed

    like a good idea till he deemed

    it necessary to wander down 

    past the other side of the tracks

    who knew, who might, who could

    use a shutterfly to spy

    life actually existing

    the misting of

    living, no dismissing

    the wonder of love

    existing

    so bright like the light

    on the way out

    distancing itself

    he coming out

    of the tunnel

    ushering

    to venture out

    to the wastelands of the hidden city dwellers

    from birth to death

    nothing but his train ride

  • Bronchi, Will I?

    with furious fury

    the tides crack the back

    it hacks into the subconscious 

    the lungs lunge for the stare of the shorelines

    each bronchi wanting to survive for more time

    collectively

    deceptively

    they are straining for the main line

    each crying out like the mime on the corner

    with millions of their tiny fingers

    trying to escape the chest cavity

    sensing the doom of a subservient sunrise

    its hand rising into the sky like a phoenix

    do these words truly mean it

    have they truly seen it

    to say what they say

    do what they may

    the fury of the fist segues to a new day

    it's computerized and gray

    with the blinking lights of the stars like 

    they are in on some telepathic information

    the morse code from the neural nodes

    emanating from

    the criss cross patterns of the strands of yarn

    decorating the sky

    do they do know harm

    do they do no harm

    are these arms only sore from the chore

    to know a new day

    of reaching out to

    the sand, to say

    take hold, please take hold

    bring me up and into the future 

    like atomic particles bubbling at the beginning

    submersed in the undertow

    of the unknown

    the knees are wilted

    no more days left to grow as

    the flowers of youth long suffocated mow

    the free from the forest pleas

    to purge and purge with the 

    surge of electricity for infinity

    in infamy, will i call out

    will i be the call of the seagulls or

    am i the possessed quality of a younger mind, or

    am i the obsessed & faulty of the religious signs, or

    am i the regressed faculty of the memory's time

    waits for no man

    from the diapers to the rusty bed pan, or

    am i lost in a sea of plastics and cans

    trying to scrub clean so as to touch the

    holy majesty of the Earth's broken shores

    i cannot be what I am and still be demure

    i cannot dream who i am and tabulate a score

    i can feel my body is lifeless

    it is drifting, i can only yearn for love like

    i want to be saved on the shores

    open my eyes

    and see the presentation of the sunrise

    lay there

    just be alive.

     

     

     

  • FuturePHANTOM prologue

    it came upon dark twinkling abberrations

    mirrors reflected black holes into the deepest

    parts of the consciousness of the past and present

    the towns folk gazed outside their windows

    no electricity, candles shook like their eyes

    they felt heat & energy inside their cerebral cortex

    it somehow split apart like atoms,

    their eyes oozed from the foreheads

    miracles of birth spewed fetus upon fetus concurrently,

    the babies already 100 years old, they spoke in soft tones

    to the chamber maids screaming from the doorways

    out into the parking lots of the local hospital

    cars stopped on highways

    above them something akin to a UFO drifted highlighting the sky

    new life had begun, their dreams forever transformed

    their identities all like blank slates.  new names. new histories.

    the futurePHANTOM only smiled as he seemed to skip 

    like a stone across the galaxy and its infinite universe.

    nothing could quell his thirst.

    knowledge was eternal, he an immortal, left to explore

    and chase the truth from here and beyond.