Needless to say
that The Opportune
is that kind of fragmentary
dismay
Like a Loon Ripped Out
Pages From The Universe and
Chewed Them and Spit Them Out
Now tell me which verse you liked the most
If at the least
you disliked both
Saturday, August 10, 2013
When Two Negatives Make A Positive, Someone's Probably Been Keeping You Negative
Meaning that negative numbers exist as preparative methods
To be with another Negative number when already Negative
Is to adhere to Inability to Perform tasks for
an unwritten future land
Oscillations, up and down, yes and now,
when in reality
all is happening
positively
with and without adherence to negative
Another Kind of burning passion is
purely profusing positively negative downfall
A non recycling universe
storing unwanted
with separative voices
creating negative and negative makes positive
so two paths are meant to collide, idealistically,
Is there really an infinite universe
when microspace is as vast as macroinfinitism
and two linear oscillations seem to collide
is it not a kind of
parallel universe travel
to come across someone you will not understand
because the question has never been asked
Lynch and Torture and
Take and Beg
and Adhere
and Abhor Restore
Repercussion Infinite
Words that feel like they Destroy
A possibility
to avoid the vastness of comforts in infinity?
1,2,3,4,5,6,7,8,9,10
and again
11,22,33,44,55,66,77,88,99
and again
111,222,333,444,555,666,777,888,999,
above is
1111,2222,3333,4444,5555,6666,7777,8888,9999
11111,2222,33333,44444,55555,66666,77777,88888,99999
111111,222222,333333,444444,555555,666666,777777,888888,999999
1111111,2222222,333333,444444,5555555,666666,777777,8888888,9999999
did I make a mistake?
11111111,22222222,3333333,4444444,55555555,66666666,77777777,88888888,9999999,
111111111,222222222,333333333,444444444,555555555,666666666,777777777,888888888,999999999
Did I forget to restrain
that the method acting is not my way
and the necessity
to present originality like a token diamond in the rough
makes me sick straight to African burial grounds?
I don't think the future is as bad as they make it seem to be
all written out the same way I vent this Unoriginality
that all the future potentiality of the universe sleeps hidden in your future blood
in future laboratory seismic tangents
microcosmically
absolutions refrain
memory
I hope you
can hear me
God
Something
Hello
...........................................................
To be with another Negative number when already Negative
Is to adhere to Inability to Perform tasks for
an unwritten future land
Oscillations, up and down, yes and now,
when in reality
all is happening
positively
with and without adherence to negative
Another Kind of burning passion is
purely profusing positively negative downfall
A non recycling universe
storing unwanted
with separative voices
creating negative and negative makes positive
so two paths are meant to collide, idealistically,
Is there really an infinite universe
when microspace is as vast as macroinfinitism
and two linear oscillations seem to collide
is it not a kind of
parallel universe travel
to come across someone you will not understand
because the question has never been asked
Lynch and Torture and
Take and Beg
and Adhere
and Abhor Restore
Repercussion Infinite
Words that feel like they Destroy
A possibility
to avoid the vastness of comforts in infinity?
1,2,3,4,5,6,7,8,9,10
and again
11,22,33,44,55,66,77,88,99
and again
111,222,333,444,555,666,777,888,999,
above is
1111,2222,3333,4444,5555,6666,7777,8888,9999
11111,2222,33333,44444,55555,66666,77777,88888,99999
111111,222222,333333,444444,555555,666666,777777,888888,999999
1111111,2222222,333333,444444,5555555,666666,777777,8888888,9999999
did I make a mistake?
11111111,22222222,3333333,4444444,55555555,66666666,77777777,88888888,9999999,
111111111,222222222,333333333,444444444,555555555,666666666,777777777,888888888,999999999
Did I forget to restrain
that the method acting is not my way
and the necessity
to present originality like a token diamond in the rough
makes me sick straight to African burial grounds?
I don't think the future is as bad as they make it seem to be
all written out the same way I vent this Unoriginality
that all the future potentiality of the universe sleeps hidden in your future blood
in future laboratory seismic tangents
microcosmically
absolutions refrain
memory
I hope you
can hear me
God
Something
Hello
...........................................................
A Tone Mentality
Have you ever seen a white canvas with a black mark on the side
or a yellow stain
or a brown rust
or a blue rip
And Thought it anything other than artistic?
was it instinctive or was it taught?
Now we'll never Masterpiece it
Now We know where to start
The possibilities perform endless loops of backtracked memories
running in the way
like some freakstorm memory shrouded in optimistic ability
clear wide clarity sparkling perfectly aesthetically
You're insane! To be so dismayed
and then so elated
and I go outside and see sunshine smile against blue backdrop sky
and rotting things on the floor
and I feel
Like this city is mine only because it is also yours
or a yellow stain
or a brown rust
or a blue rip
And Thought it anything other than artistic?
was it instinctive or was it taught?
Now we'll never Masterpiece it
Now We know where to start
The possibilities perform endless loops of backtracked memories
running in the way
like some freakstorm memory shrouded in optimistic ability
clear wide clarity sparkling perfectly aesthetically
You're insane! To be so dismayed
and then so elated
and I go outside and see sunshine smile against blue backdrop sky
and rotting things on the floor
and I feel
Like this city is mine only because it is also yours
I can hear these strange whispers not my own
We can't make this sentence anymore
where we distrust the instinct of seeking intellect
Where it's imperative to refrain from restorative means
where life seems like we are always out of time
Where we ask : Am I me or am I them
and if I am you,
Can I still be me?
Where understanding is one parallel universe away
this float
atomic
time delay
repercussions breed
Where only trifles and panic and abhorrence fuel
black tar pit boil surface seems to be
I don't know what I am saying
But I know that what I am saying is what I am feeling
and if I meditated in slow breathing
would I find the peace of an absolute abhorrence
towards action to premeditate
and not premeditate to action
are we always in constant study
or have we forgotten how to love
with least damages done
Now so wild and free
the poetry seems to be
like every other generation turned out to feel
Not this Time
where the impression is a near got fear
always feeling all alone
Enterprise without sell out tag
seems to be pot of gold at the edge of the cliff
driving towards it a million miles per hour
watching those around you
pick man fall, pick woman car type
pick clothes best seem to fit
telling me how ungrateful
I seem to be
feeling wrapped in coils of scorching factory
maintenance plumber is all I can be
Foil seems unwrap
foiling tendencies for privacy soil
plant another tree
plant another beehive mentality
Nay! sounds this tone
Nay! I'm listening to cries of
unlikely war
likely as it be
Wednesday, August 7, 2013
They're Paying Your Remedy, Joan of Arc
A contradiction so real
Only a kind of insanity would justify
but I guess there's potions for that too
Some people remain immune
which creates the disease
propels the virus
some things only make sense to the individual
making sense
but some of us won't understand
inevitability
Only a kind of insanity would justify
but I guess there's potions for that too
Some people remain immune
which creates the disease
propels the virus
some things only make sense to the individual
making sense
but some of us won't understand
inevitability
Every Night I'm Running Through Teeth
I'm hearing her voice again in my dreams.
shaking her pretty head like
She's not saying anything anymore and I am beginning to wonder
when she still had half her wings
and I'm beginning to stick to her motions
I look behind me and her colossal teeth are reverberating
with all the songs we sang drunk
for the prototype Christ
pounding his fists on her ears again
the mouth is quiet and I'm looking out through her nostrils
she's telling everyone how well she's doing
suddenly she's happy again
and troubles fly by over her head
I'm dreaming of all the tears she swallowed
down her throat
like some rabid animal
frothing at the mouth
I fall out of her face
Hi
shaking her pretty head like
She's not saying anything anymore and I am beginning to wonder
when she still had half her wings
and I'm beginning to stick to her motions
I look behind me and her colossal teeth are reverberating
with all the songs we sang drunk
for the prototype Christ
pounding his fists on her ears again
the mouth is quiet and I'm looking out through her nostrils
she's telling everyone how well she's doing
suddenly she's happy again
and troubles fly by over her head
I'm dreaming of all the tears she swallowed
down her throat
like some rabid animal
frothing at the mouth
I fall out of her face
Hi
Saturday, August 3, 2013
Today and Tomorrow
Behind frustration is
cosmic relation
the perfect distancing
that brought us together
to separate us again
because the knowing
knew That wasn't My
Time, When you are disappointed
I have already lost
Between me and Me
is the other Side of sidelessness
like a mirror bending light
glimmers holding between your cheeks
the vernacular of beauty I cannot comprehend
so clearly elating you away
That your friends know your soul better than me
Lets me know, I am not one to keep
just
reap reap
thoughtlessly minding where better winter sleeps
I am not sour
I cynically weep
One blame, two blame, three blame, four blame,
sounds
like
bla bla bla bla
blows you away
mind me heartlessly
The vessel opens
but the mind focus channel
drips
soot
cosmic relation
the perfect distancing
that brought us together
to separate us again
because the knowing
knew That wasn't My
Time, When you are disappointed
I have already lost
Between me and Me
is the other Side of sidelessness
like a mirror bending light
glimmers holding between your cheeks
the vernacular of beauty I cannot comprehend
so clearly elating you away
That your friends know your soul better than me
Lets me know, I am not one to keep
just
reap reap
thoughtlessly minding where better winter sleeps
I am not sour
I cynically weep
One blame, two blame, three blame, four blame,
sounds
like
bla bla bla bla
blows you away
mind me heartlessly
The vessel opens
but the mind focus channel
drips
soot
Pop Songs Unjustly Lyrified
The frost keep running away is the spacing of space and heart beat and mind
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=nzpLMD1xb0Q
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=WX2TXMJXS4o
The time passes faster than a word that does anything any real justice
and all the intensity of
love and bulletproof glass containing
all the paint is dripping on the other side like rain
my easel and brush locked inside the metal gates of
BE
and the good song ends before the picture is done
and the repeat gets older before the picture impresses
and the boredom requests a new unfinished painting
I just hope that in vernacular time
we can dream of parallel time
or just imagine
who we might be
and never decide
who we are not
(quiet chants "...............the free." <<<<<>>>>>)
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=nzpLMD1xb0Q
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=WX2TXMJXS4o
The time passes faster than a word that does anything any real justice
and all the intensity of
love and bulletproof glass containing
all the paint is dripping on the other side like rain
my easel and brush locked inside the metal gates of
BE
and the good song ends before the picture is done
and the repeat gets older before the picture impresses
and the boredom requests a new unfinished painting
I just hope that in vernacular time
we can dream of parallel time
or just imagine
who we might be
and never decide
who we are not
(quiet chants "...............the free." <<<<<>>>>>)
The Desert that Feeds Winter Lairs
We're holding onto our chairs again
grasping breathless for twilight morning air
("see their coat", he says, "don't see the face, don't look in the eyes, unless you want to give yourself away." I am disappointed again, I am thankful he was thinking of me at all, I suppose)
I'm waiting again inside the hollow of our tree
the time is passing faster than we're fleeing
patience, a dreadful midnight gleam,
nothing here stays, everything moves away
I am not he, yet he is me, when he calls me she
I know I am meant to be similar to
all of this
but nothing passes
even in my dreams
vernacular deformities of time, restlessness
I am craving to know, just what makes you so eternal
in all this timelessness
Cynical gleam, almost comically deep, soothing more than stability
We are off again
hunting light bugs in our dreams
sleep deeply, don't tell me I am not
fully asleep
I am vesseling my other body
behind bulletproof imaginary
far
far
from anything binary
away from anything paradigmically loosening
He says I am dead
I am watching the progression of melancholy
feeling sorrowful and sorry
for the dreaming that won't cross this place
apathy like narrowing of loud
vocalized
patronize
I see them bring the dead to life
the so called windy forest bloom
and the morning dew falling heaviest
at bedside root
I am not this or what I think I am
An animal which learns to feed
learns to dwell
a person well educated
teaches to feed
and teaches to dwell
without pronounced
mispronouncing
like conductors of an orchestra can lift
lift
beyond belief
underneath the heavy passages
gloss pearl invisible Light
detached from Dark
See the roadside kill
see the morning sky
follow the slumbering moonlight
lightly blinded by sunbeam shine
I cannot cross
between you and I and
these words
separating
without the reality of infinite time minus realistically dwindling light
grasping breathless for twilight morning air
("see their coat", he says, "don't see the face, don't look in the eyes, unless you want to give yourself away." I am disappointed again, I am thankful he was thinking of me at all, I suppose)
I'm waiting again inside the hollow of our tree
the time is passing faster than we're fleeing
patience, a dreadful midnight gleam,
nothing here stays, everything moves away
I am not he, yet he is me, when he calls me she
I know I am meant to be similar to
all of this
but nothing passes
even in my dreams
vernacular deformities of time, restlessness
I am craving to know, just what makes you so eternal
in all this timelessness
Cynical gleam, almost comically deep, soothing more than stability
We are off again
hunting light bugs in our dreams
sleep deeply, don't tell me I am not
fully asleep
I am vesseling my other body
behind bulletproof imaginary
far
far
from anything binary
away from anything paradigmically loosening
He says I am dead
I am watching the progression of melancholy
feeling sorrowful and sorry
for the dreaming that won't cross this place
apathy like narrowing of loud
vocalized
patronize
I see them bring the dead to life
the so called windy forest bloom
and the morning dew falling heaviest
at bedside root
I am not this or what I think I am
An animal which learns to feed
learns to dwell
a person well educated
teaches to feed
and teaches to dwell
without pronounced
mispronouncing
like conductors of an orchestra can lift
lift
beyond belief
underneath the heavy passages
gloss pearl invisible Light
detached from Dark
See the roadside kill
see the morning sky
follow the slumbering moonlight
lightly blinded by sunbeam shine
I cannot cross
between you and I and
these words
separating
without the reality of infinite time minus realistically dwindling light
Clouds and Things like Them
Old stained glass by former torments
torrents of dirt washed down invisibly
until rays of sun cover wet ground
"we're jumping and kicking puddles, I don't know why, but I won't exercise and I can't dance, No sound rhythmic to chaotic winter's pass"
I'm holding the seashell to my ear for the millionth time
and by now, old news brings reminisce
I've put the past inside drifting balloon
and I can see this is your sky
when you're too good, at writing it all down
and here,
joyless in dystrophic rhythmic sound
torrents of dirt washed down invisibly
until rays of sun cover wet ground
"we're jumping and kicking puddles, I don't know why, but I won't exercise and I can't dance, No sound rhythmic to chaotic winter's pass"
I'm holding the seashell to my ear for the millionth time
and by now, old news brings reminisce
I've put the past inside drifting balloon
and I can see this is your sky
when you're too good, at writing it all down
and here,
joyless in dystrophic rhythmic sound
We Were...
We were driving or walking, or just sitting around
branch and leaf fences resonating well known POP song
gypsy beat and pharaoh ground
(chants: two-times-two-times-three-times-two-times-three)
a kind of crystalline veil where sound formed pictures
dream style statues
lined up the narrow boardwalks
he tells me I can't know where I am unless
I can dream about it
day by day crystalline form bulletproof glass
branch and leaf fences resonating well known POP song
gypsy beat and pharaoh ground
(chants: two-times-two-times-three-times-two-times-three)
a kind of crystalline veil where sound formed pictures
dream style statues
lined up the narrow boardwalks
he tells me I can't know where I am unless
I can dream about it
day by day crystalline form bulletproof glass
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