Sea of Hazard

A whisper from the chest, then a gulp, a shock, and sensations swoosh towards the broken crown.

It is hazardous sailing in the backwash where I a legion.

Smashing associations, crashing appropriations, and the wagging tongues of floaters who are wailing to let them come aboard.

Once touched and cherished, the whisper from the chest that flowed clearly in the current, has become something other.

Sailing through this gray matter I headily attempt to play a man in control, so as not to appear to be seen as another drunken sailor.

The wave I was riding curved but I could not – shipwrecked again!

sine, wave, i, dot

Anti-matter refugee!
Weekend mystic!
Stop slumming in alpha lala land –
your house is a burning!

Bravo, you ceased pitching rocks and dung – but now you are full
of shit and stoned!

Climb back down those flimsy stairs with eyes wide open and rendezvous with those rejected beta boulevards and note why alpha seems awry.
Trek down those very familiar yet not noted avenues and scoop up your tagged
refuse and feed the garden.

Climb back up those shining stairs into the luminous alpha and see that it was barely explored and though delightful just another limitation. You gratefully listen to the choir, but have not been able to share the chorus.

Oh those smashing waves and sine upon waves and sine, so much more to surrender

Time is the Item

LIKEWISE

God twiddling thumbs for eternity
proclaims something better than nothing!

now a revolving once upon a time,
data, data, data the end.

now a revolving once upon a time,
data, data, data the end.

now a revolving once upon a time,
data, data, data the end.

ditto
ditto
ditto

emit time after time
recurring item.

emit time after time
recurring item.

emit time after time
recurring item.

time is all though
specifically received.

tictoc bearable

tictoc unbearable

tictoc unmanageable

God twiddling thumbs for eternity
proclaims something better than nothing

-except when nothing is something…

- except when…


Hello whom may you be?

i * 3 (immersed in immensity)

The Pauper Prince popped out of the Pub- he received his fill and gave it all away.
One for the Mother, one for the Daughter and one for the Holy Spirit!
He paraded down the Main singing - none of that was his own, none of this is his own, and none of that shall be his own.

Hallelujah!

Hallelujah!

Hallelujah!

Intoxicated but not drunk he gave it all away, because none of it was his own.

Jamming With Vastness

i hello the vast voice
what is what is

veils between it and i
slip off-
the myth unravels-
the being unfolds.

alien pastures
what is what is

space sans and
what is what is

native homeland
what is what is

realm sans end
what is what is

this kind death
what is what is

farewell regrets
i pawned this crumbling
dwelling for a song and a dance.

hello the vast i voice
what is what is

LUSH LIFE

A RUMI RIFF




Moon bound,

the Chronics

in their stupor fear

the police.! Hazy in the viewing they

forgot that the cops are equally pissed drunk!


Merely two different aspects of the same state-

lushers!

a dreamer's dreams of drinking a drinking song

this is the verse…

i want some more
and then some!
once again, it is
always the same.


this is the chorus…

i want some more
and then some!
once again, it is
always the same.

pucker pout
pamper pomp
you are pluck
out of déjà vu.

i want some more
and then some!
once again, it is
always the same.

that was the verse…

i want some more
and then some!
once again, it
always the same.

that was the chorus…

and all that transcribed
toodle-oo farewell….

Zero requires no hero

To merge with nothing,
to clash with nothing,
to move with nothing,
to crash with nothing
-this is the way of nothing.

Nothing,
wounds and mends,
catalyses,terminates,
adores and abhors
the way is to embrace nothing.

Regard your reflection
and nothing reflects you.
Proclaim your doctrine
and nothing carries the sound.
Attend to me and I and thou
and together we render nothing.
For nothing is everything
while essentially nothing.

Nothing was dying and nothing
showed up for nothings last breath.
Nothing was born and nothing
showed up for nothings first breath.

Alas, nothing was nothing.
Hail, nothing is nothing.
Amen, nothing on nothing.

I shall pay no homage to any deity,
or submit to any me other than Thee
for the ultimate reality is nothing.

When you are marooned in time
quicksand space, without an ace
to play, reason and rhyme fled
remember nothing is the matter.

When you forgot that you forgot,
and revel to reject, completely drunk
slurring you no longer fucking care,
remember nothing was the imbibed spirit.

Nothing sows, nothing reaps,
and states –all that just passed
a mere lusting for significance.
Bon voyage my sometimes friend
see what you are not
and the more we can be.

Harry Hector frets - a nettle melody

Perplexing- no fuck that!
It is vexing this ego speak!
It is all about my lying and knowing
of my lying and lying about my knowing
of my lying.

ergo ego parley shit

What is the voice behind the embedded scripts?

IMBIBE

Time is money, money is time
Following that line
Time is energy, energy is time
Following that line
Energy is food, food is energy
Following that line
Food is love, love is food
Following that line
Love is divine, divine is love

In all of those exchanges
Where may I be?

Am I THAT?

not today buddy!

A clear blue field above,
the warming cool day
beckons hello!

In the park a few strides
from my front door a man
is yankering for some saving.

He looks like a Hollywood Rebel,
intensely whispering
to any victim who will pay heed
that nothing is what it seems!

Saw that film.
Played that role.

Parroting a man of knowledge,
is not a man of knowing
merely pimping of a trite posture.

Thank WOW
for the blue above, the greening below,
the barking dogs, and back doors!

KUMBAYA (Creole for 'come by here')

SHE does not require your beliefs.
SHE calls to be seen.

Look and you shall be astonished,
And so shall SHE.

Look longer-
you will be overwhelmed with
remorse and so shall SHE.

Look to long,
all bars blaze – SHE, you,
naked drunk passionately
indifferent to who is who ?

And whom
would be so wretched
in luminous presence
to dare to utter
who is who ?

Drunk

Drunk again
-believing I am
someone,
somebody,
something
defined!

She shouts sober up!

I euphorically squeal
to nobody
in particular -
She spoke to me!
Did you see?

PROSAICLY KNOTTY

the morning sun crept past the partially closed bedroom drapes and he reluctantly opens his eyes. the mist abating he drags out of bed plumping the duvet unto the cold oak floor. the chill from the floor enters the soles of his feet and rapidly climbs up to his loins – he needs to piss.

roll over… roll over ...

a movement on his bed he turns to regard a naked her on the part of the bed where he was not. her nipples firming by the unexpected cold air, arouses pulsing in his area that is calling for a porcelain release. his eyes a-sparkling, he mumbles along the line of – morning- night- wow -green tea- or joe. he puts on a stained bathrobe, and as he exits to go to the john says she is extraordinary.

it's raining. it's pouring - oh what a relief it is.

coffee now prepared he flops on to the living room couch - taps on the tube pushes buttons to the weather channel.

freezing she stretches towards the cold floor to retrieve the duvet, she re-covers her naked body while attempting to recall the state of the past station. last time on survival- flashbacks, click, clack, cold, lonely, acquaintance gas pump, empty, ruba-ruba-duba! Does he have a first name? joe? john? dick? does he have last name? click, clack, she recalls he said she is extraordinary or said the performance was extraordinary? or perhaps he said her body was extraordinary?

or gold or gold or gold somebody somewhere was told.

some did and do, found and find her and/or body extraordinary. and most of those whom she chose to imbibe with said hey yeah sure extraordinary- hoping for more. she herself
assesses her self/body as - come see, come sigh.

she on his bed, staring at his grey ceiling attempts to extrapolate the exit word
- extraordinary. her pillars parting, pulsing and warm moistness to receive,
does provide for a few eternal ah moments where all narratives are diminished.
where all narratives are dismissed. where all narratives are defied and the moment deified and those ruling loops become lax.
even i must reluctantly agree to that extraordinary.

where do sky dancers perch when they are spent?

she, too found insert his/her name here according to date, month, year - filled the funktion.

at her place where she stores her garments, knick- knacks and loneliness is a loaf of rye bread past it's due date. the rubbing now past she can not deny was yabba-dabba-doo. here yet no longer now - dry harsh ordinary time she falls into a deleterious state of i-am-here-wherever-that-may-be.

after the wow the woe.

scratch a match, a flame then no flame, hopefully no body got burnt.

she dresses her once extraordinary body and leaves room where the residual scents of their stress relief yoga remains . she pours coffee into a chipped mug in the kitchen, portages it into the living room and smashes her-self-body beside him on the dirty couch.

he looks at her boobs, she looks at the tube, while the couch cries - conch and cock, shampoo, shampoo, there is five dollar bill under the cushions
.
the weather woman provides the five day forecast - dry and cold. the information provides a pause in her mindscape, she drags some of the drip coffee that was lightened by curdled cream and spews the content on to the coffee table. the weather woman, wrong blouse, wrong blush, though it may be winter, she is a fall.

as she watches the talking she on the screen. he watches her lips, oblivious to her tightened jaw, gritting teeth and very remote eyes- thinks delicious. his eyes hungrily go down her form revelling in the parts that are buried by manufactured material. inspired part by memory, part by fantasy a rediscovery of Shangri-La - his still sticky member from last night's asana firms up.

surly unsure she speaks with some urgency, to him, the couch, the weather woman or
some other it is all so unclear? it kind of goes like this - him her micro, men women macro meta-narratives, desperate posturing under faux universals. she finds all this and that difficult to comprehend yet still she is compelled to play.

she speculates about his and her role in this masquerade? are we pawns of some biological conspiracy to keep us toxic apes fighting and fucking for a fauna reality show? is all this a hell domain, where multidimensional demons herd us to provide food and fuel from the secretions of our sufferings and ecstasies?

he hums, and silently measures her sanity and/or bitchiness, he regards her flushed face and her heaving breasts and has a continental shift in his mid region and decides it is deep. he cuts and paste choice words from her tirade and invokes pleasure fulfilment and self erasure and a holy sexy grail. not being tethered by the bulk of her words, he looks at her small feet tapping in tempo with the rant and sails in sweet seas.

he places his hand on her thigh and sighs.

she enters an aloneness, not the one defined by the absence of partner, kin or friend but that existential void. there - i is why, and why is what? she is calling for that thing that is not a thing. it seems all pervading yet irrationally appears unobtainable. she is scouring for non-space space, like those interludes before birth and death, or like the space when infants tilts their heads seeing something wondrous but never ever encountered before. like when you see some one so strange you can not even place them in any referential place, they are brand fucking new
she wants aloneness not alienated from you and i or any other i or it.

she ruminates out loud about one of those buddhist aloneness like ultimate nothingness, or that sufist rant love beyond love. beloved nothingness, the grand connection where all gesture are true, and when surrendering requires no quotations. where coming together is without the obsession of caulking those shattered parts of the soul, because we are already whole, or at least know we are broken.

she pauses and notices he is quite pleased, and definitely percolating, eyes wide open , lips loose, breezy breathing rhythmically, immersed in her body but not in the inquiry. launching from the couch, she quickly puts her winter clothes on, opening the street door shouts that she is alone here. the door is slammed and she slips - crunches away.

the door shouts - ouch!

the he whimpers a delayed - hey.

the couch growls -conch your angst sucks! shampoo cock shampoo.

and the very cold, lonely outdoor mat shivering whispers- come again,
pretty please!. pretty please! i am terribly cold.



"everything has a crack, that is how the light comes in.”
Leonard Cohen

Bus Shelter

BUS SHELTER

Standing in a bus shelter waiting for what is not coming! A biddy old woman talks without sharing eye contact about the big fire on Queen Street. The frigid weather goes crunch, crunch, squeezing the warmness to outside my forehead, where it is feeding Cronus. This is not the me i want to project - bitter and cynical! I am spiritual! Weak, so weak, spent my cash on euphoria – now left with small change that bought only paranoia.

The bagel with hummus, lodged in my gut is slow to digest and is weighing me down. Frozen and still waiting for a bus in this shaking shelter, now surrounded by biddy old woman talking about the cold, cold day with a crinkly older couple. Each word accompanied with spittle that instantly freezes crackling when they hit the ground.

A lunar eclipse is coming and still in this shelter waiting for any bus, surrounded by the chatty, crinkly biddy old people- and now two small Filipinos. You would think it would be warmer in this so-called shelter, but none of them even reach my shoulders! The bitter frost creeps down my agape mouth and my bones begin to contract- I want to hurl!

Why am I here? I have nothing to do? I decided to wander just for getting out of my zone. Why do I attempt to apply yesterday’s advice today? I give advice generously, providing poignant insights, so I do not have to attend to my own. Feed me more misery, feed me more wonder - I am frozen and desire to be awed and thawed from a distance.

Thirty minutes late the bus slides down the hill, but I decide - today my zone and my apartment are one.

One less fare for you!

AMOUR ABHOR

Once upon a time, they heartily defined each other a wheeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee

we we we all the way home.

THEN

chat, chat, chat
SPAT
chat, chat,
SPAT SPAT
chat,
SPAT SPAT SPAT
d
r
a
t

that
was
that.

They lived happily apart! The mend.

WAIT!


Once upon a sequel, they heartily defined each other a wheeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee
- enough the end.

Reluctant

I revolved away,
as I approached.
I revolted away,
as i embraced.

I gushed at
your presence,
pined over your
absence -
molecules melting
while feigning
indifference.

I waited idling
my time
with decore
and design,
spotted my why
and sighed.

I attended,
splendour and rage,
a pause
wonder and dismay,
another clause.

I stumbled
into the frigid eve
trekked the full moon
to the wine-seller's den.

Folding time
bending space,
shutting the ears
viewing the expo
within the whirling.

Once upon a time,
just yesterday
I fell in a trance
and though
so dearly
i adore
with you
I dare
not dance.

If I did not
already say
goodbye
to all that
there would have been
quite a spat between
me and me over thee.

The sun went down,
the moon trumped Saturn.

I turned
as I yearned,
but I did turn
so so
so so

reluctantly

a poem

                                                FRANCHISE FOR SALE

I the chief of none, far from nothing
my feature pyroelectrical swirl
- thickly embedded around bilious blue.

Me, me, me which I would that be?

Smoggy, groggy, fated foggy - so suspect
of my residency in this trademark space.

I, that boss of some so-so franchise,
in this phenomenal terra familiar,
blatantly blat my interpretation
of my so-so this is me.

Pleading away -
it is I that leads away from me,
with me, for me
- odd allies in denial.

Shhhhhhhhh
wearenotalone
feast or fast, fray or flee
all reactions from the first fear
eternal recurrent
phantom circuit
fiery lying slacks in la-la waste.

Flipped upside down, in out space-time
she saunters through infinity
with one fluid gesture -
now on this stage.

She graces my left ear
with her crimson lips
and silently shouts -
you have been there and you been there

Hear dear, Here dear...

The bailiff bolts,
the megalith gesticulates,
the empire is under siege.

Then I speak, I always speak!
That I bombastically boast
of my special relationship with her;
She flares
and I am tossed back into in space-time
She is gone
I alone.

I wanna leave this cinema,
always the same shoddy show,
and in between each screening
reading the same old feature
in that flaking aged daily.

I purchased space in the announcement section
once upon, so long ago -
filled the grayish white
with desperate red ink.

I am here,
Love.
You remember,
Love?
You see me,
Love?

only i responded
that chief of none.

If

IF

So few am I
more than none
that is my all.

if i were an it,
i would be a thing.
if i were you,
i would be a liar.
if i were we,
i would be lost.
if i were a me
i would be alone.

If I were nothing,
that would Be
something.

collage poem, limited words for a wide yellow space