it is now

when is this time, lost forgotten
souls missing misplaced among monsters missing men
forever begotten by beraved bretheren and best friends
however we move forward if only to wind up behind
what it is we knew is no longer known
but instead we learn from the future
the past long forgotten
it is not that which we know
...
the need to ramble rant and rave is ravaging my mind
a retina that wont look up, cant be phazed
and said it could be great or terrible
scotch prevails, fights forward in the mind
in the trees i find ease
need for snow is more than ever
winter is coming
but far to slow
...
...
writing has no home in this mind but mine seems empty of words i long to say, prayers to preach, not of god or heaven or hell. no devil no demon, no angel or seraph, pray for better times, for connected minds, trouble with no crimes and in the end find time.
...
thought for thought we have fought for better sounds to astound your frontal lobe like access to the globe in nothing more than a robe in your bedroom or bathroom find sense and earn cents, take care of pennies to lead them to the pounds where dogs can be found rabid from daydreams of chasing rabbits a habit hard broken like words unspoken i must be joking or toking, but no just drunken with bad music for a background and a tired and worn mind, be kind.


three spaces
a break
in reality
no truth to be found
words lost amongst themselves
[dele]
no poetry but a broken soul
missing pieces of the unknown
and if you know when


let me know.

day two?

Move, have moved
at home on the side of a too big hill
new wheels under plank provide solace on days too long
at night when we ride, the freedom feels real
buzzing schedule makes mental madness
don't smoke, it's bad for you
come home, I miss you

moving packlist:

- clothes *

- outerwear *

- tents *

- camping gear *

- skis *

- snowboard *

- skateboard *

- bike *

- guitar *

- climbing equipment *

- gadgets *

- books *

- school supplies *

- food *

- maps *

- music *

- camera *

- places to see *

- place to live ......

=

Guaranteed Good Times

9 WORDS AT ONCE

STARTLING

STARTING

STARING

STRING

STING

SING

SIN

IN

I

It Began With "Take Me Somewhere Nice"

day later

sun sinking slowly

whisping white clouds

striations across the near twilit sky

immortal in their very essence

silken gaze glossed over from afar

an insignificance hidden

how small we are

how far away we've gone

from what we were

to now who we are

an endless topographic split

pushing forward constant

leaving concrete and rust

a mar like sin

and from within

a deafening din

so loud it takes the point out of hearing

what do you listen for now

sirens and horns

fog no longer makes a sound

the spring peepers

to often drowned

and out

I am here, a part of it

no different, consumer

human

being

just being

...

my tiny view of the sky

from my second floor corner

sun falls to my back

I can look to the south

I will your image into my day

daily refuge

laying in this bed

recluse with nothing to do

a paddle in the corner

life jacket above

...

and now

"The Sun Smells Too Loud"

ironic, won't you think

I hoped to leave a message

and truer men may have done so

I meant to leave a mark

maybe people can see it

emblazoned on my own skin

resemblant of someone else

who I once was

who I am

who I will be

....

odd moments to craft an illusion

it still seems simple

in the aftermath of the mess

I will see my future

dangling from the edge of a broken tier in the home I can call my mind

...tangent

for the better good

the greater bad

the on and on

one

reverent to only thyself

I exist, I know this

I know you

you are all with me

existing in tandem

....

~~~~\___/~~~~

I need to canoe.

I can't wait :)

Life is better in the great outdoors

I feel the urge to climb a mountain

care to join?

until then

been so long since forever

so many days passed

turn into weeks

into months

never had I planned

just happened as always

a simple and obvious pattern

but to attempt and force makes even less sense

so when I can I will and that will be that

I feel prompted by her absence

my shining light is shining elsewhere

so in an ode to her love I write

seems cliché so I suppose I will pause

collect what thoughts I have

take some time to create order

out of habit but nonetheless

I have laundry to fold...

I wish I could have fresh laundry to put on every morning

so warm

I must sleep

it dawns on me that dawn is when I must rise

a day to dedicate thoughts into writing

my pen kept close and a pad for writing

a masterpiece I shall pen\

held to such high standards how can I fail?

in pen and on paper

I miss her so much

my Nicaraguan queen

I count down to her return

but not in haste

for time abroad is good for the soul

till tomorrow

2 a.m. automatic?

Been so long, so hard to start

So that is how I start

Remember how to use the language

'Expletive deleted' it has been a while

....

new ways of using old ways

forget what's to be done

its done, in my mind at least

so close to completion I can taste the freedom

but as persistent as I can imagine

holding back some key element

no surprise

procrastination takes new forms every day

life a shape-shifting deamon from the depths of Hades or Hell

Wherever you think being would not be so swell

oh well

flailing thoughts about how to do

old forgotten friend sitting on my makeshift desk

two crimson bulls colliding inside my mind

...energy metaphor?

piece to pieces

I'm trying to play music

it's failing

only bounty commercials from Vevo to sooth my ears

...

excuse this hastily written article

by me

there is a little green man with three eyes and one antenna

he stares at me while I write, with a look that says 'oh no'

hands raised attempting to halt

a green army man is closer at hand

holding up the direction pad

for who knows what

'stop providing a way', he may say

tangent

...still no music

wth

there we go, Crystal Castles offering a courtship date

this seems to work

How oft I have thought of placing words back into digital cyberspace

so many lines, tracks of thought, well placed words meshing together

or so I seem to think

no one else can ever know

entertain this now, I think I will begin spoken words

not just yet

but future sense will be made by creating words not meant for the page

inspired in a way and then encouraged unknowingly to go further

my other is so convincing unwillingly

then - - - Vanished

in the dark we come out and play.

I made a paddle, it sits in the corner begging to play

still needs sanding, still needs oils, still needs love

such a needy paddle

of cherry and hawthorn...less the latter

gorgeous

paddle strokes to be made, longingly awaiting warmer waters

I must write what is more important

right now that is not this

it is there I must return,

this is the first, I must promise myself return

I am hungry for art, or whatever this is

...

Thanks