Wednesday, June 20, 2012

Walking in Space.

We are not whirling through space. We are space trapped inside of itself. We are space that is calm, that lingers in time- The rewards are like shadows climbing on walls. Hate is a word wrapped in the dark-it is a hand that shakes my hand. I am not the death that is seen inbetween, and the darkness that seeps Within- When I am at home, I am like a mountain that rises up out of the ashes. I am the night that folds down, down into the nothingness of time. Down into the nothingness of space. I see fame, and it is how I am-it is the space opera of tomorrow, the shadow In the dimness, the dark, the seeing… We have nothing, we see nothing. We are nothing like a light that goes on and off In an empty room. You think you care but you don’t care. You think you see but you can’t see. You trap me like a lion-a lion in the dim and dark and unseen shadows, And we are red flowers, folding like roses…you are greed, and I am not. I am the mountain. I am an empty room.

Saturday, June 02, 2012


COMPUTERS AND MONKEYS The monkey likes to type on computers-maybe he will turn into someone Important, a unified person that lives outside. In the night, the light shines down on you-in the shadow of itself, we are afraid to Be afraid. The night is not dim. I don’t know what will come from this, I don’t know if we will learn. I thought maybe We could learn to be a people. That the heart of the people is missing inside of us, That we are not dim, that things are not warranted-you call people losers, you call them And dismiss them, and the light is dim and you will keep him. Night is remained unseen. That chaos is not what it is, or how we are-and the night is left alone. The monkey is typing on a keyboard, all thoughts are dim. The cops try to pry me from myself, and the insides of myself are born of nothing. Nothing is nothing, and the shallowness…we feel, In the light, we are alone. The monkey types on his computer.


In this time, I won’t find myself looking outside of myself- In the doorway of our lives, my heart rests in my mouth. Inside and outside of time, the birds chirp in their nests- I discovered a way outside the glance of sight. In the inner mind, We weave words of wisdom. Clouds are shot down like a balloon. The words are rhythmic like meadows. I tell people good luck on Their destruction, that the easing of time is many-that the darkness Is not night, and my eyes are not dim-I see the monkeys around me, And thoughts are inside me, glaring like a forest fire, shooting outside of ears. I know some people have to be told to do things, to believe in something They don’t know. This is the willow, the willow is behind the willow. I am inside the ears that are not mine, and we do not speak, we do not find- I wish someone would come along and talk to me, and talk like shadows do. In the nights, the woods are dim, and in the night, creatures hear them… I am willing to do things for money, I am willing to walk home. Time has come without knowing; shadows fade without fear; the hunger inside is growing, And the light is drawing near. The willows are dim and unseeing-the eyes are unseen in dreams. White clouds drift by and I can’t find my way. But the way is not outside of the way. It is here we do not know.