Sunday, November 30, 2008

Dylan

"Chaos is a friend of mine."

Friday, November 28, 2008

BB

"Wishes and dreams help define an independent person, woman or man. It's not about how many you achieve it's about the quality of the ones you do meet."

Monday, November 24, 2008

Lie

picture in my mind
where time ceases
i can see you
in
a moment

my eyes close
and
in your arms i lie.....

Sunday, November 23, 2008

HDT

"A truly good book teaches me better than to read it. I must soon lay it down, and commence living on its hint. What I began by reading, I must finish by acting."

Meditate

Visualize and Relax You are breathing My breath Moment to Moment You are here I am near Turn down the light and We will have tonight Touch of my hand and Our dance begins Follow my lead and Take the lead Put your hand on My Neck Down My Shoulder Down My Breast Down My Stomach Down My Cunt Down No, stop and stay Over and Over Turn night into day You are breathing My Breath Moment to Moment Lost in a thought and Discovering desire

Wednesday, November 19, 2008

Tao

"Change the way you look at things and the things you look at change."

Dyer

“Be miserable. Or motivate yourself. Whatever has to be done, it's always your choice.”


"When you judge another, you do not define them, you define yourself.”


"The highest form of ignorance is when you reject something you don't know anything about.”

PleaseTRanslate

Wild Wicked
Uninhibited
Demands.

You demand
from me

I demand
of you

Needs unmet
Desires unfulfilled

I give up
a part of
Me
4
You

Lost in the
expectations
compromises
promises.

Lost in
my Desire
for You

Lost in......
Lost in......

Something was
Lost
in
Translation

you to me
me to you

expressions of passion
expressions of NEED

Unwilling to settle
but willing to
bend

only ONE will bend
only ONE will change

ONLY ONE WILL BREAK

i am broken and unmended

Joseph Chilton Pearce

"To live a creative life, we must lose our fear of being wrong."

Jung

"The meeting of two personalities is like the contact of two chemical substances: if there is any reaction, both are transformed."

142

hitchhiking through the landscape of my mind.
thumbs up.
pants down.
wanting to explore new territories. vast expanses.
go north to the cold disconsolate bleeding regions of regret and frozen dreams.
go east to the hot drought stricken lands of past lives and nightmares of blood soaked hands.
go south to the tropical lands of rain, hope and expectations. densely forested and under-populated by desires still felt but as of yet unmet.
go west young explorer. to conquer and explore and ravage lands new to me and as of yet unexplored by my mind's eyes. lands that are already known and already possessed by far more fortunate souls than i.
explore the northern reaches of my mind.
wander the southern most extremities and walk....
walk away....
walk to....
walk from....
walk with.
blindly traverse questions that have always already been answered. yet still unknown to me. keep asking. keep wondering. keep wondering why. pondering the complexities of life until my skeletal bones have rotted and decayed. dust. leaving nothing of me. leaving nothing of what you were to me. how to create and keep a part of me alive.
immortal.
undying.
for future archaeologists of life and thought to find. the love of knowledge and the search for personal truths will end. i will end. time continues. life continues.
disappointments add up to the sum of my whole.
trying to solve the equations that measure life.
mathematical certainty.
the circle.
continues on.
multiplies.
pi
faith in chaos.....
that no matter how turbulent how seemingly innocuous and random life is. chaos is the only certainty and beauty in life.
the unknown will always be.
unpredicted. wild.
driven by the storms of passion.
if known the probability of change increases in proportion to pain and shattered hopes.
although if changed the beauty that created the pain would be lost and forever missed. to avoid pain would create a life unlived. alone. an invention and a creation and a product of dullness.
stagnation.
fear.
live bravely.
feel freely.
IMPLODE IMAGINATIVELY.

Tuesday, November 18, 2008

Shakes

"Action is eloquence."

tiresome lack of variety

reciting monotone
dull
perpetual stagnation
in my heart

death finds life.
life culminates in death.

Shouting - Screaming
Crying - Moaning
Gripping - Grasping

holding on to fragments
remnants.....

threads......

Spring

Envy the mystery
and fascination
of youth

New ideas; innocently
creating
strange new beginnings

No fear of ideas; without guilt
conceiving
sudden dark endings

Marvel at the
feelings that life
conjures

magical - perpetual
naive
REALITY

Jejune

Profess Poetry
Hideous Horrible
Ideas; Ideals

Scare Screaming
Certainty Creates
Boredom.

Innocuous Instants
Meaningless Mind
Knowledge
Drops Darkness

Firmly Finding
Nightmares

Monday, November 17, 2008

Words

Standing naked
warm water
washes
over
me

Closing my eyes
wicked whispers
wash
over
me

Finding myself
wondering who

Who is washing over me?

No name
No voice
No face
only words
wash
over
me

His words wash over me.

Fill me
Find me
Feel me

Finding myself
wonder how

How are words washing over me?

No name
No face
No Voice
only words
wash
over
me

His words wash over me.
Frighten me
Fix me
Fuck me

Standing naked
warm water
washes
over
me

Closing my eyes
willfully wishing

Are his words for me?

Thursday, November 13, 2008

Inhabitant

Actions
With no consequences?

Not thinking
-Deliberately-
Not thinking

Birds and the Bees.
Reality.

Not trying.
Not – Not trying.

Caught up
And
Swept away.

I know how this
All will end.

The same way
That I began.

LIFE CREATED

My dark hair
Your ocean eyes

Girl of Boy??

A question that
-cannot-
-will not-
Ever be answered.

I chose for me
I chose for you
I chose

A choice that has no
Easy answer.

A choice I never
Wanted to make…
Again.




I see what was us in your eyes.

Nonexistent

The first line.
The first sentence.
The first thought in a moment.
To be Real. Delusions.
Softness falls in the darkest moments. Harsh lights blinding and creating shadows.
Myself; My pen creates illusions.
Dancing across white pages, which are just dreams of something.
The first line is meant to be brilliant.
Grabbing a hold of your reader.
Pulling them in.
Making them want to turn the page. Reaching and grasping for More. More than this life has to offer. Reality cannot offer the hope and desire of the first thought.
Gasping air and coming into existence.
Heart beating. Slapping exhilaration. Leaving the darkness. The wetness of the womb.
Creation.
Where life begins.
Hour after Hour is all we have from that moment. It is those hours between screaming moaning groaning living. And screaming moaning groaning dying. The last line.
The last line is the one that you remember. You have long forgotten the first line.
The line that pulled you in.
Made you want – More!
Now gone.
All that is left is that final line.
That final moment.
Last word.
Last thought.
Last breath.
Penetrating your desire to continue on. Looking for more. I love you!
Starting line.
Ending line.
Enduring.
How to give the story value How to give value to A life. Someone must die!
In order to make this life? This moment. Pen across paper. Creation. Make it more real. Someone in the story must die. Pull you in with that first line. Keep you interested with the illusion of love. Let you go in the moment of death. And make you never forget with the last line….
It has to be resolved! All within the pages.
The curling, looping lines of pen.
The tiny marking of the print. Black lines. Configurations of reality. All meaningless lines. The sounds of life already lived and not ever real. Reality.
Unreal
Not real
Made to believe that it is real.

Feel the feeling of an nonexistent moment. Abandonment. Pleasure. Emotions.
Harsh and unbending. Make them feel that it moves!
When it remains unmoved! It does not exist. What you have read, felt, heard, tasted, believed is unreal. It will end. Make your way across time; when time does not move.
Does not exist.
Regret something that has not happened. What you bare.
Bare to all.
Open you mind. Choice. Life.
Does not move. Exists on a separate plain. Choice. Life. Death. Breathe. Feel.
Always gone and out of grasp. Out of reach.
Make someone feel what does not exist. What does not move.
The mind moves and can create a different place. A different reality. A different emotion. A different desire. Feel the softness around you. Feather pillow. Feather bed. Feather weight.
Softly falling to the earth beside you. The only thing that will continue after the first line, the love, the death and the final line. The earth.
We believe will continue after we are gone.
But, perhaps, only exists because we are here. Maybe, this time. This life. This moment is all that there is.
Maybe, after the final line, there is only darkness?
But when darkness falls it is something where there should only be nothing.
Void.
Darkness is something. It implies that there was something LIGHT.
And if there is no light it can never be dark.
Define something by what it is not.
Define the first line by the last line and forget all that fell in between. Is my reality your dream? Or is my dream you reality?
If I can dream that first line into existence can you create its ending point?
If there are possibilities can there ever be anything new that is created or destroyed. The possibilities existed long before we realized.
An idea.
Move you to another idea.
Every idea is found.
Grasped.
Now that I felt the feather weight against my skin can I hear the sounds around me?
If I cannot hear them are the really happening?
Clatter.
High pitched.
Growling.
Grumbling.
Sound of movement outside my sight.
Out of me.
Is that sound more real than the one inside of me?
Screaming inside my head.
Whispering the first line.
Unheard. But felt. Creates movement. Arm. Hand. Squeezing pen moving across page.
The sound that only I can hear creates the sound of pages turning. Soft scratching of my pen on paper. Creating lines that mean nothing and yet everything to my eyes. Eyes that see light.
Harsh.
Blinding.
Creates shadows from hand onto the page. The page that does not exist to anyone but me. In this moment my scratching moving hands mean nothing to anyone but me. And yet because of the meaning that I see does it exist in reality or only to me. In this moment alone.
Naked.
Shaking.
Bleeding.
I exist to no one but me. And if I cease to exist in this moment will I continue to exist in the minds of those who remember?
Or will the minds of those who remember cease to exist because my existence ended with Me?
The final line.
The final thought.
The final moment.
Creates a new first line. Every story that has and ending must have a beginning. And where did this story begin?
In a field.
Empty.
Until the white tiny flowers were dreamt into reality. Field stretching past our line of sight. Green grass grasping at our newly formed legs. Moving in the breeze that was created by a breath across time.
The wind.
Warm and slow moving up our naked legs. Surrounding us. Lightly we feel the flowers. Softly moving in the wind. I tremble and then I forget the first line.
Which is now the last line.
Falling out of that fantasy we die. And yet I breathe and my pen continues to create.
A new first line.
When the memory of the last has not yet faded from my mind.
My eyes have a new reality.
I now remember the wind that only existed inside of me.
The movement that only I knew yet in my mind you felt. Can you feel the wind and the movement that my mind created? And that you existed within.
For that fleeting moment in the wind you were real and inside of me. And when we see each other again in our reality will that moment be any less real to me than this one?
Can anything ever be more real than the first line inside of our minds?
Can anything be more bittersweet than the last line, when we part, inside of me?
Searching my mind; can I find something to fill the hours between when my life began and when it will end?
Creating.
Is the world that I create with pen and paper less real to me than the life that I live outside of me?
When you lay in bed each night and dream of things you have never seen and times that you will never know is that dream of a lesser value than the moments you see when your eyes are open?
When you dream you believe it to be reality.
How do you know that it is not?
How do you know that your waking moments are not the dreams of someone else?
Their first line is your eyes opening. Finding daylight. Their last line is your eyes closing to dream their reality.

Wednesday, November 12, 2008

Nietzsche

"Faith: not wanting to know what is true."

"And if you gaze for long into an abyss, the abyss gazes also into you."

"Blessed are the forgetful: for they get the better even of their blunders."

Tuesday, November 11, 2008

Wilde

"He envied them all that they did not know."

Monday, November 10, 2008

beauty

"Everything Looks Perfect From Far Away"

Sunday, November 09, 2008

Shadow

Flowery - Prophetic
Prose
Spoken - Under
complete secrecy.

Promises, Forgotten
whispers - into
the world
of daylight.

Shadowy - Secrets
hidden under
the veil
of darkness.

Hands searching -
seeking
The elusive meaning
of life.

Love Stolen
Love Remembered
Love Lost

And

Found - Again
each night.