glad he ate 'er

A lil bit o blue ne'er did none no harm.

Did it? Didn't it?

THE ANSWER TO EVERYONE.

Blue. Red. White. Showstopper.

White white white.

One in the morning,

One at night.

Tell me when

You feel alright.

At least I know its a bit better.

Now.

We'll see come three.

Burn a stick.

One can't be too soon, can it?

Nor you.

whooaaa

This is a sky shark. He and his kin are the second deadliest predators on the face of the earth.

What's first?

THIS!

focus

Back in the swing.

Nothing to miss.

I'll learn the line,

I'll feign a promise.

Maybe I won't even

lose a friend.

on the sun

There's still some pennies mucking about but nothing else.

A lot of dark, and I forgot about that but I suppose I didn't.

What really gets me is the serenity.

I expected that.

I didn't expect the insanity.

I can only hope for something of that nature.

And a roof.

On the sun on the sun on the sun on the sun.

see how they run

and i welcome back the fantastical!

a promise i can make

you'll never know which is me and which is he

which is we and we are all together

but isn't that just more fun?

slide

overhead, a motor spins the blades

the slipping sound of my sssanity

and so here i am

remember that thing i said?

coming?

mhm.

I respond line for line

SammiTammiUammiVammiWammiXammi.
Love.
I forgive you, my dear.
You have indeed.
And I miss you
so (etc.)
very much.
It seems you are though,
yes.
Not nearly like you.
Sometimes many people say that
but its what I do.
Sometimes...
that is impossible.
So many people do, I hear.
Yes.
Everything and nothing.
Art.
I don't worry about such things.
Art. And sometimes friends.
The world and its pleasures.
Reality is a relative existence that has no meaning but to the beholder.
I adore you.
Likely an eagle, king of the skies and free above all other creatures.
I love big thoughts.

If

only I knew
who I was you
if you were me
if we were we
then it would...
then it would.

forget

Perhaps it is stress that does it, but its coming.
Or maybe it's the distance of the earth from the sun.
It's got it's ups and downs, I suppose.

i spread my arms

there are times when i realize i've lost touch with someone.
usually in those moments i figure they won't care to get in touch with me.
i hope its not true.
or awkward.

awake

To color them night.
Wooden faces seek look left. Day of Resurrection.
Wood wood wood not stone.
But still. Not still in the least.
Wait. Disconnected arms of oak branching out.
G man pushing pulling stone walls stone blocks building stone wall.
Face chant.
Push pull wall.
Door behind wall and separate.
One side separation from past.
Other, separation from us.
I imagine...

In further news,

There is a smudge on the window that resembles a lion of medieval design. Its head faces down and its mouth is open, waiting to devour any robber that attempts to take the long route up a ladder on an already sloping incline, to the second story to break in through an upstairs window. He'd be stupid to break in like that...there's a lion in that window...

In other news,

If the colors were harvest gold, oak, and sunlight, the dream would involve man-sized lizards in the front of an old church, clawing open a giant sandwich cracker and licking out the insides. The man in the front would continually reiterate his "eat your fill" message and the lizards would comply. It's unclear whether the lizards would have human faces but they would be easily recognizable as us.

and yet again

I've thought of another thing.
This is all about the colors of music though. I can't forget this one.

20 Ghosts III

choice of words

I had a dream that culminated in a third person view in a mirror of a person gouging out their own eye with a pick axe. The lady was telling him to.
Key colors included black, blue-grey, and rust.

I realize now

We are all in the midst of a revolution.
And thank God we are.

Just...

waiting...

full metal

In February I had 59 entries.
In July, I have 6.



Well...I thought it was funny.

m

i've thought of a new thing.



don't let me forget.






photo.

year 3

I had a dream last night.
Well. Most nights, but rarely do I remember the details to this extent.

We stood in a field, a number of us. I knew no one. But I wasn't me. There was a road, a path. I knew people. Bill Murray was there. Maybe it was Bill Maher. They look a bit alike. The point of view shifted between a young boy, and Bill Murray/Maher. Hundreds walked along the path until a blue bubbly city began reaching up over the horizon, from a forest, seemingly. It resembled the Emerald City as far as skylines go, but it was a deep blue and the ever-growing tentacles (that looked like buildings until they curved in towards us) could only be described in shape as the predetermined paths everyone follows in Donnie Darko. Someone screamed. Bill took the boy by the arm and thrashed his way through the crowd in the direction opposite the one-way path. The urgency was that of trying to outrun a dropping bomb. The blue enveloped us. Creatures stood over a number of people, picking out a few at a time. We tried to remain unnoticed. Those who were chosen were subjected to an apparatus that took something from them. Soul? Life-force? It was important. A few tried to escape. They were quickly chosen. The boy stood behind the leg of the massive creature, still unnoticed. He ran. I awoke.

it's all happening

it's all happening...
and i guess we'll see soon
where it's taking us...

will never

I must confess (or rather reflect,
seeing as I doubt very much your
discovery of this or any
other of these) first my tendency
to keep or fail to discard any
of the things I have ever come in
contact with. This realization of
character is only a matter
of understanding where I have come
from and where it is I am going,
an understanding I have not come
to, myself. This all to point out still
another revelation of self
and more probably, relationships;
less probably, the casual meaning
of the word. My ability or
lack thereof, an inability
I should say, as I have formerly
admitted, has carried itself to
the digital age, effectively
packing myself into electric
warehouses stacked with cardboard boxes
of previously important art-
icles in the broadest sense I can
describe. These boxes, I must admit,
are subject to idle sweeping at
any moment of any day and
this is the reason I am writing.
To diverge, I've discovered just now,
that You can be a number of You's,
each changing drastically the meaning
of this letter. Whatever it may
bring, you will likely be unaware.
On idle sweeping: I've come across
a number (hint) of past works that I've
read time after time, not through lusts or
desires, and not through adoration
or favor, but through a genuine
interest in the pieces. Seeing as
its been a recurring theme in my
sweeps, it must be concluded and it
must be thoroughly concluded at
that, that it will be important that
I know you and the improbable
way we met will be worth repeating.
I can only say this in respect
and awe that we are who we are and
we were who we were; with only the
hope that we will be who we will be.

its all for granted

How many of us have ever seen a rocket's red glare?

A Reference

Blink Blink Blink.
That's all you ever do.

the night

A glass slips through fingertips.
In a sea of orange. Rocking. Rocking.
Alone and.
Someone at the door.
Its locked. Its locked. Its locked.
Is it?
Too dark to tell.
Peek through the window?
NO. They'll see you...
It shatters.
The?
It shudders.

vladimir

"You're going to take my queen?"
"Yes, that is my intention, sadly."

The good ole 1776!
Pitting the numero uno.

The ole ONE TWO.
The strike first, then the middleman takes his.
Cryptic.
Lolita.
Nabokov.
Kubrick.
Not yet. Not. Yet.
BROAD MINDED?? What is she implying??

Hi

I think I know,
to respond to myself
And I think that I've neglected.
But I hope soon to get back on track and
I realize my mind is jumping
But what's it matter if
It's only me?

the future

The difference is in the end.
In the END.
And if the end justifies the means...
Or do the means justify the end?
Depends.
And if the end justifies...
Then I pray we are on track for that.
If not we are in for it.
And if so, we are so in for it.
All that matters is the destination.
The driver is here.
With an everchanging team of passengers.
No passenger, no parasite.

And I wonder what mends 50Y wounds...

I wonder what Chintana felt when the clock struck midnight.