Volatile Vibrations

I wait patiently still.
Still-born are these dreams—
Never meant to be remembered.
What are the meanings of memories?
Some collect forgotten dust,
Though many roam freely
From lobe left to right.
I'm reminded, "Freedom is not free."
But of which currency does he speak?
Spoken words tip the scales
In favor of pens flowing ink.
Gold will buy nothing here.
My heart bleeds black and blood
Over pages and pages—
Dollar signs and senseless words.
The Roman alphabet will not last forever.
The hands of poets are ephemeral.

Everyone Is Unresponsive

Air units rumble and click.
Blinds sway to and fro.
Breathe in and out.
The morning's first sign of life;
He glances up without seeing.
Muted warning of eroded batteries—
The only company offered at this hour.
Even the birds and wasps still slumber.
Rotting wood marks my seat
Among greenish painted panels.
Fowls chirps
Awoken in response to this text.
Foul scents of stale ash
Rebelliously arisen.
The soft point of this tool
Clutched between raw fingertips
Serve as the only remaining reminder of reality.
Though it calls out to persuade of alternate universes
Through vibrations of ink against paper.
Logic has become
'One last cigarette.'
Time surrendered pages ago.
I stare into my little room from the balcony outside.
My thoughts return again to the most prominent desire to live in a place where it always rains.

Short Cycles

A lovely surprise
Grinning along
With the smile of the universe
The sun spotlights a second in time
Such a small thing
Carrying such large hopes
Joy simply in presence
Thoughts return by strings attached
Step out, step in
To find
By eve it has ceased
An ephemeral existence,
After all
All life follows the pattern of the sun

 Photos 07/04/12

Black Holes and Who Knows

Dreams never question fiction

Though,
I remain suspicious of such heroic behavior
History tells me it cannot last
But I never studied history

I specialize in alchemy and the future

This first-aid kit is broken
And doesn't work on the universe, anyway
Because that hole is no wound
But a gateway into X
Left open, unattended by mistake

Curiosity killed the cat
But there are no animals in space
Save for our feral selves

We mark the path
Imprints of strange limbs
Snowflakes and foot prints
Embedded in the surface of stars

We fall through transparent planets
With no solid force behind our backs

Who needs a jet pack
When I've got wings
Behind these eyelids

Disoriented Volcano

Sometimes it feels like my brain is just melting away,
A rush of volcanic brain fluid,
Wiping out every piece of my physical anatomy
As it scorches the land.

I wonder, then,
How one is to function in the world of humans
With a liquified brain.

A one-eyed cat stopped to stare at me,
As though shocked by my form,
Before scurrying away.

The light downstairs has a shortage.
It mimics my thoughts.
Ashes falling from my cigarette
Send sparks flying as they make contact,
Casting terrifying electrified shadows across my face.

Life backfires sometimes.

And then one goes to sleep again,
And wakes up within dreams.

Moving on.

I'm Out

Water and toothpaste paint the mirrors
But I'm all out of glass cleaner
Sleep tugs my eyelids
But I just finished the last of the coffee
Trouble is imminent, approaching
But I am shit out of luck
They're asking for answers
But I am out of my mind

So I'll not sit and wait
For these to replenish
But will move forward
Pack weighed down
Full of nothing at all
Just enough to get me to my destination
Wherever

I'll embark toward the end
And leave this life
With exactly that which I entered

(June 14, 2012)