I am forgetful, Lost in remberances,
for which I cannot explain... Simple blame,
is all I can seem to muster,
With this oil in my brain, I'm
afraid of the shadows that've stained
the ground, For they are the gateway to
the underworld,
Open without a sound.

 

My contentment,
though set adrift at sea,
was sent wandering,
Yet I know know not the way,
i am new to these fair dares,
but I know the score,
my poor heart tis broken,
we're fair adrift today,
we'll never make the rocks,
and we silenced ourselves...
in holy, heavy breaths,
we must escape this night,
its liquid torment has led to strife,
we've not made a single day,
more temptous in the wind,
we are set apart,
alone and adrift, from the start...

I was set this night,
free, by an angel of heaven,
and was allowed in grace,
to be free and wild,
to my hearts content,
then sank,
and felt for this guardian of paradise,
this granter of wishes,
maker of dreams,
I stayed there,
and let this beautiful creature,
basking in radiant warmth,
set and live with me,
to view the life I lived,
to let her see,
free, from those dreary days,
an eternity's spent,
with saddening thoughts,
and broken dreams.

 A Stones Throw 

These old times,
Keep running through my head,
Like Mimes,
Ne'ar a stones throw said,
No curtains to cover,
or blankets either,
Sleeping bodies laying nay a cover,
Not a soul 'cept me and her,
Our silence most deafening,
our pertinance most severe,
Till our saddening,
Heavier, still heavier,
as  we lay  Here...

  A Dream of Spring

I always forget the words,
Of that song we used to sing,
about mocking Birds,
Or was it spring?
Among all other forgotten things,
Just let it lay, Nay sit, Fit to dream,
Even as we lay Fallen,
silent to ourselves,
We rejoice, Not repent,
for what quietly fills our bellies.
Our Dreams old and spent,
Left free to rust,
With toys and people alike,
Akin to those we care about,
Who used to sing,
about the beautiful places,
we often used to visit,
with hearts of seemingly endless joy,
and boundless energy...

Swept

taken away,
without a thing to say,
I often forget where I began,
but all things point towards the begining,
and I know not why,
for this can truely not be the ending,
for I've so much to sing, and try,
And hope that my thoughts become trendy,
for then all may look inside themselves, sigh,
and realizing we're all not here for spending,

 

 Deserved leisure

Everytime I look at you, 
I feel a closeness unlike any other,
but submerged in this comfort,
my passions still rise a new,
alike to those young lovers,
that we've all dreamed about,
who find love in its perfection,
to be a street with no way out.

We've turned to our recreation,
Our spirit of pleasure,
Never diminishing with the passage of time,
Gazing at one another, enjoying our well-deserved leisure,
spent together loving our time,
our feelings resurge,
with each passing day.

 DayDream

I feel as though I've played this game before,
Not lately, for it is a distant memory,
as if taken from a dark corner of my core,
startling my reality,
with these bouts of Deja Vu,
I feel repetative, an old record stuck in a groove,
having nothing to do,
or a thing to lose,
I lept up, causing more of a scene than I'd of like to,
Spilling the remniance of my drink onto the floor,
I laugh it off, but am much distressed,
my mind has never wandered quite like this before, I must confess.

 The Year

That was the year,
are dreams were wrought
and we feared,
for we hadn't been taught,
about such ways of the world,
or how we happened upon this place.
We were brought forth,
dragged through unknown space,
past memories flashing by,
reminding us of who we are,
totally requiring our momentary try,
for what we truely care!

 Damn Hamlet!

Free, a scene of what has to have, nay be!,
quiet souls reaching out together,
A quick feeling,embedded,
shredded, fed all the nutrients required,
if what happens, happens, we'll try it,
then quiet, I'll feel rested,
ready for my journey ahead,
I'm not sure where I may end up,
but one thing that will be, at my core,
To be bouyant on a sea of trouble,
flowing with it, helping when I can,
not all the time, I'll do what I can with the rubble,
never forget it, never be later,
than fashinable, never listen to what they say.

 Early Morning

A hollow, distant greyish blue-hue,
though directing itself inside,
will not discourage my soul doth flew,
requiring everything I've inside,
Just to keep moving, being,
Or seeing what lies ahead,
Though sometimes I feel I'm fleeing,
Escaping through lies unsaid,
forgotten seems to be the only word I remember,
And all I can see is a spec,
I want my senses uncluttered,
A quote not on its own,
joined somehow with other thread.

 Second Thought

A quiet remberance,
keeps passing through,
with no guide but happenstance,
And no color or hue,
That might give a clue,
As to where it will strike next,
Only living for milliseconds,
Worht barely a second thought,
Still pausing for seconds,
without even a battle fought.

 Dream for a day

I feel feverishly frustrated,
for what lies ahead,
for I fear its directly related,
to this feeling of dread,
that has befallen me,
to bring me to such a bitter end,
for the dreamer of dream,
Not sure what to do my friend?
Just let it be!

 Harder than the Next
A free flowing gentleman,
quiet ponderings in his head,
sits lonesome by an old rusty can,
reminding himself of countless dread,
what a lonesome man,
being one way is much harder than the next,
We've not seen the last!
Though it may have passed,
it will be the best!

 Color coded thought
Under present circumstances,
Slept past noon,
Still feel in trances,
Awake? Not soon,
Drifting amongst shadows,
Laying awake at night,
Only seemingly fellows,
That seem comrades might,
Distant places slip,
Quietly into darkness,
That's when I hear the water,
Drip,Drip,Drip,
No one here, just me, and my conciousness.

 Waiting...
A greedy apprehension,
quietly becoming,
The screaming retention,
of our surroundings,
Greying our whites,
Defining our very souls,
loosening the tights,
And paying the tolls.

 Clarity Through Distance
Something so distant,
yet so clear,
Provided the intent,
Is truely so dear,
As to risk ourselves,
for a larger space,
More than our pity cells,
And more than just a face,
Begin my friend, and let it begin again!

 I.
Little travelers,
Whose courage doth propel thee,
Through the wilderness thy wander,
Deep inside this porous bead.

 II.
Nervous breath, Nothing said,
Deeping quickly, quietly,
Light faded tread,
Reclaiming our long lost fear, Softly.

 III.
Red Green wilderness,
Dark eyes, heavenly scene again,
Vaguely holding a doubt of trust,
For what she is blind to, beyond.

 Dreams Again?
My dreams are spent,
Crumpled, broken, gasping on the floor,
Not worth a single solitary cent,
For my dreams, knowing little of what was in store,
Rendered helpless, Never wanting more,
Than to be of pure blood,
truely innocent, and of simple core.

 Fell out of place.
I've not said much the past few days,
Dared get up, but not found you or toil,
Seeming thoughts left in my brain, never left in pain,
Ideas drenced in oil,
Never lost again,
Inside, outside, False inside,
possible in an outside sort of way,
Set amongst the slain,
Drifts past the vain,
futile attempt at life,
Quieting emotions left to stain,
Everything we wear,
till we can no longer seperate us, not to maim,
from the essence we care,
Free from catagory, Left to the same.

 looking and understanding
I think I'm just simply trying to explain,
Who they are, and from whence they came,
Decifering these faces, seems just a game,
For I've not the view, to look and simply say,
For tis more comlicated than that,
For nothing that is, is truely flat!

 nothing to bear
Dream state
Theme scape
Sealed fate
Searing hate
Who is Kate?
Name engraved slate
As our shining saint
With nothing on our plate
Our hearts most faint
That of which, our poorest trait.

 Bare Room bluEs
Gold yellow orange hues,
Silent, yet believeably alive,
Knowing more than simple truths,
Bearing, but by her side,
forgeting the role of life,
Becoming intelligently fried,
And in keeping this strife,
We feel inclined to hide,
From this, out cold destiny,
And begining from the begining,
We still end up in the same place.

 Nowhere
Our joyful day hours,
seem plentiful,almost exsessive,
But just enough, to light out way,
No matter how it may sour,
This, our solmn hope for the Day.

 future sight
Sometimes, Senses of being
and purpose, begin to fail,
Whithering away,
like unwatered flowers fail,
And feeling, that even though
this I will stay,
Sane, as any other being may,
Dreaming of a future,
Not far off,
From what I may procure,
behind myself,
To help back who I am,
Or what will become of
My dream, to help sustain me,
And try not to let anything that is done,
be redone.

 just dreams...
The complete confusion,
though missing something,
Quite lacking in fusion,
Even though nothing but a fling,
To ease our troubled minds,
Amongst nothing of substance,
Horrid dreams, changing all seen,
Admirering nothing but their potence,
Not looking for justification,
Just dreams...

 Free from vile chains
What I seek has been sought,
for tomorrow,
only just now begining,
Has slipped across barren minds,
Swept of passion and remorse,
Begone thy weakness from the source,
Never begetting anything,
lest trouble yield bounty.
Free me from vile chains,
Desperate hands clutching
Asking, beging, forcing.
As my hate begins,
I will not act,
moreover attempting to change,
Wrongful deeds, with a voice,
Change it without lowering.
Trying, though often in vain,
To keep my wretched self
Asimilate to the view I see,
staying as true as one can be
in an untrue world...

 Solid fluidity.
furious sanctity,
Dreams misunderstood,
Crazy feelings,
selves unhooked,
Curious majesty,

 friday's rights
My freedom, through worried stigma,
features fear, stronger than delerium,
Friday's rights, laughs we hear,
Today's a holiday,
that much, at least is clear!

 I.
Silent Depth,
turbulent past,
sudden death,
all too fast.

 II.
My dreams left,
they never last,
time seems theft,
Then your in a cask.

 III.
Drown to death in your mortal mask,
Sorry to see you go,
But hoping you've not left us a task,
For then you will fast
and never slow.

 changing ourselves
Such distemper and distrust,
Lets beget our 'o' so old ways now,
And dream apart our miserable test,
Lest we begin again, this life most foul,
Our last decietful moment etched,
For all times witnessed, none
Reach our limits, our most retched,
Quieter, still, then some,
Others, whose deeds most cruel,
Left a bitter taste from,
Deciet, begot from pain, less a fool,
Seemingly free, trapped amongst the wall,
imprisoned along with thine enemy, fool!
Forced to react, never stall,
For then the game ends,
Decided before the fall.

 pure love, tainted.
Why do you do this to my love,
Whose soul is pure,
And it fits like no other glove,
I'dave died if not for the cure,
Dreams now left me,
Starving for that purest fruit,
Which you holdst in thee,
Of which, another will never suit,
Who may in similiar be,
Never expressing all fully,
Something they'll never see,
Slowly slipping...truely,
Quietly left be.

 Pito (Chilean word for "Joint")
feverish dreams lost, forgotten,
dead, dreading the return of the dawn,
seeing real unjust often,
become nothing more than a fawn,
lost in this forest,
knowing no conquest, or song.

Stabbing pains of reality sharpened,
To a belief of exact division,
We've begun our last awakening, suspended,
Only enlightening ourselves everliving,

 Short one !
Dispel thoughts trechery,
outstanding melodies calm thine mind,
including all the past's debauchery,
displaying everything in kind.

 Down tangent
Through my words I must truely try,
to bring understanding to the herds,
And clear their eyes,
Awakening them to, hopefully, endless possibility,
Without losing there attention,
Cause Adoral and Ritalin try to hide fraility,
To those kids who dared to mention,
Their views askew, different,
Then, sent to detention...redemption!

 Creating?
A customary slant,
on an arbitrary curve,
Who'll truely plant,
and who will travel further,
Beyond our sky,
Into uncharted space,
Through bountiful tries,
With varied results in each case,
Drawing attention,
Becoming invisible,
people don't mention
What's dismissable.

 four liner
Whos eyes doth cry,
hollowing ones gaze,
souls dripping,nay,gushing to try,
And explain the pain, without haze.

 for boy wonder
A thanks to thee,
for helping life's creativity,
Take form, a dream to see,
A brilliant luster, changed completely,
Our sound, ground-breaking,
Not simply fodder or filler,
We've begun seeking,
A sound much richer, fuller.

 four line crap
Feelin drowsy,
stuck aginst the floor,
Not caring to look or see,
Living nothing sorry for.

 thoughtless beginings
Seemingly boundless forgotten forms,
whose presences' dependant,
On quiet substances, the morn,
When you can't quite handle it,
Destructions rememberance, sour,
Like caring for a December's twilight Flower...saddened.

 cart on college
Thought tattered, strung-out on life,
Creaky wheels spin, unrealized,
Define insignificant sacrifce,
Continue? Didn't even try, died.

 dilusions of destructions
Simple stagnation, stale,
quiet, silently humming away,
Feeding into destructions gale,
With extinction's sway,
Departing, for such sweet sorrow,
Only to be part of the frey,
And to ignore the morrow,
seems simple at best,
Malignent additions subtraction,
We never seemed to pass the test, reaction?

 space filler
Seems as though we see,
So much differently,thoughts,
And dreams diverging so recklessly,
Ignorant or just not aware the cost,
Straying, from the norm,
Playing, only to beat the score,
Trying, to see, beyond a window pane,
feeling as though freed,
from creating this menagerie, sane?
For is the difference really legible? It must! 'Tis our creed.

 explaining how I usually get into a mess
It seems as though we've just met,
Only small things lay behind,
Not really directing the set,
just laying a background sound, Sublime.

 Heat on the brain
Who's heat? Wind's fear,
Our green pleasures distant,
And only my mind, clear,
Must decide on things I can't,
Derived, and decided,
Long before existance,
Our place required,
With a long continually resistance.

 enjoying rest
Truth's distain, and hatred,
a fears's distinct smell,
Despite lies sodden tred,
We are all love's well...

 before the party
Beautiful apprehension,
Despite destiny's pause,
Breeds a certain level of satisfaction,
Without design, without cause,
We're nothing! No matter the set,
For we are design in movement,
To some, nothing more than a threat,
Quiet, forboding, like a letter sent!

 turning
I simply listen,
Not speak, lest descisions haste,
Is forced despite the road within,
And, no matter the state,
I've designed things so vivid,
So desperatly perfect,
That even things given,
Seem to lose importance, hid,
Never letting noises fright,
Disturb an unwavering sight.

 hopefully the begining to an epic
For distances Far,
We've decided when to push, pull, to what star,
And when to feed the men,
For their spirits are high,
Distant lands play in their heads,
Where things sprout without a try,
And flowers lay about their beds,
For they've travelled fast,
10,000 miles in a year,
The homeland, nothing but a wasteland, vast,
Unforgiving anymore to plow and steer,
Still they push,
Looking for a home,
100 strong and flush,
Decendants of a Neo-Rome,
Of that certain century,
Large, over-powering, alone,
Only realizing the latter in hell and fury!

But, despite horrors behind,
Our movements never cease,
Further on, as if to remind us,
The lack of serenity, of peace,
We once destroyed, or thought we must,
To attain at last what we wished,
A removal of an atomic husk,
To change all to ease, but what we missed,
In our haste,
Was the balled up fist,
of the arm we wished to waste.
But, I'll not speak more, not a whisp,
Our future lies ahead,
A new begining's decision,
Is starving, waiting to be fed,
So the time comes for revision,
And whats been said, is said,
The trek continues, for us all,
The road we now tred,
Is thinner, it feels, than a rail,
Mountains fall at our backs and spread,
to fields barren of rich soil,
Poisioned, destroyed; our numbers grew too large,
Our farmlands, now pesticides, where some still toil,
Defeated, quiet, left to starve,
They've not left this plane dosile,
But have picked up plows and carve,
Even though the seem imbeciles,
They reach and die,
But the triumph is in the try,
So do we, in our own way,
Dedcided our course and tow and stride,
No matter the frey!

 skinwalker
Deciding to begin,
is often the hardest step,
is just what our sin,
is, was, and always will be, a trap,
Our weakness, diverting attention,
For simple passion?
Most, things we can't bear to mention,
Not without worrying about a negative reaction,
Derived from generations of repression,
Designed to keep us in line,
From disturbing the eb and flow, a transgression!
Even though free thought and will are at the core of our design.

 

dissassociative complex

my own disgusting ape ways do me in,
as well as my fellow man,
and no matter how we fight or sin,
the cost is more than I can stand,
but, the cost is not the score,
nor is the beach the sand,
but pains the soar,
and everything we do does the more.