Wednesday, June 30, 2010

An Old Prayer

From the depths of sorrow in my own soul I asked You to answer me. I begged for something of You, did You answer me?
Was this You?
I laid myself out bare for all to see, for all to know that I'd bear their burdens. To feel their need and give them relief. From the heart inside me, was that You?
Or my flesh?
I still haven't heard You.
I still don't know what it is You want but I'll do what You have asked so many times. To Love 'til my dying breath.
And I will do it.
But I beg You sir, send me my Angel! Send her to me please! Only You know who she is. Only You know when she will come and how she will effect my life.
'Til then, I will Love.
My character and resolve to be "good" will fail many times, I know this.
But I will try.
I can't even say I'll do my best right now. But I'll do what I know best to do.
For all my life and longer!

(written: 12/30/09)

Tuesday, June 22, 2010


All this synergy. Energy moving, violating boundaries that should have never been laid. Across great oceans scream their movement, scream their praise and yet...

Connected we feel to one another. As if our Great Walls have been usurped by tiny culverts near the ground. Dug out by...

Love diggers. Those weasels! The pantomiming pitiful chaps. Sunk sweetly are their vampire teeth into wretched hearts worldwide to suck...

Dry this wet towel because it's only to be used for snapping at asses. A joke? A prank? Maybe. But yet undefined like...

A Spring daisy points it's way towards the sun in dashing white light. From under it the view of insects pushing their way through dirt to sample its...

Nectar! The fruits blood. Seeps its way out in the Summer's sweltering sweat. Thins the skin and levies the bountiful flesh therein lies...

A lazy cat. Adorned by the selfishness of her possessors. They spell every night what she might eat and wear as fur to further create a safe place for her latent offspring. So cute the purr, so blind the touch to everything wanting to harm said innocence is left unprotected like...

A condom wrapper lays on the floor, aimless and emotionless. Heaping piles of human lay wakened under a sea of crimson. Dripping on the floor. From deep emotion comes this yanking filth, this pestilence of vital fluid and...

Without a sound...
Without a look to the present...
What torturous treasures lie within...
Or beneath the pale cut throat and wavering opinion. A march hare's strategy. A foolish hatters delight.

...and I am the Superman. I have a cape, with a bowl of soup in the middle...I will be there in a minute, to be rescued.

Monday, June 21, 2010

Freedom form a curse

What is this? Cussing you out one moment. An apology comes from your lips and my visage changes? Your gentle wisp of word decanting my anger so easily? But you were wrong for sure... just don't remember that it was you, and neither do I...because I "needed" you.

I saw what we call poetry in motion this morning, something that reminded me of myself.

My son's last day of Kindergarten, little big man.

I saw the beauty that lies beneath our chronic sociological ambiguity. The touch of freedom gives us so much to ponder and not do. So little to not possess but remain stuck. I guess this is the gift we give as "the free".

He was another that liked to stop and take the time to smell the people.

And what comes up from this primordial ooze that we base our species upon. If not for magic, I'm sure I've discovered our existence, while full of good photographs, would be in a word...wordless.

And this substance? A man to another that brings us close? This glue, or binding method that procures a sense of connection to another human. Needless or not, we walk through this life needing. Constantly getting what we want and wanting more and more. It's what carries us from one good picture to the other as one goes through our good memory albums with giggles and smiles. It's the product of "want". The gift to enjoy the after party of "wanting".

But in between these is where our humanity lies, the "need", who takes photos of that? When our wall paper, latent with the experience of the choosing it out becomes to us shallow cell walls of an emotional prison. Who is tossing us bread and giving us water? Not only tossing but feeding it to us by hand. Cupping our chin between forefinger and thumb and pouring the water in. Brushing our hair from the sides of our faces to our ears, for what? To get a better picture of the desolation? Distrust would say to chime in for bargain tokens later in life when they fall on their ass as well, but is this the motivation?

Do you feel this? Have you ever been under the executioners axe with a fellow man's name on the death warrant and not your own? To place on the altar your dreams and ambitions in exchange for a loaf of bread that you will not partake of for it is not sacred to you. Is this human? Or "divine"? The connection, the glue or what substance that starts as dust, adding compassion and various mixers of pain is what provides what should be the answer and definition to human condition. As well as being the thing that binds us together for periods of life.

How Lovely when it grows. The invisible flower of a deed unnoticed. The imaginary stem of a rose that gets no praise. And all the more, if some should notice, if praise or notice come they should vanish as quickly as the concept of Utopian society in the mind of an imperialist.

This gluing. The patch forming left "untagged". The patience to wait in between the lines to take these pictures of lonely trips to the next wanting satisfied. These moments are precious! They are worth nothing, yet cost EVERYTHING!

These photographers of "need", they exist on a plain of reality that not everyone is immune to. And it's not an inoculation that keeps you there, or even safe from it's toxicity. They are born immune. Every human ventures there from time to time with borrowed cameras to pay respects, but these live there. They Love there. And fill every breath with the poison of souls pain. As do I, and love every minute of Love.

Welcome us but do not thank. Crutch on us silently but do not give praise. For with gifts our gifts are removed and our magic exposed. Do not be like us unless you have died yourself for there are no living among us. It's why we are such fantastic photographers. Our after parties are pictures. The pictures you put in front of your friends so they can see and agree you're "ok" after you have satisfied your "want" for the moment.

We'll always "not" be there. Our photos, none will never see. And our promise will never have "need".

I Love Love Love you all (..yes you), "remember" AAF-

Friday, June 18, 2010

Care Much?

She was there to meet them. Old connections now turned to good friends and people to take care of, to Love dearly and be Loved by. To feed. It's not so much that I give a shit about ours, it's always on and we are safe. But what about them? They Loved you too, and are innocent. They still need although we don't. They are still lonely although we are not. And they still care enough to ask...

If I could just see you, for a second. See where your eyes move when I ask you "that" question...the one you could never lie about (as if you could lie to me at all successfully, only just that time). Watch you play with your phone as if I'm a crossing wisp of air beside your cheek that exposes your cute elf ears. Still not realizing I'm a gale force wind. You made me so. (I move slowly toward you as you still look away, a silent whisper in your ear) " made me so..."

Your energy is like a severed overhead mainline, electrifying everything around it. It's not a wonder to me that you and others fall so quickly.

They are in Love with you. They fell as I did. They ask but you don't answer, I do. And tell them a beautiful story of where you are, what you are...that you are. Everything.

Darling...don't look down. You might see them as you step by. It might make you fall in Love again. And that, is fear, for you.

(written 1/20/10)

Wednesday, June 16, 2010


It's bleeding. Falling into another time zone. Somewhere out of care, but for me I keep staring.

Hypnotic. Color falls off like over watered patina on a high gloss canvas, but in layers. Someone had painted layer upon layer over millions of years.

Like the crescent of an obelisk in the center of night, the color still washing away.

I'm captivated. I can't move. Still breathing, it's taking me in. Closing all sensory transmission to the world that beckons me to follow.

It's falling deeper when it should be rising. I'm inside now. The blood warmth has me. I'm gone.

I'll be looking through the portal, watching closely...are you?

Have a good night life-

This pisstory

Not offended, not effected, not bothered, non-responsive. And Love you dearly! And I'll save the cream-filled ones for you. Extra glaze?? You know I hate the sweet stuff...well..? (HAHA!)

Figmented close

The 12 jewels of your emotional clock are out of syncopation. Needing to call an introspective technician. Don't rely on yourself or religion, for these can't be trusted. Look into it, for you, for him, not us. These things that plague your Love, as did ours, are inside you, not the other. They were inside me as well. And a death I undertook. I weep. But I am so alive!

Needing a sense of yourself, not a mask of intelligence and propriety as you've adopted. Educated you are, a journeyman at life. But as far as I can see, you still haven't begun to study this question. For it's a question not of logic...and you, at your very best are not logical, rather whimsical.

Still hoping it will shade your dark past. Running in place from a nightmare that really is only your shadow. Can't disperse shadows. Can't escape them. Your own at least. It's when the testing comes that shows our true nature, Love. The evil that rises from below the masks. ...Sweet girl...I Love you, I do. We become our surroundings. Who is becoming you, Love? Twins can't help but be what they are when they are together. The same with quasi difference.

Do the work, Sugar, Love. So you don't regret, because it's not a necessary spend of energy.

Love, (and you know the rest damnit!)

(written: 1/01/10)

Tuesday, June 15, 2010

Poem for the Unseen

It's not a dream. It couldn't be a dream, and not because it felt so real. But because we bleed. So much thought, so much agony. So much Bliss. No pair was ever made to endure so much all at once. We MUST be aliens. We must be from another planet, or some long and lost race forgotten by time. Made from different dust. From extra-terrestrial ethereal substance.

Of course, there was nothing at first but a glance. Not more than a greeting or goodbye. Not more than a half second thought. But Love grew. Lack of words to a deep piercing into the ocean of our sunlit eyes, in moments. What normally takes years between two living things.

Fascination in the depth of something unknown, unseen, unspoken by the worlds breath. As if the powers that be had been stripped of their emotions and forced to see and learn what feeling really is. What feeling should be. We angered them with our Love. They took revenge on us out of their jealousy. They knew they had never seen, never heard, never lived, Love like this. Nor was it in their capacity to exude.

The sacred castle that should never have been under shroud, built itself quickly. A spire in the desert. A brook of water where there was only death. Now life stirred and thrived there. The spire still stands and will stand forever. A testament to Love's invention. It was built by their hands. Their blood spilled. It was their price for now what is witnessed.

And now what do we pay? Is there a cost to fix this? Could it be that simple...? Surely it would grow stronger and mightier than what opposes.

How do I Love her? HOW do I Love her? How do I keep her waters cool? Or temper her enough to keep her forever in my simple swimming hole, the abysmal existence only the Phantoms mask can mirror. Can I do such a thing? This gift to all that lives and Loves from the powers that be? High up in their shadows? Or would this be too much for anything depending on breath to live? I would that breath didn't exist.

He lived. He would have died to give her the rights to solace and unending peace from her historical torment. Leaving thousands at a loss for he was built solely to Love. Not just to the one.

Flowers wilt and sugar ferments. Night gets darker and the sun stays behind the thickness when she refuses her Love. Whomever she gives it to is immortal. Tragically ALL, except one whom was built for Love's sake. He was never immune. He is not immortal. The one whom has that burden and privilege to carry. Alone in strength from a higher entity.

So the world will be Loved and nurtured. She will be Loved and cherished. He...

That was our far as I can see.

There is another that is stronger than he.

To be continued. Maybe not in this world. But in a dream world of dream-like reality. Perhaps, only a finger flick away.

(written 11/12/09)

You're welcome

Need an outlet, something more than reading groups. I hope anyone that comes will either leave comforted, enlightened or pissed. I'll take all three in the same sitting, I got you, YOU!! Going to enjoy this, Much Love!