murder by memory -5

There are those fictional and real beings who happen to silently make their way through city streets. Their real or imagined relatives may not even feel them for the blood connect got lost as matters with less import took precedence. Even if you’re make believe, you have your fiction to fall back upon. It’s a basic human right of the future, just ahead of actualization. You have yourself. Such has been proven on a non-empirical level by five sense deconstruction, boiled down to clarity of the sense beyond and boiling down, I mean the process, was never the most compassionate practice unless you were boiling rocks down to the mineral soup which cures most disease in the distant future. Mineral soup will not taste any better than the idea of liquid rock, but it sure will be good for you and your kids if you have them –not recommended but where there’s a will– don’t worry, it won’t harden your arteries and even if it did, in the future it’s a luxury to live by your hearts. Turns out all this preaching to stay present was unnecessary. Tense-bending will create new dialects in a world where then now and soon become great playthings of the mind, impinged upon by harsh realities, softened by mineral soups. Filling the void where time once meant so much, with a concentrate of former here and now fullness of life –the great store of it must come to some use, if not refuse, some pretty brilliant bastard decided– was considered a new discipline and people both fictional and real were paid to do it, in something that resembled real currency. You can still consider a lifestyle choice, that’s what currency buys, but time will not be of the essence and watches no longer adorn wrists. Some are hidden under clothes of the nostalgic, tugging on ankles and scraping the pavements. Most everyone loves the sound and it’s easier than live pets when on walks.

reduce me

put me ona stove
ina pot

blue flames burst forth

beneath the pot
and i

its gettin warm in
here someone please
open the fenetre

i see you through the windows
we have cleaned

the windex was blue
then turned green

by the pines and redwoods
on the autre side

those lil bubbles forming
all along our sides
and bottom

the surface begins
to circulate

a young mist sprouts
out and hoverin

awaitin you and
me in the aquamarine
sky we seen

shine. honey shine

Stevie: ompfg !
Katya: wtfmysbtm ?

S: Oh my possibly fictitious god !
K:What the fuck made you so brilliant this morning ?

Alchemical synthesis:
To all sentient beings out there and that means YOU

oh my god!
here and now
we are brilliant!
we are light!


alchemy and rain

The rain came yesterday, and washed away all the oil and grime. Washed away what had collected into a film,  all summer long. Off the streets and off my mind. And maybe yours. I was having trouble with my thinking, and trouble with my voice. I was feeling disconnected. Until the rain came. Yesterday.

The rain came down nice and hard, yesterday. Processed the film, and exposed it to light. Washed my mind clean of all the residue: the little resentments, the fears, the flashbacks, the trauma. The nicotine and the sugar. The commercial jingles. The internet trolls. The haters. The dogs. The voyeurs. The pigs. The pretenders. The cravings. And all the other petty little troubles that were weighing on me. All summer long. 

September rain. And boy, did it rain! For about ten minutes, there was nothing else happening. Everything stopped, and everyone stopped to listen to the rainfall. Here in Sacramento. The best ten minutes all the day long. Sacred.

The rain fall was sacred. And I looked into my kittens eyes, reflected off the rain. And they, into mine. We were all curious and smiling, and maybe you, too. The rain gave my kittens the best ten minutes of their young lives. Their first rain. My kittens gave me fresh eyes, to see.  

The rain washed away the trouble in the world. I saw it. I saw my troubles and maybe yours, stream down the gutters and out into the street. Away, away, away. I heard all the noise, all summer long, go under. The noise. I saw it drown. The noise from the advertisements, in television and radio jingles. The noise from the images, too. Moving away, away, away.

The rain fell hard, yesterday. I swear I saw it! I heard it! And all our troubles were washed away. And then the rain was gone, like it never came at all. And humidity set in, because the air was full of moisture. To keep our world honest. To keep our world sacred. To help our spirits, and all of life.

And earlier today, almost 24 hours later… the sweet memory of it all dropped. Dropped from my senses, right deep into my heart. And my heart dialed up this message, and sent it back into the airwaves. Postage prepaid, with insurance.

The rain. I love the rain. And how it fills up my spirit. And fills up the air. Then somehow mysteriously, in that alchemical process… flows back to source.