No need to trip on those wires, my friends, cause whether on or offline there’s always the possibility of wireless means of psychic connection… don’t you feel the goodness in your hearts i emanate to you on the daily?
if not, maybe i must try harder to reach out my light to you. oh. no don’t be scared of my shadow. my darkness is deep and you can take a peek for sure, but i embrace all within me and therefore it has no kinda dark power or control over me nor does anyone, anymore. i have been there. what i am saying is hmm… an expansiveness of communication is always possible, and the idea, after we get sick of our samsungs and iphones, is to really say goodbye and recycle all those puppies into a black hole (one of so many out there). perhaps the one on galaga 25. 37 X. that’s a particularly vacant dark matter hole wishing to receive all our crapola technologies. then we can go back to being fully conscious human beings. until that final receiving dock for the body letting go of the spirit, aka the earth. we can no longer risk getting robbed in our semi-conscious social media haze glaze. then again, we are where we are. so accept it and use it to convey your personal to the collective moshpit slushpile. yes, add your harmonics to the vibratory being of coalesced beauty, within and without. we are universal ONE and is not that scary? well. no need to be afraid of reality. just BE.  CAM00492

self-helpless was i

i saw you before you were born. the interview went well. you were optimistic towards the opportunity ahead.

although all the suffering baked into this cake was unappealing,  wholeness of being beckoned.

despite western ways to be forced on an eastern soul, despite aggravated assault in the capitalist moshpit, despite countless insipid efforts towards persona redux, and begging martyrs of grave emotional toxicity, you would not resist the call.

you bravely went under the spell of your god, and i watched on edge as they cleared your cache and robbed your memory bank, ritual washing you.

then they dressed you in snow white linens as your affect went flat. baby powder and the shaving of head.

you will do well in America, they told you. you looked at them blank. confused but so willing. tears suddenly welled up my eyes and placed you safely inside

one saltwater drop. after you left me, my love, i carefully swept up your off-color locks. with my hands.

tearful i took up the salt and pepper remnants of my one true love of this life. on my knees now.sweeping.

weeping. i held you soft in my hands there, and ritually cursed the insipid god who i believed at that moment, responsible for this.

our unchained tragedy.
my uprooted life.
unmoored heart.

thus played out my own true story of so-called personal growth, and self-hepless was i. amen

Toward infinity

The door rode its hinges slow burnin to flush with the wall. all on its own. This was not prerecorded.

Equal parts coffee and milk collapsed into cafe au lait in her delicate grip, as some carefully chosen words quickly fell from her lip in a tumble. His eyes almost crossed like her legs just across the tableau.

A still life came over the scene. The words, though, careful but carelessly scrawled, etched out of toned minds, now splayed now sprawled.

His words and hers made commotion in the silent unrest laid before them, his vest firm buttoned and frozen. Her LBD tighter and blacker than before, suddenly. Her dead ends tapering off past the bleach. His beard sharp to prove her softness.

His words and her words, the curse words dissociate, and volume of light come through like a maid, dusting off old and maybe great expectations. Poaching the eyes.

Sudden shy slight indy movement. His hand on her thigh. More determined in half of half seconds.  They smile off confusion which falls by the way, down to die.

The music, all sound of mundane, none profane, starts up again. The egg timer ticks. The cars in the street. The birds in trees. The cat-like energetics all replete.

She softens all ripe with a sigh. They breathe. Toward infinity.