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Monthly Archives: February 2012

Telling in a straight voice, the crimes of the present as he seas them, might make you react so please take like whiskiskey ..
The reastion of the silent and waiting ,, and the day shall be at peace with future. No more to encroach on the people trails of government, when the ….

The meaning of this moment after working physical labors, I stand to work again. With only thoughts. And the like.. Where emotions come to lead and mercy the care given spot..
Yet heart the lonely, and mind the nature, mind the given and lent, the incredible changing machine to view and review,, ,, yes it is the mind for which many horrors are formed and then asked to erase, when horror is past tense, and the nature of now is a-livin. So what ,, so i am seeing like the addict does with heightened deadening.. To reap from the sown I must in nature have, for the waste of the life worth living is living. The dead sickly venture of abnormality and traumatic cause. Do i stand in the nature known to you, oh ever silent wave.
So Locally , i have trouble having seen it. Like a ghost which rides my back with something to say ,
my drive and desperate.silliness.
For maybe , i found a light unusual.. Escape was as easy as being, and i could not see anything but that When i first left to the world. It was all now and i expected the wood work to yell at me, and sometimes did, the induendos, silent scene observation, the tint of light of a dirt window, the empty stree and a sudden shadow movement un bodied. I thought i was alive, the echoeing of magic in a youth skull., I thought i was feeling, but the thought somewhere became stronger than feelings. Or the depth of the feeling echoed off wasx envroment dictated for the younger me,, a me that fofund peace with silence and hope in feeling, free.
So in that hope of achievement, i ventured into a world of no choices, and all voiced interest seem insane for the path at my head, living my feet hoping my heart. I enstrangeeed and dove in relations which were not normanzied. Interest we talked and forgotten. I was never in love with the person i was, or the one in front of me, I loved the image and voic of the hopes and enjoyed a fantasy because i had never felt enough to live mutual equality, My love became the surroundedness, you are there but i am not .. I am trying and there is no enlightenment in trying.. When so natural a concept.
I have asked you to come to my bed side, I have asked without a reason, i may not die in the next ten years but i might all the same, in this regret is also drive, the cristal clear image of having the right to live, for life is shorter than the frost it grows over.
So those things being said, and i am stealling lines like there is an invention to it. When i am just running around a topic, the voice of myown, telling me i am an addict but this time i really feel it, and it is the soberity for which has given me, emitions and balenced reasoning, and even some sore regret.. But i am still having a hard time. I am longing to get high , i dream it, and i know the sprit is far from it, drugs have opened a door i would have never seen maybe, becasue i would have been living my hope,, but wait that is what i did..
I think i would like to write things larger,
addictions are killing what could be my life, for the numbed and tired equality of class. You can watch me squirm out of incredible sistuations , inner ly with the care of a doctor, craving out the endless “Responces” and re clairifcation, the itemization of character, the seperation of will and knowledge. For there to run away can never live, the eqaulity of a free sober delight. Though i have found myself going a bit crazy over sporting events.
The excitement of a world seris champion in boston, and i was routing. And felt like i was there, helping the ball glide higher, the batter could hear me say swing batter. From a seat in a american diner where it takes forty minutes to enjoy a meal and that’s before you touch it..
It is to say i am falling behind in seeing again, herre now. My sight is clouded by my fears maybe, soemtimes i thnk it is the waking of man to his form, which scares me most, this thing i would to get rid of but for the fear of being without it, to lean where the road get boring, from lack of partispation. The world always outside, and i want the interior to create vacations.
I guess that would be a reason for writing.. So there where we read, (in the quite and spiritual) we are algiven like no where else. Transported from what is real to what is real , from place and ablitiy to uderstanding, or just here.. Where there is the following of here.. For the sake of the same,, a moment.

It has been a good week since i have written. A good week is a figure of speech for the has been normal for the worker type i have again assumed. And if i don’t look for ways out i will be forever. I told of taking a room, and iver mentioned the quitting of smoke , yes to the one and the other seems to be in the way again. I long to quit like i long to stop working both seem about as hard. It is one of the hardest things to do , to quit something it took years to aquire. This addiction is tantalizing. But i lose hours i can not afford when i do it i hope to be what i want yet, at the descending age.
The battery is half full. I am stoned and my life of responciblibity and incoherant civility attack at al kinds of angles.
Hands make from troubles long established from smoking.. Small clogged nerve endings. And , sight cloves of animal skin, long over dried.
Motives. Like answering god’s calling . And nature so apart and instant. And i watch television, the world seris, and elections and it is the holiday, next after holloween we have an election, and then give thanks – giving. Our reward for another year without rebellion. The best way to get the house to yourself. Is to have a party..
then give it all away , in decorated little packetages. With red for the blood and green for the half assed peace of nature. Or should I say the Red for blood and the green for photo generational cell. The plant blood. Things i only remember to say with occasions. Talents i forget for the normalcy of thought under the influence, but once the zone is clear, the avenues (dis) un covered, you are human and concept. Feels, which have been made to be seperated from actionare more upon nature for being nature and leading in peace and mental health normalacy.
In other words, i feel like i leaving the complecations of being.
And is there some wrong in not wanting to be , the child of this , or the cultural fact of that,, the addiction to. The use of , the left out few, like irony is a more peacefull truth. That which is the word is never said,,
i hear somewherre,, i can only feel it is felt
so there is where to i step. This innocense of understanding, flying ,like the death to face is yet just a concept of the life we lead. And there to find again a moment out to many for knowing and when. it isnt the knowledge for which kills,
but the responce at the end of t he fall.

And yet why to know at all.

At the same time i sit , i watch a movie.

The entrance to this maze is what an age would mean.. If visual confusion could be equalled in paint. Mental follow through is a now, which is heavier than any past.. So what do we say. We are walking the quick lightening sinaps. Transfering emotions to dictation. So here is the wisdom. Wherre are my faulure cast about like dice.
For i am human and human is the innocense proposed by god.
The now energy symbol. Literal and linear.

But to ask sence , is to scream into the past until future takes precedent. But then even that can not be whole. Until the past and future meet in a now. For the eternal sense never leaves. Such that past and future are only keys of sight to what is now.
So , if each plot and story could be intersperced into televised visuals, appearing colaged, blurry, if we are let without emotions to direct, the joy of being.
Which anything that can remove , this joy, is seen eventually.
A tree leaves
of age.

You asked me a question. When before reaching for the computer for which you are so devoted, and curse by. So eroaded itinto the manufestation of point and comment, but yet so long from the comment are you, eqaulling sides, to listen and foce full dialougures, inspired by remorse,
you who so kindly unequals himself to become with humanity, and off feelings, while he wants to see feelings, and when not stoned do. But here the commotion of illusions, the depressives maufest and indocrination of excess, of the passion of escape. Let call what you will. I am here.. And the tlae yet goes, on.. The story of the one, the illusion of control, the respect of not being, the escape of love,, .. ‘ herre the illusion is a mental conditioning, to realize how large the now can be , in lonely walks and idle trendings,
here where i am not bound to the hammer, or the corn for whcih it raises, here i whave come nothing and like it as long as no won comes home, and here is the peaced remarked apon by gods greater , the poe, the harwtrone, the hope that words had some reason. To devulge the lesssons of thought, of human utility, of relization. In side small comments, and over all tone.
Here where change makes the removal of stagnace and Morals.
You come, oh past ones, at me with a knife,
but i come with a gun,,
you have taught me to shoot
and given me lessons
on the reverse.
Little humility lesson
like you go nothing
and deal with it.
Laugh gold rings invisible
so the gun is poverty is the only purity.. Except wait..
What am i talking about.. The flow of emotins make unheard. And is unheard as i wite this , a loss of memory , a telling of stories, no , for the create of such would resolve around what you already know. And strerero types which create a farse, when the depth of people is so much more, the depth,,
and there in idle words and caustic tales of living,, the one only who could write the only only,, for the uglyness of my most pleasuable momment could only be mine,, the analisis complete and unadorn for literture is my martyered god..
This remainder of bones in script, and blood of line.
To emasculate or defeat..
I love the way a misspelling proposes .. For i have thought on words
and reproduced another,, for the winner knows to effect is a unknown for humanity takes and leaves.. So there is no reality to me, my working hands fighting with my follow through of a dream.. Known in the self defeat of a blue collar micro chip.
As once again the look of the wording.. Blue chip.. A tested intellect. The self defeat and the knowledge of it..
Oh i wonder what awaking can yet see light,,
My hands untired and type through movies..
But working i can do.
I make a painting today.. it is a women looking up , like up is a thing, her arm is raised, the other reaching down behind her.
The first you can not see as only the breast protray the movement, the edge of the canvas removes the rest of the arm. Most of the body is abstract lines of the four colors used when i was trying to make a plant scene.
I called it “ the connection” for the muse littered the finalness , Acceptance is the suggestion but not the picture all will see as they each look for something different.
But that is not what i was going to write, and i wonder how far i wil go ,, the changes are intellectually there , the changes of mentaol creation,, the drugs make me feell paranoid all the time, thinking people are paying attention to me,, when i am out in the stone of it.. All is fantasy and i wonder who knows, i ask a lot of questions and generally do not interact with life,, aroud me,, and in my heard i am thinking about the interaction, lke when i am stoneed at work and i thing about the plots going on around me, being insuecure when i know inside i do not have to worry and yet , let my thoughts go instead of .. The freedom, i am without all the vices.

so here is again. Another day without phyiscal work. Watching a movie. So what is the verdtic. Must i judge, am I capible, she lost her short time ,memory. And the family is not a different. ‘
I have lost the movie. And i have been watching,, as she is blond girl.
Nad yet as the pasting is of time, I wonder on health and relations, such would be not a greateness to be lost , for what comes wihtout calling is therre , what has come up through the genertrtive forrest relates intimately with Sciense, even with knowlsege which is leading.. There is feelings to make a man into himsself only wise, and yet wisdom, comes around form innerter, for it is how you live, . Walls are slavery..
Clamor —

it is another day . and the events of the last week , month year , have only been the sorted affair of a homeless musician writer depression head. As i i peice together the days like there is something to do . like one of the resumes will get out. like my projects can get off the ground, and it is just my own willingness to look for the abstract inside of American correctness. it is mine to answer , but to tell you, is interesting also. for their are moments when i feel connected to the truth of life, and all else is a fantasy, like the jobs you work , like the loves you pursue, as in they would all fall apart if you just didn’t go. if you just said the wrong words, life is so precarious. and alone. our voice given to the energy never seem to equal the reality we could create, such that to call life the matrix, a choice between pills doesn’t seem far off. and yet i am not sure with pill I have taken. I know it is not the linear for in that i have contained my prejudice for years. School being a set of classification right wrong grading when learning is only a matter of reaching out the same books. but i do see how thinking alone only leads to viewing feelings about subjects more than dialogue, you are a god alone. Even as i have taken alone to be a mantra. alone in a car. alone in a fantasy one can not connect with so alone what i can only hear my heart beating, and maybe that is all we should really hear. Like a squirrel i said not long ago. Like to feel is the pinnacle of life. when all else demands not to . we go to work and give away the life hours for the work hours, we come home and need to split sleep between the Living and resting. Such that to feel takes to much time and we drink and fondle ourselves into a creation of life far removed from what we are actually living, and then some of us have children to get up and Do the same. A fine line between living and thinking. between reacting and living.
Lately i have been trying something new, the idea that i can find a path through the depression without weed. for which i have self medicating with with i have been preserving my illusions to happyness with. In fact i miss it. I miss not caring about all problems weather of my onw believe or the worlds. like living in my car. a problem or not, the not being a fact of money , or joblessness, of security. it goes back to the fear of Missing the moment. saying the wrong words, being kicked out of the system for my strangeness, or for my real hatred of it. An american system which gives nothing to its people and yet takes so much in taxes, when the rest of the First world countries provide free education because a society without education can never keep a first world standing. Twenty five percent of our country gets and education higher than grade schools. and I should learn to write like them, I should care? That is the system we work for a system that pulls down the preverbal boot straps. So when i consider my life, I accpet the fantasy , it is not th esystems fault , once you realize the system doenst care about anyone. unless you are “of money”.I live a dream.
Yesterday it was sunny , and in my less than joyous way i played a local restaurant that welcomes musicians to come and earn a meal by playing for an hour. I felt different, being one of the few times i have played without my supporting weed. and all my nerves left and i just did an hour, with limited improvisation and a heart for each tune, being as they were all mine accept for Fire and Rain. which i did at the beginning and end. but i wasn’t nervous. It seems one of the benefits from no weed.
After i played on the streets for a little while. I played to the sun and for myself to hear the chords, to feel the moment wiht the sun and nothing else. you see it is the end of the month and as all who get a check , and i do.. i get a check because of the depression when sometimes i thinkit is just my punishment for not following the linear i was able to see long ago. and instead just read, and just wrote, but even in that i didnt produce and still am not. I ramble like this in many journals and for many reasons but without some point for really nothing seems to have point , we are a species waiting for the end. Watching it come, and somewhere people are building shelters that will survive. adn we will be remembered for the love we could never get around to making law, not for earth or for our bodies. We seperated ourselves into the haves and nots, while under a sun under the same sky, thinking we were right ,those are the hard workers. the millionaries. they are the hard workers. passing time in meetings to see how much less they can pay workers or how much natural resources they can take from the earth while upping the price until all of your work house are spent and you have to use credit to pay the montages which eventual has lead to now. with no more room to go. but that matters little to a man living in his car, Except now, when the car sits on a street corner cuase i can not afford gas, or when the next time it comes to pay for the paper work which keeps it on the road. I always hated the words , “thats the way it is” and yet that si the way i live. the way it is is oly fit for a man to stay alone, making due with the freedom i have taken for myself. I dont pay rent or utilities, I live without electric, and steal it from a coffee house. from the excess of the turn of coffee.. a mark up of 5oo percent. enough to pay a electric bill i refuse to hold privately. I live in a eight by four by three tomb. I spent 197 a month on the books and what ever i get from friends whos support lacks with each word i write. and what i get playing guitar. i have blankets and heat the car with my blood. the facts of the smallness the free. I know where all the free meals are, yet i don’t go because i could be worse off, and i would have to be around my peer group.. since they are on this thing or that. the drunks or the meta heads, who bow there head going in. or are so use to it that they are chatty to all their “comrades” , Or they are just out of prison. or they are just passing through. to many to know what branch of “don’t have” they are on, I can only feel for my safty on one angle, I don’t want to be known,, for the car sits alone everyday while i am away from it. and to many people knowing might mean what little i have could be taken.
I don’t talk to you either who live in the forty hour week because i am always in need , cigarettes, coffee, food,, I have already asked you for a job. and you said no, you don’t know where one is.. or gave me the number of day labor where you wait in line for 9 dolars an hour, because you didn’t have the sense to mortgage your life to one degree or another. you didn’t have the sense to pay the system to be in the system. and i look around and i am wrong , for the daily laborers are mostly them the system has kicked out for the same reasons as the free meal people, the same stories with more and more creative human choices, but then you notice it isn’t just them who were kicked out , it is more now them who are forced out. like they did all the right things, spent years and years working and then one day they were rulled on by all those hard working millionaries. the gods of saving money not lives.