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Monthly Archives: June 2012

another day, To say something meaning ful. like anyone would listen, like i can find a heart for which to care. driven as i am to find a job, a home , some food. driven as i am to afford which has replaced some beauty in life. and i know i am not alone, from the bottom up people look at every expense as a part of life, you can not live without and yet deny when it sits on a shelf unguarded, a guarding of illrelevance, a price tag for air.
Expecting to get leads people to get, not expecting leave people dealing with never getting , and yet. some steal what they need and call it humanitarian, for they steal love. other let themselves into the caves which get nothing for their pains and scream at the bats , to take guano, there is no understanding life.
They have even made it Illegal to leave. like slaves must be inorder for people to survive. for if all the people in poverty killed themselves the rich might have to work, the hard jobs, hell. they should pay people to commit suicide. like the understanding of god doesn’t stop with death, pay them for bodies, arranging organ transplants at cheaper rates. or expensive transplants, but maybe the people who would want death wouldn’t be ideal candidates,
I always think of suicide when i am depressed, when i have fucked up in life, either out of boredom, or anger, It is always some pettiness that gets in the way. like my addictions for which i try and control but can not. I have lost many people because i borrowed their Beatles album,, owner ship is so outdated to poverty, materialist are we all. mine yours, echoed in what is stolen what is owned. your possessions hurt the availability to change, for you must maintain.
and damn all who need to breath.
but that is life. what we collect we call existence, and common , yet, the heighten conscious leaves with out clothes, One points at the nudity, another sees the ability to break norms and remarks of devotion.
I stole four packs of cigarettes, yes stole them, driven by a lack of cigarettes, driven to get beyond an addiction that drives me daily , people had done worse , but what matters after is the pain, the guilt , the hardened heart which knows the pain and would change it , but can not. like crying in front a children it is the crime which ruins us. the unstated un-legalized criminal. like walmart, demanding Chinese workers to be cheaper. and to create that which falls apart. I have cast myself again into the breeze, I owe, and no one knows me.. I have been here for many years. always the with slightest inconsistency of my addictions, but alone i can handle it; with others i am responsible. i don’t want responsibility.
there comes a level of poverty where you are driven to do. and stand no friends. family , you are a drain on everyone around you so no one stays around, you can not be happy, it is how you think, your despite Nature, even when you have. you can not be happy with it. for happiness is a chemical. and the mind is a chemical. goodbye, i never say , like i love you, but i wouldn’t if you took my cigarettes, no in love you give everything. and acknowledges need, there is no stopping it , and it doesn’t use the other. it is a shared reality or it is nothing , there is no limits, and if there are its not love. no one really loves. its all just a set of rules. Later, I need a cigarette, i need to play guitar, i need to sing, i need to make noise, eat meat, make clay sculptures, think i have a future which can not be broken because some petty addiction, I need to maintain myself.

To fill every page
writing like speaking,
through amber windows
glass behind viewer,
I would to recall
a why for which
youth asked,
when youth knew.
so felt and obvious
which fails me
like memory
as age descends.
i am filled with
in the Age of Feeling
for once was and yet remains , lived less
as dreams supported some yesterday
hold no shelter now. a guessed romance
a story with character
where is; “ever after”
Supported , trusted weary
calmly professioned
money, stability togetherness
a vision whole.
It Age of Man knows
feeling cast away
like a weakness,
the rotted beams
instead of the cycle
of light. store bought arguments
explained tunnel vision
and a why for blinders legality.
invested neutrality
for what you do to me.
age of man limits an age of feeling
of Acceptance, Mutuality.
screaming irrelevance
at common sense
in spite of thee.
governments should have goals
to hold love and freedom.
of weighed whole of a one.
if i can think it
it is of all.
where romance the lived dream
fantasy lifestyle need
understood itemized inclusions
when life style leaves for law
lust love liberty
lapsing limited limericks
with lecturious learning
leering learning
love liberty longingly level law
liberators lead
linearly leaning love laws liberty
legitimate longings
I can reason like excuses
Until i feel and know more
knowing mooring
living light lanes.
spiral limitlessness
living liquid.
oh bio pilot?
You see I write like i am talking to you , reader
like acknowledgment
we are having a conversation
through concentrations culture
but more and more you
speak little. locked passive
where you would once
explain. now you sit and enjoy
where once you would touch
now you type.
Teaching temporance talents
a chess game in smaller reactions
exact locations
when you are in, know where sold
effects self denial
for engendered solitude.
Only hearing voices passing.
what are we , but often seconds
of explanations itemized emotions
communicated in minutes.
If i told you I cry
you say i live
Age of feelings
so deported
from the age of man.
Common sense has become
an explanation.

the way is a joke of the summer having 60 degree highs and rainy chill lows, it is a forced concentration for no concentration is normal. I don’t mind, repeated like a mantra, It rains sometimes, and is cold a lot, so what, i am no where but here, here with only truth to get in my way , as i think of that so much, the idling voices, staging riots to care about anything, mis gotten mind, assort with the clairvoyants of my environment, surrounded by the killers of violent video games, the lovers of violence sex and drugging rocks, my friends, the wiseman who introduced an world economic structure to honor the avaricious they feel. Matching me with my environment, or wait, cause you can prove me wrong with your friends, as you talk of music and poetry and art, you talk to your friends about sexual intercourse on bar room steps, or other mental masturbation-al objections to why you don’t give a shit, or you that is offended, you show your friends, vegetational truth healer, where mediation is a thing you do while at yoga, and not a political venue unless you look at the culturized china, others where suits spawned you tell your illicit shockras and holy devouring, the unself ruled for a god of kind, as the old is the new, ask the latest , technologically spiritualized. or wait , you point to your other friends, happy back from war zones. mechanized to see the truth then must forever sit by the side lines for else would mean, Truth, mixed with system mixed with nature, forget the last of the disreason, like a corporate hierarchy following, cold stair at the hippy.
in side the light is the shine of time,
a gold learned ensnaring
to do
to do
to see
so really where my thought would go it is not me to see or live , no i must like my love deny i care to ketch up to the innocent falling to the criminal. of self and society is only to call a minute home.