A deconstruction of the self that is;
-Perforating pillars of light-

Outside the window is a vehicle of mass delusion;
A surfeit of forfeiture-
Singing hallelujah

Who would look into the cosmos
and see only stuff to sell?

Unsheltered and surrounded
by mutations of his highness;
Stifled and trapped in poisonous cities,
calling Doom by its first name-

To all times of big history we can travel,
even though our bodies remain-

Here, under the clouds, is our cause-
What matters most is silt and water;
And the children we will leave,
upset in a chamber of changing climates.

There is nothing we need more
than peace, clarity, and self-reliance.



Without antagonists or present evil,
Many a man and woman
Are often aggrieved
By a spectrum of nondescript fear.

Does the dragonfly,
In its short life,
Contemplate the malice of its own kind
Or that of its amphibian predator?

It is not a preference we can dream of,
To forego terror and fighting.
Generations of stable sapiens were eliminated
For the sake of class and hegemony.

I can see
That the other creatures of earth
Haven’t learned to commit great atrocities
Like war, genocide, and ecological destruction.

Our innovation must be for money and false power
Because we have always had a good planet
Stocked with freedom
And teeming with ambrosia.

The once bold nomadic spirits
That adventured through the wild
Are becoming unified clones
That see the organic world as a novelty.


Run to sweat out the poison
Leave your misery behind

Many beautiful sounds
Accompany the seasons

The sting of luck;
Chimeras under candlelight

Venerable, like a priest
Realistic, like a scholar

Forgiving, like a mother
Cunning, as an arrow

Split through with iron
Quartered to lay in a circle

Humankind is the hardest-
Surviving itself, dividing itself

Seen only by partial reflection
Branded behemoths without edges

The circumstances are unpredictable
As illumination sprouts from an acorn

Friends may be few
Life may be short

Love may be fleeting
And safety is obscure-

The universe isn’t a ghost without you;
An undefeated masterpiece of unity

Sourcing Conscience

Colorblind like an idle warlock
Feverish phases: Moan on
Moan off

Both amused and bewildered,
The It that was I
hung on the flag pole
Inversely and diverse

the humiliation of human nature
Is the verse that I hear in stadiums.

We are all better people in an era that doesn’t stilt the villainous;

Crushing, masticating, and expelling our essence into fumes

This is just how it is- so they say-

To be alive is to be functioning, smiling, and well-adjusted;

A freshly covered sycophant
Free of taboos,
heralded to the creator,
so everyone can make a buck.

Bombarded by the chastity of acculturated disciples,
all the vain attempts of pariahs
to be free of systems
are mashed down into a clumsy pulp.

The good spongiform citizens
of their own master group
can watch enrapt in drollery
As it is done to themselves
and only by themselves.

Is it just as meaningless
To confront the issues of bondage
With crazy words like liberation?

To the Myriad Harbingers

that we, as jesters,
can be recognized as something misaligned
with other animal-life,
isn’t it suitable
that we may as well be gods.
Transcendence is the truth,
for we are the most unique to function,
as ordinary forms

…as being gods, we lust and learn for what we must accomplish,
beyond our wrath,
beyond our rigamarole of mythological copiousness.
If we are to be gods, we are ones that are faulty,
chosen by fate on this Earth
to one day plant down the ideas of all time before;
to become the ultimate caretakers of this place.

Hell is planned for removal;
all that is suffering, discomfort, dysfunction, et cetera.
And the opposite is poised for introduction.

-only observing the stars from here
being content in that we exist together and as what we are-
No one can deny that so much has transpired
to further this deification of ourselves-
progress is evident, even in the flaws themselves.
our theology has been forced,
our science has been misinterpreted,
our commerce has been confounded,
Our life still remains:
The deepest message comes with a dilatory bloom,
ready only as time unravels along with it;
our mistakes like catapults,
our eyes untrained.
As gods we define a new kingdom,
to that of slow-motion and precedence,
Justifiable madness is our only credential to govern,
and all of our governance has been tainted, to be frank.
An inharmonious dispersement of ethos and empathy.

it will not be a tomorrow of any our lifetimes,
but it’ll be a tomorrow to be had.

the fountain that trickles into the pool
makes its cycle.

-and there they are, the people, swimming all at once;
Able and automatically in love with what they have become.


Here I am.
Presentable for the timeless vacuum.
The heat upon the heart
from notions of self-prostitution.

In tomorrow’s world, I will have no doubts.
Isn’t this always the assumption?
A long grace period before we meet death.
Disjointed melancholy of miscommunication.

Never had I a place to call my own.
And even now that I purchased the earth.
It evades me by so many methods.
I want to cry a curving creek and become its fish.

Loneliness isn’t the problem.
It is the discomfort of all things in simultaneity.
Gross results, net negations.
You need me a lot less than I want to be needed.

There it is.
Cold and refrigerated only in places with a price.
The perspectives of living while the torture remains.
Undaunted mutilated creatures, where is hope?

The Asterisk

Driven out from a cloud of coal
Mesmerized by lightning bolts

Oblivion of loving sound
Satyric sprite forgets the name

An outer layer of brimstone
Cocoon of internal combustion

Powered upward and straight forward
Above dangerous melancholy packs

The end is also called the beginning
But the loop seems interminable

Laid down close to the stone
Listening for code in quakes

After an interlude of quantum silence
Revelation breaks the marble surface

An outpouring of life rehabilitates
The carbonated atmosphere