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Friday, February 20, 2015

sloppy magic on the

universal porch

I think it was more then awards

portions of skin were universes of their own

multicolored bruises...

windows to the bones


I think we're clones.


old spirtuals sung on the farm

mother masking moments of terror

to make the heart warm.

=

eyes flutter along


death of the
a tomic

cowboy

CARVEd into a deer sKulL


funeral processions by mourning


PAY PER MACHE MOBILE HOMES


the
electric
wizard
is now live on I.Vs


doing his best to reach a spirtual beach


"this peyote will bring back my speech"


this is his belief ///

his tone is weak


the cosmic infant begins to peak.







In the comfort

A sort of conflict of trust

There’s no combatants

Nothing is for love

Maybe someone is

But as far as the money goes

All of these lessons could be gifts

Tax write off incentives

There I go again,being ecentric

All these poems and I’m rarely inventive

Is like I’m wildly inconsistent

Always incoherent

Some voice to be found

No muse anymore

Maybe besides the rounds

Pop crackle click

Away I go again

Far off ill sail

Between heaven and its spoils of guilt

Sunday, February 15, 2015

tundra of light

no noise.

the electric wizard

spit
splatters
masterpieces

tripping the void

suddenly,as if unavoidable

matter masters his cadaver

shattering his voice

If only GOD could see us now.

that sunofabitch would laugh his arse off

sip tahitis while listening to no limit records

followed by tha hot boyz.

Grim times on the horizon

as if
fortold
by hymns

glimpses of an unwanted past

time spent

in the belly

of the great cosmic infant

Monday, February 9, 2015

#prompt

I saw the specter of the flood

my ugly side convinced me to live with love

I' am a measurement of vibrations

a subtle conduit in flux

these miles are a funeral tux

hot box my coffin & line my wooden vessel with drugs

burn my cadaver at the sea // snort lines of caviar off titties...dicks

remember what the shoreline meant to greed

the universe is all seeing

binding contract of the spectacles we conceive

to live with fear is the art of mourning

& its raining sheets of acid in my mink

I think this is the part of the movie where everyone turns into weeds

mowed over by the particles that bind everything to being

I think this is where I start sleeping

start taking note of the splashes of teachings

I remember when we used to

fuck

I think that was a subtle way of

believing.

Sunday, February 8, 2015

wine whip hollow winds around these trees

Ive had several days like these

sunless...on the verge of steaming

makeshift hollow tents

sun surges like teaching

brainless..narrow lips...kisses keep me stainless

shameless

on the verge of dropping out

falling into the ground

swallowed by the burial mound

teeming

like maybe one day this heart will give out

all will be forgiven

nothing will be cast in the shadow of doubts

simple musings are the only thing I grasp at now

sound tracked to the sound of crying out

Monday, February 2, 2015

cornucopia of concepts

she looked at me like a conquest

& yet this compass still directs me where to go

its probably hurt I think

a concept I'am all to familiarized from

a form Ive sketched endless times before.

"I threw up on the world"

text messages from ghosts

we've all had better nights then this one.

& yet I cling the the misery

as if its some sort of mystery

simple ministry of something so foreign

the open road is my only forum

scorching through a vast night

no importance...at least that's what Ive ignored

she tells her self anything to feel important

I do it to stay alive

open mouths in the renaissance of thorns

Sunday, February 1, 2015

just a tiger in a trance

a bird on a lamp

a simple musing from my imagination

another pull from the flask

I write till I collapse

wake up and collage

do drugs & meet up for the minages

blow smoke rings like a mirage,

blissed...but Im pompus

so arrogant & witty its haunting

like flaunting my mess around

just taunting until I give these suits the run around.

dodging and plotting

& you...youre tantilizing

mesmorizing,still so enchanting

Im writing lines to mirror your optics

mine are going bad

& I really want to go to bed

but being alone isnt my only fear

youd think id get use to it after all these years...hell

I wont even sleep tonight

probably due to these pills

what use is going crazy

if your not flaunting your skills