the fragility of potato chips

treading under water, dreading formal misfortune, publicly known to be mundane, i inhale a bit before i exhale.  you might think that its easy being me, that its easily seen in me, all my insecurity.  what do i have to fear but life itself?  there is some desolation in this creation.  some greater lesser meaning.  arranging, and then re-arranging it into their maximum excellence.  i’m mean a bit when i’m cranky and don’t realize it until retrospect.  funny how you can feel so real and yet so fake at the same time.  that you can talk yourself into almost anything, and then talk yourself out of it and then down from the ledge.  not that i’m standing near it, but there’s always that ledge, that i fear its height.  or depth.  that i’m walking into.

but its also ridiculous how you can feel sometimes so righteous.  and gnarly.

no death to strange blood revisited

tempting, isn’t it, to stray above and beyond, yet never leaving the “comfort” of the “living” room.  its subnatural to find concrete before influence and  its all just wreckage.  somewhere therein contained is the correct path to oblivion, amongst many false roads that double back and make you twice as fucked up and at the same place.  just makes you want to take a stab at it, take a huge bite out the world and spit it out.  time heals all wounds.  tell that to the kid who just had his ed head blown off and his body blown apart.  but you can’t over-estimate a classic and hope that somewhere magnitized is the best in show.  its never there, its identity concealed as that of the real murderer.  literally being torn apart by the past and the future, living in the now is not as vapid as it used to be.  no more endless hours, every second adds up to a minute, and then passes.

and as the  stomach acid boils up uncontrollably, its the unpredictability you don’t crave.  to dodge the genetic gun.  does the world only exist for me?  its seeming more and more like that everyday.  unless you physically make something of yourself then you’re collateral grey matter.    all of that brick mortar our slapped together so selfishly.  if you should count yourself among the missing, thank fully yourself and the arrangements.  it wasn’t until after a while that settling dust kicked like a mule stubbornly.  you try to draw life from the present which merely exploits every moment, and my friends maybe perhaps we should should worry about exploiting lifetimes again.  what i should know merely comes from dumb old nature.  my timid nature will surely evolve the species.

your eyes seem to be a rolling back of percussion, unknown and tender in its rawness and simplicity.  what happens when you reach the deepest root?  the last strand of nerve bundles?  perfect days have expiration dates that crescendo with controversy.   why was it perfect after all?  for unknown different reasons?  probably.

confusion is a virtue that implies thinking.  every whim singled out.   the air breathes.   like a wind you carry on and on courageously.  i know it anyways,oh lord, you are my hot soup in the season.  my owe my.

and so on this old hill, it starts to erode and all these bodies and skeletons and caskets come rollin down through the mud.  kind of heavy for a kid who was growing up alone.  i’ll enjoy this coming summer from the privacy of my own mind.  animating objects, perhaps vomiting on the couch.  still have those dreams sometimes, dad, where you’re there but not saying anything.  wonder what that’s supposed to mean?

can you sense a taste?

she literally looks figurative, the outline of her shadow is dark yet not well defined.  her proximity is close yet goes around the block.  all of the loose leafs are falling from the trees in a time and moment that seems accessible.  the first draft caught the killer and the second hung him up to dry, threw him in the ravine, to presumably never be seen again.  today marks the anniversary of the first annual animal.  programmed first and foremost with impulse, and a sloppy knack for “higher” learning.  what i long for is at a short distance,  immediately rewarding, yet takes the patience of 100 years to obtain.  it is the knowledge hidden in every wrinkle, a sly wink from the fox in the city woods.  the craving is questioned when settled down.  i am a pig swine for thinking such things, bullying my neighbor for attention.  it was the love i lacked as a child that tasted of artificial grape.  it was the electricity that smiled at its own creation.  god threw the first lightening bolt from his highest throne and created the sun, and the rest is history.

where does your imagination come from?  you can almost see animals dream while they’re wide awake, fantasizing about fascinating things.  you took the easy way out, you always found inner peace in a bottle of wine, but that’s not easy when you have the fear of death in you.  you’re double tracked face down being monitored, not even sure if i’m capable of putting my whole heart into it.  never cease the steady changing stage at any rate.  you can be yesterday’s news this afternoon.

its sickingly beautiful

#1 unique downtown party people

sometimes the lick sticks together in a twist that eventually twasts.  other times lack certain timing.  it finds itself though, often times a bit dishevelled in the mid afternoon, often regardless of weather forecasts and astrology charts.  its stadium seating.  all these things happening behind closed doors that get blown into the open at the first sniffle of spring.  that’s it, i’m unwound.  now what?  when you get to that point when your flesh is barely on your bones and your brains are a pebble inside of an old tomato soup can, when does ultimate peace strike?  does it tie you up and hold you down?  i’ve been living life on the same breeze carrying me to where i will follow.  if i do not intervene then everything is destiny, so i cop out and try not to shock myself.  the greatest times all blend together into one, as do the best times, as do the worst.  everybody’s always coming from where they came from.  i used to believe in celebrating every single day all night long, but i grew tired of it.  now i’ve practically seen what i’ve always been looking for.  but its not glowing.  or magic.  those things stay in the woods with the strobe light and mirrors.  this is real life i’m told.  and i can’t leave on dent on this hunk of junk.

was thinking of installing a fire pole that leads to the studio for all those times where memory simply escapes me.  somebody on a record once told me they “had something for all’s yalls ills.”  he did.  the kind of healing that only comes with conditions.  you’ll be okay but, you will never think again.  yes please, i stutter.  it is time to put a band aid on the magic eye.  the world is becoming more and more self centered yet unbalanced.  you have to grow up and see beyond your dreams.  your minimal knowledge frequently tires you with tread marks and frustation.

no title

its quite righteous and self serving to be in the spotlight and be fine.  unending expression.  its not hard to see why god got his (or her) start.  god after all has the infinite wisdom of flesh and bone.  even humans have tried to create the perfect human.  i mean you would have to think that at one point there was only two things, which at one point and time was probably only one thing for all i know.

its just a nonstop nonthreatening life party already in progress.   my religion observes celebration.  its all a matter of putting the same things together and coming up with something different.  there is a whole beyond the tattered pieces that cannot possibly add up to it.  i don’t believe in conspiracy.  it implies conscience.

reality is all or nothing.

we are overwhelmed with information.  everything was not meant to be known obviously.  its like trying to have a scientific view when you might as well just be religious and hope for the best.

its nice to go on every road you know every once in a while.  insert scenario. cycle, rinse, spin.  you’re too close to me.  i touch you everytime i move.  the other scenario is a totally different world.

i have captured your imagination and am holding it ransom.  you must submit your reasoning to have your imagination back.  thank you for playing along.  now what do you see?  “its like total naivity.”

controlling alternating and deleting

history has a weird way of repeating itself and so here we find ourselves tangled up once again on the verge of unending contraversy.   to start a new is hit or miss but alas worth a try every so often.  re-invention is constant creation.  life as a living art.  and scooby dooby doo.  before push came to shove, shove came to hug and they met for a quick one.  and so, then there might be only one sound to hear after all, if only through a crack in the wall of the library.  its a fear of unpredictability.  looking for the hare, i long to follow but in almost fragmented fig mints, i click, but cannot load the gun.  its the repercussions of a bunch of screwballs that might take me out on the street that keeps me wondering.  i’ve got a self imposed reputation i must defend by characteristically fleeing.  mentally and physically admit two into fantasy land please.  perhaps riding bicycles in the color of midnight black was foolish but then so is everything else then isn’t it?  are you a book guy?  only notebooks filled to the very brim of life changing earth shattering revelations.  facts like how mike “the glacier” got hiv from rolling the dice at a local casino.  and how i’ve been so dirt poor that i once saw an oasis, in the revelations from the past series.

if this hasn’t lost you yet, then perhaps you’re incapable which i have also been many times.  life is just momentum, positive or negative, constant turning of tides with thunderstorms in between and trying to navigate all of this on the river.    reverse psychology was intially a weapon of peace from the smokin pot point of view.  deflect the damage and blame what already exists, it’s cause and delayed effect.  and now perhaps may truly be the cause  of unending change.  irreversible damage caused by foward motion.  no trees.  no apples.  nothing like that.  it is to acknowledge the inevitable like  being teased in a tantrum.

you’ve got to want to be human at some point or avoid it at all costs.  the animal queendom knows something we don’t for sure and wind up either coddled or slaughtered by our nature, much the same way we are towards each other.  don’t they know we could destroy the earth at any second?  don’t they know that we are already are?  sure they do, by being killed as a species.  but if humans are to be accountable for their consciousness then mother nature must compensate for mental illness, her own.

i’m willing to make notice of my public introspection.  i suspect not for long will i be able to continue time travel.  i’ve been going between now and then for some years now but  one day in many distant futures i will be there,  which has already been prophicized by a major athletic shoe company and would fall upon me to mistrust their message.

the trash comes in and the trash goes out, believe it like trust, that’s the trouble in believing until your curtain is called.

you don’t want to know

“you gonna let me see the world through your glasses?”

that’s where i get all my vision, make every right move and see it happen.  you almost couldn’t handle it i don’t think.  doing the right thing sometimes leads you to things that “you don’t regret” but wouldn’t have asked for it, let alone beg for it in the rain.  here is my good deed, make sure i get credit for it.  getting choked by a ghost.  i killed last night.  its all i could do but to put on my shoes and leave.

from all the far reaching breeches of trust to the lackluster shine on your swollen eye, only holy heaven reveals itself.  karmatically speaking there is no right or wrong, forever damning reality.  there are an inherent set of morals that i can’t believe some people don’t have.  one trip through is not enough.  to die broken and alone but full of experiences, half of which you can’t remember, the other half remind you of a time when you were the king and the world was the queen.  self discovery is amazing but isn’t infinite, sometimes you have to go back to creating.  the wealth of information is merely nostalgia, from yester-day, literally.  as almost not there now as it was then.

so i guess there’s this giant pipe that you can drive a dump truck in that runs underground through half the town and drains raw sewage into the mohawk river.  that’s just the way that it is.  the way it was designed.  funny how things change, seriously, right?  i mean its not like some where in the world people are dumping industrial waste into the fountain at city hall (which actually is probably happening somewhere)  but then again its also this same town that moved a mighty river and would do again properly if ever given the chance.  i only laugh because its funny, otherwise i’d be up to my knees in the tears of defeat.

expired mostly in the passage of time yields to essential rotation.   meditation is good for your spirit but  i can’t defend what makes you whole.  all i know is that life is a lot like living.

three more well thought out plans

three more well thought out plans later, the roadway littered with hypertension and even the bench is pressed for explanations.  everything co-existing silently dying together, us with the unknowns and seldom thought about everyday contradictions.  the addition of math as an invention is the real wheel that keeps this thing rolling.  i can keep staring at all these moments in time perpetually in awe not believing all these things all these things i supposedly can’t believe.  its a never ending has been.  there’s a part of me that’s always looking for the past, but wouldn’t know what to do if it found it.  its from the comfort of this earth that the ground rests on making it seem that space is such a waste. i struggle to keep all of my squeeze grapes in the same place.

the infinite probability of random chance

double spoken, once whispered but with an echo, there is this desire for give and take.  like throwing a brick against a brick wall, i feel you.  there is no forever but it almost always feels like there is.  i guess technically there is, with or without you.  a micro burst of stimulation is all that can be mustered.  things used to, they simply did, occasionally for no reason at all.  today is trying to reign in on all that unpredictability and replace it with monotony.  make sure you face it, pull it right up to the edge, they won’t buy it if it don’t look pretty after all, i’ve been around long enough to know, but i can’t divulge all of my secrets, for if i did it would be the cook book on how to make me, which is a very dangerous proposition.  for for lethal heart stopping reasons of insanity, but more of a sudden perpetual paralyzing paranoia that’s not afraid of anything.  i didn’t think that once and for all.  there’s a chance out there somewhere that someone is taking right now.