Blackening skies
Flakes ablaze
Mist smoky haze
Whispered sunder
Turbulence under

Coursing vitality
Crisp congealed clots
In super hot wind
Acid rain spores

Red at the edges
Teeming ember ends
Nomadic spark nests
Crawl through air
And borders of flare

Until connecting with surface
Eroding and corroding
With quiet displays

Fireworks of grace
Yielding to raze

Descending nebulas
Falling stars

Galactic arms embrace

Spiral entanglement
Of two complex mazes

Memetic juice
Viral reactions
Flowing and rolling in waves
Of riptide firework displays

After eras of watching
And eons of approaching
It hangs eerily
In our blackened skies

Waiting forever
Only a little longer

And with its approach
Ever so near
An orchestra with its
Most beautiful violins
Gets ever so louder

Fearful currents
Of drifting orbits

Fusing valiant galaxies
To the sound of quiet fire
And a chorus
Of rumbling comet orchards

Summer Holiday

Summer Holiday

Not a week into an endless holiday
Not a bleak and fruitless holiday
Not a lost and afraid holiday
But a lonely and nostalgic holiday

Memories of events that happened long ago
Shower over me when there’s no where to go
Your face, your smiling face,
A sight that I miss, but can’t cry when you have to fly

Painful, damaging, relentless thoughts and memories
Visiting places, kissing you, going out together
The embers of a fire that once burned ravenously
Now I’m all alone and it looks like you’ll be gone forever

Have you thought of me?
Do you miss me like I miss you?
What are you doing right now?
Laying in bed, fast asleep by now?

Is it fair for me to be weary
Of a future so scarred and teary
When I don’t know what you are
Or who you’ve become
What your face looks like
Or what troubles my love

Not a week into an endless holiday
And it seems like the last time we spoke was years ago
I try and clear my mind, distract myself with long bike rides
Fate doesn’t care, my mind doesn’t matter

Recurring dreams of you will continue until we embrace
How long must it be? How long is my tunnel?
What am I to do if I’m not allowed to love you?
The light at the end will always be you

I’ve been distracted by people and places
If my heart weren’t honest,
I would’ve been dissuaded
By the other girls stare at me, while I crave you

Love sick, hopeless, not knowing when we’ll speak next
Ill to the core, and nothing it seems in store
You having fun, and me wishing I was there
You talking to others and not having time to spare

Are you safe? Are you warm?
Do you dream of me?
Do you miss me?
Do you wonder what I’m doing?

Called away to the silver stage, taken with appointments
And now you’ve forgotten of me for this endless holiday
You have other friends, like other things,
Other commitments, that fall above me

We used to go out, have dinner,
Out of state, splitting desserts,
But now you’re there and I’m here
As much as I know you love there,
Sometimes I want you to be here

You can have your world and I may have mine,
But this is one planet and not seeing you is marring mine
A lonely and afraid holiday
An endless tenure that I’m staying for

The light of my tunnel, no matter the cost
I’ll endure and be harmed, be hurt and be crying
But at the end of it, I’ll be with you
The one I was fighting for, And you’ll be with who?

Gone Nuclear

Gone Nuclear

I’m struck mute by you,
You self-proclaimed

I hear shots in the
Of your few flaws.

Where others see nothing,
I see a breath
Where the soil expands.

I see what it
Wouldn’t be unreasonable
To believe others percieve.

All this wonderful
Is the corrupted rain I bathe in.

Acid streaks down
And puddles the suburb
Where you went nuclear.

You glowed brilliantly
As a star
Died upon colliding with this ground.

Trekked upon
The cracked concrete
Were all manner of scavengers.

Where I seemed to be the only
One with an eye
On what mattered.

You, the soil.
And I am but another scavenger
Who grazes the surface of your face.

I am just another scrap collector
Who salvages remains
Of the things you had razed.

I survive
In the radiation. I survive
As a pioneering figure.

Maybe I’m a legend to these
Other blind souls, but to you,
I am just another scavenger.

One more blinking
And wide-eyed citizen
Of the world you purified.

A world without dressings.
Boiled down to the easiest
Way to understand.

Which is thus:
You are unappreciated.
And so I must be, too.



It was Jim’s fourth day at his new job
No amount of joy crossed his face
As he walked down the halls
Of a tall office building

Accounting was always something
That would need to be done

So job security was his motivation
For sitting at the grey desk today

As the third hour of his shift loomed
Lunch time, for the girls and boys
He pensively checked his watch
And watched as numbers streamed
Down his flickering computer screen

So then the bell tolled
And they all lifted and moved
To the break room
Already filling with an eager feasting

In the white walls and checkered booths
That wallpapered this quantitative

There sat Jim alone
With a salad and cola
He brought from home

Looking, was he,
At the animus of the fridge
Now “co-workers” raided
A place he had been

Wandering gaze, caught on another
A woman named Martha
Who would discreetly file a sexual harassment report
Moments after Jim’s “awkward stare”

Jim liked her
She smiled at him
Then returned to her “friends”
And Jim looked down
At the cola
Which snapped and fizzed

Drinking it washed the stale air
Of the vented place from his mouth
It degraded his teeth over time,
But for now, the effect was worth it

It made the place bearable
In some capacity, anyways

It was time to stand
And return to the grey desk
Four hours in
Jim didn’t think he could make it

Should he leave early?
Feign sickness?

If he left, would anyone even notice?
He thought this as he looked
At the tax report of a mister
Steven Confident

His hand on his briefcase,
Eyes on the elevator
He waited for an opportunity
Until his boss wanted to chat

Over the wall of Jim’s cubicle
Douglas Uppity leaned
The too-young too-inexperienced
Boss, of this corporate machine

He didn’t say anything mean
But his eyes scrutinized every detail
Jim’s hands returned to the desk
And Douglas finally pieced the scene

“Leaving early?” He mused
In buddy demeanor, anger refused
“Is the mob at your heels?” He said, Jim’s meal not having yet sat

“Not quite,” Jim replied
“My lunch didn’t sit right, you see”
“I’m feeling quite sick and would
Much like to leave.”

Having spun his excuse,
Which quickly became truth

His boss looked satisfied
Not wanting vomit
On all his computers

Jim, neglecting Douglas’s eyes
Reached for his briefcase
And made for the elevator

Funny, it should seem
After all this time in the building
Everything stopped
When Jim reached the street

The people stopped moving
The cars no longer driving
Birds no longer flying
Everything stood as it was

And didn’t change again

Jim wasn’t effected
He breathed and digested the same
But nothing else was

He didn’t exclaim,
He simply walked his way
Back downtown to his apartment
Noticing the elevator wasn’t moving
And taking the stairs

He reached his home
And fell into bed
He couldn’t be bothered
To check his fish weren’t dead

In an afternoon’s morning
Jim woke
His tie strangling him in sleep
A collard shirt untucked as he dreamed

He dreamed everything had stopped
And when he looked outside
The dream continued

As the water of a river
Had ceased to flow

A fisherman had eternally been
Caught in undertow

Jim removed his tie
And watched as
When he threw it to his bed
It stayed suspended in air

Just as it was
When it left his hand

He walked down the stairs
Past people with frozen affairs

And went back to work

Seeing Douglas still there,
Glossing over an empty cubicle
With phone in hand

Jim wondered how it’d feel
To punch the man

Perhaps he should just leave
But then he remembered the cola
Left sitting at his desk

Now he could leave
Eying his boss
And for the last time

Jim went back home

No car to speak of, no where to go
Jim packed a bag and decided
To visit his parents
Who lived on the other coast

Maybe they’d be happy to see him
Maybe they will always be happy now

For months, Jim walked,
Rationed food when he found it
But found that it would never expire

Every ripe berry in the world
Stayed ripe forever, in stasis, for Jim

His white shirt became stained
With flecks of frozen dirt
And dust of rain when he walked
Right through a stood-still storm

A beard grew during the sojourn
Jim didn’t mind it

He walked through snow and
The desert
Flakes had stopped mid-fall
Dust storms had stopped in their tracks, to Jim’s awe

Yet the temperature remained
As it had in the office

Jim found cola where he could
Becoming nostalgic of a world
Now very far gone

It was friday when he had left home
It was still friday when he reached The other coast of the country
Some amount of months later

His parents were at home
Or rather
Still at home

Watching a sitcom on television
Early in the afternoon

Both retired, they had retired to
A nice house in the suburbs
Where they wouldn’t
Be disturbed

But now their son had broken into it
Through a window with a lost alarm
The shards of glass stood in air
Moving when Jim touched them

The two were having lunch
Jim would recognize them always

He wouldn’t have much to do there
He was happy to see his parents
But already lamented at
The new world he lived in

Jim walked to his old room
Which looked to have been
Converted into his parent’s office

A half-empty bottle of cola sat
On the corner of the desk

A futon set as a bed
Covered one wall of the room

So Jim laid down to rest
For the… Day?

When he woke up
It was still friday
The TV was still on
His parents still sat on the couch

Everything still sat

Jim grabbed his bag
And gave his parents one last look
Before nicking all the cola from
Their fridge and leaving

Where to now?
Jim looked at the seaside town
With its red bridges
And afternoon sun

Seagulls stayed in the sky
In formation, among clouds
That could never dissipate

Jim walked on the beach
Where children often played frisbee

When he tried to walk into the ocean
The water didn’t part to his feet

So he walked
Perhaps his next destination
Was Hawaii

Mai Tais on the sands of Maui
Sounded good to him

When he got to paradise
He self consciously shaved his beard
Six months later and it was still

All the women on the beach
He could never ever see
No hotels he had to pay
To stay and see what he had to see

He held onto his cola
And changed into shorts
To walk the beach

He wasn’t far from Australia
Nor the Asia mainland

So to Brisbane, he walked
On the ocean’s waves
That rose and dipped

They never moved
Save for the footprints from
Jim’s shoes

He island hopped
Conquered small shores
When he got to Queensland
It was still friday

But now it was morning, and early
At that, he enjoyed solace in the city
Where not many cars slowed his path
As he walked on freeways and streets downtown

What was there to see?
He didn’t know much of the city
Jim yearned for some mountains
So Tibet was his destination

He crossed the Indian Ocean
To see monasteries
And mythologies

Walked through jungles
And up mountains
Saw tigers hiding
Who refused to pounce

Armed with a torch
Which wouldn’t emit heat
In the arabian nights
He saw wondrous lights

So then to Tibet he walked
Over mountains
And over rivers

His beard was back,
And he was no thinner
When he reached Tibet
He donned monk robes

Eight months later
And it was still friday

He had swapped his backpack
Long ago
For a veteran’s old army sack
That let him carry more
And berries that wouldn’t spoil

His feet didn’t seem to ache much
He felt like he was getting stronger
More resistant to the new world
But he never thought of the old one

Men had stayed praying
In the temple at the summit

Jim knelt, too
And spoke for a moment

Over the days
He had spoken seldom
Cursing aloud
If ever he tripped

But here he prayed
Speaking to a god
He didn’t believe in

Because here he knew
He may never again

Eleven months later
Jim was in France
It was early evening there
And it was still friday

At the top of the mythic
Parisian tower
Sat a refined man
In unrefined garb

The wayward journeyman
Was out of place
Among young couples
Frozen on first dates

Yet he enjoyed wine all the same
Drinks poured almost a year ago
And at the tower’s peak
He had the luxury to fall asleep

Some time later
Jim was in the English Channel
Trekking to London
To see the old country

In the clock tower
Walking down Abbey Road
At the recording studio
And looking at streetlights downtown

A month after that
Jim was in the Atlantic

A year after leaving

And it was still friday



The truth is different
From proof, in an instance
Where you must decide
To pick a side
And choose reality
Over perception

Bother not with asking “if..?”
Focus on being it
Exist for what you desire
Know that if it comes to the wire
You can change anything
For your better

Last thursday doesn’t matter
No butterfly flaps care
About you or your wants
Don’t plan to do
Things far from now
Always do whatever’s next



I’m having nightmares while I’m wide awake
And while I’m sleeping, they come to me
Pleased to meet you, my most saddening fear
It’s been a while since I’ve shed any tears

It’s time for me to waken into sleep again
It’s time for me to fall into more bad dreams
When you leave me to cross that river
I stay awake upset, daymares invigorated

Afraid, I hold a knife under my pillow
1000 thoughts bombarding my fragile mind
Chaotic thoughts, I’m feeling fine, though
It’s nice to know that this head is mine, you know

While you sleep and rest, carefree at best
I’m up so late to stay in control
Then when I finally succumb to sleep
I wake up terrified, and begin to weep

It’s like my future seen from the past
Every nightmare feels like it’ll be my last
I’ve dreamed of me as a very old man
And even he can’t remember he’s had bad dreams

I struggle to see the lines, of seven billion lives
As I wander through another shapeless day
I stumble and crawl through night and day
And right now I wouldn’t have it, any other way

Doubleshot Promenade

Doubleshot Promenade

Saturn was out

Energy was surging

To my eyes, the stars were drifting
In the truck, the music was banging

My casual-formal attire
Of the night, would never tire

Faces I didn’t know before
Awoke and became more

The people were talking
Dresses were shimmering
They were lancing, dancing
Alive, and proud to be prancing

Everything was… trailing.

Meadows were empty, and lit

The lights were mocking me

Double plasmid shots
Kept me breathing

Everyone else was masquerading
I was the only one not fake parading

Do not wake up
The others wear make up
They are not that scary
Under their plastic finery

Where did this wicked sensation come from?
This tingle up my spine like the onset of a night terror.
Was it my pipe dreams and lavish nightmares coming to life?
Or was it something more, like a dueling emotion?

Six-shooters bang in my head
Mouth and lungs were leaking lead

The music spilled over and jolted
Stars above sank down with voltage

Lead melted
Bloodstream… trailed

I tried to think
Nerves failed

Everyone was committing atrocities
Integrity was dying
Others are crying
All have stopped dancing

Have we all descended to the rank and file of brutish animals?
Was there no communication in this Luna-lit promenade?

This lavish terror was kept at bay
By an altered state of lead foray

I’m glad I planned to not enjoy everyone else’s reality.
I made my own in two shots, perfected truth is glory.

Sleep, damn you
Am I asleep already?
Was this the borderless world?

I can’t tell anymore

If I wanted to, I would explore

But these limits are here for reasons

So we mingle, drink, and walk laps
Limited, in this place we are trapped
Everyone else is dressed in masks
Tonight’s dances will be our last



You can’t begin to perceive
How high above the sky is
Or count the particles cloutless
In a cloudless atmosphere

Are they really there?
Have you felt a cloud?
Have you ever touched a mountain
And known it to be?

Are the stars vast projections?
Is the world we stand on real?

We all have our own stories, don’t we?
What a shame reality is different than truth
What you perceive, you can’t be sure you do
What a crime that people even made up time

Engram Mafia

Engram Mafia

The statues cover up crypts and tombs
The stations emit things known only to few
Radio and T.V. controlled by an empire
They all bow to a respected emperor

Why do the plaques and posters
Reflect the engram mobsters?
With extortion and racketeering they thrive
Off of things which are no longer alive

Don says to “Remember our elders”
As he sits on an old wooden chair
His car’s license plate has two digits
His lackeys before him are nervous, and fidget

He’ll roll up to an amon store
In his ’36 Atlantica Coupe
Politely demand this month’s cut
Or threaten to shoot up the pawn shop’s front

Just one of many payments today
On to the next he sped, no delay
His way of life, with every breath
Protection money, for those undeathed

Don Juan liked getting his hands dirty
It was early in the morning, only 8:30
The boss of an empire liked working in the field
To indulge in its practice and share in its yield

While hitmen plotted and schemed on his life
Don Juan was at home with his daughters and wife
The mobster was a loving family man
As the C.I.A. listened from a street-side spying van

The Don was as powerful as a pharaoh
He ruled over skycraping pyramids downtown
Bribed a corrupt police force to turn their cheeks
Now they were Don’s blind puppets and scarecrows

Henchmen out to protect their credence
Don Juan’s aim, to suppress their freedoms
With their life and traces and will they pay
To live ignorant luxury from day to day

Progression is in the eyes of the beholder
The truth is believed by those none the wiser
Told to feel what they feel and fight for a meal
The contract is signed and there won’t be new deals